A FATAL PROSPECT Glossary

While reading A Fatal Prospect, there might be some terms you aren’t familiar with, or places you need a refresher for. I’ve put together a glossary of biker slang and club roles, as well as terms special to the River Reapers MC, plus locations.

Looking for the character guide? Click here!

Bastard Brothers MC: The half of the club that split in ’97. This story is told in the FREE standalone novella Her Mercy.

Cara’s: A diner on 63 that Donny and Esther work at. Many of the River Reapers frequent Cara’s.

Colors: A logo of sorts that adorns the back of MC members’ cuts. Usually embroidered onto the leather. The River Reapers colors is the Sludge Specter—a sludge-covered reaper that is a nod to the polluted Naugatuck River.

Cut: The leather jacket or vest that members of a club wear, usually with the club’s insignia embroidered onto the back, and various patches sewn on.

Enforcer: Sort of a bouncer for the club… or the guy who sorts things out when talking doesn’t work.

Hangaround: A non-member who hangs out with the MC, often at The Wet Mermaid. Usually other motorcycle enthusiasts and even non-rival bikers.

House Mouse: A woman who is unaffiliated with but hangs out with the club.

Holeshot: When someone in a motor vehicle rips up gravel. It’s also the fastest driver during a race. Not a biker term, but a reader asked about it, so I figured I’d include it. It also used to be my dad’s CB handle.

Ol’ Lady / Ol’ Man: Girlfriend/boyfriend, usually serious.

One-kicker: In A Disturbing Prospect, Cliff mentions that he isn’t a one-kick wonder yet; this means that he can’t start his bike with just one kick of the starter.

One-percenter: A club that is involved with illegal activity.

Lewisburg: The prison that both Cliff and Mercy served time in.

MC: Motorcycle club

Naugatuck, CT: The dying industrial town where the series takes place. Also a real town near where I grew up. Sometimes referred to as “Naugy.”

Naugatuck River: A river that cuts through Naugatuck and Waterbury. Known nationally in real life for its chemical pollution. More recently, there was an oil spill. Some say the river is cursed.

Patch: This can refer to the patch on a biker’s cut, or the verb—as in, getting patched in, meaning being accepted as a member.

President: The member who oversees club activities, duties, and operations.

Prospect: A potential member.

Pussy Pad: The seat on the back of the bike, usually where a biker’s ol’ lady rides.

River Reapers MC: A fictional motorcycle club named for the Naugatuck River.

Rocker: A curved patch that is usually placed on the side or back of a cut. Usually designates the club’s name.

Sergeant-at-Arms: The member who handles club rules, patches, etc. Also sometimes weapons. (In some MCs, the SAA and Enforcer are interchangeable terms for the same role.)

Shannon’s Haven: A shelter for women who are survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault, run by Shannon. Most of the women are employed by the Mermaid.

Sludge Specter: A patch awarded only to members willing to do anything for the MC, who have actually gone above and beyond member duties. Also refers to the MC’s colors.

“Take them to the river”: A River Reapers phrase referring to killing someone—usually determined by a club vote. Example: When the original members voted to kill Bastard for molesting Lucy, they voted whether to take him to the river. Bodies are often buried on the Naugatuck River front, making it a more literal phrase.

Treasurer: The member who takes care of funds. Also organizes activities, fundraisers, and other club events.

Vice President: Second-in-command, usually coordinates Church and other events, and also takes over President roles in case that member can’t perform his duties.

The Wet Mermaid: The strip club owned by the River Reapers. The business is under Treasurer Mark’s name. Sometimes referred to as “the Mermaid.”

Catch Up on the River Reapers MC Series

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A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 3

Call me overprotective, I don’t care—I don’t want him near her. She’s been through a lot. I’d never sabotage her happiness, though. She’s a grown woman, and I’m not her keeper, anyway. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way he does.

Cliff

“Whiskey and babies,” Stixx says, joining me. “Nothing about that can possibly go wrong.”

“We’ll just keep her away from the bar,” I quip. I give him a once over. His blond hair is pulled back into a half up, half down man bun. Beard wax holds his otherwise unruly beard in place. A black short-sleeved button-down leaves most of his tattoos exposed.

Nothing could cover all of the ink he has. Dude’s face is the only thing untouched. Right now, he isn’t even wearing his cut. He looks like a hipster.

“What’s with the getup?” I ask, instead of what I really want to know: What the fuck are you doing here? I hadn’t expected to see any of the guys here. It’s our clubhouse, of course, but it’s a baby shower. The only reason Ravage is here is because Shannon helped Olivia put it together.

His beard twitches as he lifts one corner of his mouth. “I’m toning it down.”

“Toning it down?” This from the man who gleefully burned down a house just a couple months ago—and not for the first time.

His eyes dart toward a booth in the corner. I follow his line of vision to where Lucy sits with her parents.

I glance from Lucy back to Stixx, then back to Lucy. “Huh?”

I’m the picture of eloquence right now.

“We’re just friends,” he assures me. “For now.”

“Friends?” I peer at him. I cannot remember a single time when Lucy and Stixx were even in the same room.

“We ran into each other at Big Y.”

I wait for more. He doesn’t give it to me. “And?” I prompt.

