motorcycle club romance – Elizabeth Barone

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 5

The heat radiating from his eyes will burn me alive. My heart races faster, and I’m not sure if it’s from exhilaration or fear. Because as much as I’m dreading what I think he’s going to say, it feels nice to be wanted.

Even if I can’t give him what he wants.

“Where are you planning on going when Esther moves out?”

Here we go.

catch up

Chapter 5

Olivia

“I’ll see you tonight,” I promise Esther. “Call me if . . .”

I don’t finish. Esther doesn’t need me. What she needs is the relief that comes with her family’s safety. She doesn’t need me to hold her hand. She needs me to get her some answers. I won’t be able to do anything for her until Monday, when I start my new job with the Waterbury Department of Children and Families.

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my hand. “And I do need you, chica. You keep me calm and focused just by being here. So thank you.”

I leave my hand in hers, too stunned to say anything. Being wanted sends a spark of warmth through me. I squeeze her hand back, then release it. “Let’s go,” I say to Cliff, hurrying past him and out of the club house.

On to the next emergency—my biographic title.

“Hey,” Cliff calls after me.

Shoulders tightening, I dangle between pretending not to hear him and riding off, or actually dealing with him right now. Except I’m not dressed for riding, so it’s either go back into the club house and grab my gear, or warm the seat behind him.

Smoothing away my emotions, I turn around. “How pissed is Lucy?” I ask, hoping that’s all he wants to talk about.

He grimaces. “Pretty pissed. Want a ride?”

I try not to mirror the look on his face. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I just need a little distance right now. Plus, I’ll use any excuse to take out the Street Glide.

“I get it,” he says when I don’t answer right away. “Why ride with me when you can ride your own?” His grin lights up his face. There’s nothing but affection there.

I nod, even though that’s not it. I really need to clear my head.

“Go get changed,” he says. “I’ll wait for you.”

I take a step back toward the club house. “That’s okay. One of us should get to Lucy before she explodes.”

“I’m not really looking forward to facing Livid Lucy and your parents on my own,” he admits.

No matter how muddled my head is, I can’t subject him to that kind of torture. “You’re right. It’s safer if we stick together.” I laugh, and his face softens as he reaches for me.

“I want to talk to you about something.” He places a hand on each side of my waist and pulls me into him, and I nearly dissolve in his arms.

I swallow. “We should go.”

“It’ll take two minutes. I’ll ask, you’ll say yes, and then we’ll handle your parents and Lucy.”

The heat radiating from his body, from his eyes—it will burn me alive. My heart races faster and faster, and I’m not sure if it’s from exhilaration or fear. Because as much as I’m dreading what I think he’s going to say, it feels nice to be wanted.

Even if I can’t give him what he wants.

“Where are you planning on going when Esther moves out?”

Here we go.

I shrug as if I haven’t put any thought into it. “Not sure I’m going anywhere. I mean, my salary with DCF should cover rent.” Barely. “I’ll probably keep my bartending job to fill in the gaps.”

“What if you didn’t have to?” The corners of his lips lift, brown eyes pools that I could dive into. Drown in. He’s the water and I’m the stone.

“I like bartending. Besides, it’s a way out of Prospect pranks.” I roll my eyes, but my smile is fond. Along with club dues, Prospects—potential members of the MC—get the grunt work. That’s how it is. But I swear the guys are giving me the extra special treatment, because there’s no way that regular Prospects have to do things like buy hemorrhoid cream and magnum condoms. Then there was the time they sent me to pick something up, and there was nothing at the address they gave me—not even a building.

It’s like having a gang of older brothers. Their brand of torture is harmless, but it’s a huge pain in my ass. Not to mention a waste of gas. If I’m too busy with work and bartending for them, they can’t send me wandering all over the state. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.

“Just wait ’til you find out what they’ve got planned next,” Cliff says, kissing the tip of my nose. His hands slide up and down my waist. A hot breeze moves my skirt around my thighs. All I want to do is drag him upstairs with me. I have to get undressed anyway.

He kisses the side of my neck, just under my ear, and I’m melting into him again. My neck arches back, exposing my throat. Leaning down, he licks the slope from my chin to the hollow of my collar bone. His lips rest in the space, notching in as if they were made to fit my body.

“Let me take over Esther’s half of your rent.” His lips move against my skin as he speaks, and my knees go weak.

Traitors.

“Cliff,” I moan. “We have to go.” Putting a hand on each side of his chest, I push him away, even though I don’t really want to. I want to take him upstairs with me, let this fantasy envelope me for another little while.

It doesn’t work that way. Things with Cliff need to stay easy if I’m going to remain intact. No tangling up our lives until he’s so deep inside me, I’ll never get him out. A man almost ruined me once before. I’ll never let it happen again.

“I’ll be down in five,” I tell him, tone firm. Without looking back at him, I head into The Wet Mermaid.

 The Street Glide hums between my thighs, a constant vibrating purr that reverberates through my bones. This thing is power. It’s the crash of ocean against land, the crush of a flower in a hand, the punishing whip of a sandstorm across the desert.

It already feels like an extension of me.

I push it faster, leaning forward into the wind. My hair lashes out behind me in a stream. If it were possible to do so without getting sand in my mouth, I’d be smiling. I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time—and the most free.

Cliff draws even with me, throwing an annoyed glance my way. I lift one shoulder. He motions for me to slow down and pull over, his hands and fingers in black leather gloves.

I roll my eyes. We’re just getting to the good part. I’m not exactly sure where we are, as far as town lines go, but I do remember that the road curves ahead, snaking wildly this way and that. It’s a fun stretch to drive in a car. I’m dying to find out how it is on the Harley.

Cliff makes a more fervid motion. His message is clear, but I pretend not to understand. Lifting a hand in a wave, I take off. For a second, I swear I hear a sigh behind me, but that’s impossible. My engine is too loud.

The first curve begins. I don’t slow, but I do lean into the turn just like Cliff taught me. The Harley leans so far, if I glance to my right, the road is only inches from my face. My heart thrusts blood through my veins, and despite the wind, I do smile. Pitted gray gravel blurs past me. A black spot could be an ant or a droplet of grease. I pretend it’s the former, that I’m some Greek goddess looking down on my Earth.

Taking it all in.

As the turn ends, I right the bike. Being vertical again makes blood rush from my head and I feel slightly faint. Dizzy. My hands go numb, my legs heavy. I let my body go limp on the bike, tipping my head back. The air rushes up my neck, a cold caress. I’m a little tempted to let go of the handlebars, but I know Cliff is right behind me and I’m sure my little stunt already gave him a heart attack.

I’ll hear all about it later.

For now I just ride, uniting my body with the machine between my legs, leaning into curves, pushing myself closer to the road every time. It’s an edge that I’m riding—too far and I’ll get myself a nice tattoo of road rash up and down that half of my body. Maybe even wreck myself entirely. It’s the line I’m straddling that gives me a high. Every time I sit upright again, every time adrenaline flushes my system, I feel invincible.

