Tag: a fatal prospect

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Shelter in Place”

No one ever rang my bell. My apartment was damn near a no-fly zone, and I liked it that way. Keeping my head tilted, I listened for signs of life outside the door. It had to be a mistake.

“Shelter in Place”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

This short is NSFW-ish.

Beer Can

When the virus hit Connecticut, my old ass was stretched out in my recliner, filling in a Sudoku puzzle with good ol’ fashioned pencil and paper. I don’t fuck around with that app shit. I know there’s no truth to the whole 5G thing, but there are a lot of downsides to technology. I’ve never been a slave to anything; I refuse to be glued to my cell phone all day.

The governor came on to urge everyone to stay at home, and right as I rolled my eyes, my doorbell rang.

I sat up in the recliner, frowning. No one ever rang my bell. My apartment was damn near a no-fly zone, and I liked it that way. Keeping my head tilted, I listened for signs of life outside the door. It had to be a mistake.

But no. The ding-dong of a second ring rilled my apartment. Setting the puzzle aside, I worked my way out of the well worn chair—too broken-in to get out of easily, but perfectly formed for my body and nice long naps.

Yeah, some badass biker, I know.

“Hold on,” I called out, making my way to the front door. I unlocked the top and bottom locks, and swung it open. There was no one there. The bell rang again, and I headed toward the back porch. Unlocking the sliding glass door, I pushed aside the blinds and shoved it open. “Pru?” I gaped at the dancer from The Wet Mermaid standing on my deck.

“Special delivery,” she said, thrusting a box toward me.

“What’s this?” I stared at the box, making no move to take it from her.

“Mark ordered some merch but it came to my place by mistake.”

“Your place?” I blinked at her. “Why in the world would it come to your place?”

Steely blue eyes met mine. She shook the box at me.

“You . . . and Mark?” My eyebrows furrowed. Pru was young enough to be my granddaughter, if I had kids. I was also pretty sure she was exclusively into women. The name of her band was Cervical Caves, for Christ’s sake.

This old man couldn’t keep up.

“It was a one-time thing,” she said, inching closer with the box. “Mark said to drop it off at your place, since you’re closer to me.”

“Oh, it’s none of my business,” I said too late. “But what does he want me to do with this?”

The sliding glass door of the adjoining apartment scraped open. My neighbor and the street gossip, Mrs. Henry, poked her head out.

“You know what, dear, you better just come in.” I ushered Pru inside, giving Mrs. Henry a harsh look before closing up.

Pru set the box down on my kitchen table. We stood there, eyeing each other, unsure of how to act outside of the workplace.

Five weeks later, we still don’t really know how to act.

I sprawl in my recliner, Pru curled against me. We’re still connected, neither of us making any attempt to move.

“This is a one-time thing,” she says, for the thousandth time.

“Sure.” I stroke her back, soaking in her presence. Even though I used to appreciate the peace of living alone without visitors, I’m not sure I could’ve survived the last month without her. I’m still not sure how we went from sorting hoodies by size to kissing to undressing to fucking more times a day than I can count. Suddenly I’m like a teenager again, and I’m still unclear on Pru’s sexuality.

But maybe it’s as fluid as quarantine time, I don’t know. I’m just glad she chose to shelter in place with me.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “More Than I Can Hold”

“When I’m dead and gone, I want to matter,” I say, my turn for confessions. This pandemic has turned me inward, put me more in tune with my emotions. Rather than cower from it, I’ve leaned into it.

“More Than I Can Hold”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

This short is NSFW.

Ravage

She lies with her head pillowed on my chest, strands of blonde streaked with gray and brown trailing across my skin. When she turns, her hair slips from my chest, leaving me cold in its wake.

“I feel trapped,” she admits with a sigh.

I can’t remember the last time Shannon was ever so still. We’ve been following social distancing protocol for weeks—before the governor even started signing executive orders. Many of Shannon’s clients have health issues, and some of our staff at The Wet Mermaid, too. Then there’s Olivia, living with her sister and newborn niece. If there’s one thing I can be proud of about myself, it’s that I take care of my family. I’d take a bullet for any of them—even if it was one of their fingers poised on the trigger.

Shannon would, too—that’s why she’s so restless.

“You’re not trapped,” I assure her, gathering her into my arms. I pull her into my chest, pressing her breasts to my skin, relishing the sensation. I’m not a religious or spiritual man, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but even the briefest of skin to skin contact with her is heaven. “You’re doing everything right,” I murmur into her ear, and kiss her lobe.