“She asked me if I’m a River Reaper.”

Again, I wait for him to continue. Several beats pass. His pale blue eyes dart back to Lucy. I clear my throat. “She recognized your cut?”

He nods. “We were in the wipes aisle.”

“You were buying wipes?”

His gaze slides back to me. “Dude, if you’re still using toilet paper, you’re not living.”

Stixx just gave me hygiene advice. Between the converted strip club and this doppelgänger, I’m starting to think I stepped into The Twilight Zone. “So what, you traded tips?”

“I have sensitive skin. Baby Leigh has sensitive skin. I told Lucy to try the water wipes.”

She did not mention this. I need a cigarette. “So now you’re friends.”

“For now. She invited me. I figured the cut and tattoos were too much.” He ducks his head. “I don’t know how to dress for her.”

The rest of his earlier statement hits me. I gape at him. “For now?”

“She’s nice. And she’s pretty.” He straightens and looks me in the eye. “But I know she’s your family. I wanted to make a good impression . . . on both of you.”

I glance around The Wet Mermaid at my two families and all of Lucy’s friends. I knew it’d be a little awkward for everyone. I just didn’t think it’d be weird for me.

“Do I have your blessing, if I pursue her?” Stixx asks.

“I don’t know, brother.” I run a hand through my still damp hair. “She’s been through a lot.”

He nods. “Bastard.”

I forgot the whole club knows Lucy’s history. It’s not just my history, it’s club history. My father Bastard was President until his brothers found out what he was doing to Lucy. “She needs a fresh start,” I say carefully.

“Baby daddy not in the picture?”

“Far from it.” My hand goes to the pocket in my cut where I keep my cigarettes. If this wasn’t a baby shower, I’d light up.

Stixx is my brother, but I don’t want him dating Lucy. I want to keep her as far from the club as possible. If I’d known Stixx has a thing for her, I never would’ve backed up Olivia on throwing this at the clubhouse. But Lucy is a grown woman, and I am not her keeper. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way he does.

“You don’t need my blessing,” I tell Stixx.

“But if I hurt her, you’ll kill me. I’ll hold myself to that.” With a quick bow of his head, he turns and heads toward Lucy’s table.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

My aunt and uncle eye Stixx with open disdain, while Lucy beckons him to sit down. A smile tugs at my lips. Maybe it’ll happen, maybe it won’t, but it’ll be fun to watch her parents squirm for a little while.

A hand clasps my shoulder. The thick fingers, void of any tattoos and decorated only with a wedding band, give him away.

“Hey, Pres.” I pat his hand. “Any word?”

A few weeks ago, I made small talk before asking about Olivia’s parents, out of respect. Ravage isn’t an iPhone; you can’t push his button, tell him what you want, and then put him back in your pocket. But every time I cross another day off my calendar, my nerves coil tighter. Something is wrong. Either Mercy didn’t find Bree, or trouble found them.

“Not yet.” Ravage’s shoulders slump, only for a second. Then the hard muscle contracts back into place.

“Should we be worried?” I watch his face. No one knows Mercy better than he does.

He blinks, ice blue eyes distant. The black stubble on his face is flecked with more gray than the last time I saw him—just a few days ago. “I don’t know,” he says finally. He turns to me. “She never asks, you know.”

She doesn’t ask him about hers, and I never ask about mine.

Ruth’s death still weighs on me. I might never know why she stayed with Bastard for so long, when he clearly didn’t love her. Ravage might be able to give me those answers, but maybe the past is better left buried. Learning the truth won’t bring her back.

I glance over at the bar, where Olivia is showing Trish how to make the shower’s signature drink, a Rob Roy. Even though this isn’t the first time she’s had to show this to Trish, she doesn’t even look fazed. Her face is closed, disconnected, somewhere else.

I don’t know what Esther told her, but it can’t be good.


Thank you for reading Chapter 3 of A Fatal Prospect, Book 3 in the River Reapers MC series.


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A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 2

My best friend gives me a pleading look. “My little sister’s friend was sexually assaulted. You and the club can help them the way you helped us. Right?” If she’s asking what I think, she means revenge, blood. I can’t risk that again. I’m a social worker now.

Olivia

“What’s going on?” I stand in the hall with Esther, peering into the office where Cierra and her friend sit.

“I’m so sorry to do this here,” she says, “since it’s Lucy’s day and all, but they just told us this morning.”

“Told you what?” Music pours into the hall, and I hover between playing host and hearing out my best friend.

She drops her voice, and I have to lean in close to hear her whispering.

“Cierra told Bryce that you can help with his situation. She doesn’t know exactly what you and the club did for us, but she’s smart enough to know Toci and Josué didn’t just take off,” she says, referring to her sexually abusive parents.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Bryce is her friend, in there?” I nod toward the office, where dark haired Cierra touches her forehead to the boy’s.

“He’s on the football team at their high school. There was an incident in February . . .”

His cotton candy pink hair looks too soft and fluffy for a football player, but I bite my tongue. “What incident?”

“Some of the football players went to the National Conference in February. It’s a clinic where they improve their skills. Alumni from the high school mentor their team’s current players. Technically it was a school field trip, but only specific athletes went. Not the whole team.”