I decide I’m going to name the bike Até, after the Greek goddess of mischief. She’s another part of me, like we were made for each other. It feels like I have to put barely any effort into this. Then again, both Ravage and Donny have said several times that I ride like my father.

Mercy—the first man who taught me how to ride.

Not for the first time, I wonder how different things would’ve been for me if he’d stayed out of prison. If Bree had stayed put. I would have a family much different from the one that adopted me. Even though I wouldn’t trade Lucy for anything, being adopted has its complications.

Mainly, Cliff.

As I cross the Middlebury line, heading south on Route 63, he appears at my side. We’re doing a slower 40 mph, so I actually hear him when he shouts over to me.

“Are you trying to scratch up that Harley?” His silky black hair flies out behind him, and the urge to run my fingers through it makes my hands twitch. I’m always wet after our rides, and today is no different.

Yet this damned ceremony is the only thing Lucy and Cliff have been able to talk about for weeks.

I’m glad we missed it. My adoptive parents have no idea about my second life, but they will soon enough. They’ve done a lot for me over the years, and have always treated me as their own, but I haven’t told them about Cliff yet. It’s bound to cause an argument.

This is my life, not theirs. It’s not even Lucy’s or Cliff’s. Even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with this life yet, I want the freedom to figure it out. Patting the Street Glide, I slow down as I veer off Route 63 and onto Park Road, toward the restaurant.

At the restaurant, we back our bikes into spaces side by side. I kick down the stand but don’t move. I’m not looking forward to telling my parents that I’m banging the nephew who ruined their lives—according to them.

Never mind what Cliff’s father was doing to their daughter.

I’ve never known two people more in denial.

Cliff pulls me into his arms—thick, muscular limbs that wrap around me. He presses full lips to mine, the metal of his septum piercing cool against my skin. Another change he’s made lately. Yet here I am, still the same.

“It’s going to be okay, Olivia.”

The way he says my name sends warm tingles down my spine. Again I’m overcome by the urge to hop back on our bikes, go to my place, and ride him. But then I’d have to deal with his questions.

I’m not sure who I’d rather face right now—him or my parents.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

I lead him to Elena’s, an expensive Italian restaurant that my parents are obsessed with. They didn’t ask where I’d rather have my graduation brunch, same way they didn’t ask where Lucy wanted hers. Nora and Collin always assume that they know best, end of story.

I step inside, Cliff at my back, both of us still wearing our cuts, jeans, and riding boots despite the humidity. Better to sweat than to get third degree burns from the bikes.

The cold air is a welcome caress. I glance around for my parents and Lucy and, spotting them at a table in the back, ignore the hostess.

“Come on,” I say in a low voice. I weave past the tables, trusting that Cliff is following me and not heading for the hills.

It’s funny, the things that send us running.

For me, it’s the prospect of moving in with him. The unspoken feelings he carries in his eyes.

For him, it’s my parents. The history they share, long before Nora and Collin welcomed me into their home.

Mom smiles when she sees me, her face freezing and falling when she spots Cliff on my heels. Dad follows her gaze, his mouth hardening into a thin line.

“Hey, guys,” Lucy says, rising from her seat and giving us hugs. It’s good to know she’s on my side, no matter how pissed off she is at us for making her wait.

“We only reserved a table for four,” Mom sniffs.

I’m in for a long day.

Thank you for reading Chapter 5 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

Support My Writing

If you enjoyed this chapter, please support my writing!

Sponsor

Shop

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

Continue Reading

Photo by alanpoulson / Depositphotos

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4

Olivia is the kind of woman who doesn’t have many friends. She keeps to herself, staying loyal to the few friends and family she does have. Esther has been an angel in my Olivia’s life. When my girl has nightmares about Eli and I’m not there to soothe her back to sleep, Esther climbs into bed with her and holds her close. No questions asked.

To think that someone hurt this quiet woman who so sweetly holds Donny’s heart and tames Olivia’s sends a fresh surge of fire through my veins.

Catch Up

Chapter 4

Cliff

I squeeze my hands into fists so tightly, my knuckles hurt. I see my father looking at Lucy a little too long, can hear her cries late at night. He’s dead, he’s gone, and Lucy is safe, but these little girls aren’t.

Donny’s fingers move like dancers through Esther’s hair, stroking and comforting. It’s weird, reconciling this tender man with the one who just a few months ago helped me disassemble a body. Then again, it’s weird compartmentalizing myself, my own hands that have taken lives and given love. He glances at me, brown eyes so dark they’re nearly black.

“DCF says they’ve done everything they’re supposed to,” Esther says with a sob. “My mom went to all of her parenting classes and therapy sessions. And my . . . He can’t pass the psychosexual evaluation, but he has a job and their apartment is a two bedroom.” Esther lowers her legs, crossing them and then letting her hands rest in her lap.

“What’s a psychosexual evaluation?” I ask, but I think I already know. My hands itch for something to do. A cigarette to smoke. A rapist to choke. Anything.

“It’s a test for sex offenders,” Olivia explains bitterly. “Tells the clinician how much of a risk they are, if they’ll sexually assault someone again. It’s also supposed to tell the clinician what kind of treatment they need.” Olivia practically spits the word. “Treatment.” Shaking her head, she paces the small room. “If he can’t pass the psychosexual eval, isn’t that a fail?”

“That’s what I thought,” Esther says with a shrug. “But their social worker is working toward reunification.”

“Reunification?” I repeat.

“Means they’re slowly going to give the kids back to Esther’s parents,” Olivia explains, still pacing.

“I was supposed to take care of them,” Esther whispers. Tears slide down her cheeks.

I rub at the strip of hair on my chin, every muscle and nerve in my body on fire. Olivia is the kind of woman who doesn’t have many friends. She keeps to herself, staying loyal to the few friends and family she does have. Esther has been an angel in my Olivia’s life. When my girl has nightmares about Eli and I’m not there to soothe her back to sleep, Esther climbs into bed with her and holds her close. No questions asked.

To think that someone hurt this quiet woman who so sweetly holds Donny’s heart and tames Olivia’s sends a fresh surge of fire through my veins.

“We’ll take care of them,” I say, giving Donny a weighted look. He nods.

“‘We’ the club, or ‘we’ the three?” Olivia asks. She’s finally stopped pacing but her arms are wrapped so tightly around herself, there’ll probably be bruises later.

Esther holds up a hand. “We need to handle things my way. At least, we have to try.”

“What do you want to do?” Donny asks, sitting behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

Glancing at the digital display on the alarm on the nightstand, she takes a deep breath. “Well, I’ve officially graduated. I guess my first step is to meet with the social worker.” Her lip curls. “She was supposed to get TPR moving ages ago. I need to find out what’s up with that.”

