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Her Mercy, Chapter 2

“American Woman” played as a woman spun onstage. I moved closer, a moth drawn to fire.

“You can’t be in here.” A tall man wearing a beat up leather jacket covered in patches blocked my path. “You’re like twelve.”

“Eighteen,” I lied. “I need a job.”

catch up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Part I: The DrifterChapter 21997

I couldn’t stomach the thought of telling anyone, so I ran.

I didn’t go far. I was only fourteen, after all. I had no money, aside from the babysitting cash I blew on the bus hop out of Wolcott. I had no job experience, aside from babysitting a few kids on my street. And I had no high school diploma—a recent development.

I stood on the long strip of roads that made up Route 63 in Naugatuck, the bus pulling away from the curb and leaving me in a cloud of dust. I was officially out of cash—and adrenaline.

Glancing up and down the street, I looked for a sign, anything to tell me what to do next. I could go home. All I had to do was find a payphone and call my parents. Then I’d have to tell them why I’d run.

Nausea scraped against my stomach, clawing up my throat. I wrapped my arms around myself, pushing back against it and the memories. I couldn’t tell them. No one would even believe me.

I started walking.

As I walked, I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. I hadn’t even grabbed a coat on my way out, and it was freakin’ January. Not like I’d really had time to think things through. I stumbled into a parking lot, not even bothering to see what it was for. I just wanted to get inside and get warm. As I hurried toward the door, the backpack I wore slung on one shoulder brushed one of the motorcycles lined up out front.

“Hold it!” a gruff voice called out.

I froze in my tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, stepping in front of me. He all but blocked out the sun—if the sun had been shining. The sky was a cold milk white.

I tipped my head back to look at him. The breeze ruffled the dark hair that just about covered his ears.

“You can’t go in there,” he continued, but all I saw were his lips. Thick, round lips that hugged every word he spoke. A constellation of stubble framed them, all that black facial hair only highlighting the pink plumpness of those lips. Shadows hung under his hypnotic brown eyes, more hair hanging in front of them.

I blinked, shaking myself out of my daze. A gust of wind whipped my hair into my face. I grabbed the dark strands, tucking them back into my shirt. “Why not?” I said between shivers. I glanced at the door again. It was so close.

“Because that,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the building, “is a strip club. And you are like twelve.”

I scoffed. “Eighteen.”

“Same freakin’ difference.” He crossed his arms. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Flicking my eyes from his face to the motorcycle, I crossed my arms, too. “Shouldn’t you be in jail?”

“Probably.” He laughed, and the sound flooded me with warmth—a heat so real, my fingers tingled.

“Move out of my way.” I hopped from foot to foot.

Ordinarily I’d never speak to an adult like that. And he was very much a man, probably in his early thirties. But I was freezing, and I had to pee. In about two minutes, I was going to be warm for a whole two seconds before I caught pneumonia.

“I can’t let you in.” He dropped the smirk, eyes warming a little. “Why don’t I give you a ride home?”

I lifted an eyebrow at the bikes.

“In my truck.” He jerked a thumb toward a pickup parked at the end of the line.

“So you’re not a biker?” I had no idea why the question popped out. I was cold. I should’ve been climbing into the cab and blasting the heat as high as it’d go. Maybe I was just trying to delay going home. Or maybe I was disappointed that he wasn’t a biker.

“That one’s mine.” He smiled proudly at one of the bikes. “If I put you on the back of that, you’ll turn into an icicle. Come on. Where do you live?”

The door opened and a curvy woman with long blonde hair and bangs poked her head out. “Mercy! What the hell are you doing out here? Ravage and Bastard are at it again.” She slipped back inside as quickly as she popped out.

He darted in after her, not even sparing a second glance at me. I counted to twenty, then opened the door.

The Guess Who’s “American Woman” blasted over speakers I couldn’t see in the dim light. What I could see, very clearly, was the woman spinning around a silver pole on a stage.

A strip club.

I almost laughed, but a hard body slammed into mine. He glared at me with green eyes before turning toward another man.

“We voted on this, Bastard! Split table means no escort service. You can’t just do whatever the fuck you want!” the other man growled. His ice blue eyes nearly glowed with rage, his black hair damp.

Bastard launched himself at the other man. “The hell I can’t. I built this goddamn business, Ravage!”

The man from outside—Mercy—shoved himself between them. “Enough!” he shouted, his voice rising even over the music.

Everything stopped. The girls dancing on stage edged out of the spotlight. The crowd of men with dollar bills in their hands stared at the trio in the middle of the floor.

“I’m not gonna abide this shit,” Ravage said.

“Ravage,” Mercy warned. “This is a club. We have to take this to the table, not the middle of the floor.”

Bastard spat a wad of blood onto the floor. “Good call, VP.” He sneered at Ravage.

Mercy’s face hardened, then slipped back into a neutral mask. He clasped Ravage’s shoulder. “Take a walk.”

Fists curled, Ravage stalked outside, his blue eyes cold and unforgiving.

Mercy rose his voice again. “Show’s over. Eyes back on the stage.” He put an arm around Bastard and guided him to a door on the other side of the bar. They disappeared into the darkness.

“What are you doing in here, sweetie?” the woman from outside asked, spinning me around. Her blonde bangs framed anxious round eyes. Up close, I could see that they were brown instead of the usual blue. Outside, she’d looked angry, but inside she looked worried. It probably had less to do with me and more to do with the men.

“I was cold,” I admitted, the first truth I’d spoken that day.

“It is pretty cold out,” she said, steering me toward the door, “but you’re too young to be in here.”

