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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9

“Thank you,” my ex tells the crowd. “I actually grew up here. It’s been a while.” He chuckles, and the sound sends shattered icicles scraping down my spine. “I did a stint in the military, saw the world. My one true love is music.”

Applause and whistles drown out his next words. The crowd parts and I sprint toward the doors.

“Well,” he amends, “music and this one girl. I hear she’s the guest of honor tonight.”

My hands go numb. I force myself to keep moving. I just have to get the fuck out of here.

Just as I reach the door, the lights come on.

“Olivia, where are you?” Greg croons. “I came back for you, baby.”

catch up A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 5 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 6 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 7 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 8 Chapter 9Olivia

Cliff is mad at me for not letting him move in.

I realize it as I re-enter The Wet Mermaid, the shitty band’s music engulfing me. Well, okay—it’s actually pretty good. Greg always was. Between his giant ego, bad boy persona, and actual talent, I always knew he’d go places.

I just didn’t think he’d come back to haunt me.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 8

It’s the beginning of the end.

I knew I shouldn’t have asked. Some part of me hoped that since she’s keeping extra clothing in my room and a toothbrush in the bathroom, it’d be a natural next step.

catch up A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 5 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 6 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 7 Chapter 8Cliff

One second Olivia’s right next to me, the next she’s gone. She didn’t even say anything. At least, I didn’t hear her—it is pretty loud in here. Still, I’ve got a feeling she’s given me the slip. I sigh as the band goes right into their next song, and make my way over to the bar.

I sink into a seat, inclining my chin at Stixx, a member I don’t talk to too often. It isn’t the ink that covers him from the neck down in black, red, and gold that unnerves me. It isn’t even the pompadour he rocks, his light blond hair parted, the undercut fade almost down to his skin. It’s his pale ice eyes—always a little too wide—that freak me out.

He nods back, hands wrapped around a rocks glass of whiskey—minus the ice.

“You drinking that warm, brother?”

“Yeah.” He tosses back the remainder of it, then holds up the empty glass for Trish to refill.

I turn back to the stage while she tends to Stixx. The band actually isn’t bad. They’re a weird blend of punk, dance, and grunge, but it works for them. It’s too bad Olivia is missing this, because I think she’d like them. I scan the club for Esther, but with the club lights strolling through the floor, it’s impossible to make out faces. I sigh.

I’ve been ditched.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 7

Bishop Briggs sings about pretending even though they’re not in love, and I try not to think about how accurate that is. How things between Cliff and me are fire when we’re between the sheets, but now we’re avoiding this next step.

catch up A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 5 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 6 Chapter 7Olivia

“Are we good?” Cliff whispers in my ear. He backs off a little, holding me at arm’s length in front of him, those big hands on my waist.

I nod, red painted lips curling into a smile.

“I’m not trying to push you into anything.” His brown eyes search mine, a wall of hesitation between us.

“I like it right here where we are,” I say, scooting in closer. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck.

I like being with Cliff. I really do. Right now, everything is simple with him. Easy. There are no expectations. We’re just together. The way he’s been looking at me lately—those puppy dog eyes that go soft every time he sees me—is far from simple.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 6

I could just leave. I should. If I do, I’d just be proving them right. So I sit at their table while they ignore me, Olivia only acknowledging me long enough to ask me to pass the salt.

I definitely spooked her by asking her to move in with me. All I can do is hope that, once we’re away from our family and in the club house, we can go back to just being us. Everything else is just details.

Or so I’d like to believe.

catch up A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 5 Chapter 6Cliff

It’s been over twenty years since I last saw Lucy’s parents—my aunt and uncle.

From the little that Lucy’s said about them since I got out, they don’t like me. Or, rather, they don’t talk about me or what happened. In just a little while, we’re going to have to at least endure small talk with each other.

I’m more worried about Olivia.

Lately she’s been pushing me further and further away. She completely avoided answering my question back at The Wet Mermaid, and on the road, she blew past me. I know she’s been having nightmares about Eli, even if she won’t talk about them. I’m sure she’s nervous about starting her new job, too, especially with this Esther thing going on.

Ever since we started her riding lessons, she’s been pushing the limits. It’s been obvious from her first lesson that she’s a natural—another reason for my aunt and uncle to hate me. Not only did I burst their bubble of denial, but I’ve also managed to corrupt their younger daughter.

Adopted daughter, I correct myself.