I shrug. Football is boring. Lately it’s all Cliff can talk about. Every damn week, he can’t wait to see his Raiders play. Blah, blah, fucking blah.

“It was chaperoned,” she adds.

“Okay,” I prompt, twirling a finger in the air.

“Some of the mentors assaulted Bryce.”

“You mean like a hazing thing?” Men. I roll my eyes. They can’t do anything without violence. Every year there’s a story about some college frat who got his ass beat in some caveman ritual.

“No.” She swallows. “Bryce said they held him down on a pool table and . . . raped him with cue sticks.”

My entire body stiffens. I want a shot from the bar more than anything now, but I stay composed. “What did the school do?”

She shakes her head, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“No one reported it?”

“Bryce went to the chaperones, but they told him they couldn’t do anything since they didn’t see it happen. None of the other teammates saw anything—supposedly.” Her nostrils flare.

My stomach clenches. “Wasn’t there . . . damage?”

“They took him to the hospital out there. They didn’t even call his mom. He called her himself. He had to have surgery. Every student had to bring in a form giving the coach and chaperones permission to make medical decisions during the trip—as a precaution. It’s not unheard of.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip. “It was bad, Olivia. He was really hurt.”

Memories crawl up, clogging my throat with a thick, fuzzy burn. Even though there are no hands chaining my neck, for a moment, I struggle to draw air. I shove it all back down into its box. “Why are you telling me this?”

“His mom went to the coach when he got home, who gave her the same bullshit line: Didn’t see anything. She went to the principal, who took the coach’s side. She filed a police report, and the police said the hospital’s medical report wasn’t enough because no one would talk.” She sucks in a shaky breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Bryce finished out the year from home, and came back after summer break, but the boys who did this to him have been stalking him around town to keep him quiet.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask again. My throat is so dry. I glance into the office, at the teenagers huddled together.

“The club can help Bryce the way you helped us.” Her brown eyes search mine. “Right?”

I jolt upright. “Are you asking me to have my club make a bunch of eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds disappear?”

“I’m asking you, Cliff, and Donny to ask your club to look into it. Maybe you guys can put some pressure on the police department. Just look at him.”

I do. Through the doorway, his blue eyes meet mine, pleading.

“He’s all alone, Olivia. All his friends and teammates ditched him. Cierra met him through cheerleading. I think she’s his only friend. He could use friends like you and the River Reapers.”

I close my eyes. My club barely made it through what we did for Esther, and then what I did for myself. Esther’s parents and my ex had it coming. I wouldn’t change a thing. We’re supposed to be on the straight and narrow now, though—or at least as legit as a club can be, selling guns and drugs.

“Livvie, I know this is hard for you. You’re the only one who can help him. You and the club. Please? For me?” She pauses, letting the music fill in the silence between us. “For Cierra?” she tries. “For Bunny?”

My eyes snap open. Someday too soon, my niece is going to be a student at that same high school. I can’t make the whole world safer, but I can at least try to help this boy. I can make sure this never happens again.

“We’ll take it to the table,” I tell her. “But no promises.” I return to the party, my blood boiling even as I try not to think of what they did to that sweet pink-haired boy.


Thank you for reading Chapter 2 of A Fatal Prospect, Book 3 in the River Reapers MC series.


A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 1

Olivia’s like a black cat. She takes a while to warm up, but when she does, she’s loyal and loving. She’s worth it, but I’m only human. She won’t even let me tell her I love her. Sometimes, I think she’ll be the death of me.

Cliff

“You’re on Bunny duty, Cliff,” Olivia tells me as I set down the final box of decorations. I turn to find my cousin Lucy holding out her baby to me.

“Leigh,” she says, narrowing her eyes at Olivia. “Her name is Leigh.” She passes the baby Olivia nicknamed Bunny to me, and I cradle her in the crook of my arm.

“Easiest job in the house,” I say. I’d never pass up on some uninterrupted Bunny time. It’s a regular game my cousin and I play. Where we used to fight over turns playing Crash Bandicoot, now we fight over who gets to hold Bunny. Lucy always wins, of course.

Nothing has changed between us.

“I can’t believe you two talked me into a biker Sip and See,” Lucy says, climbing onto a chair. She wraps crepe streamers around the stripper pole, and I bite back a laugh.

I can’t believe it, either.

I catch Olivia’s eye from where she sets up the bar. She smirks. “Please. I wasn’t about to let you sip tea. Whiskey’s so much better, and we’ve got plenty of that.”

“I told you to save it for your own baby,” Lucy says.

“Not gonna happen,” Olivia says. “And don’t even start with that ‘you’ll change your mind’ bullshit again. I’d be a horrible mother.”

I swallow her statement. It lodges in my chest, wedging the rift between us even wider. Babies are a touchy subject between us, close behind marriage and Olivia’s PTSD.

Bunny fusses. I look down at her, and I can’t help but smile. “Hey,” I soothe. She’s existed for just about two weeks, yet she brings out the very best in me. I might never have my own children, so for me, Bunny is it.

“I’m gonna spoil you,” I confess, rocking her. I swear she smiles. “I’ll even buy your first motorcycle.”

“Over my dead body.”