“I’m eighteen,” I blurted. “Are you hiring?”

She halted, looking me in the eyes. “I’m Shannon,” she said, “and there’s no way in hell you’re dancing on that stage.”

I swallowed. “Please,” I begged. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her chest rising and falling. “Why do I always take in strays?” she muttered. Opening her eyes, she fixed them on me. “I’ll figure something out for you. You’re not dancing. Want a cup of hot cocoa?”

“Coffee, please.” I licked my lips.

“Cream and sugar?” she asked as she stepped behind the bar.

“Black.”

It was the second lie I’d told.

Thank you for reading Chapter 2 of Her Mercy, a River Reapers MC prequel novella.

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Keep Mercy & Bree for Your ShelfShop Signed PaperbacksContinue Reading Her Mercy, Chapter 3

Read A Risky Prospect for free

Olivia’s mousy roommate Esther knows her biggest secret: how she “took care of” her stalker last semester with the help of her biker family. Now on graduation day, Esther needs her and the club’s help with a similar yet bigger problem. Before Olivia can ask the MC for another favor, her traumatic past walks into the clubhouse.

Her ex is the reason she can’t trust Cliff, the ruggedly handsome ex-con who helped her get rid of her stalker. Cliff risked going back to prison for her, and now he wants to make things between them official. In a perfect world, Cliff would be the one, but after the unspeakable things her ex did to her, she can’t let anyone close enough to hurt her again.

She couldn’t save herself back then, but she can protect Esther and her little sisters now. If the club won’t listen, she’ll make them. If her ex comes anywhere near her, she’ll “take him to the river,” too. And as her feelings for Cliff grow deeper, he’ll have to show her that he’s worth the risk.

A Risky Prospect is a slow burn, touch her and die, dark romance, and the second book in the River Reapers MC series.

Catch Up A Recap of A Disturbing Prospect Read A Disturbing Prospect for free Read Now 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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 57 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 58 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 59 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 60 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 61 Keep Cliff & Olivia for Your ShelfSigned PaperbackEbook

Meta used my books to train its AI

Yesterday The Atlantic reported on the latest in the Meta AI hearings, breaking the story that unsealed employee communications revealed that not only did Meta knowingly use stolen content from the piracy site LibGen, it was Mark Zuckerberg who okayed it.

Authors can check the tool The Atlantic put together to see if their work was used.

There’s a class-action lawsuit against Meta, Open AI, Microsoft, and other companies. If your work was used to train AI, you’re already included in the lawsuits. (There’s no need to join Authors Guild or take any further action at this time.) Right now courts are determining whether Meta, Open AI, et al violated copyright.

15 of my titles were used. I checked LibGen using a mirror site and they have over 20 of my titles. (I don’t recommend doing this, because the mirror sites are full of garbage and porn pop-ups and sketchy redirects. I don’t know how to check LibGen directly. Big props to The Atlantic for putting together tools for both waves of this!)

I’ve always looked at piracy the same. Yeah, it sucks that sometimes people don’t pay me for my books. I’ve got medical issues and bills like everyone else, and I really like to eat. The thing about pirates is, if you send one DMCA takedown, two more will pop up in its place. I’d rather spend my time writing. I like to think that piracy helps readers discover my books. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. I do have readers who buy my books and stuff, and my platform continues to grow every year.

This is different, though. These corporations are directly profiting off their AI and therefore artists’ work, without compensating us. We didn’t have a choice in contributing (I for sure would’ve declined had they asked and made me an offer).

And it won’t stop at books.

If Meta, OpenAI, Microsoft, and other corporations are allowed to use artists’ work without consent, compensation, or consequence, they’ll also use people’s medical information and other personal and even private data.

This is bigger than books.

Photo by Andrea De Santis on Unsplash

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 61

I knew Bunny would be coming any day, but now that the moment’s here, it’s a little overwhelming. In just a few hours, I’ll have a tiny niece, and I don’t know if I can keep her safe.

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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 57 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 58 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 59 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 60 Chapter 61Cliff

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Lucy shrieks from down the hall.

My gaze rockets to Olivia’s. In seconds, we’re both racing out of her bedroom and into her bedroom. We crowd her door.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“I’m in fucking labor,” my cousin says, turning toward us. Sweat beads her hairline. “Holy shit. No one told me it hurt this bad! They all grossly understated how much it hurts.”

I glance around the room. “I need the keys. Where are the keys?”

“What keys?” Olivia asks, shouldering the bag Lucy packed for the hospital weeks ago.

“The car keys. Where are the car keys?” I turn in a circle as if they’ll just appear.

“Those would be downstairs,” Lucy says. She and Olivia shake their heads at me.

“It’s gonna be okay, Uncle Cliff.” Olivia pats my arm.

Clearing my throat, I head toward the stairs. Olivia and I were all cuddled up on her bed, actually watching a movie. I knew Bunny would be coming any day now, but now that the moment’s here, it’s a little overwhelming. In just a few hours, I’ll have a tiny niece.

I run down the stairs and through the living room, skidding into the kitchen. I snatch the keys up from the same spot they’re always in: the table. I shake my head at myself.

“Maybe I should drive,” Olivia says from behind me.

I turn, eyes settling on her wry smile. “I’ll be all right,” I say, smiling back.

She holds a hand out to me, and I take it, the warmth and weight soothing me. We suspend the moment between us, my chest tightening.

Lucy shuffles in behind Olivia. “Do you guys need some time? Because I don’t need drugs at all.”