Olivia and that Harley are like two reunited souls. I’m not the biggest fan of the way she speeds and takes turns like she’s begging for road rash. Olivia’s reckless riding is going to give me more grays.

But it’s what happened before we started lessons that crawls under my skin.

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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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4 Chapter 5Olivia

“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.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 4

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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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 2 Chapter 3Olivia

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 4

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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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1 Chapter 2Cliff

“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.

Continue Reading A Risky Prospect, Chapter 3

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How to read my tattoo shop romance series if you don’t have a Kobo ereader

Getting a book deal was a dream come true for me, that came with some of its own challenges. Like being exclusive. That was almost a dealbreaker for me; I prefer my books to be available to all readers, with easy access. The good news is, I didn’t have to compromise. There are a few ways you can read A Touch of Gold, Tattooed Heart, and the rest of the Stagwood Falls: Love in Ink series if you don’t have a Kobo ereader.

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If you’ve got a phone, you can read my tattoo shop romances. Download the Kobo app for your phone or tablet, then start the series in the app. This option requires a purchase from Kobo.

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As usual, libraries have our back. Get Libby set up using your existing local library card. Then download or request A Touch of Gold through the Libby app. This option is free (your library purchases the license).

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This tip comes from reader Katy, who gets headaches from reading on her iPad (so the Kobo and Libby apps aren’t good options for her). She says: purchase the books through Kobo, then use Calibre to convert to Kindle. Goodbye headaches!

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A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 18

We order in meals and for the most part leave our clothes off. It’s like we can’t get enough of each other, his cock always sliding home into me, reclaiming his rightful place. I don’t even worry about cooling it anymore, or my rules, and he doesn’t try to tell me that we shouldn’t be together.

We just are.

Then Cliff gets a call from Ravage. “He wants both of us at the club,” he tells me. “For Church.”

“How fucked are we?” I ask.

“Let’s find out.”

catch up A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 1 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 2 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 3 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 4 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 5 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 6 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 7 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 8 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 9 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 10 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 11 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 12 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 13 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 14 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 15 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 16 A Disturbing Prospect, Chapter 17 Olivia

Dawn rises, and with it Cliff returns. He’s wearing different clothes, and his face is haggard. I snuggle into his arms.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “It looks good in here,” he says over me.

I nod. Beer Can did most of the work, but I helped a little. We used meat tenderizer and some enzyme soap to get the stains out of the carpet, then he peeled it back and scrubbed the concrete underneath. Luckily it wasn’t stapled—whoever did the carpeting just tucked it in a little around the kick molding. “Apparently my landlord’s even more of a cheapskate than I thought,” I say to Cliff.

But it worked in our favor. Beer Can collected everything—including my beloved MSI T-shirt—and put it all in a heavy duty garbage bag, promising that he’d take care of it. I didn’t ask how, and I don’t want to know.

Cliff ducks his head, meeting my eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice is husky.

Nodding slowly, I pull off the fresh T-shirt I’d changed into after Beer Can made me shower. “Please touch me,” I whisper.

He palms one of my breasts, the rough underside of his hand grazing my nipple. His eyes meet mine, hooded but tender.

My hands go to the button of his pants, releasing it from its hole. I unzip them and wrap my fingers around him. He throbs, hot in my grasp. “Cliff,” I plead, giving him a tug. I lead him toward the bedroom, leaving the scene of the crime I’ve committed.

Solemn, he stands before me, watching me.

I hook an arm around his neck, pulling his face to mine. I lay myself down, drawing him on top of me. Holding himself above me, his lips glide across mine, and the already aching need in me soaks my panties. I reach for him and push him inside. My legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts home. Deeper and deeper he drives, my nails digging into the flesh of his back.

I turn and sink my teeth into the tenderness of his neck, marking him.

“Who’s too dangerous, now?” I whisper into his ear as he glides in and out, pushing me to the edge.

“I won’t leave you again,” he rumbles. He lifts me and wraps his arms around me.

And just like that we are bound, he and I, by our past, present, and future. Neither death nor time can separate us. He is mine, and I am his.

Forever.


We sleep for the rest of the day. I miss my classes, and I don’t care. I cocoon myself in his arms and under blankets, getting up only to pee and check on Dio, who has the run of the place again.

We order in meals and for the most part leave our clothes off. It’s like we can’t get enough of each other, bodies tangling in fevered passion. I don’t even worry about cooling it anymore, or my rules, and he doesn’t try to tell me that we shouldn’t be together.