I turn. Lucy holds out the tiny outfit she debated over for the last week, rolling her eyes at me but smiling. “I’ll work on her,” I tell Bunny.

“It might not take long.” She holds out her arms. “Olivia talked me into a biker baby debut. The two of you could talk me into anything. Give me my baby.”

“I can change her,” I say, not ready to give up my niece.

“I need you to hang up the rest of the streamers,” Olivia says, joining us.

She barely looks at the baby. I’ve seen her hold Bunny twice, and both times were at the hospital.

“Sucks being tall, doesn’t it?” Lucy teases, and I relinquish the baby, immediately missing her.

“She smiled at me.” I grab a roll of streamers and tape, and get to work.

“We’ve been through this. It’s gas.” Lucy lays Bunny down and starts working her out of her tiny onesie.

My chest aches.

Olivia loves Bunny—Leigh. I know she does. She’s the one who gave her that nickname while Lucy was pregnant. But once Lucy brought Bunny home, everything changed between Olivia and me.

The distance between us is complicated. She doesn’t want to move in with me, she doesn’t want to get married, and she definitely doesn’t want to have my babies. She won’t even let me tell her I love her.

It’s not just that.

Sometimes when I close my eyes, I still see her on top of Greg, those fingers, currently stacking delicate shot glasses, wrapped around his throat. There’s no doubt in my mind that she had to do it. I still wish I didn’t have to see it.

I guess that’s how Lucy must feel about me.

I finish up the streamers, my hands tingling, the muscles and nerves remembering what I want to forget. I made my father pay for his sins against Lucy with my bare hands. No regrets, that’s how I live. Olivia, too.

It still changes you.

There are times when I can’t look at her. The monster in me sees the monster in her. It stops me cold in my tracks. Our entire relationship is probably built on that thread that runs through us both. It makes sense that we can’t have the things I want so badly.

Our world is no place for a child.

It’s not her fault at all.

I just don’t know what to do about it.

“It’s time,” Olivia calls, putting the final touches on the gifts table. Right on cue, the door swings open, and Donny and Esther shuffle inside with their herd of kids. Esther’s three little sisters come with a plus-one, an older teen boy I’ve never seen before. Esther’s oldest little sister, Cierra, breaks off from the group with him and they dip their heads together. Cierra points to Olivia, and my eyebrows furrow.

“Who’s he?” I ask Donny.

His jaw tightens. “Cierra’s seventeen-year-old ‘friend.’ She’s fourteen, for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t ready for this shit.”

“She’s in high school, brother,” I say, clapping him on the back. “It was bound to happen.”

“I ain’t a fan.” Donny eyes the boy. “They’re attached at the hip, and I swear, if they attach anywhere else, I’ll kill him.” His dark eyes meet mine, softening as his threat dies.

Donny fell in love with Esther and didn’t skip a beat when she got guardianship of her little sisters. They’ve all been through a lot and, teen boyfriends aside, I’m glad things are getting back to normal for them.

More guests pour in, mostly teachers Lucy works with at the elementary school. I spot her chatting with friends, rocking Bunny in her arms. Motherhood looks good on Lucy. She reminds me of my mother, dedicated and tender.

I’ll probably never know the truth behind Ruth’s death.

It’s a loss I feel every day, but especially today when she should be here. She’d love Bunny. She’d love Olivia.

I glance around for my woman, but she’s gone. So are Cierra, the boy, and Esther.

“Olivia will fill you in later,” Donny says, gripping my arm.

“Fill me in on what?” Before I can get an answer out of him, music fills the clubhouse.


Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of A Fatal Prospect, Book 3 in the River Reapers MC series.


Pre-Order A FATAL PROSPECT, Book 3 in the River Reapers MC Series

Earlier this summer I announced I won’t be publishing anything in 2020, so that I can spend the next few months “writing ahead.” I don’t want another flareup of my UCTD derailing my career, ever again. If that means purposely slowing things down even further, even if only temporarily, so be it.

After much thought, I’ve finally set a release date for A Fatal Prospect. I know a lot of you are really looking forward to this book. I know you wanted it to escape into during all of the madness that has been this year. I really wish I could give you this book right now. Publishing doesn’t work that way, though, especially not with a chronic illness.

There are many moving parts that you as a reader will likely never see: booking cover designs, editing, ARCs, promotion companies, advertising . . . The list goes on! It isn’t just me and my UCTD that I have to work around. I work with many other professionals, all of whom have other clients and their own lives to schedule around. When all was said and done, the date I chose is the very soonest I could comfortably schedule a release date, especially factoring in that shit happens and, when shit inevitably will happen, I’ll still be able to release this book on time without penalty.

(Yes, penalty—if I were to miss my release date, I could lose my Amazon pre-order privileges for a year!)

That date is . . .

Drum roll, please . . .

A Fatal Prospect
River Reapers MC, Book 3
Available March 29th, 2021

(Blurb and cover reveal coming soon)

🖤🏍💀 Pre-Order Now 💀🏍🖤

A Fatal Prospect and its spinoff novella will be worth your wait, I promise!

HER MERCY Glossary

While reading Her Mercy, there might be some terms you aren’t familiar with, or places you need a refresher for. I’ve put together a glossary of biker slang and club roles, as well as terms special to the River Reapers MC, plus locations.