Olivia’s eyes close in silent laughter. Neither of us have ever seen Lucy like this. I kind of wish I was recording this on my phone right now. Someday Bunny’s gonna want to see the moments leading up to her grand entrance in this world.

“Let’s go!” Lucy barks, turning and marching out of the kitchen. Out of the house.

“I’d better go get the car.” I slip an arm around Olivia and together we follow her.

“That motherfucker,” Lucy curses as she settles into the backseat. “He doesn’t even have the balls to watch me go through this.”

Olivia slides in beside her, and I jump into the other side of the backseat, sandwiching Lucy.

“Who’s driving this thing?” I quip.

My sweet cousin gives me a glare that I’m pretty sure would drop the hardest criminal at Lewisburg.

“Or not.” I get out and put my ass in the driver’s seat.

I drive to the Waterbury Hospital emergency room, pulling up as far as I can without blocking the ambulances.

“Be right back,” Olivia says. She hurries to the entrance, where she snags one of the security guards. A moment later, they head toward us with a wheelchair.

“I can wa—” Lucy’s words are swallowed by a guttural groan. She breathes through the contraction. When it passes, she drags her eyes to mine. “I’ll take that wheelchair now.”

“Thought so,” Olivia says. She and the security guard help Lucy into the chair, then whisk her away.

I park. On my way down, I whisper to my mother. She loved Lucy. She’d love Olivia. “Please make this all right for Lucy and help Bunny arrive safely.”

I don’t know if she hears me, but I like to think so.

Eleven hours later, I stand on one side of Lucy, her hand gripping mine, tendrils of scarlet hair plastered to her face. Olivia holds her other hand.

“Just one more push,” the obstetrician promises.

Olivia grimaces at me over Lucy’s head.

“Liar!” Lucy screams, bearing down. All of a sudden, strong cries fill the room. The obstetrician holds up a squalling Bunny, purple and writhing.

She’s pissed.

“Tell ’em,” Lucy calls to her baby. “You did so good.” Looking up at Olivia and me, she bursts into tears. “She did so good.”

A nurse wraps Bunny in a receiving blanket. They whisk her away to clean her up a little and take her stats.

“You did good,” I tell Lucy, kissing her sweaty forehead.

“Remind me to never do this again,” she sobs.

“Remind me to never do this,” Olivia mutters. She pushes damp hair out of Lucy’s face.

A nurse places Bunny in Lucy’s arms. Olivia and I crowd over her.

Bunny scrunches up her face, lips puckering at the air. She’s as red as her mama’s hair and her auntie’s temper. She’s got Lucy’s nose and chin, her hair dark—I’m assuming like Ben’s.

“Can we say she gets her curls from me?” Olivia asks.

Lucy gazes at her daughter, tired eyes full of wonder. “Sure,” she croons, already more herself.

Nurses flurry around Lucy, propping her with a pillow here and there, and outfitting her with an ugly ass pair of mesh underwear.

“Stop looking at my lingerie,” Lucy quips while Olivia gapes in horror.

Eventually, the hospital personnel files out of the room, leaving the four of us in a warm haze.

“Think you two will ever have one of these?” Lucy asks, eyes darting between us full of mischief.

“Fuck off,” Olivia says brightly.

I reach for Bunny, cradling her in the crook of my arm, her head resting in my palm.

“Jesus, Cliff,” Lucy says. “You could hold her in one hand. Oh my god, she’s so small.”

From across the room, Olivia smiles, her gaze locked on Bunny and me.

“What do you think, Bunny? Want some cousins?” I ask.

“I will kill you,” Olivia says.

I know well enough to believe her.

“I’m going to kill him first,” Lucy seethes.

“Me? I’m on your side,” I balk.

“Stop calling her Bunny.” She shoots me a frosty look.

“What else are we supposed to call her?” Olivia says.

“Leigh,” Lucy tells us. “Leigh Demmel.” She nods to herself. “Both of you have a ‘li’ in your names.”

“She’s always gonna be my Bunny,” Olivia insists.

With the soft weight of the baby in my arms, I look at these three women—my whole world, all in one room. I would die to protect them. I take a snapshot of the moment for my memory, one to hold in my hands as a reminder of better times.

Moving to Lucy’s side, I shift Leigh to one arm and wrap the other around Olivia. It may not be the picture perfect I envisioned, but it’s my perfect—ours, judging by the way Olivia smiles up at me.

She might break my heart again—she might do it every day, even—but she’s worth the risk.

The End

(for now)

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

If you enjoyed this chapter, please like, comment, and share!

Keep Cliff & Olivia for Your ShelfShop Signed PaperbacksContinue Reading

Cliff and Olivia’s saga continues in A Fatal Prospect.

A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 1

Want to know where Olivia’s mother Bree went? Read Her Mercy, a River Reapers MC prequel novella.

Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Bonus Content “Spill it… on her?” | Deleted scene from A Risky Prospect

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 60

He cradles my face. “I don’t know how I survived twenty years without you.”

“Me either,” I joke.

He’s still so much older than me. Someday soon I might not be enough for him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmurs. “I just need you.”

I hope, for both our sake, he’s right.

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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 57 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 58 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 59 Chapter 60Olivia

My lips tremble as soon as the question is floating between us.

He peers into my eyes, his own hooded and smoldering with devotion. “I do. I don’t want to let you go. And I won’t ask for more than you can give me,” he says, placing his warm hand over mine. His deep voice reverberates in his chest, vibrating through his bones and into mine, soothing me. “Just give me whatever you’ve got,” he whispers, repeating some of my first words to him.