“I’m lying in bed while a skeleton version of my staff runs the house,” she says, brown eyes blinking rapidly.

I thumb away her tears. “Everyone is safe. That’s what matters—not how much you’re doing.”

Even as I say the words, I feel her frustration. While the virus sweeps through our state and country, with thousands of people dying, thousands more struggle financially. The Wet Mermaid—as much as people around town think it’s disgusting—gives Shannon’s clients, my club, and all of the staff we’ve accumulated over the years a living. The governor doesn’t see strip clubs as essential businesses, though, and as much as I’d like to strangle him for his lack of action and weird decisions, I know he’s right about that. A bar full of barely clothed women and horny patrons is hardly a safe environment.

Still, I worry, because that’s what I do. It makes me reconsider our business practices. We should be running something that will always be needed—like a grocery store.

I snort.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Harris?” Shannon’s fingers flutter back and forth between my nipples, and immediately my cock hardens.

Even after all these years, she’s the only woman I want, the only person I want to spend my life with.

I just have one regret.

“I’m picturing a bunch of bikers wearing grocery clerk vests,” I say, and haul her on top of me. I find her slick and ready against my shaft, and with slight rolls of each of our hips, we’re connected.

Her hair cascades over her breasts and I push it aside, closing my hands around her soft pink flesh. “Are you still thinking about bikers?” she asks.

“Nope.” I thrust up into her, watching her belly shudder with each stroke. I can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the possibilities gone and buried.

“Hey,” she says, stretching a hand out and cupping my face. “Where are you?”

“Sometimes I wish we had children,” I blurt, locking eyes with her. “Call me greedy, but I want more with you. I want a legacy.”

“Todd.” She stops moving, her brown eyes soft. “We’ve built a legacy. Olivia is as much ours as she is Mercy and Bree’s. And Cliff—we helped shape him, too. We have Shannon’s Place, the MC, The Wet Mermaid . . . And we have us. That’s enough for me. It’s everything.”

“When I’m dead and gone, I want to matter,” I say, my turn for confessions. This pandemic has turned me inward, put me more in tune with my emotions. Rather than cower from it, I’ve leaned into it.

“You matter to me,” Shannon says, leaning forward until our chests touch. She captures my lips with hers, wrapping them in her warmth. “You matter to your family—and it’s a big ass family.”

I laugh into her mouth. “It sure is.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her there on top of me, every inch of us connected, my awareness stretching, encompassing every single one of them—my family. I never knew it was possible to hold so much love in my heart, certainly not for a nobody who served in the military, did time, and took over his club when shit hit the fan. Yet this life turned on a dime and gave me things I learned to appreciate. I’ll never take them for granted again.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “One Way or Another”

I’m not afraid of anything. I’m Abraham, member of the River Reapers MC. I haven’t earned my Sludge Specter patch yet, but I’ve proven my worth through the years. I’m the only one who voted nay who stayed. That should count for something.

“One Way or Another”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Abraham

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I tell him, with an adamant shake of my head. “You’re not going.”

Rui tilts his head, giving me his look. The look—the one that says “Silly boy.” Usually it’s accompanied by a smirk, but this time, there’s a hint of annoyance. “My shift starts in twenty minutes,” he says with a placating smile. “I’ve got to go, Abe.”

I consider my options. I could lift him over my shoulder, handcuff his ass to the bed, and be done with it. I could sweet talk him into staying, using kisses and nuzzles to melt away his decision. Or I could tell him exactly how I feel—expressing feelings, with my words.

I don’t do that shit, though. I never have. I learned early on that feeling anything could get someone like me killed, or at least beat up in every schoolyard, bathroom, cafeteria . . . Name it, I’ve had my ass handed to me in that spot. Then I discovered lifting, protein, good hair products, and the art of keeping my feelings to myself, and everything changed.

Things with Rui are different, though. Things are finally good for me—for the most part. I’m with a man who loves me, and my MC accepts that. At least, on the surface. Not a single one of them have ever said or done anything to make me think otherwise, but I know they don’t approve of me. It’s all because of that God damn vote.

If I’d known that a nay from decades ago would haunt my ass into the future, I’d have just voted yea. At the time, though, I truly believed that Mercy and Ravage were making a run for President and VP. We all believed that, because it was easier to swallow than the truth.

