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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The Only Thing That Can Catch Me | A FATAL PROSPECT Snippet

Somewhere between this breath and the next, his lips find mine. I breathe him in, his oxygen infiltrating my lungs until the tingling in my hands disappears. Clothing falls to the floor, and I don’t know who’s removing what. He lays me down on my bed and comes to rest between my knees. The moonlight filtering through the blinds highlights his cheekbones, his nose, the quiet worship in his eyes.

He wraps his body around mine, his hands cradling my back, his thighs hugging mine. I spread for him, hugging him with my legs. There’s a brush of fingers at my center, a slow caress of his head against mine. Then he’s inside me, sliding in deep, fingers curling into my shoulder blades. His lips zero in on mine again, and all I can do is hang on as I fall into him.

He’s the only thing that can catch me.

The heat of him thaws my icy limbs, his kisses mobilizing my lips, each thrust of his hips sending ripples of warmth through my nerves. I soar, hovering between the fall and a crash, and for a moment I hang in suspension. But he moves his hands from underneath me, captures my hands in his, holding them above our heads, flush against the mattress. His tether keeps me steady, and I let go.

In the fall there’s a kaleidoscope rush, a sudden cutoff of air as I gasp. I tumble through forever, and all of my insecurities and doubts disappear for a sweet moment. I cling to him, taking him with me. In this suspension my heartbeat is crystal clear in my ears, an ebb and flow as he pumps into me. He spasms inside of me, and together we are full.

Hot tears fall from my eyes. There’s no going back. I can’t rebuild the dam he’s broken, but the damage isn’t damning. It’s a permanent door, marked with his name on the plate.

My lips move with the words, but there’s no sound.

He pulls out, rolling to the side and gathering me into him. I lie curled against him, my pulse amplified in the dark. I want to speak, to put a name to this, but my voice catches in my throat and I’m frozen again, always the rabbit girl.

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Birthday: A River Reapers MC Short Story

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This short takes place toward the end of A Risky Prospect (River Reapers MC, Book 2), and contains some spoilers. Please read A Risky Prospect first!

Cliff

“Shit, fuck,” Lucy says, waddling into the kitchen with one hand on her belly and the other on her back. She isn’t due for another month, but she looks like she’s gonna pop any second. “Cliff!”

“What’s wrong?” I glance up from the parenting magazine I’ve been flipping through while waiting for her. “Isn’t your ultrasound at one? We’ve got time.”

“I know that,” she snaps. She pulls her long red hair up into a messy bun, reminding me a little of Olivia.

“Then what?” Maybe I should be alarmed, but ever since Olivia killed Greg and we got back together, I’ve been calm as fuck. The danger’s over. We can probably live the rest of our lives in peace.

Except my cousin glares down at me, her hands on her hips.

“What?” I repeat, feeling a little like squirming. “What did I do?”

“You forgot Olivia’s birthday!”

Shit, fuck indeed.

I blink up at her, head spinning. I don’t know how this happened. I can’t even blame it on the honeymoon phase I’ve been in. Olivia’s birthday should’ve been my first priority.

“Hey,” I accuse. “You forgot, too.”

“This isn’t about me!” Her hands fly as she tells me off. “You’re the boyfriend. It’s tomorrow, by the way.”

I open my mouth to argue but her glare deepens. By now I know better than to argue with pregnant Lucy. In her regular form she’s terrifying when she’s pissed. Between all the hormones and a bladder-crushing, rib-kicking Bunny, Lucy is on a whole new level of rampage.

“I know it’s tomorrow,” I mutter. “And you know, my birthday passed when we were in Lewisburg and neither one of you noticed.” I fake a pout.

“Wipe that off your face. You’re a guy. No one cares about your birthday.”

Feigning offense, I turn in my seat. “Gee thanks, Luce.”
“Olivia loves her birthday,” she continues. “I usually take her out drinking, and then she picks up some guy. But I can’t be a wingman like this!” Her lips tremble. “Cliff, you have to get her laid.”

“I think I can manage that.” I smirk.

“Not laid! I mean, she’ll love that, but you have to take her out. It’s got to be flashy. Olivia loves flashy. But not too flashy. Don’t propose,” she says, holding up a warning finger.

“I’m not gonna propose,” I mutter. “But what do you want me to do? If I go all out, she’ll freak out. You remember what happened when I asked her to move in with me.”

“Fuck,” she wails, and tears roll down her cheeks. “You’re right!”

“Don’t worry,” I soothe. I stand from the chair and take her into my arms. Her tears leave splotches on my gray T-shirt. “I’ll figure something out. It’ll be special but not too special.”

“Okay.” She sniffles. “We have to go. We’re gonna be late!” She pulls away, her face dry. Before I can say anything else, she’s out the door.

I stand in the kitchen, shaking my head. Pregnancy hormones are no joke. I know she’s serious about this, though. I just have no idea what I’m going to do.