I lean into him, and his forehead meets mine. I lick my lips. “I want to be with you.” My voice catches on the words, my lips still trembling. “I never knew I could be so afraid to lose someone. My whole life, I’ve just let people go. It’s always been easy. With you, it’s never easy.”

“If it makes you feel better, you don’t make it easy for me, either.” His mouth twitches. “Half the time, I don’t even know what to do with how I feel about you, Liv. There aren’t any words in any language to capture it.”

“You don’t have to say it,” I tell him, “because I can feel it.” I place my other hand over his heart. It thumps beneath my palm. “I feel you, every second of every day.”

He lays a hand on my heart. “I feel you, too.”

I close my eyes. After a few moments, our hearts sync up, beat for beat. “Do you feel that?” I whisper.

“I do.” He clears his throat. “I’m yours, Olivia. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m yours, too,” I reply.

“Can I hold you?” he asks.

In response, I crawl from my stool into his lap. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I curl my arms around his neck. A moment later, his arms wind around me. I rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes again, letting myself fade into his embrace, this moment. Our hearts thrum against each other, separated by bone and blood but tied by something bigger. His hands rest against my back, palms radiating warmth into me. We don’t speak. For once, we just listen.
His hand strokes my back, his other hand cupping the back of my head. I nuzzle into him, inhaling him.

“I missed you,” I breathe against his skin.

“I missed you, too.” He buries his nose in the curls at the nape of my neck. His breath sends delicious tingles through the muscles of my head, the curve of my spine.

I lift my head. Lifting a thumb, I run it across his lips. He presses a kiss to the pad. I touch the corner of his mouth, trace the short beard he’s grown, taking in all the subtle ways he’s changed since I last touched him. Where I’m catching up, he’s soaking me in, drawing a finger along the ridge of my ear, rubbing my lobe between two fingers. I arch into the motion, my eyelids fluttering.

“I missed you,” he says again, eyes on my lips.

“Do you want to kiss me?” I hold my breath in like a prayer.

“I really, really do.”

“Please.”

He cradles my face in both hands, his thumbs stroking my earlobes, his exhalations warming my face, intoxicating me the way no tequila ever could. “I don’t know how I survived twenty years without you.”

“Me either,” I joke, cheeks warming.

There are still seventeen years between us. Someday, he might not want to wait anymore, and I might never be ready to move to the levels he wants to reach. In the face of that, reclaiming him isn’t entirely fair. I swallow.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmurs. His eyes meet mine. “I don’t need all that. I just need you.”

He seals his words by fastening his lips to mine.

My eyes flutter closed, my hands going to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. I part my lips for him, letting him in. His mouth crooks against mine in a lopsided, delighted grin. He sweeps his tongue across my lips, hesitant. I flick my tongue out, opening my lips wider for him, letting him probe his way in.

He caresses me with his lips, the kiss fierce and gentle. I sigh against him, my body longing to shed these clothes, to rest my skin against his. To feel his pulse against every point in me.

I dip my head, withdrawing enough to speak. “Is the invitation to check out your new place still open?”

“God, yes.” He sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.

I curl into him, savoring the way I fit into his big frame, how protectively he carries me. “Should we say goodbye?”

“Nah,” he rumbles, bringing me to the door and nudging it open with his hip. He hurries into the parking lot, stealing along the building like a thief.

My thief, who stole into my veins and stowed away in my heart.

“I’ve got to ask,” he says as he lowers me onto his bike. He swings on and I wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his back. “Was everyone in on this?”

“Pretty much,” I murmur into his colors, the Sludge Specter scratching against my cheek, leather creaking.

He starts the Screamin’ Eagle with one kick, and we roll out.

He takes me to Trowbridge Apartments on Highland Avenue. Not once did I ever think to ask where he’s living. I just knew he got his own place, and left it at that. Anything more was too painful.

He pulls into his unit’s spot, killing the engine once the kickstand is in place. Dismounting, he holds out a hand to me. I never need help getting off a bike, but the gesture is sweet. I take his hand and swing down.

“So,” he says, gesturing toward the building. He scuffs his boot against the pavement. “I’ve gotta warn you, it’s not much.”

“It’s great,” I tell him, meaning it. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. His lips spread into a smile. Taking his hand, I tug him toward the front door.

Inside, we take the stairs. I sense his eyes on my ass the entire time I climb, and I swing my hips just a little wider. At the top, he palms my ass, drawing me into him. Turning, I reach up and kiss him.

“Will you give me a tour?”

“It’ll last about twenty seconds.” He wraps an arm around me and leads me down the hall. We pass several units before stopping. He nods at a door. “This is me.” Taking out a set of keys, he fits them into the top then bottom locks, then pushes the door open, holding it for me.

I step inside and find myself in a narrow hall.

He flips on a light. “This is the hall,” he deadpans.

I scoff. “Come on. It’s not just a hall. This is the mudroom.” I kick off my shoes and shove them to the side.

He points to my left. “Bathroom’s in there.”

“The powder room, you mean.” I turn right, entering the kitchen. He turns on more lights. “And this is the chef’s galley and dining room. It’s an open floor plan,” I explain.

“You’re ridiculous.” He bends down and kisses my temple. “As you can so clearly see, there’s no table here.”

“It’s a work in progress.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Everything is.” I tip my head back and look into his eyes, so full of adoration.

He lifts me into his arms then. I laugh, feet flailing in the air. “This,” he says, stepping into the next room, “is the living room.”

“The sitting room,” I correct in my snootiest voice.

“Nowhere to sit.” He shrugs.