Kind of like right now.

“Baby, please don’t make this any harder than it is,” Rui says. He straightens his N95 mask, which obscures most of his face from me, except for his gentle brown eyes. Those eyes plead with me to understand.

I can’t.

“You’re being reckless,” I say, my volume increasing. I’ve never been able to control how loud I am, especially when I’m emotional. There are too many emotions boiling over right now.

“I’m going where I’m needed,” he soothes.

“You’re going to get sick.” I slash a hand through the air. “Don’t you watch the news?” I flick a glance toward the TV, which I haven’t turned off since this whole thing started.

Rui sighs. “Are you afraid something is going to happen to me?”

I burn at the word “afraid.” I’m not afraid of anything. I’m Abraham, member of the River Reapers MC. I haven’t earned my Sludge Specter patch yet, but I’ve proven my worth through the years. I’m the only one who voted nay who stayed. That should count for something.

“Baby,” Rui croons. “The hospital still has plenty of PPE. We’re not short. We’re testing everyone who comes into the ED. Our caseload is low, compared to the rest of the state. I’m in the safest place.”

“The safest place is here,” I said, “or on the maternity floor, or anywhere else. Not the fucking ICU, Rui. Why would you volunteer to go straight into the shit?”

“Because I’m a nurse,” he says, his soft tone only amplifying my gruff shouts. “I don’t want to look back and say I played it safe. I want to tell our kids—maybe even our grandkids—that I did something, that I mattered.”

“Kids?” I repeat.

“Kids.” His eyes crinkle, and I figure he’s smiling.

I’m not.

“I don’t want kids, Rui. I want us both to be safe. I want us to matter more to you than what people think.”

He blinks. “It’s not about what people think. It’s about what I think of myself. I can’t sleep at night, knowing every day at work I’m spared. It’s not fair.”

“You’re per diem,” I insist. “You’re not obligated to do anything.”

He sighs. “Abe, we’ve been going around and around this for days. Maybe you’re worried that you don’t matter, but this isn’t about you. This is about the difference I can make. Now let me go. I’ve got a twelve-hour shift ahead of me, and this mask is already making me tired.”

I realize I’m standing in front of the door, my limbs spread like tentacles. All of the tension drains from my body. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” I whisper. “Without you, I don’t even know if I’m real.”

“You’re real,” he assures me. He steps into me, and my arms wind around him of their own accord.

“I think the quarantine is getting to me.”

“I think you’re scared and you just don’t want to admit it.” He moves my hair out of my face and, standing on the balls of his feet, presses a kiss to my collarbone. “I’m scared too, Abe. But I’m not going to just freeze. This is my way of fighting back.”

I nod, tell him I understand. I just wish I had a way to fight back. I let him go, watching him walk out of our apartment and hoping he hasn’t made a deadly mistake. He’s probably right, that my own insecurities are getting to me.

I love my club.

Even though they all hate me, even though they don’t bother to hide their suspicions. One vote and all trust is lost. I made a mistake. It’s time to prove to my brothers that I can be trusted, that even though I loved Bastard, I was wrong about him. Once this pandemic is done and over with, we can finally move on—one way or another.

I grin into the gloom.

I will fix this.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Tigers and Twin Flames”

I hate it, because that means I was wrong.

It might even mean I was wrong to fuck up my engagement, that I was wrong to wait to tell my daughter’s father that I was pregnant.

“Tigers and Twin Flames”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Lucy

“They cancelled it?!” my cousin—a biker who towers over everyone, swinging his scarred fists at his sides—exclaims. As if he’s never heard of a TV station cancelling a show before.

I shrug. “That’s what this website says.”

His brown eyes narrow. “But it was such a smart show. And now I’ll never know what happens.”

“Sorry, dude.” I fight a smile.

“A better question,” Olivia says, standing and stretching, “is what the hell are we gonna watch now?”

I glance from my adopted sister at the clock. It’s four in the morning. Time has no meaning for us anymore. We’ve been on quarantine time—and so is my infant daughter, lucky for all of us.

Olivia plunks herself into Cliff’s lap and I stiffen—only slightly. No one would ever even notice. It’s not that I don’t approve. We might be family in various, weird ways, but they aren’t actually related. My feelings about them are the complete opposite.

They were meant to be.