“TPR?” I prod.

“Termination of parental rights.”

“We can put pressure on her,” I offer. “Just get me an address.”

Her lips part, probably to tell me to let her handle it, but Olivia speaks over all of us.

“We’ve got this, Cliff. We’re both in the system now, remember? We’re the good guys.” She sits next to Esther and squeezes her hand. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

I don’t trust the system. Everyone in this town looked the other way when my father was hurting Lucy. They’ve obviously been doing the same for Esther’s parents. Before I can say so, my phone rings.

I pull it out of my back pocket, wincing when I see who it is. “Yeah,” I answer, swallowing.

“Where the hell are you two?” Lucy demands, enough heat in her voice to let me know that she’s been stuck with her parents at the ceremony, and she’s pissed.

“Lucy,” I mouth to Olivia.

Our time’s run out.

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

Support My Writing

If you enjoyed this chapter, please support my writing!

Sponsor

Shop

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

Continue Reading

Photo by ArturVerkhovetskiy / Depositphotos

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3

I ask anyway.

Against my better judgement.

Because I know this story. The details might be different, but the structure is all the same. College was my ticket out, too. Still, I have to hear her say it. I can’t jump to conclusions. Not everyone’s story is like mine.

catch up

Chapter 3

Olivia

Cliff watches me for a long moment. I hold his gaze, realizing that he tied his hair back from his face. The sight of that ponytail sends a rocket of heat to my center—completely inappropriate timing, I know.

What I love most about myself is that I can feel like utter, terrible, absolute shit death, and still be thinking about the next time I’m gonna have sex. I’m a gremlin like that. I’m the same with food. I can always eat. I’ve got a healthy appetite and I love that about me.

What I don’t love is the way Cliff is looking at me: all soft brown eyes, so dark they’re almost black, brows furrowed just enough to put a slight crease in the middle.

Despite the fact that shit just hit the fan for Esther—his brother’s old lady—he’s looking at me with a tenderness that pools in those eyes, so transparent I can see straight through it.

I frown, too.

That’s not supposed to happen.

“I’m taking her inside,” Donny says.

I use Esther as an excuse to break away from Cliff, although I still feel his eyes on me. Taking one of her arms, I hoist her to her feet, Donny supporting her other side.

Once we get her sitting in Donny’s room upstairs, I run back down to get her a shot of vodka. The bottle comes with me, just in case. Mark can yell at me later. Handing her the shot, I sit next to her, tucking my legs underneath me.

She holds the shot between two fingers, staring through it. Both men stare at me. I occupy myself by rubbing her back.

Donny kneels in front of her, each big hand clasping one of her knees. “What happened, baby?” he asks, voice calm on the surface but steely underneath. There’s a reason he’s the club Enforcer.

She downs the shot, shuddering as the sharp vodka slides down her throat. I hold the bottle out to her, but she shakes her head. “Maybe in a minute.” She sucks in a deep breath. “That call I got,” she says, looking at me, “was my grandma.”

I nod, trying to be patient. This isn’t some drama queen. It’s Esther.

“The kids,” she breathes, closing her eyes and holding out the shot glass.

I bite my lip as I pour her another one. For the past four years, her grandparents have been fostering her younger siblings. There’s some sort of unspoken agreement that when she graduates, she’s supposed to become their guardian. I don’t know much more than that.

She throws the vodka back, closing her fingers around the empty glass. Her hand curls so tightly around it, I’m a little concerned it’s going to bust. “They’re going to give them back,” she whispers. “My grandma didn’t want to wait ’til after the ceremony to tell me.”

Donny gives her a stricken look. “I’m sorry, Essie.”

“That’s good, right?” I ask, glancing from her to Donny.

She laughs, a bitter sound from those sweet lips. “It was all I could do to get DCF to take them out of there.” Her hand tightens.

Gently, I pry her fingers from the glass and take it away. “Doesn’t that mean that your parents got their shit together?”

“Damn, Olivia. You of all people should know people never change.”

I think of Bree, of all the men she paraded in and out of our apartments. Suppressing a shudder, I shove down the memories. Esther knows more about my past than I know about hers. That’s because, all throughout college, she plied me with Netflix and wine, and I gave up little pieces here and there. All this time, she’s sat next to me on that couch, being my friend, when I’ve done shit for her.

“The system is bullshit,” she continues.

“Yeah,” I agree. Before Cliff’s aunt and uncle adopted me, I bounced from family to family. No happy memories. I don’t want to press Esther, but we’re both social workers now. If anyone can figure this out, it’s us. “Look, I know I’ve been a shitty friend, but let me help. What exactly did DCF tell your grandma?”

“You’ve been a wonderful friend.” She pats my knee. “Especially if you give me that bottle.”

I hand it over.

“Essie, there’s still some time, if you want to walk,” Donny says.

Between chugs of vodka, she gives Donny a dirty look.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “A’ight.” Standing, he nods to Cliff. “Let’s step out, have a smoke.”

“It’s okay,” Esther says. “He can stay.” She closes her eyes again and sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you guys. I just don’t want to talk about it.” She swallows.

“If you’re gonna fight for these kids, you better get used to it,” I say.

Cliff nudges me with his elbow. “Jesus, Olivia.”

“What? It’s true.”

“She’s right.” She draws her knees to her chest, her dress pooling around her waist. She keeps the bottle in her lap. “When DCF finally took the girls out of there, they hadn’t eaten outside of school in weeks. Cierra tried to make ramen for herself and Abril. She didn’t know what to do for the baby. She ended up burning herself. Ximena’s diaper hadn’t been changed in a few days.” She shakes her head.

“Where was your mom?” I ask.

She snorts. “Bitch was right there the whole time. Just didn’t feel like it.”

“And your dad?”

Her face pales by several shades. “My father,” she says, her voice cracking. Her eyes dart toward Donny, then close. He places a hand on top of her head, his mouth a tight line.

“College was my ticket out,” she says, a pleading edge to her voice.

My hands go numb, dread pitting in my stomach. I don’t want to hear this. “Your ticket out of what?” I ask anyway.

Against my better judgement.

Because I know this story. The details might be different, but the structure is all the same. College was my ticket out, too. Still, I have to hear her say it. I can’t jump to conclusions. Not everyone’s story is like mine.

“I can’t say it.” She takes another drink from the bottle.

I want to ask her to pass it over, but I don’t. “You have to,” I hear myself say. “You keep it a secret, you give him power. Shine your light on the truth—on what he did to you.”

I’m a hypocrite.

“My sisters, and me. All the time. He’d leave for a little while, and things would be okay. My mom would slack off, but I’d pick up the pieces. She always let him come back, though. She’s just as much of a monster as he is.” Her lips tremble.

I think of Bree’s boyfriends again. Statistically speaking, they should’ve been the biggest threat to me. They never touched me. Most of them barely even acknowledged my existence. They were too busy getting high with my mom.