“Your place looks like mine when Esther moved out.” I laugh, covering up for how lonely I was. “Good thing Lucy has her shit together—a couch and an actual loveseat.”

“It’s all right,” he says, carrying me to a door standing open. “I spend most of my time in the bedroom.”

I try to think of a fancy name for a bedroom, but come up empty.

“The bedchamber,” he intones, flipping on the light.

“Good one.” I swallow, heart thudding. Biting my lip, I lift my eyes to meet his. There’s nothing for me to hide behind anymore: not wild lust, not silly jokes.

“I’m nervous, too,” he admits.

Here I’d usually drop some quip to break the tension, maybe something like “Who said we were having sex?” He’d drop me onto the bed and I’d say something about coming over just for a nap.

Instead, I lay a hand against his cheek, lashes lowering as I move in for a kiss. He meets me halfway, lips folding over mine, then pursing, resting against them. He takes in a deep breath through his nose.

“I know,” I tell him. “I feel you.”

He kisses me again, lowering me to the bed. I lie on my back, the scent of his clean black sheets and comforter engulfing me. They smell like Gain and the smoky leather scent that is all him. I wriggle back until my head touches a pillow.

Standing at the foot of the bed, he watches me with heavy lids. There’s nothing guarded about his gaze. It’s as if he’s drunk on just the sight of me. His knees touch the bed, the mattress creaking as he kneels. I lick my lips, heart thundering.

If I fall, he will catch me, I think, and immediately know it to be true.

He leans onto his hands and slides up the length of my body, pressing every inch of himself against me. I hold him, too, my hands catching his face, my lips capturing his. His hands roam the sides of my ribs, rubbing, squeezing. I knead my thighs together, veins scorching for him.

“Do you feel me?” he asks, between kisses.

“I do.” I arch my breasts against him. Rising on his elbows, he palms them, one in each hand. His leather creaks against mine. Even through the layers of leather and cotton, and the lace of my bra, the heat of his hands brings my nipples to life. They tingle, a sacred warmth puckering them, round and ripe. I writhe beneath him, hoping to wake him, too.

Cliff moans into my mouth, his kiss deepening. The air he breathes into me thrums into my core, swirling, pressure building.

A storm is coming, a love born of darkness and tumult, its birth casting brilliant sparks throughout the black sky. I might not be ready, but I’m ready to want it.
I rub up and down his length, coaxing him. He hardens against my thigh.

Beneath him, I part my legs, my heat seeking his. The cotton of my panties clings to me. Raising my hips, I strain against him. He leaves my mouth, trailing kisses across my jawline, under my chin, down my neck. He laps my collarbone, drinking me in.

Reaching a hand between us, I palm him. I move my hand up and down, pumping him through his jeans. He thrusts into my touch, one of his hands leaving my breasts, his thumb skimming my belly above my waistband.

“Do you feel me?” he breathes across my neck.

“I do,” I reply.

His hand dips below my waistband, beneath my panties. He palms me, his hand slipping against my swollen flesh. “Olivia,” he half rumbles, half moans.

In answer, I bring my fingers to the button of his jeans. I pluck at the button, trying to pop it through its slit. But he’s so thick and hard beneath his jeans, there isn’t enough space for my fingers to get purchase.

“Please help,” I almost whine, grinding my hips, pressing tighter into his hand.

His other hand leaves my breast, his thick fingers slipping between us and fiddling with the button. “Fuck,” he growls. He pulls his other hand away, leaving me aching for his touch. Both of his hands fumble between us, finally popping the button.

He springs between us, tenting his boxers but rising from the folds of his jeans, his crown proudly nestling against me, homing in. I put both hands on the sides of my skinny jeans and push them down. We each roll to one side and wriggle out, kicking clothing away.

I rise onto my knees, Cliff mirroring me.

My breasts heave against my cut. He puts a hand on my waist and pulls me into him, ours mouths crashing together. I grip the collar of his cut, pushing the sides down his biceps. He shrugs out of it and I fold it in half, setting it aside. He takes my breasts in his hands, palming the leather, rolling them. Then he removes my cut, folding it carefully in half and placing it on top of his.

We face each other wearing only teal T-shirts, chests rising and falling almost in sync. I grip the hem of mine and pull it off over my head. He inhales deeply, an appreciative smile touching his lips.

“You shine, Olivia,” he whispers. “All the time. You’re all I can see.”

I leap into his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips. Our mouths crash together, scorching each other in the sweetest heat. He lies me down again, and tugs off my panties. A moment later, he unhooks my bra and frees my breasts.

I lie bare and open beneath him. Peeking up at him through my lashes, I let him see me—all of me. The rabbit Olivia and the biker, prey and predator, victim and survivor, the mistakes I’ve made and the ones I’ve yet to make. All of me.

His eyes soften, his throat working. Without breaking eye contact, he runs a hand along my slit. His fingers pause at my swollen nub, skimming over the aching rise. He circles it, then slides back down. I press into him, back bowing. He works his way back up, circling the sensitive flesh, his rhythm quickening, the pads of his fingers tapping against it.

My nerves crackle, color raining through my core. I twitch, going limp for several blissful seconds.

“I felt that,” I breathe.

He smirks at me.

I reach for him, hand diving beneath his boxers and curling around him. With my other hand, I pull his boxers down. My breasts point toward him, aching to feel his chest against mine. “Take your shirt off,” I breathe, pumping him. He obeys, twisting out of his boxers and yanking the shirt off over his head in almost one motion.