They’re twin flames, written in the stars, the stuff that tarot card readers and romance novel junkies are obsessed with. And I take it personally, because I don’t believe in that shit. At least . . . I didn’t. Not until I saw them together for the first time. They’d only just met, yet it was like they were reuniting, the way they stepped into place with each other and just kept walking. Whether either of them knows it or not, they’re head over heels in love.

And I hate it, because that means I was wrong.

It might even mean I was wrong to fuck up my engagement, that I was wrong to wait to tell my daughter’s father that I was pregnant. Even worse, it might mean that I was right, that Benjamin and I just didn’t have that spark. I loved him, and he loved me, but love isn’t always enough.

Olivia scrolls through Netflix, shaking her head every time she lands on a title.

“Seen it,” Cliff says, nuzzling into her neck.

I fight the urge to vomit.

Again, not because I think they’re gross. I mean, they kind of are. I scowl.

“What’s wrong, Luce?” he asks, lifting his nose and lips from my sister’s neck.

I breathe a sigh of relief. It comes out more like a sigh of frustration. “It’s just that we’ve finished Netflix,” I say, glancing at the clock again. “And we have a whole day ahead of us.”

“Well,” Olivia says, dragging out the word. “We haven’t seen everything.”

“Tiger King,” Cliff says, snapping his fingers. “Come on, Luce. We have to.”

“No fucking way.” I cross my arms. “I’ve heard all I need to know. A bunch of animal-abusing narcissists running around? No thank you.”

“I heard the same things,” he says, “but I also heard that it’s laugh out loud, outrageously hilarious. It’s got something for everyone.”

Olivia starts counting off the fingers on her hand. “Redneck gay zookeeper,” she says, holding up a finger. “Polygamy with straight meth addicts. Murder—there’s murder. We love murder.” She grins, her wide smile spreading.

I shake my head. “Of which I know nothing about,” I say loudly. Because I don’t. I can never, ever get involved with their club. It’s bad enough I know they sell drugs behind the bar, and that sometimes they sell guns. It’s also bad enough that my past is tied directly to their other dealings. Whether I agree with it or not, it’s saved my life and countless other lives.

So it’s better that I don’t know.

“Tiger King,” Cliff chants, and Olivia joins him.

It’s so weird to see the two of them this carefree. I mean, Olivia has always been loose in one way or another. She’s always marched to the pulse of her hot blood, straight to wherever her passion carries her. I’ve always been the careful one, forever playing it straight, never taking risks.

Cliff once took a huge risk for me, sacrificing most of his life. I guess the least I can do is loosen up and watch the stupid tiger show with these two fools.

That doesn’t mean I’ll be breaking any other rules. I don’t believe in love, even though it’s literally right in my face.

The only love I believe in is the love for family. That kind of love is forever.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Another Terrifying Prospect”

I never set out to be a father. When I met Esther, I had no idea there were three little girls attached to her. As soon as I realized how important she was to me, she revealed her sisters—three of the most important people in her life, and so, by extension, in mine. There’s an elegant, furious energy to these four creatures I live with. But this pandemic has me doubting everything I once knew.

“Another Terrifying Prospect”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Donny

Three nearly identical faces glare back at me in defiance, chins lifted, brown eyes blazing, lips quivering. The smallest face—the one that belongs to the five-year-old who used to be my partner in crime—screws up, readying a scream to be unleashed.

“I wanna go to the park!” Ximena screeches, the remainder of her baby fat rippling as she shakes her arms.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the impending headache. This is how it’s been for the past few weeks. At first, we made it fun. Esther and I set up tents in the backyard, roasted marshmallows with the girls in a brand new fire pit we built together, and slept under the stars.

“Jimmy,” I say, opening my eyes and keeping my voice low and calm. She slams her fists against the table, a boom boom boom in protest, the breakfast silverware jumping against plates. The little girl ignores me, because of course she does. Why on Earth would she listen to me—a man—in the middle of the second traumatic event of her short life?

I never set out to be a father. When I met Esther, I had no idea there were three little girls attached to her. As soon as I realized how important she was to me, she revealed her sisters—three of the most important people in her life, and so, by extension, in mine. Usually, I take it all in stride: the tantrums (Jimmy), the screaming matches (Cierra and Abril, who are fourteen and eleven, so there will always be fighting), and the estrogen pool I live in. Not gonna lie, I kinda love it. There’s an elegant, furious energy to these four creatures I live with. But this pandemic has me doubting everything I once knew.

