teaser – 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.

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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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“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.

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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.

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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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A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 3

I knew it’d be a little awkward for everyone. I just didn’t think it’d be weird for me.

Catch Up

Chapter 3

Cliff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m the picture of eloquence right now.

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

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

“We ran into each other at Big Y.”

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

“She asked me if I’m a River Reaper.”

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

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

“You were buying wipes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. “Bastard.”

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

“Baby daddy not in the picture?”

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

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

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

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

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 2

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

Catch Up

Chapter 2

Trigger Warning: Mention of sexual assault of a minor. Reader discretion advised.

Olivia

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

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

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

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

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

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

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

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

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

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

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

“It was chaperoned,” she adds.

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

“Some of the mentors assaulted Bryce.”

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

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

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

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

“No one reported it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 1

My relationship with Olivia is… complicated. She doesn’t want to move in with me, she doesn’t want to get married, and she definitely doesn’t want to have my babies. She won’t even let me tell her I love her. Sometimes, I think she’ll be the death of me.

Catch Up

The following is an excerpt from A Fatal Prospect. This chapter contains spoilers from the series; please read A Disturbing Prospect and A Risky Prospect first!

Chapter 1

Cliff

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

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

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

Nothing has changed between us.

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

I can’t believe it, either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Over my dead body.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My chest aches.

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

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

It’s not just that.

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

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

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

It still changes you.

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

Our world is no place for a child.

It’s not her fault at all.

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

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

“Who’s he?” I ask Donny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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