Parting my legs for him, I pull him to me. His eyes widen, then go heavy and slack with arousal—never losing focus on mine. He descends, his thighs flush against mine. I press his crown against me, rubbing it in a circle around and over my clit. I angle him down the length of my seam, gliding his head along the swollen flesh. Eyes still on his, I fit his head into place.

He fits his lips to mine and, inch by inch, fills me.

When we lock into place, he lifts a hand. Bringing it to my face, he brushes a curl away, cupping my head.

“I’m not gonna say it,” he whispers, “but do you feel it?”

“I do,” I tell him. “I do.” When I blink, my lashes come away wet.

He swipes them away and stirs me with his length. He glides out, again achingly slow, leaving just his crown inside me. I move my hips, taking him back in. He slides each hand under my shoulders, wrapping his arms around me. I hug him back, winding my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. I meet each of his thrusts, the synced beating of our hearts booming against my chest, reverberating in my ears. The pressure builds, the storm reaching its crescendo.

The sky splits, light flashing.

This time, when we shatter, our pieces rearrange, fitting into something new.

Us.

Thank you for reading Chapter 60 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 59

Olivia pulls up behind me, her curls tamed by a teal bandana. This ride’s gotta be emotional for her.

She sits atop her motorcycle with her head held high, my warrior queen. Except she isn’t mine anymore. Maybe she never was.

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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 57 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 58 Chapter 59Cliff

I fight the smile tugging at my lips, and lose. From across the table, I tip my chin at Olivia in congratulations. The vote was unanimous. I don’t think she realizes how much everyone at this table loves her.

“Prizes, brother,” Mark prods.

Stixx nudges me.

I shoot him a glance, wondering if he’s really going to make us all spell his name with three Xs, now that he’s burned his third house down. Someday I’m going to ask him where the second X came from.

“Yoo-hoo,” he says, ice blue eyes boring into me.

“Right.” I pull out the notepad I’ve been using to keep track.

Vaughn lets out a long, low whistle. “Wow. I knew you were old, but damn, dude. Even Ravage uses the notes app in his phone.”

“Watch it,” our President barks.

Olivia’s lips twitch.

I yank my attention back to the paper. “Booze—check. I got a bottle of SoCo that’s almost as big as a two liter bottle of Pepsi.” I glance around the table for approval. The men nod—most of them, anyway. Stixx makes a gagging sound. “What?”

He shudders. “I hate Southern Comfort. It’s too damn sweet.”

“Not if you add cranberry juice and a lime wedge to it,” Olivia says.

I bite back a smile. It’s so good having her at this table. “I’ll throw cranberry juice and limes in, then.” She lifts her eyes to mine and my heart stops—actually stops—beating for a moment.

Mark clears his throat. “What else you get?”

I check my list, still not convinced this isn’t some sort of test. “A few more big ass bottles.” I rattle them off. “Jack, Cuervo, a giant skull of vodka . . . I grabbed a whole bunch of nippers. Stopped at Target and got some toys—the kids should be able to win cool shit, too. And then there’s that other thing we talked about,” I grumble.

“All set to go?” Mark asks.

“What other thing?” Olivia glances from me to Mark.

“It’s nothing.” I cross my arms.

“Just a date with our stud,” Vaughn crows.

“And Trish’ll probably be your highest bidder.” Donny cackles.

I glare at them all.

Ravage taps the gavel on the table. “All right, already. So the teal deer of the thing—I’m not that old after all, am I?—is prizes are all set. Let’s nail down the final details for the ride, then get the fuck outta here.”

We spend the next half hour or so hashing it out, then Ravage dismisses us.

“I want you all here Saturday at 7:45 a.m.,” he reminds us as we file out.

Vaughn groans, the sound stretching into a yawn. “I know it’s for a good cause and all, but damn. There goes my beauty sleep.”

“It wasn’t working for you, anyway,” Beer Can says as he moves past him.

I yawn, too. “It sure as fuck isn’t working for me.”

“Work running you ragged?” Olivia asks, her tone casual.

I glance around the Chapel. Everyone but us is gone. “Yeah.” I scrape my hair back into a ponytail. “I’ve been picking up extra shifts.”

She nods. “I’ve got to find out what’s happening to my job.”

“What do you mean?” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, every muscle in my body aching to hold her.

I’m still working on the whole letting go thing.

“Am I still bartending? Or do they want me somewhere else?”

“I think your bartending job is safe. Trish is still mixing up bottles.”

“I swear she does it on purpose, just to fuck with me,” she mutters. Lifting her eyes to mine, she presses her lips together.

“What?” I search her face, wondering if the raffle for a date with me is making her jealous.

“Nothing. I’ve gotta take off,” she says.

“You’re not gonna ride with us?” I frown. She just got patched in. She should ride.

“Nah. I promised Lucy I’d help her put together the crib. Family first, you know?” She tightens the knot holding the hoodie around her waist. My eyes drop down, but only for a second.

We’ve gotten really good at ignoring it.

Turning, she heads toward the bar. “Be safe,” she calls over her shoulder. A second later, she disappears.

Be safe.

She’s never said that to me before.

Before I can start overanalyzing it, Donny calls for me. “I’m coming,” I shout back. Then I join my brothers, hoping this ride will clear my head.

I’ve got to get her out of my system.

But somehow, I don’t think even a full-fledged transfusion could do that.


I fill the time between Church and the benefit on Saturday with extra shifts. Practically every minute of my time is spent on someone else’s clock. I pause only in five-minute increments. I’ve even got showers down to five minutes now. It’s like I’m in prison again. The difference is, the week flies by, and my paychecks stack up nicely. I put everything that isn’t for rent and bills into a savings account for Bunny.