I’m a warrior. I’m not meant to sit tight in my castle, surrounded by unhappy women, my hands and guns useless while the virus rages outside, sweeping away life as we knew it.

I can’t fix this. I can’t make the park safe, keep my girls in a bubble. We’ve stayed home since before the executive orders. Esther’s grandparents are high risk, and we’re their only access to groceries and prescriptions. Safety became our religion before the governor’s ink even dried. But the girls don’t understand it. The only thing they understand is their usually cool resident male says no a lot, and their oldest sister does, too.

Maybe we haven’t said no enough.

It’s hard to tell them anything other than yes after what they’ve been through. I look at these girls and even though I’m annoyed by Jimmy’s still pounding fists, all I feel is the overwhelming urge to protect them. It’s a daily cracking open of my chest, a widening of my heart, exposed and willing to take a bullet for them—even if it was one of them holding the gun. It’s fucking terrifying, especially knowing that Esther wants a child of our own someday.

I want it too, more than anything. I want the whole package with Esther—another terrifying prospect. She whirled into my life and blew the dust off me, sifted through my contents until she memorized every word, and then put her hand in mine and led me into her heart. I never stood a chance.

She pads into the kitchen, casting a stern look at Ximena and then softening when her gaze lands on me. “Just another morning,” she quips, settling onto my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Ay, ew,” Cierra says, and Abril joins her chorus.

Grinning, I encircle Esther in my arms, plunking a big wet kiss on her forehead, then a soft kiss on her nose. Zeroing in on her lips, I engulf them with mine, giving the girls more reasons to groan and gag. Except it doesn’t take long before those turn into giggles, and soon we’re all laughing, because even in the worst of times, love can turn a mood around.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

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River Reapers MC Series

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Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

Read for FREE with BookFunnel | Order a Signed Paperback

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. Here are all the shorts in the mini series!

    1. “Zoom This” (Olivia)
    2. “Something Real” (Vaughn)
    3. “The Most Badass Thing” (Skid)
    4. “This Whole Time” (Stixx)
    5. “Another Terrifying Prospect” (Donny)
    6. “Tigers and Twin Flames” (Lucy)
    7. “One Way or Another” (Abraham)
    8. “More Than I Can Hold” (Ravage) | NSFW
    9. “Shelter in Place” (Beer Can) | NSFW
    10. “The Sound of Waves” (Bree)
    11. “A Sense of Purpose” (Mark)

Get More

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

Click here!

River Reapers MC Series

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Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “This Whole Time”

That’s another thing about plants. You almost always get a do-over.

It doesn’t work that way with people.

“This Whole Time”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Stixx

When the whole world stopped, I realized I’ve been standing still this whole time.

My day in isolation starts exactly the same as every day before. My alarm goes off, a Pantera song dragging me from the murk of sleep. Shoving the blankets off, I stumble out of bed, drawn through halls filled with vines and leaves toward the promise of coffee. “Morning, Christine,” I greet the African violet on the windowsill. The Keurig sputters, spitting coffee into the mug I dropped and chipped last week. If Margit were here, she’d tell me it’s no big deal. But she isn’t here, and it is.

I’m supposed to be taking care of this place, not wrecking it.

I stroke the violet’s fuzzy leaves, murmuring to her the way Margit taught me. “You’re doing so well,” I croon, pleased. If someone told me I’d be keeping difficult plants alive a few years ago, I’d have laughed in their face.

“Not that you’re difficult,” I tell Christine. “You just need the right conditions to thrive.” I sip my black coffee. I ran out of sugar a week ago. I could just go out and get some, but I don’t need it. I don’t need anything, not really, not anymore.

Except . . .

Grabbing the full watering can by the sink, I begin my rounds. Margit had a careful system, one I try to follow as closely as possible. I don’t want to shock her babies. They—and I suppose me, too—are her legacy, the only living proof that she existed.

“Hey Sarah,” I greet a lemon tree. Leaning forward, I inhale the fresh, citrus scent. “You’re almost there, girl.” The bright yellow fruits hanging from the limbs complement the orange and red tattoos that cover almost every inch of skin I’ve got. Together, Sarah and I are fire in motion. She hasn’t been easy, either. She won’t bear any fruit unless I do exactly as Margit said.

Sometimes, it’s overwhelming.

I visit the succulents next, bidding them all good morning before turning to my favorite, Cherish, the last echeveria I’ve managed to keep alive. Soon I’ll be able to propagate her and it’ll be like I never moved them too far from the sun. That’s another thing about plants. You almost always get a do-over.

