Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology, стр. 20

Max snorted and for once I didn’t consider telling him to shut up.

“Tell me about your sister.”

Jeff’s face sobered and he set down his pipe.

“Marie’s been through a lot,” he replied. “She doesn’t need any more trouble, Horse.”

“Who hit her?”

“Her husband,” Jeff said. “Always hated him. She left his ass, thank God. She deserves a little happiness. No offense, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave her alone.”

“Now you’re telling me what to do?”

Jeff straightened, and for the first time in a year he looked almost like a man instead of a weasel.

“She’s a good girl, Horse,” he said firmly. “She’s been through hell, she’s finally free, and she doesn’t need anyone new in her life. She needs to get a divorce and go to school and then meet some nice guy with a steady job who’ll treat her like a queen. Let it go.”

“Damn, that almost sounded like something a decent human being would say,” Max muttered. “I think we may have a body snatchers situation going on here.”

“Think what you like,” Jeff said, shrugging. “But it’s the truth. She’s rid of Gary and pretty soon she’s gonna realize she’s free to do anything she wants. I won’t have her wasting that freedom on some biker who’ll treat her like shit. And don’t bother waiting for her to come back. I already texted her and told her to stay away.”

I shrugged, not entirely surprised. When a chick bit my ear and told me to fuck off, it wasn’t usually a sign I’d be getting laid that night. My cock might be pissed about it, but I’d started to realize just how much more I wanted from Marie. Hot pussy crawled out of the woodwork at the club, nothing special about it . . .

A sweet girl like her was a hell of a lot harder to find.

Jeff sat waiting, apparently expecting some sort of violent outburst, so I gave him a nice big smile, just to fuck with his head.

“Tell her I said good-bye,” I told him. “I’ll be back before long to check up on things. I’ve got what I need, should be able to monitor the rest from home.”

I looked to my brothers to make sure he hadn’t missed something. Max cracked his knuckles and Picnic nodded, satisfied.

“I don’t want to breathe in any more of Jeff-hole’s secondhand smoke,” I said. “You ready, Pic?”

“Sure,” Picnic replied, and Max pulled himself up off the couch, stretching. Thankfully, Jeff kept his stupid mouth shut as we went outside.

Night had fallen, and while the air was still warm, it didn’t hold the punishing heat we’d experienced earlier. Riding home across the desert wouldn’t be half bad.

I kicked my bike to life, following my club president down the long driveway through the apple trees.

Hadn’t been such a shitty trip after all.

Hopefully, Marie wouldn’t tear up my other ear too bad during our next fight.

Marie’s Bread Recipe

Ingredients

4 ? teaspoons (or two packets) of rapid rise yeast 2 ? cups warm water

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon olive oil

7 cups all-purpose flour

2 handfuls mixed grated cheese (your choice—I often just grab an Italian mix) 1/4 cup (approximately) grated parmesan 2 large spoonfuls chopped garlic (slightly less if using fresh garlic, although I often use the prepared chopped garlic in a bottle for convenience—if it’s a squeeze bottle, I do two very large gloops) Italian herb mix 1 egg white mixed with 1 tablespoon cold water Corn meal

Preparation

Note: I use a Kitchenaid mixer with a dough hook to make bread. If you make the bread by hand, follow basic bread dough preparation instructions out of any cookbook.

Put warm water and yeast in mixing bowl and allow to proof (3-4 minutes). Follow with flour and salt, then add in oil, two handfuls of cheese, garlic, and a generous shake of Italian herb mix. (I’ve never measured this, but don’t be afraid to pour it on—the recipe makes two loaves of bread, which means you want to put in plenty.) Allow dough hook to mix until the bread is fully kneaded. (About four minutes on my machine.) Place bread in a greased bowl and allow to double in size. Punch down, then divide into two parts. Using a rolling pin, spread each dough ball out into a rectangle, then roll up along the long side to create a skinny loaf. Place on a baking pan that’s been lined with foil, greased, and sprinkled with cornmeal. (Be sure the seam is on the bottom.) Allow to rise until double in size.

Before baking bread, make four thin slices diagonally across the top to give it some texture, then sprinkle with parmesan. Bake at 450 for 20 minutes, then remove from oven. Brush with egg white mixed with cold water to create a glaze. Cook for an additional five minutes then allow to cool before slicing.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The top request I get from readers is for a short story about Horse and Marie, telling what happened to them after Reaper’s Property. “Skunked” is that story. If you haven’t read Reaper’s Property, you can still read “Skunked”—it doesn’t have any plot spoilers, aside from the fact that Reaper’s Property ended with them together as a couple, which shouldn’t come as a huge surprise for most romance readers.

“Skunked” takes place several years after the end of Reaper’s Property. I got the idea late one night after something rather unpleasant happened with our dog . . .

SKUNKED

HORSE

Christ, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this tired.

We’d been on a five-day run to Boise and had spent the night before camped out. I was tired, grumpy, and more than a little horny—something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the bitch who’d kept grabbing for my cock at the last clubhouse we’d visited. I’d managed to fight her off, but this celibacy shit was getting old.

I wanted my old lady, and I wanted her now.

Turning down our driveway, I saw Marie’s car in front of the house. She hadn’t answered her phone all day—this wasn’t like her. I’d assumed if something was really wrong, someone would’ve gotten hold of me. Still, it was a relief to find her at home. I wanted a cold beer, a hot shower, and a blow job.

Could only accomplish two of the three on my own.

Parking my bike, I decided to leave my saddlebags for now and head toward the house. The door wasn’t locked. I stepped into the living room, looking around for her. The lights were on and so was the TV, but no sign of my girl.

“Marie?”

Nothing.

I passed through the living room and started down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“Babe, you in here?”

“In the back,” she replied, her voice faint. Entering the kitchen, I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she seemed out of it—almost dazed.

“What the fuck’s going on?” I asked. She jumped, looking toward me with something like fear in her expression. Jesus, had someone hurt her? A burst of adrenaline rushed through me—nobody touched my woman. I’d fucking kill them. She didn’t say anything, though. “Marie?”

She shook herself, almost as if she needed to wake up.

“Sorry, I was sort of lost in my thoughts.”

“What’s going on?”

She stared at me for several seconds, her mouth tight. “We need to talk.”

Great—words every man loves to hear. So much for my “welcome home” blow job.

“About what?” I asked warily.

“Sit down,” she murmured, glancing away from me. “You want a beer?”

Up to that point, a beer had been damned high on my list of priorities. Now? Not so much. I pulled out a chair at the big wooden block that served as our kitchen table and sat down with a thump, leaning back. Then I crossed my arms over my chest.