Lucy didn’t get a shower, partially because she waited so long to tell us, but also because her parents have been major dicks about the whole thing. I’ve been scouring Pinterest for ideas, and I think I’ll run some of them past Olivia. I like the idea of a “sip and see,” a party where people come to visit the new baby, bring gifts, and sip tea. Except, instead of tea, we’ll drink whiskey.

Saturday morning, I roar into the parking lot of The Wet Mermaid wearing my cut and the teal River Reapers T-shirt that Ravage’s ol’ lady Shannon made all of us. Teal, I’ve learned, is the color for sexual violence awareness.

I line up with the River Reapers. We have a few minutes before the other clubs join us for the ride. Olivia pulls up behind me, her curls tamed under a rolled-up teal bandana. Even with the scent of oil and summer heat, her dark scent reaches me, making my chest hitch. I force myself to stay on my bike, to not cross over and plant a kiss on top of her curls.

This ride’s gotta be emotional for her.

She sits atop her Street Glide with her head held high, her face the epitome of a warrior queen: eyes blazing, mouth set.

“Every benefit is important,” Ravage says, shouting over the roar of nine motorcycle engines. “This one’s personal for us. Let’s make sure we conduct ourselves accordingly on the road. I don’t want anyone getting pulled over for any bullshit. Let’s show our town some pride.”

As if on cue, several clubs from Naugy and the surrounding towns pour into the parking lot, some of them on Harleys, some on other bikes. My brothers nod at them in recognition and greeting. I nod, too, but I’ve got no idea who any of these people are. All I know is they’re here to support Olivia, to support us, to support Shannon’s non-profit that helps survivors. My throat tightens, my eyes burning.

I don’t bother hiding my feelings.

Every River Reaper wears the same expression, and some of the other bikers, too.

Shannon passes out T-shirts to all of the other riders. Some of them tuck them away in their saddlebags, while others put them on under their cuts. The few women riding with us tug them on over tank tops.

Our President revs his engine, snagging everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming,” he shouts. “I appreciate all our friends—and even our rivals—coming together with us.”

I follow his gaze toward a cluster of bikers I don’t recognize. He gives their President a nod, but none of them are looking at Ravage. They’re all glaring at me. I turn toward my President, but his attention is already back on the crowd.

“Let’s fucking do this!”

Engines rev throughout the parking lot. Shannon hops on behind Ravage, and I can’t help but glance back at Olivia. I kind of wish she was riding with me. Not because I don’t think she’s strong enough to ride by herself, but because I miss being with her.

I suck in a deep breath, exhale.

What’s important right now is this ride. Judging by everyone who showed up, we’ve raised a lot of money. I give my throttle a quick twist, joining the noisemaking.

Then, we take off.

We cruise down 63, a writhing, live teal ribbon. People in cars and on foot slow to stare at us. Some of them sneer. A few—those who get what benefit rides are all about—wave. Whenever it’s safe to take a hand off, I wave back.

Every so often I glance into one of my mirrors for a glimpse of Olivia. Her face remains impassive, her knuckles white on the handlebar and throttle. At one point, I catch the long ribbon of teal trailing out behind her—the other clubs wearing today’s color proudly. I capture the image, burning it into my mind to remember later, whenever I miss her.

My strong, beautiful queen.

We parade through the town, passing Gunntown Cemetery and Hop Brook Lake. Finally, we arrive at our destination: the Polish-American Club on Bridge Street. Motorcycles pack the pothole pocked parking lot. Some cars, too—including Ravage’s ol’ lady’s. She carpooled early this morning with a bunch of her organization’s volunteers and the women who hang around the club. Then Ravage picked her up.

All while guys like Vaughn and me caught up on our “beauty sleep.”

A lot of outsiders think bikers hate women, that we beat them, hurt them in other ways. I used to think so, too—especially when I found out my father was one. I’m learning more and more that to a biker, a woman is a goddess to be appreciated and worshiped. If she’s his ol’ lady, she’s his queen. Women like Shannon and Pru put in just as much blood, sweat, and tears into this club as the men do.

I line the Screamin’ Eagle up with the rest of the River Reaper bikes, then swing off. Nodding to a few stragglers, enjoying cigarettes before they go in, I head inside.

The second I walk in, Vaughn and Abraham’s playlist surrounds me, the melodic sound of A Perfect Circle calming my nerves. I scan the hall for Olivia and spot her near the makeshift bar, talking with Pru.

“Grab a drink, brother,” Ravage says, clapping me on the shoulder.

I give him a one-armed hug. “In a second. I actually wanted to run something by you,” I say, glancing at Pru again.

“What’s up?” He follows my gaze. “You sweet on her?”

“Nah. Did you know she has a band?” I search my memory for the name. “Cervical Caves.”

Ravage shakes his head. “They any good?”

“I’ve got no idea,” I say, “but you and Mark should let them audition. Take over for Oh Vile Eye. I think it’d be good for all of us, push back some of that bad juju.”

He laughs. “Did you really just say ‘juju,’ dude?”

“I did. I’m gonna go get that drink now.” I rub the back of my head. “Think about what I said.”

“Yeah.” He lifts his drink in a salute, then ambles off.

I sort of stumble through the party. For the next four hours, I sip at drinks and pick at my food. There’s an urgency in my blood, though I can’t put my finger on why. I chainsmoke and try not to look at Olivia. She flits around the room, more lively than I’ve ever seen. It’s like the past few months have cocooned her, then released her, a vibrant creature taking flight.