It doesn’t work that way with people.

With people, what’s done is done. I’ve made choices and now those reflect on me. I decided to get the tattoos, to cultivate the scary biker look so that no one would fuck with me. I decided to isolate myself in a house full of plants named after women. The only woman I want would never give me a first look, never mind a second.

It’s all my fault.

I water the row of snake plants last, stopping at the tallest. Running the pads of my fingers up and down its strong striped leaves, I trace the almost yellow outline. “Morning, Cassie.” I sigh. “She was on the Zoom call,” I tell the plant. “For a second, I got to hear her voice, and I swear, Cass, that’s more than enough to get me through this. But if this ever ends, I’m going to make my move. I’m going to say, ‘Hello, Lucy.’ Solid plan, right?”

Even though there’s a light breeze outside, the snake plants remain still, the whole house holding its breath.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

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River Reapers MC Series

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “The Most Badass Thing”

That’s another new development—I’m talking to myself. I’ve never been in prison, but I’m starting to see why Mercy and Cliff are so fucked in the head.

“The Most Badass Thing”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Skid

I’ve been up since 5 a.m. and I’ve already watched all five Die Hard movies. I stare at the credits, the haze of alcohol pumping the truth through my veins.

I’ve finished Netflix.

There’s nothing else to watch.

I’ve even watched that God damn Tiger King show. What a waste that was. At first it was amusing; I got a kick watching a bunch of assholes running around, trying to build an empire. It sort of reminded me of the early days of the MC, before the shit hit the fan, before any of us knew better. Then I just felt sorry for the animals. Me—a biker with a mean road rash scar running down half his body.

It must’ve been the Jack Daniels.

I usually go for top shelf, but the packy was all out, and I’m running out of money. If I don’t go back to work soon, I’m fucked.

We all are.

I ain’t thinking about that right now, though. It’s too fucking depressing.

“All right, Netflix,” I slur, scrolling through the home screen. “What else you got?”

There isn’t anything else, though. At least, not in my usual genre—which is the blow ’em up, shoot ’em up kind of movie.

Maybe it’s time to make a change. I might be getting older, but I can reinvent myself any time.

That is definitely the cheap whiskey talking.

I’ll never fucking change. It’s my curse.

I hold my finger down on the button. I’ll just stop at random, and whatever it lands on, that’s what I’m watching. I’ve still got a half a bottle, and for now my bladder’s empty. I’m in prime condition for trying something new.

Releasing my finger, I take stock of what I’ve chosen.

“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. What the fuck is this?” I ask nobody.

That’s another new development—I’m talking to myself. I’ve never been in prison, but I’m starting to see why Mercy and Cliff are so fucked in the head.

I sneer at the pink and sugary teen chick flick. It sounds so fucking stupid. But it might knock me out, and that would definitely kill some time.

I hit the play button.

Two seconds in I’m rolling my eyes. Five minutes in I’m rooting for this Lara Jean. She’s got it rough. She’s lost her mom—no kid should go through that. Her dad’s okay, though. Not at all a tough guy—just the right kind of man to raise three girls alone.

Her little sister, though—she’s the real treasure of this movie. I fall head over heels for little Kitty. Just in a “if I had a daughter” way. Her one liners are the fucking best. And what she does? I can’t stop laughing. It’s so devious, yet so well meant, and for the first time in my life, I wish I had three daughters of my own, just for those moments when they’re all hugging after slitting each others’ throats.

Daughters are the most badass thing ever.

Before I know it, the movie ends.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask the credits. “Who does she end up with?!”

Then Netflix does what it does best: it pops up the next movie.

I guess this forty-something can change, after all.

I press play.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Something Real”

I sneak peeks at her, memorizing her the way her triangular eyes just light everything up, just shoot pure blissful sparks. Given everything I know about her, I don’t know how someone could radiate so much light, but she does. It radiates from her skin, shining through her. She is light itself.

“Something Real”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Vaughn

The phone slips in my hands, tumbling onto the floor. At least it’s carpeted. I don’t get sweaty hands—at least, I didn’t ’til now. ‘Til her.

I swipe the phone from the floor, my thumb ready to hit the answer button as soon as I’m upright and don’t look like I’m losing my shit. Except I accidentally accept the call, giving her a full view of my idiocy.

“Hey,” she says, her gentle blue eyes gazing up at me.