We just are.

Around eight o’clock, Cliff gets a call from Ravage. “He wants both of us at the club,” he tells me. “For Church.”

This should alarm me, but all I care about is that we’re together. Since he doesn’t seem too concerned, I decide not to worry about it.

We shower together, Cliff lifting me and fucking me against the warm tile. Then, dressing, he and I get ready to face the club. We mount the Screamin’ Eagle and tear toward The Wet Mermaid, the wind in our ears drowning out our thoughts. I feel more connected to him than I ever have to anyone else. Maybe it’s in my head.

Or maybe the couple that makes people disappear together stays together.

The only vehicles in the parking lot are motorcycles and club-owned cars and pickups. It’s a bit unnerving that they closed down The Wet Mermaid for this meeting—that they couldn’t wait ’til after hours. Swallowing hard, I look at Cliff. He shrugs and takes my hand, wrapping my fingers in his warmth.

Stepping inside, I note the somber mood of the place. Shadows drift across the floor and stage. Cliff leads me to the bar and, without letting go of my hand, makes us drinks. We carry them into the conference room, joining the rest of the men for Church.

They sit around the heavy wooden table, Ravage at the head. The other members nod at us as we come in. I avoid Donny’s gaze. It still weirds me out that the guy who is banging my friend is the same guy who dismembered a body like it was nothing, then referred to the pieces as “Fun Size.”

Cliff and I take the two empty seats near the end, and Ravage calls the meeting to order.

“We had a bit of a situation last night,” he says, eyes drifting over his River Reapers. “As you may have heard.”

Mark nods emphatically. He won’t look at me. The lines of his mouth are hard and I can’t tell whether he’s angry with me. The men sitting around this table are completely different from the men I’ve been working with.

“Donny. Mark.” Ravage says their names sharply. “Our Enforcer and our Treasurer gave this young lady one of our guns.” Shaking his head, he rubs his temples. “Without my permission.” The glare he gives Donny and Mark is full of venom. Then, his stare softens. “But they did the right thing, gentlemen—under the circumstances. Because Olivia here is just like her damn father.” His flat look transfers to me. “Always wanting to handle everything on their own, these fucking Reynolds.”

Cliff’s hand squeezes mine, and I’m grateful that he’s with me. I have a feeling that I’m about to be fired. Even though Mark owns the strip club on paper, it’s MC property. Even though I’m the one who killed Eli, I still compromised the club.

Ravage’s eyes settle on Cliff. “Son, I opened my club to you. Gave you a job, a room to sleep in.” He lights a cigarette. Over the red glow of the tip, he says, “The two of you dragged this club into a shit storm.”

My eyes close for a second. It didn’t occur to me that they might kick Cliff out. Before he was even in. I bow my head.

“We took a vote,” Ravage continues. “It was unanimous. But I want to say that this isn’t how I wanted shit to go. This should have been a long process.”

My eyebrows furrow, my temple throbbing in pain. “What’s going on?”

The President nods to Cliff. “Give me that cut,” he growls.

Cliff nods. “It’s okay,” he says to me. Standing, he shrugs it off. He folds it in half and carries it over to Ravage. “I understand.” He touches Ravage’s shoulder. “No hard feelings.”

Scowling, Ravage swats his hand away. He pulls a knife from an interior pocket of his own leather vest. Then, with a surgeon’s precision, he cuts the stitches that hold the Prospect rocker to Cliff’s cut. He looks balefully up at Cliff. “Do you know what this means, son?”

One of Cliff’s eyebrows twitch, but he says nothing. Just nods.

Ravage slides two patches over to him. Squinting, I read the words MEMBER on one and SLUDGE SPECTER on the other. “Welcome, son.” He stands and embraces Cliff. “Don’t fuck this up.” He claps Cliff on the back.

“Guess I’m gonna have to learn how to sew.” Cliff holds up the patches and his vest. The men pound on the table, laughing and insulting his manhood.

Returning to his seat next to me, Cliff again takes my hand.

My shoulders relax. I figure, since Cliff didn’t get kicked out, I probably still have a job. Even then, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world—as much as I love working at The Wet Mermaid.

“Olivia,” Ravage says, my name almost an exasperation on his lips. He jerks his head. “Get up here.”