Looking for the character guide? Click here!

Cara’s: A diner on 63 that many of the River Reapers frequent Cara’s.

Colors: A logo of sorts that adorns the back of MC members’ cuts. Usually embroidered onto the leather. The River Reapers colors is the Sludge Specter—a sludge-covered reaper that is a nod to the polluted Naugatuck River.

Cut: The leather jacket or vest that members of a club wear, usually with the club’s insignia embroidered onto the back, and various patches sewn on.

Enforcer: Sort of a bouncer for the club… or the guy who sorts things out when talking doesn’t work.

Hangaround: A non-member who hangs out with the MC, often at The Wet Mermaid. Usually other motorcycle enthusiasts and even non-rival bikers.

House Mouse: A woman who is unaffiliated with but hangs out with the club.

Holeshot: When someone in a motor vehicle rips up gravel. It’s also the fastest driver during a race. Not a biker term, but a reader asked about it, so I figured I’d include it. It also used to be my dad’s CB handle.

Ol’ Lady / Ol’ Man: Girlfriend/boyfriend, usually serious.

One-kicker: In A Disturbing Prospect, Cliff mentions that he isn’t a one-kick wonder yet; this means that he can’t start his bike with just one kick of the starter.

One-percenter: A club that is involved with illegal activity.

Lewisburg: The prison that both Cliff and Mercy served time in.

MC: Motorcycle club

Naugatuck, CT: The dying industrial town where the series takes place. Also a real town near where I grew up.

Naugatuck River: A river that cuts through Naugatuck and Waterbury. Known nationally in real life for its chemical pollution. More recently, there was an oil spill. Some say the river is cursed.

Patch: This can refer to the patch on a biker’s cut, or the verb—as in, getting patched in, meaning being accepted as a member.

President: The member who oversees club activities, duties, and operations.

Prospect: A potential member.

Pussy Pad: The seat on the back of the bike, usually where a biker’s ol’ lady rides.

River Reapers MC: A fictional motorcycle club named for the Naugatuck River.

Rocker: A curved patch that is usually placed on the side or back of a cut. Usually designates the club’s name.

Sergeant-at-Arms: The member who handles club rules, patches, etc. Also sometimes weapons. (In some MCs, the SAA and Enforcer are interchangeable terms for the same role.)

Sludge Specter: A patch awarded only to members willing to do anything for the MC, who have actually gone above and beyond member duties. Also refers to the MC’s colors.

“Take them to the river”: A River Reapers phrase referring to killing someone—usually determined by a club vote. Example: When the original members voted to kill Bastard for molesting Lucy, they voted whether to take him to the river. Bodies are often buried on the Naugatuck River front, making it a more literal phrase.

Treasurer: The member who takes care of funds. Also organizes activities, fundraisers, and other club events.

Vice President: Second-in-command, usually coordinates Church and other events, and also takes over President roles in case that member can’t perform his duties.

The Wet Mermaid: The strip club owned by the River Reapers. The business is under Treasurer Mark’s name.

Her Mercy is exclusively for River Reapers MC fan club members. Click here to download your copy!

Read the River Reapers MC Series

[mbm_book_grid id=”115″]


Her Mercy, Chapter 1

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Same old Claudine, with “cunt” tattooed down between her tits. Another reason I hate her, but not the reason. “I must’ve got off the wrong stop.” I turn back toward the train.

Somewhere in Connecticut, Ravage is laughing at me.

Catch Up

Her Mercy is a River Reapers MC novella. This book can be read as a standalone, or pairs well with A Disturbing Prospect and A Risky Prospect.

Part 1: The Drifter

Chapter 1

Bree
Now

I breathe a sigh of relief as the train pulls out of the station. He didn’t come after me. I didn’t really expect him to, considering I kind of just dropped that bomb on him and walked away. Typical me. Still, there was a slim chance he’d chase me, but he didn’t.

No one is chasing me now.

I lean back against the seat and watch through the window as New Haven, Connecticut fades away. It occurs to me that I don’t really have a reason to run. Ravage thought it might be best until things cool off, but I could’ve told him to go fuck himself. Instead, I took his money and let his Prospect collect me and drop me off.

It doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to figure out why I keep running from this state.

By now I should be tired of running. The truth is, I find it thrilling. Leaving not only gives me a clean slate, but also an opportunity. There are fifty states in this country and millions of people—ample places and faces to get to know.

I always end up back here.

Not this time.

This time will be different.

This time, I’ll stay away.


The train rolls into Norfolk, Virginia thirteen hours later. The conductor on the loudspeaker pronounces it “No Fuck,” informing us that this is the last stop. I peer out the window, scanning the dusty parking lot for my ride and new roommate. There are too many people milling around, so I grab my bag and get off the train.

I step to the side so I’m not blocking the other passengers getting off and shield my eyes with a hand. I wish I’d thought to grab his sunglasses. They were some silly designer frames, but they’d come in handy right about now.

I’ve got no idea what this woman is supposed to look like, and I don’t have a cell phone, either. If she doesn’t show, I’ll have to figure something else out. I don’t panic because I always do.

“Bree?”