My heart stops in my chest.

I’m a programmer. I’m a hacker. I’m a biker, for fuck’s sake—one who runs with a club slowly but surely gaining the wrong kind of reputation.

Depending on whose side you’re on, I guess. My point is, I don’t get sweaty hands. I’m the one the MC calls in when they need dirt on someone.

That’s how we met.

“Cami,” I greet her, trying to play it cool but I know I’m failing. I lift the phone from the floor, giving her a head-on view of my face. I avoid looking at my own reflection. I don’t want to know how deep the shadows under my eyes are or how bad my permanent five o’ clock shadow is. Being quarantined here has not been kind to me.

The problem is, the only other place to look is at her. And damn, I could stare at her forever. I really could. But that’s fucking creepy.

I settle for the eye of the camera. My eyes, on the other hand, have other ideas. I sneak peeks at her, memorizing her the way her triangular eyes just light everything up, just shoot pure blissful sparks. Given everything I know about her, I don’t know how someone could radiate so much light, but she does. It radiates from her skin, shining through her. She is light itself.

“Hey,” she says again, her voice soft, her smile shy. “How are you?”

I could answer her question in so many ways. I could tell her the truth, that every day I’m trapped inside these four walls is another reminder of just how much I have to lose. I could tell her how, every time I leave the house for a short run or supplies, anxiety cramps my muscles, making my limbs heavy and my pulse race. I could tell her how the one woman I love more than anything is not safe if I make one little mistake.

But that’s not really first date material.

And this isn’t really a date.

I clear my throat. “You know,” I say, brushing aside the question. “Hanging in there. You?”

I have never, ever been smooth. I mean, I can talk my way into a woman’s bed. That’s easy. When it comes to being real, though, I’m fumbling and confused. That’s how Cami makes me feel—she makes me want the pain of being awkward, just so that I can have something real.

Even though we are two people who should not be together.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday and Thursday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

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River Reapers MC Series

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Zoom This”

With the pandemic going and everything shut down, we don’t have much club business to attend to. But it’s important that we all stay connected—or so I thought. It turns out, getting a multigenerational MC onto a Zoom call is like herding kittens, if the kittens were all wearing leather and itching to go for a ride that doesn’t require staying six feet apart.

“Zoom This”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Olivia

Ravage’s chin appears on the screen of my phone, a closeup constellation of black and silver stubble that I definitely didn’t need to see. On instinct, I pull my phone away from my face, but his chin remains.

“Hello?” He dips his chin, skin folding at the creases of his neck. “You all there?”

“It’s just you and me so far, Pres,” I tell him, casting a glance at Cliff beside me. I nudge him with my elbow, but he remains still as a statue on the couch. He sits with his phone damn near pressed to his forehead, dark eyes blinking slowly at it, as if it were a bomb. “You on?” I ask.

“I’m here,” Ravage says. “Olivia? I can’t see you.”

“Move the screen away from your chin,” I suggest.

“Screen?”

“Cliff?” I ask, turning toward him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he glares at his phone.

My phone pings as another River Reaper enters the Zoom call.

“Yo,” Vaughn says. “Can you guys hear and see me? I’ve got Ravage’s chin, Olivia’s boobs, and Cliff’s a black screen.”

I yank my phone back up to face level. “Asshole.”

He holds up his hands. “Not my fault.”

“I don’t know how to move the screen,” Ravage says.

I close my eyes. My President, who rides a motorcycle with the ease of a stuntman, runs a sort of straight MC with an iron fist, and has dental work done without novocaine, can’t figure out how to hold his phone away from his face.

I’ve never been so embarrassed.

“Do you want me to tell him, or do you want to do it?” I ask Vaughn.

“I’m kind of enjoying this,” he says. “I finished Netflix a week ago.”

“I’m a black screen?” Cliff asks. His eyebrows scrunch together. Confused is my favorite look on him. It isn’t often that I get to see him unsure of himself. It’s endearing.

He mumbles a string of curses, and I bite my lip to keep from climbing into his lap and kissing his lips while laughing at him.

Social media and anything technology are so not his things.

“Here,” I say, holding out my hand.

He leans away from me. “I’ve got it.”

“Sure you do.” I turn back to my phone. As if it can sense my attention, it pings multiple times.

Beer Can, Donny, and Abraham’s faces appear in the neat row at the top of the screen. I peer at them, soaking in every detail of their home lives. It isn’t often, if ever, that I get to see any of them in their natural habitats.