I lick my dry lips. “Your father sexually abused you and your sisters?” With each word I speak, my blood boils a little higher.

Esther nods. “Not the bab—Ximena. I mean, she’s five now. She isn’t his—his words, not mine. That’s why he let her be.” Her voice rises with each word, the tears flowing faster.

My stomach curdles. I want to dart into the bathroom, slam the door shut behind me.

“Jesus Christ,” Cliff says, reminding me that Esther and I aren’t alone.

I have to get my shit together. If not for Esther, then for Cliff. It’s bad enough that he looks at me so tenderly.

I don’t need him to look at me the way he’s looking at Esther. Like he feels sorry for her. He can never, ever look at me that way.

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

Support My Writing

If you enjoyed this chapter, please support my writing!

Sponsor

Shop

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

Continue Reading

Photo by kmiragaya / Depositphotos

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2

“There’s something going on with the girls,” I tell Donny.

He slides me a dark look. “If it’s those two, I don’t wanna know.”

With what I’m planning for tonight, I’ve got enough on my mind. But it’s Olivia. She’s my girl. If something’s going on with her, I’ve got her back, no questions asked.

And something’s wrong.

catch up

Chapter 2

Cliff

“Everything good?” I lean into Mark’s office, gripping the doorway.

He nods from his desk. “Don’t you worry your pretty, grizzled—” He glances up and the words cut off. “Face,” he finishes, blinking at me.

I run a hand over where my beard used to be. Now there’s just a chin strap—a short beard accenting my jawline. I even let Abraham trim my hair—a little bit. Just enough to keep it healthy.

He whistles. “Tell me she didn’t make you do that.”

“Yeah right.”

Olivia likes my beard, as long as I don’t let my mustache get too out of control. She says it pokes her in the nose when we kiss. I’ve let it all grow out so long, I don’t know any different.

Today is a special occasion, though.

More than just Olivia’s graduation.

“Well, you look good, son,” Mark says, eyeing my black jeans, black T-shirt, and the cut I hardly ever take off. That piece of leather marks me as a River Reaper until the day I die. “Just don’t change anything else, or I won’t recognize you.”

“You worry about tonight, and I’ll worry about my face.” I fish out a cigarette and light up, then hold out the pack to him.

He waves it away. “We’re all set. The band playing, Oh Vile Eye, will be here to set up around four. Bar’s stocked. Caterer starts setting up at three. I think that’s everything. I’ve never thrown a graduation party before.”

“How about the cake?” I suck in a long hit of nicotine.

“Beer Can was all over that. Let’s just hope it says ‘Congratulations, Olivia,’ and everything’s spelled right. He was a little lit when he put in the order.”

“It’s gotta have Esther’s name on it, too, brother,” I say, glancing into the club behind me. “Donny’ll slit all our balls off if we forget her.”

“I’ll check on it.” He lifts the phone out of its cradle, then puts it back down. “You good for this afternoon?”

I bow my head, moving it back and forth to work the kinks out of my neck. “No, but there’s no helping it. I’ve done all I can.”

“Including making yourself look like a twelve-year-old boy.” He laughs, getting even louder as I thumb the strip running down from my lower lip to my chin.

A hand clasps my shoulder. “We’re out of here,” Donny says.

“A’ight.” I point my cigarette at Mark. “Check that icing.” Turning, I fall into step with Donny.

“That soul patch is making you bossy,” Mark calls after me.

I shake my head and make my way through the club, Donny at my elbow. “You got plans after?” I ask him. We break through the doors and into the heat. It’s going to be a bitch riding in this weather.

“Nah,” he says, striding toward our bikes. He straddles his and straps his helmet on. “Essie’s having lunch with her grandparents, and I ain’t ready for that shit yet.”

“I hear you.” I hold my helmet in my hands, bike between my legs. I’m not ready to meet the parents, either. Meeting Olivia’s means facing my aunt and uncle for the first time in twenty years. I’ll have Lucy there as a buffer, but that won’t make things much easier. While I was away, they adopted Olivia, and that complicates our already tense relationship now.

“Why are the girls still here?” Donny nods toward Esther’s car.

I follow his gaze. It’s empty. No sign of Olivia or Esther. “No idea.”

Dismounting, I pull my phone from my pocket. I glare at it before typing in my password with a thumb. Ever since the last update, the thing’s been acting like a Y2K crash test dummy. Texts show up out of order. Calls don’t go through—either in or out. For a smartphone, it’s pretty fucking useless.

I punch in Olivia’s number and hit the call button.

“Walking fuckin’ phone book, right here.” Donny grins.

“Faster than scrolling through,” I tell him. Olivia’s phone rings and rings, but she doesn’t pick up. “Jesus Christ.”

Donny and I exchange glances.

“Should we go to the campus? Or just say ‘fuck it’ and have a beer?”

“Esther was in a hurry,” I say.

“I know,” he agrees, “which is why I kinda don’t wanna know.” He gives me a pointed look.

“Amen to that, brother.”

With those two, it could be anything. Especially Olivia. I reach for my beard, then remember it’s gone. I grab another cigarette instead.

I hold the flame to the end, inhaling. As the flame goes out, movement from the other side of the building catches my eye.

“Over there.”

I approach at an angle, giving me a wide enough view to spot Olivia kneeling in front of Esther.

“Shit!” Donny takes off toward them.

I follow, scanning the parking lot and watching Donny’s back. It’s empty except for River Reapers’ bikes—typical for ten in the morning at The Wet Mermaid. My shoulders drop a half notch, my hackles still up. Call it prison sense, but something doesn’t feel right.

Maybe it’s the weight of the air, or the crows cawing from a nearby telephone line. Maybe it’s the knot in my stomach that tightens every time I think of seeing my aunt and uncle.

Maybe it’s flat out paranoia.

I approach slowly, flanking Olivia as Donny kneels next to her. She slides over, giving them some space.

“What happened?” I ask, dropping my voice.

She reaches for the cigarette I’ve forgotten about. Putting it between her lips, she takes a long drag.

“Plans have changed,” she says.

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

Support My Writing

If you enjoyed this chapter, please support my writing!

Sponsor

Shop

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

Continue Reading

Photo by yafimilk / Depositphotos

She’s a criminal when it comes to sex

The following is a NSFW excerpt from A Disturbing Prospect.

🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

“Hold on,” she says, glancing up and down the street. There’s a dangerous look in her eyes, one that simultaneously draws me in and makes me pause. This woman might look harmless, but she’s a criminal when it comes to sex. She grabs my hand and tugs me forward, trying car doors as we walk.

She’s dead serious.

“Olivia, what the fuck are you doing?” I mutter. “I’m on parole. You know that, right?”

She tosses me a challenging look. “Is your probation officer here right now?”

“No, but—”

“Relax,” she says, pulling the door of a station wagon open. “We’re not technically breaking in if it isn’t locked.”