By the time I drop Lucy back at her place and ride my motorcycle back to mine, I still don’t know. If I do anything overly romantic, Olivia will freak. I have to tread lightly.
I pace my small apartment, roaming from room to room as if something will give me a clue. Lucy says Olivia loves her birthday, but she hasn’t dropped so much as a hint. Then again, she’s had a lot going on, too. Between playing politics at her new job, nights bartending at The Wet Mermaid, and therapy, she’s barely had time for anything else. What she needs isn’t flashy.

A plan begins unfolding in my mind. It’s a risk, but if I can pull it off, it’ll be worth it. I start making calls. There’s no time to waste.

This year Olivia’s birthday falls on a Sunday, which is lucky for me. I pull into Lucy’s driveway in the morning, balancing the Screamin’ Eagle while I shut off the engine and shove the kickstand into place. The porch light is still on, which means Olivia hasn’t come out for her morning cigarette yet. I use my key and let myself in.

“Some fucking birthday,” Olivia says from the kitchen. “I can’t believe you guys forgot.” She stands with her back to me, her hands on her hips.

Lucy faces her and me. A ghost of a smile crosses her lips.
“We didn’t forget,” I say, closing the door behind me. I stroll down the hall and into the kitchen.

Olivia turns, her hands falling to her sides as she sees me. “What are you guys doing?”

“You,” I say, stepping closer to her and placing my hands on the small of her back, “and Lucy have somewhere to be.”

Her head tips back, her lips curling in curiosity. I lean down and place a quick kiss on them. Reaching into my cut, I pull out a small envelope and hand it to her.

Eyes dancing, she slides a finger under the flap and teases the envelope open. Slowly she slides out the printed card stock. “A massage? Really?” She stands on the balls of her feet and throws her arm around my neck.

“And a facial,” I say, meeting her halfway. I let her take my lips, smiling against her mouth as she peppers me with kisses.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says between each kiss.

“It’s a girls’ day. You two better get going,” I tell her.

“Wait, right now?” She shakes her head. “We have Church.”

“It’s been cancelled. Go get pampered.” I smack her ass lightly and she lets out a little gasp.

“You expect me to believe Ravage cancelled? Yeah, right.”

“You got me. I got him to postpone to tonight. So once you’re all rubbed and relaxed, you have to come by the club house.”

“I’d rather you rub and relax me,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. Lucy groans.

I take the card from Olivia and turn it over. “Here’s your itinerary.”

“Facial, one-hour massage, Church. Got it,” she says, and kisses me again. “We’d better go, Luce. It’s gonna be tight.” She makes a face, but I can tell she’s pleased. She throws her arms around my neck again. “See you tonight,” she says into my ear, and I know she doesn’t mean Church. If the rest of my plan goes well, neither of us will be sitting at that table.

Olivia

I stretch across the couch in the recovery area, balancing my glass of water on my stomach. “That was amazing,” I exclaim, drawing out the last word. “I don’t want to move.”

Lucy lies on her side on the couch across from me, her water on the coffee table between us. “Me either. I’ve heard of pregnancy massages, but I thought it was just some exorbitant bullshit. I wish I’d done this sooner.”

“I wish I could sneak in a hot stones session. I bet those feel amazing.” I lie in my puddle of bliss for another few seconds, closing my eyes.

“Duty calls,” Lucy chides.

I crack an eye open. She stands over me, her hands on her hips. “Huh?”

“You’ve got Church.” She reaches for my glass of water.

I wrap my fingers tighter around it. “I thought you didn’t approve of my club activities.”

“Since when have you cared what I think? Now up, up. We can come back another time.”

“Yeah, right. Did you see the pricing?” Grimacing, I surrender my glass of water and haul myself up.

She gives me a look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She lifts a shoulder, but a subtle smile plays on her lips.

“What?” I insist.

“I know you have your thing about relationships,” she says, “but you don’t have to be like me.”

“I’m not like you,” I say, pointing at her belly. “One hundred percent not pregnant over here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves a hand. “I just mean, you don’t have to be allergic to commitment. Especially when you’ve found one of the rare good ones.”

“I thought you didn’t approve of Cliff and me, either.”

She shrugs again. “I mean, it’s a little awkward. But it’s nothing that you can’t work through. You’ve said so yourself: you’re not really family.”

“No, Luce. I didn’t mean it like that. You are my family.”

“And Cliff is mine. I see how much he . . . cares for you. Trust me when I say, women have no problem throwing themselves at him, and he has no problem taking them to his bed. Even as an eight-year-old, I picked up on that. But when it comes to you, he doesn’t see anyone else. He can’t. You’ve bewitched him.” She chuckles. “Just . . . think about it.”

“Think about what?” I ask stubbornly. I already know how good Cliff is for me. He’s proven his loyalty over and over again. But it isn’t loyalty I need.