Through his grainy connection, Beer Can sits in a broken-in corduroy recliner, wearing his usual Black Sabbath T-shirt under his cut. His salt and pepper hair sticks out in tufts at the sides. “You there?”

I swallow a snort. I could turn this into a drinking game; every time someone asks if we can see or hear them, take a shot. “We’re here.”

Donny stares dubiously back at us.

“You okay, man?”

He shakes his head once. “Women,” he mutters. “Why did I never realize how many women I live with?”

Punctuating his point, a shriek pierces the background.

I turn my volume down.

Pings chime as the rest of the club filters in. Both Mercy and Mark have black screens but sound, Skid has sound but his camera is pointed at the ceiling, and Abraham just looks wasted.

The little boxes of River Reapers rotate, cycling through some algorithm or other. Vaughn slides to the main strip, and for the first time I realize he’s sitting in a bedroom, with windows, A Perfect Circle playing softly in the background.

“Holy shit,” I say, nudging Cliff.

“I got this,” he insists.

“Yeah, yeah. Look at Vaughn.”

He squints at his phone. “I can’t see anybody.”

“You could just let me help you, you know.”

“Everybody here?” Ravage’s chin asks.

“I think we’re waiting for Stixx,” Mark says.

“Come on, kids. I figured this out. Surely you can, too,” my President says.

I chuckle. “Yeah, your chin’s doing great.”

Vaughn laughs through a hit of a joint, smoke pouring from his nose.

“What do you mean?” Ravage asks, but the two of us can’t stop.

“What is so fucking funny?” Cliff grumbles.

“They’re laughing at the old people,” Beer Can says.

Tears spill from my eyes, mascara bleeding into them. My eyes sting but I can’t stop laughing.

“Ravage,” Vaughn struggles to say, “just hold your phone away from your face!”

Suddenly the rest of my President’s face comes into view, his glacial eyes unamused. “Are you done?”

“Not my fault,” I gasp.

A final ping goes off as Stixx joins the call. “‘Sup,” he says as apology, his pale complexion even more washed out than usual. Dark circles underline his eyes.

“Why can’t we just go to the club house?” Cliff growls, dropping his phone into his lap.

“Because then we wouldn’t be social distancing,” I remind him.

“Fuck social distancing. Fuck Zoom.”

I swallow another laughing fit. “Can you just let me help you?”

“Let’s get started,” Ravage says.

“Give us a minute.” Setting my phone down, I turn to my ex-con, one of the few men who respects me, one of the few I trust. He’s more than earned it.

“I got it,” he insists.

Lucy sighs from her end of the couch. “You so don’t ‘got it,'” she chides. “Just let Olivia help you.”

“I’m not old,” he says.

“No one said you were, you big baby.” Lucy tosses him a wink.

A growl rumbles low in his throat.

“Can we get started?” Ravage begs. “My phone is dying.”

“That’s because it’s a dinosaur,” Vaughn says, “just like all you old fuckers.”

Ravage rubs his temples. “Why?” he mutters. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” He glares at the screen, and I don’t even have to ask who he’s sending it to.

It’s me, and Vaughn.

This was our idea.

With the pandemic going and everything shut down, we don’t have much club business to attend to. But it’s important that we all stay connected—or so I thought. It turns out, getting a multigenerational MC onto a Zoom call is like herding kittens, if the kittens were all wearing leather and itching to go for a ride that doesn’t require staying six feet apart.

I turn to Cliff again. Suddenly it dawns on me while he’s so frustrated by this Zoom call. It isn’t the tech. It’s the quarantine—it reminds him of prison.

Gently I take the phone from his hands. “Hey,” I say softly.

“Yeah.” His dark eyes meet mine, and in them I see decades of solitude and pain.

“You’re not alone,” I whisper. “Not anymore. And never again.” Pressing a few buttons, I get his camera working. Then I lean into him, sweeping my lips across his. “I’m right here.”

His warm lips open to me, softening under my touch. We meld, ignite, burn, each slow kiss easing the pain.

“All right, lovebirds,” Ravage says. “Are we all ready now?”

Pulling away, I grin at Cliff. He smiles back, the storm clearing from his eyes.

“Yes,” I say, cuddling into his lap. “We’re ready.”

THE END

Get More

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Thursday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

Click here!

River Reapers MC Series

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Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

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