There are so many technicalities wrapped up in this night.

She climbs into the back seat, shedding clothing. “It’s roomy in here,” she purrs, beckoning me inside.

With one more glance at the street, I climb in after her, shutting the door behind me.

Our breath steams up the windows. She peels off garments, flinging them onto the passenger seat. Within seconds, she’s naked.

“Your turn.”

So much for savoring this.

I yank off my jeans, shirt, and coat. My cock stands at full attention. Olivia regards me with an amused expression on her face. Heat flushes my cheeks. “What?”

“You were commando?” she asks, crawling into my lap.

I laugh. “I ran out before, and didn’t get a chance to change after we did laundry.”

Olivia smiles back. A wisp of hair falls into her eyes. I brush it back gently, my eyes roving over her face. Suddenly we’re shy teenagers who thought they were ready but don’t really know what to do next.

My hands drop to her hips, fingers caressing the soft flesh. “You really want this?”

She nods. Her arms encircle my neck, those eyes locked on mine. It could be a trick of the light, but she looks truly happy. Maybe she’s one of those people who really, really like sex. Whatever the reason, I’m honored to be the one to make her feel good—in multiple ways.

Soft lips tug at mine, her tongue flitting across my bottom lip. She sucks me between her teeth while her hands trail to my shoulders. The heat radiating from her warm center is so inviting.

My tongue plunges into her mouth, a growl escaping my lips. I should be gentle with her, but I don’t want to. I want to consume her until I’m completely intoxicated, neither of us able to walk.

Her legs wrap around my waist, her hips thrusting her soft wetness against me. Fingers from one hand pluck at my nipples, while her other hand wraps around me.

In just a few seconds, I’m going to throw back the bars of the cage. “One more time,” I growl into her mouth. “Do you really want this?”

She rubs the head of me against her slit in response.

Her slick wetness makes me come completely undone. In one motion, I twist our bodies until she’s flat on her back. Her legs wrap around me, and I lower myself until I’m throbbing at her entrance. Olivia gives me a final nod, and I slide in.

Her warmth envelopes me, and I almost come halfway through my first thrust. “I’m not going to last long,” I choke out.

“Shh,” she soothes into my ear. “It’s okay. Just give me all you’ve got, baby.” Her arms lock around my neck and she clings to me with her whole body. I sheath myself in her, embedded deep inside.

Slowly, I slide out, until just the tip of me is in her. I caress the side of her breast and each rib with my fingers as I make my way down to her. I want this to be just as good for her as it is for me.

Stroking her with my fingers, I plunge into her again with slow precision. With each thrust, I get more into a rhythm, two knuckles grinding against her. She shivers underneath me, tiny moans tumbling from her lips. Hard nipples rub against my chest, a complete parallel to her soft breasts pressed to my pecs. Our hearts pound against each other, blood boiling, edging us closer and closer.

My cock surges, the fire of the orgasm blowing through me.

“Fuck,” I growl into her ear. “No.”

She gasps, shouting out. “Just fuck me,” she pants, and I do. I plow into her, rubbing her, begging her. This will all be for nothing if I can’t take her with me.

Olivia arches into me, her back coming straight off the floor. A moan ripples through the station wagon, her nails raking down my back. “Yes, baby, yes,” she breathes as she shivers against me.

The last twenty years rush out of me, pulsing into her. I feel her tighten and expand around me, driving us both into the abyss.

It’s the best I’ve ever had.

I collapse, rolling to the side so I don’t crush her. A stream of hot liquid gushes down my thigh. Resting on my back, I stare at the ceiling, my breath ragged. Beside me, she exhales and turns onto her side.

“Wow,” she says, grinning. “Thank you.” She dips her chin. Our eyes meet for a second, then she reaches into the front seat for her cigarettes. The flash of bare skin exposes a twin stream running down her leg.

My heart just about stops.

“Fuck,” I say, scrambling to sit up. “We need to get to a store. We didn’t—I mean, I didn’t—”

She glances over her shoulder. Now she really does look amused. “Relax,” she says, handing me a cigarette. “I’m on the pill.”

I fall back, relief rushing through me. I smoke in silence, and decide I’ve had enough thrills in one night to last me a lifetime. From here on out, I’m keeping my head down and playing it straight.

This can never, ever happen again.

A Disturbing Prospect

Whose secret is more disturbing, his or hers?

Olivia

Someone’s slashed my tires less than a week after I screwed ex-con Cliff back into society. I knew it was a bad idea, but with his dark hair, gentle eyes, and disturbing secrets, I was dying to unlock him. As much as I don’t want to believe it was him, he’s a killer, so what’s a little stalking? With a whole biker club at my back, normally all I’d have to do is say the word, but he just became their latest Prospect.

I’ll just have to handle it myself.

Cliff

After two decades in prison, I might as well be on another planet. Everything is different now, including me. I’ve fallen for the first woman I met, and I’ll do anything to prove to her that I’ve changed, too. There aren’t many prospects for a felon, so I have no choice but to take the first job I’m offered. Becoming a Prospect for my father’s MC comes with all kinds of strings, especially since I’m the one who killed him.

And now, thanks to Olivia, I’ve got one more body to bury.

A Disturbing Prospect is the first book in the River Reapers MC series, a dark romance with a body count. Some content may be disturbing to some readers.

Available everywhere books are sold!

Amazon · Apple Books · Eden Books · Google Play
Kobo · Nook · Walmart · Target · More

“It’s Blood I Want” | Excerpt From A FATAL PROSPECT

I take the weight that’s pitted in my belly, wrap it in a kerosene-soaked blanket, and drop a match in. This pain has to have a purpose. I can’t let anything like this happen to Bree, or Bryce, or anyone else, ever again.

Even though the air is crisp and cool, sweat soaks through the back of my shirt, the fabric sticking uncomfortably as I crouch in the back of the van. My pulse thumps in my throat in time with the swirl of fury in my heart.

Abraham signals a right turn, and Vaughn plants a hand on the metal wall for balance. Mimicking him, I place my palms on the floor. Lucky Stixx gets to ride up front, where there are actual seatbelts. I didn’t even say goodbye to Cliff.

We pull onto Bristol Street, a spur off of Platts Mill Road. The old Platt Brothers factory is just a short walk over.

“Let’s creep up on them, watch for a minute,” I tell the men with me, passing around the ski masks.

“Rui’s gonna fucking kill me if I get arrested,” Abraham says, but yanks his mask on anyway.

We jump out of the van, closing doors gently so the sound doesn’t echo over to the factory. The night presses down on us, lit only by the orange glow of old street lights. Out here, I can make out some of the stars.

“Let’s get this over with,” Abraham says.

“Olivia, you take point. This is your kill,” Stixx tells me.

“Now, now,” I remind him with an exaggerated wink he probably can’t see. “Ravage said no blood.”

Yet it’s blood I want.