Despite my confusion, I manage to keep my face still. The wound is still tender as fuck, plus it feels really weird when the stitches pull. I stand and cross the room to the head of the table, passing men who feel more like family than my own parents.

Maybe it’s because, despite the years that separate us, they are family.

Stopping at Ravage’s side, I brace myself for whatever’s coming. Maybe he’s going to tell me that I have to stay away from Cliff. I lift my chin. He can try.

He crosses his arms. “Your father always had big ideas for this club. Something about straddling the line between the ninety-nine and the one percent. And he wanted to change certain . . . other things. He wanted you to be a part of it.”

I blink. Tilting my head, my lips part.

Ravage holds up a hand. “It is the 21st Century, for Christ’s sake. We had to take another vote, though—you know, as a formality. It was also unanimous.”

Mark stands and joins us. He hands me a leather vest folded in half—small compared to the men’s.

Lips parted, I unfold it. My fingers trace the Prospect rocker that will curve just under my ribs. “How?” I’m breathless with awe. This shouldn’t be happening. It’s never happened before in any MC, as far as I know.

“It’s your heritage,” Ravage replies. “Both of you. Though it’s a hell of a lot sooner than I’d planned.” He fixes Cliff and me with a look somewhere between annoyed and proud. Then he turns back to me. “Beer Can will hook you up with a ride and get you started.”

I lift an eyebrow at him, trying to imagine myself riding a motorcycle. “Or I can just ride with Cliff.”

Ravage looks like I’ve just kicked his elderly mother. “We all ride,” he snarls, his smoke and whiskey laced voice ringing out through the room.

The other men nod in agreement, their jaws set. Their serious facial expressions are pretty comical, but it would be really disrespectful to laugh at them.

“Okay, so no room for negotiation there.” I hold up the vest. “Thanks.” Biting back a smile, I go back to my seat. Cliff smirks and slings an arm around my shoulders.

“This is monumental, kid,” Ravage tells me across the table. “Don’t fuck it up.” He gives me a single, very stern nod. I guess this is his way of asking me to please not kill anymore college students.

I lift my shoulders and, pressing my lips together, smile apologetically. “I’ll do my best.”

The meeting ends shortly after. I’m not allowed to attend regular Church, but this evening was an exception. Ravage fills us in on an upcoming ride for charity in the spring, with a remark about how I’ll have plenty of time to learn how to ride before then.

Following Cliff out of the conference room, I head straight to the bar for another drink.

“Already?” he jokes, his hand resting on the small of my back.

“I’m under a lot of pressure now, okay?” I toss him a smile to let him know that I’m really not worried. If Beer Can could teach Cliff how to ride, he can totally teach me. Probably. “I wouldn’t put it past Ravage to lend me the biggest bike there is.” I pout, sipping my vodka collins.

“That would be pretty hot, though.” Cliff grins slyly. “Tiny girl on a big bike?” He grabs my hips and presses my ass against him, his erection hard through his jeans. “I’m turned on just from the thought,” he growls into my ear.

I put my unfinished drink down on the bar and toss a few bills as an extra tip to the bartender. “Let’s get you home, then, so I can ride you.”

On the way back to my place, I hug Cliff tight and press my thighs into the purring machine beneath me. It’s an awful lot of power to bestow on someone. I close my eyes, feeling the engine thrum through my body. This life wasn’t something that I ever thought I wanted, but now that it’s mine, I don’t ever want to give it back.

I think of my father, sifting through the murky, blurred memories that I have of him. Finally I have an explanation for why he was in and out of my life. It must have been the club. Nothing else would have kept him away from me and Mom.

Thinking of her brings a pang to my chest. Ever since the day I was taken away, I’ve tried hard not to dwell on her at all. It was better for everyone if I just pretended like Lucy and her parents were my real family—even when I was still just their foster kid. But the truth hits me hard out here on the road.

Family is about more than just how you look. A family means a whole lifestyle, a real place to belong. From my mannerisms to the things I gravitate to, it’s all ingrained in me. Nothing can change that, not even thirteen years apart.

Cliff slows as we enter the parking lot. When the motorcycle stops, I hug him tight. Then I hop down.

“Come on in and show me just how bad you are, Red Dog,” I tease, backing toward the front door. I withdraw my key and turn it in the lock, grateful that I don’t have to worry about finding surprises when I come home anymore.