I wrinkle my nose at the woman in front of me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never kid around.” She winks.

Same old Claudine, with the word “cunt” tattooed down between her tits, her dark hair streaked through with red. “I must’ve got off the wrong stop,” I mutter, turning back toward the train.

Somewhere in Connecticut, Ravage is laughing his ass off.

“Oh, come on, Bree. It’s all water under the bridge.” She grabs my bag, spinning me around. “Besides, you look beat. And hungry. You always got bitchy when you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m even more bitchy when you’re around.” I smooth my paisley skirt across my thighs. It’s threadbare, but I’ll wear it ’til it dies.

“So let’s even you out, then. You look like you could use a burger. Three, maybe.” She eyes the way my skirt hangs on my hips, how my ankles barely fill my boots.

I sigh. I am hungry. There’s nowhere else for me to go, anyway, at least not right now. “Fine,” I relent, “but you’re buying.”

I follow her to a beat up Subaru, watching her bony ass in that tight little skirt. I can’t believe Ravage shacked me up with her. I’d just as soon be on the streets again. Which is probably where I’ll go, the second my stomach is full.

I expect her to take me to a restaurant, somewhere I can just slip out when we’re done. Instead, she drives the half hour to Hampton, where she pulls into a cute condo complex.

“Home sweet home,” she sings.

I flinch. This can’t possibly be her place. It looks so normal. I glare at the townhouse, crossing my arms.

“Oh, stop. Some of us get our lives together. Even a backwarmer like me.” She pushes open the driver’s side door and gets out, grabbing my bag from the backseat. Without another word, she marches inside, leaving the front door open.

Backwarmer. I sniff. More like homewrecker.

My stomach growls, reminding me what I came here for. As soon as I finish eating, I’m out of here. I follow her in, closing the door behind me out of habit. Immediately I wish I’d left it open. It’s too loud in here, the walls painted an angry red. Blue armchairs, accent tables, and a coffee table try to anchor it, but the red and purple throw rugs only amplify it. Scarves in reds, blues, and purples cover the wall behind the blue couch.

I rub my temples.

The outside might look normal, but the interior looks like Claudine threw up everywhere.

I wrap my arms around myself, longing for the eggshell walls of state housing.

The kitchen isn’t much better. The walls are still red, accented with more blue and a little golden yellow along the backsplash. I climb onto a stool at the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining area, and wrap my legs around its rungs.

Claudine dances around the kitchen, singing Bon Jovi while cooking. Another reason I hate her, but not the reason. She puts a plate of three cheeseburgers down in front of me, then sits across from me, her placemat empty. She folds her hands.

I pick up a burger, and grease drips between my fingers. The sensation makes me want to wipe my hands, but there’s no napkin holder on the table. I sink my teeth into the bun. Spices flood my senses, my mouth watering around the food. It’s good.

Fucking Claudine.

Of course she can cook.

While I’m chewing my second bite, she leans forward.

“What?” I ask with my mouth full. She doesn’t deserve manners, even if this might be the best burger I’ve ever had.

“I thought you’d wanna know,” she begins, her eyes intent on mine.

I take another bite, mostly so I don’t have to answer her. Almost one burger down. Two to go. Then I can go, too.

“Mercy’s getting out,” she says, and just like that, my day is ruined.


Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of Her Mercy, a River Reapers MC prequel novella.


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A RISKY PROSPECT Glossary

While reading A Risky Prospect, there might be some terms you aren’t familiar with, or places you need a refresher for. I’ve put together a glossary of biker slang and club roles, as well as terms special to the River Reapers MC, plus locations.

Looking for the character guide? Click here!

Cara’s: A diner on 63 that Donny and Esther work at. Many of the River Reapers frequent Cara’s.

Colors: A logo of sorts that adorns the back of MC members’ cuts. Usually embroidered onto the leather. The River Reapers colors is the Sludge Specter—a sludge-covered reaper that is a nod to the polluted Naugatuck River.

Cut: The leather jacket or vest that members of a club wear, usually with the club’s insignia embroidered onto the back, and various patches sewn on.

Enforcer: Sort of a bouncer for the club… or the guy who sorts things out when talking doesn’t work.

Hangaround: A non-member who hangs out with the MC, often at The Wet Mermaid. Usually other motorcycle enthusiasts and even non-rival bikers.

House Mouse: A woman who is unaffiliated with but hangs out with the club.

Holeshot: When someone in a motor vehicle rips up gravel. It’s also the fastest driver during a race. Not a biker term, but a reader asked about it, so I figured I’d include it. It also used to be my dad’s CB handle.

Ol’ Lady / Ol’ Man: Girlfriend/boyfriend, usually serious.

One-kicker: In A Disturbing Prospect, Cliff mentions that he isn’t a one-kick wonder yet; this means that he can’t start his bike with just one kick of the starter.

One-percenter: A club that is involved with illegal activity.

Lewisburg: The prison that both Cliff and Mercy served time in.

MC: Motorcycle club

Naugatuck, CT: The dying industrial town where the series takes place. Also a real town near where I grew up.

Naugatuck River: A river that cuts through Naugatuck and Waterbury. Known nationally in real life for its chemical pollution. More recently, there was an oil spill. Some say the river is cursed.