“Just think about it,” she repeats, grabbing her keys from the coffee table. She tosses them to me, and I miss them. They clink against the marble floor.

Grumbling, I bend over and retrieve them. “All right, Miss Daisy. Let’s get you home.”

I wish I was going home, too.

“Actually,” she says, “we have one more stop to make.”

I cock my head at her. “Luce, I’m gonna be late.”

“Then take me with you. We’ll just stop on the way to the strip club.”

I scoff. “You’re just gonna hang out in the bar?”

“We’re getting ice cream, so I’ll be totally happy.” She bats big green eyes at me.

“I hope your kid gets those eyes and uses them against you,” I say, turning and walking out of the spa.

I lead Lucy through the club house, past the dark stages and desolate tables. “Park it here,” I tell her, sitting her at one of the few tables that have normal chairs. “Hopefully I won’t be long.”

“I’m fine here,” she says through a mouthful of ice cream.
“Where did you even get a spoon?”

“I keep one in my purse.” She dips it into the half gallon again. “Want some?”

“That is all you.” I turn in a slow circle, realizing I didn’t see any other bikes outside. “Where the hell is everyone?”

“You’re on time for once,” she jokes. “You’ve thrown off the whole universe.”

I take the seat across from her. “Give me that spoon.”

“Uh-uh.” She pops it into her mouth. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out another and passes it to me.

I take a bite of ice cream, my brow furrowing. I can’t believe all these guys are late. They must’ve gone out for a ride without me. Figures. Even though they say they’re all for having a woman in their club, I bet they do this shit all the time.

The roar of motorcycles approaches, confirming my theory.

“They’re dead men walking,” I mutter, shoving my spoon into the ice cream again. “It’s my birthday, for fuck’s sake. They couldn’t be sexist another day?”

Lucy gives me a quizzical look.

“They rode without me!”

The door opens and a dozen people pour in. Donny walks in with Esther, her arms wrapped around a cake box inside a paper bag. Ravage and Shannon enter behind them, carrying several gift bags. The entire club is here. Abraham even brought his boyfriend, Rui.

“They didn’t ride without you,” Lucy says. She grabs the ice cream lid and snaps it into place.

Someone turns on music. Cliff strolls in last, a bottle of tequila in each hand. But it isn’t the tequila that makes me smile.

“I guess I’m going for a ride after all.”

I hug Cliff’s back, my thighs wrapped around his. The Screamin’ Eagle vibrates beneath us, conspiring with the tequila thrumming through my veins. I grind against the seat.

“Hurry,” I call into his ear.

With a twist of the throttle, he zips us forward. The dark night envelopes me, the streetlights bringing back flashes of the party. The speech Shannon gave, speaking about me as if she was an adoring mother. The shots Esther kept feeding me. The rounds of pool that Beer Can let me win. The way Cliff watched it all from the sidelines, letting me enjoy myself without hovering.

Lucy’s words repeat in my head: He doesn’t see anyone else. He can’t.

We pull into the parking lot for his building, Cliff evading cracks and potholes that could tip us over. It’s a good thing I didn’t drive myself. Lucy insisted she had to live vicariously through me and kept bringing me shots, too. I can barely stand.

But I can definitely manage a bed.

Cliff swings off the Screamin’ Eagle and extends an arm to me. Placing my hand in his, I climb down. My feet never touch the ground. He lifts me into his arms, curling me protectively into his chest. Part of me wants to fight it, but it feels too natural. I like it when he takes care of me.

Besides, I don’t think I can walk straight.

I shift until we’re eye level. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I had a really good day.”

“Good.” He swallows, his eyes intent on mine.

I keep pushing him away, yet he knew my birthday and planned all this. I don’t even know his. “When is your birthday?”

“February eighteenth.”

“So just a few days after we . . .”

“Fucked in a stranger’s station wagon. Yep.” He gives me a smug look.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I touch his face and he turns serious. “We could’ve done something.”

“We did. Besides, I had everything I could’ve asked for. I’d just gotten out, my cousin didn’t hate me like I thought she did, I met this stubborn, determined, beautiful woman who lit my bed on fire . . .” He winks. “You’ll never be able to top that birthday.”

But I will, or I’ll die trying.

I don’t say so, though. Instead I guide his lips to mine, my hand sliding down from his face, caressing his neck, his shoulder. Down, down I move, bringing my hand to rest at his hip. I skim his waistband, cupping his erection through his jeans.

“Let’s get upstairs,” he growls into my mouth.

“Do you think Lucy will be okay getting home?” I ask as he carries me inside.

“I had Esther drive her and Donny followed them.” He takes me up the stairs, my arms wrapped around his neck. As he climbs each step, his hard cock rubs against my thigh through his jeans.

Once inside, he sits on the couch and I straddle him. “Are we christening the couch tonight?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.