Cliff clears his throat as he comes in behind me. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” I say, tossing my coat onto the floor. I lift my sweater off over my head. “I can multitask.” A wolfish grin splits my face. I want to devour him. Ever since he’s walked into my life, I haven’t been able to get enough. It’s not just the sex, even though I’ve never had such gravity-defying orgasms before.

He catches my arm, drawing me into his embrace. “In a minute.” Those lips press a kiss to the tip of my nose. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he leads me to the couch. Then he pulls me into his lap.

I straddle him, the heat from my core sparking against his hot erection pressing against me. I roll my hips, greedy.

A smile tugs at his lips. He stills my waist, though. “This is serious, babe.” After a beat, he continues. “I saw your mom.”

The breath catches in my throat. I sit back, my hands resting on his shoulders. “Where?” is all I can think to say.

“Prospect duty.” His lips twitch to the side. “You’re in for it, Liv. They had me doing all kinds of errands. The other day, I had to bring this woman to catch a train out of New Haven.”

“Bree.” Her name is a prayer on my lips. Tears sting my eyes. “How did she look? What did she say?” A thousand more questions tumble through my head. I don’t know where she’s been. I wish I knew why she didn’t fight for me. I really want to know why she hasn’t tried to look me up since I turned eighteen. All of these questions burst through the surface of the placid exterior I’ve been trying to maintain. Up until now, I had no idea that it all bothered me so much.

The emotions ripping through me are overwhelming.

Using the pad of his thumb, Cliff brushes away my tears. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “And she’s okay. I mean, she had some bruises. The club obviously sent her out of state—”

I hold up a hand. “Bruises? Again?” My head throbs, and it’s not just the healing slash at my temple.

He nods. “Don’t worry. Whoever he was, he won’t be a problem anymore.”

I press my lips together. Donny’s been a busy man. “Where was she going?” I hate how small my voice sounds. I don’t want to be a little girl who needs her mother. But it doesn’t matter how hard I fight it. Knowing that Bree is alive awakens something in me, a longing buried over a decade ago but easily unearthed.

Family is forever.

“I don’t know,” Cliff admits. “I’m sorry, babe. I had no idea who she was up until the second she walked away.”

A bitter snort erupts from my nostrils. “Sounds about right.” Sighing, I snuggle into his arms. “But she looked okay, otherwise?”

“Yes.” He kisses the top of my head. Strong arms wrap around me, hugging me close. Again it overwhelms me how right this is, how perfectly we fit together. I’m not ready to drop the L word or to throw a ring on it and pop out babies, but this is enough. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

Except for one thing.

“I want to find her.” Sitting up, I zero in on his eyes so that he knows I’m serious. I have no idea where to start. She doesn’t have a Facebook. I’ve searched for her before. Ravage has to know something, though. “They dropped all kinds of information on me about Mercy, but they couldn’t bother to tell me about Bree.” My lip curls. “It’s awfully convenient.”

A wry smile drags Cliffs lips to the side, his eyebrows raised as he nods in agreement. “Try not to blame them, though.” He pauses, considering. “Or us. Is that how this works? Cogs in a single unit?”

“More like a pack of wolves.” I run my fingers through his long black hair. “I don’t know, Cliff. I feel like there’s a whole hell of a lot more that they haven’t told me.”

“You’re just a Prospect,” he says. “Give it time. I’ll talk to Ravage. Or Beer Can. He’s much more forthcoming. Especially after a few beers. Is that why they call him Beer Can?”

Cheeks reddening, I snort laugh. It quickly turns into a series of giggles. My eyes close and my lips press together, belly shaking. When I finally get myself under control, I open my eyes. Cliff lifts a bushy eyebrow at me. “It’s not because of what he drinks,” I manage with a straight face. “It’s because his, um . . .”

“Say no more. Please.” Cliff’s face turns to stone and he glances away. “Next subject.”

Cupping his chin, the short beard tickling the palm of my hand, I turn his face back to me. “You’re my in. They trust you now. Anything you find out, I have to know.” I’m practically begging, but I’m desperate. If Bree is in trouble, I need to be informed so I can help her. Despite how she’s let me down, she shouldn’t be on her own. And the club doesn’t count.

Muscular arms wrap around me. “Of course, Olivia,” he says in a husky voice. “I would do anything for you.”

“I know,” I reply, because I do.

The End
(for now)

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What’s Next

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Cliff and Olivia’s story continues in A Risky Prospect A Risky Prospect, Chapter 1

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