Read A Fatal Prospect Now

Available everywhere books are sold!

Now available at Walmart and Target

I’m Breaking All of My Rules for Him | A DISTURBING PROSPECT Snippet

Cliff has me breaking all kinds of rules.

I throw on sweats and my high top Nikes, then toss my hair into a frizzy bun. With such wild curly hair, I’ll never have one of those cute messy buns that straight-haired girls rock. But I’ve managed to make it my own.

I’m supposed to work tonight, but I’ll come home and shower first. Still, just in case, I wing my eyeliner and dab on mascara. Looking at my reflection, I shake my head at myself. The odds of me running into Cliff today are pretty low. This is totally absurd. After another moment, I shrug and add lip gloss.

My hand is on my bedroom door knob when I hear a door slam. Frenzied shrieks and Spanish gush from my roommate’s mouth. I throw my door open and Esther barrels into my room.

Between high school and my roommate, my Spanish is pretty good, but she’s talking way too fast. Tears streak her cheeks, and she clutches her phone in her hand. I lead her to my bed and sit her down. After bringing her an ice cold glass of water, I calm her enough to talk.

“My car,” she gasps, her hands shaking. “Someone slit my tires.”

I bolt up straight. Eyes narrowing, I stomp toward the front door as if I can still catch the motherfucker. Right outside our front door, Esther’s car slumps pathetically. All four tires have long gashes in them. My jaw hangs open even as fury rips through me. Esther is a nice person—someone so quiet, she wouldn’t disturb a librarian. Cutting tires is never random, always personal. This doesn’t make sense.

I light a cigarette and Esther joins me outside. Red rims her eyes and blots her nose.

“Who would do this?” she whispers, hugging herself.

I shake my head. “No one followed you home?”

“Not that I saw.” She holds her hand out for my cigarette. I give it to her and light another for myself. Taking a drag, she grimaces. “I haven’t smoked since high school.” Still, she visibly relaxes. Once a smoker, always a smoker.

“Anyone you might have . . . annoyed?” I can’t imagine Esther ever pissing anyone off enough to make them want to slit her tires, but I have to cover all the bases.

Her head swivels from side to side. “No. Last night was actually a really good tips night.” Dainty eyebrows knit together. “Donny even asked me out.”

My eyes narrow. “Who’s Donny?”

Lips softening into a smile, Esther practically swoons. “This guy at work. He’s one of the chefs. I’ve been waiting for him to make a move forever.” She sucks on the cigarette, still smiling.

“He’s nice to you?” I’m losing hope. Walking around the car, I examine it again.

“Very,” Esther says. “He’s one of the ones who hold doors open and all that. He’s even brought me gifts—little things like chocolate. He brought me a rose last night.”

I blink at her.

Rolling her eyes, she puts her hands on her hips. “Valentine’s Day?”

I halt in my tracks, groaning. “Fuck,” I mutter.

Esther rushes to my side. “Did you think of something?”

“No.” I sigh, lighting another cigarette. “I kind of did something last night, without realizing what day it was.” Wrinkling my nose, I hope Cliff didn’t think it was all supposed to be some romantic bullshit. Or, even worse, that I was so desperate for a Valentine, I begged him to come home with me. I rub my temples. God, I’m pathetic.

Read Now »

A FATAL PROSPECT Cover Reveal

It’s finally A Fatal Prospect cover reveal day!

I wanted this cover to have an “us against the world, we’re going to war” feel, since everything is about to be turned upside down for Cliff and Olivia. I’ve been working with cover designer Natasha Snow for a few years now, and one of my favorite things about working with her is how I can give her a general idea and she runs with it.

See what I mean? 😍😍😍

Our enemies of past and present are uniting to put us in our graves. Not even death would destroy our love, but death isn’t the only thing that’s fatal…

Cliff

I’ve finally got Olivia, but she can’t give me the two things I want most: three words so I know I’m not in this alone, and a family so I can redeem all the horrible things I’ve done. My past is still chasing me, and the only way I can let it go is if I stop running and face it. I can’t allow the monster in my blood to take over, but it’s rising to the surface and I can’t fight it much longer.

Olivia

After all I’ve been through, I’m never giving away my heart, even if my heart has other plans. War strikes before Cliff and I get a chance to figure it out. When a teen football player is unspeakably violated, only my club can avenge him. A rival motorcycle club from the past is also looking for revenge, just as I realize my true feelings for Cliff.

When someone betrays us, we’ll pay the ultimate price, in both blood and love…

A FATAL PROSPECT is the third book in the River Reapers MC series, a dark romance with a body count. Some content may be disturbing to some readers.

READ CHAPTER 1 | PRE-ORDER

A Fatal Prospect releases April 28th! Pre-order your copy now!

If you’re a blogger and you would like an ARC and/or want to help share on release day, click here! Hosted by Give Me Books.

Catch Up on the River Reapers MC Series

A Disturbing Prospect
River Reapers MC, Book 1

Our violent pasts brought us together. One night entwined us forever. We’re not falling in love, we’re just hanging onto each other while everything falls apart.

Read now for only $0.99!

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/adisturbingprospect

A Risky Prospect
River Reapers MC, Book 2

If we can’t keep each other from the dark, we’ll have to be each other’s light, even if our revenge blackens everything we love.

Read now!

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/ariskyprospect

Her Mercy
River Reapers MC, Spinoff Novella

The last time Bree ran away, she put Mercy in prison. Now he’s got to find her and convince her they belong together so they can both be free.

Read now for FREE!

Download: https://BookHip.com/MRDJJFQ

Where did the River Reapers MC name come from?

I grew up in Waterbury, a small city nestled in the Naugatuck Valley of Connecticut. One of our landmarks here is the Naugatuck River, infamous for nothing good.

In 1955, the river flooded, killing 47 people and resulting in millions of dollars of damage. My great-grandmother—my Biz Noni—used to tell me stories from that time, about how people stood on top of houses and factories while waiting for help. Thankfully my family’s home was safe, being on the top of a hill. But South Main Street—which is on lower ground and runs right along the river—completely flooded over. If you look closely, you can still see watermarks on some buildings.

These days we have flood control structures throughout the area, so it’s hard to imagine losing everything to nature’s wrath. But now we have a problem that is much more sinister.

Along the river are many factories. Some of those factories illegally dump their sewage and waste into the river. Growing up in the South End of Waterbury (which was built around the river), I can remember many, many days when the air smelled of sewage. We always joked that we knew we were home when the smell hit.

The river cleanup has been an ongoing process, mostly because people keep dumping into it. It seems like there is never, ever justice, and so the river is known for being dirty. We also used to joke that you should never fish in that river, and there were even rumors of mutants.

Of course, there aren’t any mutants, but that stuck with me. When I started fleshing out the River Reapers MC series, I needed a name for my club. Immediately the image of the Sludge Specter popped into my head. It’s a sludge-covered reaper that haunts the river, its eyes glowing with a thirst for revenge.