Patch: This can refer to the patch on a biker’s cut, or the verb—as in, getting patched in, meaning being accepted as a member.

President: The member who oversees club activities, duties, and operations.

Prospect: A potential member.

Pussy Pad: The seat on the back of the bike, usually where a biker’s ol’ lady rides.

River Reapers MC: A fictional motorcycle club named for the Naugatuck River.

Rocker: A curved patch that is usually placed on the side or back of a cut. Usually designates the club’s name.

Sergeant-at-Arms: The member who handles club rules, patches, etc. Also sometimes weapons. (In some MCs, the SAA and Enforcer are interchangeable terms for the same role.)

Sludge Specter: A patch awarded only to members willing to do anything for the MC, who have actually gone above and beyond member duties. Also refers to the MC’s colors.

“Take them to the river”: A River Reapers phrase referring to killing someone—usually determined by a club vote. Example: When the original members voted to kill Bastard for molesting Lucy, they voted whether to take him to the river. Bodies are often buried on the Naugatuck River front, making it a more literal phrase.

Treasurer: The member who takes care of funds. Also organizes activities, fundraisers, and other club events.

Vice President: Second-in-command, usually coordinates Church and other events, and also takes over President roles in case that member can’t perform his duties.

The Wet Mermaid: The strip club owned by the River Reapers. The business is under Treasurer Mark’s name.


Read the River Reapers MC Series

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1

It’s the day I’ve been working toward for the past four years. In just a couple hours, I’ll officially be a social worker. I should be enjoying a quickie with my biker boyfriend before I walk across the graduation stage, but my roommate’s knock interrupts us. The look on her face tells me I might not be making it to the ceremony.

“I need your help, Olivia. I need the club’s help,” she adds, and I know I won’t be making it at all.

You’re reading Chapter 1 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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author’s note

The following excerpt is NSFW; blush at your own risk! This excerpt may also contain triggers; please see the complete list of triggers for A Risky Prospect.


Olivia

The fabric of my dress tears as Cliff yanks the top down to free my breasts. The ripping sound cuts through the air, loud enough that I swear everyone in the vicinity probably heard it. The vicinity being the River Reapers’ club house.

I always wanted sex so good, clothing had to be ripped. It’s a shame that my graduation dress is collateral damage.

Cliff thrusts into me, oblivious to the heat spreading through my cheeks. He wraps one hand around my breast, his other hand caressing my ribs, crossing my stomach, traveling down, down, down, until the pad of his thumb rests on my favorite nerve. As he gives it one quick stroke—like he’s plucking a note on a guitar, checking to make sure it’s tuned properly—my back arches and I forget that the whole club can hear us, that we just ripped my graduation dress. I fade into him, as in sync with another person as I’ll ever be.

There’s something about him that absorbs me without erasing me. We orbit each other, a symbiotic relationship. Especially when his hands are on me and he’s inside of me.

My hips match his pace, his hand rubbing over my nipple, giving my breast just the right amount of squeeze, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. Without me ever saying so, Cliff instinctively knows the key to me coming with him is his giant hands on my chest. He’s attentive like that.

I’m close, so close I feel like I’m dying. Every woman knows this agony: when you’re right on the edge but not quite there yet. I’m burning alive from the inside out with his match igniting me.

“Close?” he asks, voice rough. It’s always deep and smoky, a rasp that sends shivers through me and makes me wet.

I nod, forgoing words to focus all of my concentration into the final rub he gives me before moving both hands to my breasts. I moan. As long as he keeps doing that, I’ll be more than close. This one’s gonna be one of those firework shows, the kind that leaves me slightly dizzy, staring at the ceiling.

Except the sharp rap of knuckles on Cliff’s door yanks me right out of my happy place and reminds me of why I can’t focus in the first place.

“Olivia!” my roommate, Esther, calls. “We’re gonna be late. Vamonos!”

It’s the day I’ve been working toward for the past four years. In just a couple hours, I’ll officially be a social worker. Esther, too.

“Oh, shit,” Cliff says. He pulls out, but just as his crown brushes my clit, he shudders and lets go. The hot pulse takes me with him, a mini spark instead of the fireworks I’d hoped for, but I’ll take it.

I lay back with a smile.

“Shit,” he growls. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” I laugh. “I’m pretty sure this is my fault.”

“I’m the one who grabbed your ass,” he says as he pads away from the bed and ducks into the bathroom.

I sit up on my elbows. “I’m the one who wasn’t wearing any panties.”

Esther pounds harder. “Let’s go,” she calls, drawing out the two words. To think, a few months ago, my bookish roommate was the one dragging her ass, making me play time games so neither of us were ever late. Now she’s in a rush.

I glance down at my ruined dress and sigh. It’s not too big a deal, considering no one’s going to see it under my gown anyway. But still. I kinda liked it.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Cliff says, handing me a washcloth.

“I should punish you by just wearing my gown and nothing else.” I clean up as quickly as possible, then start hunting through his dresser for something else to wear. I don’t stay overnight with him in the club house often, but this winter I learned to keep extra clothing stashed in as many places as possible.

A girl never knows when she’s going to get dirty.

Or bloody.

I slip out of the remains of my dress and tug on the romper.