In answer he slips his hands under my shirt, beneath my bra, cupping my breasts. I wrench my tank top up and he leans forward, sucking a nipple between his lips. I pop open the button of his jeans and wrap my hand around him. With my nipple still in his mouth, he lifts me up just enough so that I can kick off my boots and peel off my lace leggings. As I take them off, I hear a low rip.

He freezes, face comically apologetic with my tit in his mouth.

“They were cheap,” I say, tossing them to the floor. I move my panties to the side and rub his head against me. His eyelids flutter closed, the ripped clothing forgotten. At this rate, I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe.

His hands grip my hips, dark eyes only slits as he watches me. I run him up and down my center, shivering as I reach my clit. His head tips back, exposing his throat. Bending forward, I nip at the tender skin, sealing it with a kiss. He lets out a low groan.

“God, Olivia,” he whispers, sending delicious icy tingles down my spine. His fingers dance along my ribs.

“‘Olivia,’ what?” I tease, gripping him. I take his head slow inch by inch, grinding against his shaft.

Pleasure rumbles in his throat, his face slack with bliss. With great effort, he opens his eyes enough to peer down at me. “You gonna make me beg?”

I give him a coy shrug. “It’s my birthday.”

“Then I should be doing the teasing.” Without disconnecting us, he flips us around, laying me down the length of the couch. He positions his knees at the sides of my thighs, still just barely inside me. I start to pout, a reminder that it’s my birthday on my lips. Then he uses his fingers to spread me wide and rubs his thumb against my clit, and I forget about complaining.

Shifting, Cliff plants a foot on the floor, giving me more room on the couch. My legs fall open. He slides deeper into me, still massaging me. Impatient, I reach for him, my hands framing each side of his face. I bring his lips to mine, coaxing him closer to me.

“Please?”

“Who’s begging now?” With a smirk, he obliges, lowering himself onto me. He reaches underneath me, placing his palms flat on my back. In one swift thrust, he plunges all the way in, hitting that spot deep inside me. I cry out, clinging to his back, wrapping my legs around his waist. The angle changes and he withdraws, then slams into me again, his shaft grazing my clit on his way back in. I make another involuntary sound, nails digging into his back.

From the moment we first connected, sex with Cliff has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s a vast, blinding starlight rush through veins, nerves, and synapses. I don’t believe in love or soulmates, but if I did, this is how it’d feel.

He rolls his hips, still buried inside me, and it’s enough. I spasm from my core outward, body going slack with surrender. A second later I feel his heat spill inside me. He grazes kisses along my collarbone and I keep shattering in his arms, arms that hold me together.

THE END

Read the River Reapers MC Series

Book 1: A Disturbing Prospect

Until now, Olivia has survived by sticking to two simple rules: love ’em then leave ’em, and live out loud. But her odds—which were pretty good—change when Cliff walks out of prison and into her life. With his long dark hair, gentle eyes, and secrets, she’s dying to unlock him.

Cliff is a survivor, too, and he needs Olivia’s help learning how to live again. But his past catches up with him when he joins the local biker club, the River Reapers. A lifetime membership comes with its own baggage.

Olivia should stay far, far away from him. She shouldn’t get skin to skin with him in the back of someone else’s car, but she does. She definitely shouldn’t get to know the man behind the mugshot, but for the first time in a long parade of one-night stands, she wants to. And she shouldn’t fall for him, but she does. Except their entwined pasts may doom their love before it even begins.

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Book 2: A Risky Prospect

Brash social worker Olivia has been through her own personal hell and come out the other side, tattered but determined to make things better in her corrupt town—no matter the cost. Her roommate’s current situation is the perfect place to start.

When ex-con Cliff’s wild ol’ lady Olivia comes to him and the River Reapers for help, he’s on board. His vigilante motorcycle club can get the job done, and it’ll help convince Olivia to take the next step in their relationship.

But when Olivia’s traumatic past walks through the club’s doors, there’s no stopping her from doing whatever it takes to settle her own score. Even if it means crossing a line that Cliff might not be able to pull her back from.

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Novella: Her Mercy

Twenty years ago, Mercy and Bree chose loyalty over love. Now they can do it all over—if he can find her.

War veteran Mercy has an ache in his bones that the MC he built with his best friend doesn’t quite soothe. When beautiful runaway Bree shows up at the club house, both his physical and emotional pain begin to lift.

Despite their substantial age gap, Bree and Mercy find the home they’ve always been looking for in each other. But Bree is buckling under the weight of her own secrets, and they were never far behind her to begin with. When they catch up to her, she runs. Again.

When he finally catches up with her twenty years later, he’s only got one shot to prove to her they belong together.

Her Mercy is a second chance romance that spans decades of heartache, and births the beginning of the River Reapers MC series.

This novella can be read as a standalone.

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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.

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