It’s also the patch that very few RRMC members earn when they prove they’ll do anything for the club—anything.

I decided to set the series in Naugatuck, another small city. Its city line hugs the end of the South End neighborhood. Like Waterbury, Naugatuck used to be a thriving industrial hub. Naugy just did a better job of reinventing itself. You can walk along Church Street, which is a super cute “main street” type stretch that hugs the Green and is lined with some great shops that took over vintage buildings.

There are some MCs in Naugy, but they aren’t quite as notorious as the ones in Waterbury, so it made sense to set my story there. (The first rule of writing MC romance is to never write about real life MCs, especially not one-percenters.) It also amused me greatly to stick a strip club in a town that would probably never approve one in real life.

Even though I grew up right next door to Naugy, I wasn’t too familiar with the area and had to do a lot of research, which I’ll talk about in another post, if you want me to.

And so the River Reapers MC was born, burying bodies along the Naugatuck River since sometime in the mid-Nineties. 😏

Binge the River Reapers MC Series

[mbm_book_grid id=”115″]

Photo by fotografierende on Unsplash

“Of All the Lives I’ve Taken” | Deleted Scene from A FATAL PROSPECT

I’m no stranger to chasing after Olivia. It’s an art form we’ve perfected. I’d do anything for her. I think I’ve proved that. But I can’t imagine what could’ve happened that she can’t talk to me about. Not after everything we’ve been through.

Or maybe it isn’t enough.

No matter how many times I chase her, she keeps running. Maybe it’s time to accept that she doesn’t want to be with me.

Sometimes I get carried away and add too many scenes, scenes that I love but they don’t move the plot forward and therefore, they must go. Chop, chop!

The following is a deleted scene from A Fatal Prospect. It was originally Chapters 9 and 10, which got replaced with a scene between Olivia and Vaughn.

The following contains a sweet interaction between Cliff and Olivia, some more time with Lucy, and (CW) accidental killing of an animal.

This scene may contain spoilers from the previous books in the series. Read at your own risk!

Cliff

I collapse onto the futon acting as my living room couch, booted feet hanging over one end. Between work at the factory, shifts at The Wet Mermaid, and hanging out with Bunny so Lucy can catch some Zs, I’m beat. My eyes close and my jaw goes slack.

My phone rings.

Groaning, I tug it out of the pocket of my cut. Olivia’s face flashes on the screen. “You’re lucky you’re you,” I greet her.

“I have never felt lucky for being me.”

“If you weren’t you, I’d have hit the red button. Congratulations.” I remain on my back. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” she echoes. “It’s Friday. Take me out.”

I sit up. “Like on a date?”

“Think of it as a celebratory ending to the week.”

“So a date.” I grin. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere that isn’t work and doesn’t make me look weird for dressing up.”

“Definitely a date.” I stand from the futon. “How about that comedy club?”

“Are we comedy club people?”

“We could be.”

“Let’s give it a shot.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” I tell her.

“What if we just meet there?”

I suppress a laugh. “You asked me to take you out. Take being the operative word.”

A pause stretches between us. I can’t really argue with her, because I wouldn’t want to ride on the back of someone else’s motorcycle, either. If someone told me back in January that I’d be saving up for my own motorcycle, I’d have laughed at them.

“I can meet you at Lucy’s and we can take her car,” I offer.

“But it’s a beautiful night to ride!” she exclaims through a giggle. An actual giggle.

“It’s always a beautiful night to ride.”

“I kind of want a cheeseburger.”

“I want a burger!” Lucy calls.

I chuckle. “Who knew a date could be so complicated? Tell you what, I’ll pick up burgers, we’ll eat with Lucy, and then we’ll go see a movie.”

“It’s a date,” Olivia says, and hangs up.

Olivia

“Is Cliff bringing burgers?” Lucy asks from my side. We sit on her couch, where she eavesdropped on my entire conversation with Cliff and inserted herself into my almost date.

I side-eye her. “You’re a cock block.”

She mock gasps, placing the free hand that isn’t holding Bunny on her chest. “Me?”

“Whatever,” I say, springing from the couch and sticking my tongue out at her. “I’m getting ready.”

In the shower, I exfoliate and shave, getting every inch deliciously smooth. Burger-thieving sisters or not, there will be making out in the movie theater. I sing while I scrub down and while I dry off, and also while I run cream through my curls. Maybe it’s because this week I didn’t have to take anybody’s kids away, but I’m ridiculously happy. I’m so happy, I’m dressed and ready before Cliff arrives.

I pull on my boots and jog back down the stairs, still singing. It’s one of those electropop songs that always gets stuck in my head. “I’m going out for a cigarette,” I sing out to Lucy.

She does a double take from the couch. “What is happening here?”

I shrug and open the door, then step outside. Something squishes and crunches under my foot. A soft chirp follows. I freeze.

“No,” I gasp. “No, no, no.”

The chirping from over my head swirls around me, a crescendo punctuated by each beat of my heart.

“No.”

I lift my boot, still whispering no under my breath. A tiny bird twitches on the front doormat. I stare down at it, my brain scrambling to arrange the downy white tufts and brown feathers and the still moving yellow beak, the squelch of intestines bursting from one side, the tiny legs sticking up into the air.

“No, no, no!” Tears blur my vision, a lump clogging my throat. There’s no undo button, no going back in time. I knew the birds were there, I knew there were babies. I should have been more careful.

I blink and it’s winter and Dio lies in a broken heap on my bed. A peep is a meow and there’s no going back. I fall to my knees and scoop up what’s left, tears dragging mascara down to my chin.

“No.” I sob, cradling the little bird in my hands. I know I’m not supposed to touch them, but I can’t remember if it’s because the parents will kill it or I’ll risk some disease. The tweeting over my head continues, the birds in the nest above me oblivious. Or maybe they saw it all and they’re grieving, outraged at this giant, this murderer, this killer.

The door opens and Lucy sticks her head out. “What—?” Her eyes drop down to my hands, and her hands flutter to her mouth, covering her expression.

“I didn’t see it,” I cry.

Her hands drop to her sides. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t look.” I look down at my hands then out at the road. I don’t want to look. I shouldn’t look. But I didn’t look, and here I am.

“Stay here,” she commands. Where would I go, anyway? I hope she’s calling a vet. She has to call a vet. The beak is still and the broken creature in my hands is going cold.

It’s too late.

Lucy returns, her gloved hands reaching for the bird and bagging it before I can move. I remain kneeling, my palms up toward the sky. Feathers stick to my fingers. She disappears again, and when she comes back, her hands are empty, the gloves gone.

“Let’s wash your hands.” She guides me to my feet and steers me inside, plunging my hands under warm water and squirting soap into my palms. I rub them together, mechanical function taking over. I wash them again, but the weight of that tiny baby is still there.