Cliff groans.

“What?”

Instead of telling me, he closes the space between us and touches my hard nipples through the fabric. “You’re killing me,” he whispers, and I’m immediately wet again.

“I’m leaving!” Esther threatens.

“I liked her better when she was quiet,” I tell Cliff, grabbing my clutch bag. “Donny is a bad influence.”

He chuckles. “And vice versa. Donny was as cold as ice. I saw him smile the other day, and Esther wasn’t even in the room.”

“Please kill me if I ever change for a guy.”

His eyes drop from mine as he picks up his keys. He shrugs into his cut without a word. I wish I could have a moment to run my fingers over the stitching where the arms would be on a normal leather jacket, feel the silky patches and rocker that make him a member of the River Reapers. That make him a Sludge Specter. I pull the door open and come face to face with Esther.

“Ready?” I ask her.

She gives me a look—a death glare that is all Esther and zero percent Donny—and flounces away in her cornflower blue sundress and white canvas sneakers, the color and the dress complimenting and accentuating her long, dark legs.

I roll my eyes at my pale legs, mottled with scars and bruises. There’s also the scar at my hairline.

Cliff catches my hand, drawing me in for a kiss. His warm lips touch mine for a full second, then he pulls back. “See you there,” he says.

Nodding, I leave Cliff’s room and the other club rooms, heading toward the stairs that’ll take me down into The Wet Mermaid, the MC’s strip club and my place of employment. For now, anyway. After graduation, it’ll be a whirlwind of state job interviews and shopping for business casual.

I make my way through the club, my brothers in leather nodding at me and raising their glasses. Girls spin on the poles, and Vaughn mixes drinks behind the bar. Good thing it’s not anyone else. I don’t know where Mark—my boss and the MC’s treasurer—finds some of these girls. They can’t tell top shelf vodka from bottom.

As I exit the club, the heat hits me like a wall, humidity wrapping around me and wrecking what was left of my hair. Gotta love New England weather—it always jumps straight from winter into summer.

I spot Esther’s car, but she’s not in it. Glancing around, I scan the parking lot. Two minutes ago she couldn’t hold her horses, and now she’s nowhere to be found. Typical fucking Esther. Scowling, I grab a cigarette from my clutch and light up. At this rate, Cliff and Donny will be at the campus before we are.

A sob cuts through the thick air, and I whip around. I know that voice. I’ve heard my roommate cry at Finding Dory. I follow the sound, my fingers closed around the handle of the knife in my clutch. I don’t go anywhere without it.

Rounding the corner of the building, I nearly crash into Esther, who’s sagged against the wall, her ass on the ground, knees drawn to her chest. Her shoulders shake and her limp hand loosely holds her phone. Her face is dry, but her chest rises and falls in rapid breaths. She gasps for air, and I drop to my knees in front of her, taking her hands.

“Esther? What’s wrong?”


Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.


Support My Writing

If you enjoyed this chapter, please support my writing!

You can also like, comment on, and share this post. Every little bit helps.



Photo by HayDmitriy / Depositphotos

Biker Slang and Club Roles

Now that A Disturbing Prospect is live, I thought I’d run through some of the biker slang and club member titles that pop up throughout the book. While writing, I used this biker slang dictionary as a reference.

Looking for A Risky Prospect terms and locations? Click here!


Cut: The leather jacket or vest that members of a club wear, usually with the club’s insignia embroidered onto the back, and various patches sewn on.

Enforcer: Sort of a bouncer for the club… or the guy who sorts things out when talking doesn’t work.

House Mouse: A woman who is unaffiliated with but hangs out with the club.

Holeshot: When someone in a motor vehicle rips up gravel. It’s also the fastest driver during a race. Not a biker term, but a reader asked about it, so I figured I’d include it. It also used to be my dad’s CB handle.

Ol’ Lady / Ol’ Man: Girlfriend/boyfriend, usually serious.

One-kicker: In A Disturbing Prospect, Cliff mentions that he isn’t a one-kick wonder yet; this means that he can’t start his bike with just one kick of the starter.

One-percenter: A club that is involved with illegal activity.

MC: Motorcycle club

Patch: This can refer to the patch on a biker’s cut, or the verb—as in, getting patched in, meaning being accepted as a member.


MC Positions

President: The member who oversees club activities, duties, and operations.

Prospect: A potential member.

Pussy Pad: The seat on the back of the bike, usually where a biker’s ol’ lady rides.

Rocker: A curved patch that is usually placed on the side or back of a cut. Usually designates the club’s name.

Sergeant-at-Arms: The member who handles club rules, patches, etc. Also sometimes weapons. (In some MCs, the SAA and Enforcer are interchangeable terms for the same role.)

Treasurer: The member who takes care of funds. Also organizes activities, fundraisers, and other club events.

Vice President: Second-in-command, usually coordinates Church and other events, and also takes over President roles in case that member can’t perform his duties.

There are other positions in an MC, but I didn’t want to overwhelm my readers with a whole slew of characters. You’ll meet more of the members in the next book. 😉


A Disturbing Prospect
Now Available

Book 2: A Risky Prospect
Prequel Novella: Her Mercy
Book 3: A Fatal Prospect
Book 4: COMING SOON