“It’s okay,” she repeats, rubbing my back. “Livvie?”

“I didn’t look.” I dry my hands on a towel, my gaze dropping to my feet. I check the soles of my boots. They’re clean. It’s as if nothing happened.

“We’ll just be more careful now,” she says.

I catch my reflection in the mirror, taking in the dried line of mascara and the pale tint of my skin. A motorcycle engine purrs nearer, reminding me that I need to get myself together.

“Olivia?” Lucy asks, her tone taking on a worried edge.

I turn the water back on and dip my hands underneath the stream, bowing my head. I scrub the makeup off until my skin is bare and red.

“Burger delivery,” Cliff calls from the living room.

“Olivia?” Lucy asks again.

I try to find words, to crack a joke, but it’s too soon. I take a shaky breath.

“You okay?” she asks, still rubbing my back.

Of all the lives I’ve taken, this one bears the most weight.

Cliff

I head into the kitchen, dropping the bag of burgers and fries on the table. “Olivia? Luce?” I call out. Dio hops up onto the table with a meow. “Hey buddy.” I give his head a rub. “Where is everyone?”

From behind the closed bathroom door, a faucet starts running. Otherwise, Lucy’s condo is completely still. Shrugging, I grab some plates and sit down. I don’t need to be told to dig in, not when it comes to G’s. Or any takeout, really. I glance down at what is sure to be a dad bod if I don’t reign it in a little.

“It’s not my fault,” I tell Dio, shooing him off the table. “I had to eat slop for twenty years.” I plate everyone’s orders and sit back, staring at my food. “Well, this is awkward.”

Dio meows in agreement.

The bathroom door opens and Lucy steps out, closing it behind her. “Oh. Hey!” She drops into a seat and grabs a fry from the plate in front of her. Her face is unreadable.

“Where’s Olivia?” I ask cautiously. Maybe a date was a bad idea. Olivia and I have never been conventional, and every time I try to do some kind of normal boyfriend/girlfriend thing with her, I only end up scaring her away.

My cousin looks up from her food. “Olivia?” she asks, blinking.

Shit. I lean back in my seat. “Did she, ah, leave?” I swear I saw her Street Glide in the driveway. I frown.

“No!” Lucy throws on a smile. “She’s just doing her makeup.”

I tilt my head. “Makeup?” I can’t help the smile that takes over my face.

Lucy’s eyes drop back down to her still untouched burger. “You know, just girl things . . .”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Everything okay?”

She opens her mouth, but whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by a wail from the baby monitor. “Be right back,” she promises, casting a worried glance at the bathroom door. Then she disappears.

I look down at Dio, who sits next to my chair, his nose up in the air sniffing the bacon. “I really wish you could talk, dude.”

He stands up on his hind legs, nose wiggling.

With a shrug, I take a bite of my burger, careful to save a few bits of bacon for the cat. Through the baby monitor, I hear Lucy soothing Bunny. The bathroom door remains closed.

I stand, slipping Dio a bite of bacon as I make my way to the bathroom. I hesitate at the door. It might really just be makeup—girl stuff. If I’ve learned anything about Olivia in the past seven months, it’s that nothing is simple about the woman I love. I raise a fist to knock, then lower it.

Dio meows at my feet, giving me away. Traitor.

I knock lightly. “Hey. Everything okay?”

The faucet stops running. There’s a muffled clatter of plastic hitting porcelain. “Damn it,” Olivia mutters.

I knock again. “You in there?”

Everything goes still.

I step back from the door, running a hand over my beard. I should probably just eat my burger. If something is wrong, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I just ignored it?

Dio meows again, lowering himself to his belly. He reaches a paw under the door, swiping. His next meow is loud, plaintive.

We’re both being shut out.

“Burgers!” Lucy calls out from behind me.

I pivot, lifting my boot to avoid the cat’s tail. My cousin drops into her chair, lifting her burger while wearing a forced smile.

“I’m just gonna head out.” I walk away from the door, planting a kiss on Lucy’s head as I pass.

Her eyes dart between me and the door. She lowers her burger. “Just give her a minute,” she whispers. “Please?”

Sighing, I return to my seat. “What happened?”

She nibbles on her lower lip. “I’m not really sure,” she hedges.

I blurt out the burning question. “Is it because I let you in on our date?”

Her lips tighten.

“Luce,” I plead.

“I don’t think so.” She sets her burger down. “I think she’s just going through a lot, and isn’t exactly coping with everything.”

“What happened?” I ask again.

The bathroom door opens and Olivia steps out, Dio winding between her legs. Lucy and I turn in our seats. The whole room holds its breath. Olivia steps past Dio and veers around the table, heading toward the front door.

“Food’s getting cold,” Lucy tries.

“I’m going for a ride,” Olivia says. She opens the door and then slips out. The door closes behind her.

I fix my cousin with a frown.

“Let’s just eat,” she says, picking up a fry.

Outside, the Street Glide roars to life. I drum my fingers on the table. I’m no stranger to chasing after Olivia. It’s an art form we’ve perfected. I’d do anything for her. I think I’ve proved that. But I can’t imagine what could’ve happened that she can’t talk to me about. Not after everything we’ve been through.

Or maybe it isn’t enough.

No matter how many times I chase her, she keeps running. Maybe it’s time to accept that she doesn’t want to be with me.

I sigh, leaning back in my seat.

“Cliff,” Lucy begins.

I hold up a hand. “Let’s . . . just eat.”

The rumble of the engine cuts out abruptly. I pick up my burger, resolving to just let her go. There’s nothing else I can do. Not when she’s shutting me out. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about Olivia. Sooner or later, it’s going to be my undoing. Probably sooner.

I can’t make her love me back.

The front door opens and Olivia steps inside. Dio bounds up to her. She scoops him up and he rubs his cheek against hers. “You’ve got bacon breath.” She carries him into the kitchen and sets him down by his bowl. “Who gave this demon bacon?”

I try not to look guilty, but Lucy gives me away.

“I was upstairs with the baby.”

Olivia shakes her head at me, but a smile tugs the corners of her mouth up. She takes the seat next to me and steals a fry from my plate, dipping it into ketchup. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, noting the way her eyes don’t quite light up.

“So what movie are we gonna see?” she asks, nudging her onion rings toward me.

I wish I’d never let Mercy go, but I can’t bring him and Bree back. All I can do is wait and see if the shadows in Olivia’s eyes recede.

A Fatal Prospect
River Reapers MC, Book 3

Available April 28th

[su_button url=”https://books2read.com/afatalprospect” target=”blank” background=”#c9806d” color=”#ede3e3″ icon_color=”#ede3e3″ title=”PRE-ORDER NOW”]PRE-ORDER NOW[/su_button]

Cover Reveal April 14th
Hosted by Give Me Books
Click here to sign up for ARCs

Photo by Jackie Tan on Unsplash