It’s made me love her even more.

Trish sidles up to me, laying a delicate hand on my arm. “Hey, Cliff,” she says.

“Hey.” I take a swig of my can of Dr. Pepper.

“I’ve been saving my tips.” She grins.

“Oh yeah?” I cast around for Olivia, but she’s nowhere in sight. If Trish actually wins this auction, will Olivia even care? Or did she stop watching how Trish interacts with me when we stopped dating?

“It’s almost time. Where are you gonna take me?” Trish purrs.

I swallow. I know Mark is right. This auction will rake in quite a bit of cash. Women have always liked me. The problem is, I’m not interested, not even for charity. I’ve had weeks to get used to the idea, but the opposite has happened.

The music cuts out, saving me from answering. Mark climbs on top of a metal folding chair. “Can I have your attention?”

The chatter throughout the hall dies, heads turned toward our Treasurer.

“First of all, on behalf of the River Reapers, I wanna thank you all for coming out today. Whether you rode with us, bought a raffle ticket, or just bought food and drink tickets, we really appreciate your support.” He clears his throat. “Speaking of the raffle, we’re gonna get started with that shortly. We’ve got an auction to take care of first.”

Someone whistles—probably Vaughn. Trish’s hand tightens on my bicep. I bite back a sigh.

“Cliff, you wanna come up here?” Mark invites me.

I trudge over to him, feet heavy but my head held high. I’ve got to at least pretend I’m interested.

“As promised, we’re selling off one of our fine specimens for a date with one lucky lady,” Mark says.

A few of the ladies in the crowd Whoo! in response. I grin and duck my head.

“We’re starting the bid at fifty bucks,” he says. “Just raise your hand if you think this stud is worth fifty.”

I play along. “Cheap date.”

Almost all of the women’s hands shoot up—the single ladies, that is. Shannon keeps her hands visible in her lap, a smirk on her lips. Some of the other ol’ ladies nudge and tease their partners.

“How about seventy-five?” Mark asks.

A few hands go down.

Beside me, Trish pulls out a wad of cash, her arm straight in the air.

Abraham’s hand goes up, too. “What?” he says to no one in particular. “This is probably my only shot.”

I hope he wins, because I know he’ll let me off the hook. Probably. I can’t get a read on him, whether he wants to be friends or rivals.

“How about a hundred?”

More hands disappear. Both Trish’s and Abraham’s stay up.

“One-fifty?”

Still more hands go down, but nowhere near enough. As much as I want to raise a lot of money, I want to get this over with. I want to go home to my empty apartment and numb myself to sleep with Netflix.

Maybe I should get a cat.

Of course, the thought of a cat makes me think of Olivia and Dio.

“One-seventy-five?”

I scan the room, looking for dropping hands. They all stay up.

“Two hundred,” Mark announces. “Any takers for two hundred?” He nudges me.

“Now that’s a fair price,” I deadpan, feeling like an improv student.

The bid keeps going up. I’m impressed. Shannon has got to be thrilled. I tell myself that by the time I go on this date, I’ll be in a much better mood. I’ll get enough sleep or whatever I need to do to make sure I show the winner a good time.

“Three hundred,” Mark crows.

He could’ve been a WWE announcer.

Half the hands fall. Both Trish and Abraham still have their hands up.

“How do you still have blood flow?” I tease her.

She preens at the attention. “I know something else that’s gonna have blood flow.”

I shake my head. Should’ve known better. “Oh, you,” I kid weakly.

“Me,” she agrees.

When Mark hits four hundred dollars, only Trish and Abraham have their hands in the air. “Do I hear five?” he asks them.

They glance at each other. Trish blushes. She shakes her hand, but keeps it up. Abraham shoots me an apologetic look, then puts his arm down.

“My fucking arm is numb,” he complains to no one in particular.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mark bellows, “we have a winner! One night with Cliff goes to our very own Trish.”

“Wait,” she says, shaking her arm out. “I think . . . I think I’ve been outbid.”

Mark swivels his head from side to side. “By who? You’re the last woman standing.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Aren’t you?”

She blushes again, shaking her head. Blonde strands of hair escape from her topknot, secured with a teal bandana. “Cliff,” she says, putting one hand on my arm. With the other, she points toward the double doors leading to the restrooms and actual bar.

“You better go,” Mark urges.

Glancing from Trish to Mark, I frown. “Okay,” I say, drawing out the word. I stride toward the bar, hands in my pockets. As far as I know, there isn’t even anyone in there right now—maybe a couple veterans enjoying a beer with each other, watching whatever’s on TV when football isn’t on.

Fall can’t come soon enough. I’ve missed twenty years of games.

I push through the swinging door. For a moment, the change in atmosphere nearly blinds me. I go from a brightly lit room pumping with music and energy to a dim room lit only by sparse light coming in through the windows. Sunlight slants in one direction, spotlighting the woman sitting at the bar. She sits with her fingers splayed on its top, two shots of clear liquid in front of her.

Olivia.

I glance around, but there isn’t another soul in the room. Running a hand over my beard, I step forward.

She lifts her head as I approach. She sits with her legs crossed, one foot bouncing in the air. She exhales, blowing curls out of her face.

I stop at the stool next to her. “Had enough of the party?” I nod at the shots.

She shakes her head. “I paid a thousand dollars for these. It isn’t even Cuervo.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “A thousand dollars?”

“Well, okay. Lucy chipped in five.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip, eyelashes fluttering.

“Lucy?” I check the bar again. “Why the hell would Lucy drink thousand dollar tequila with you?”

She tilts her head to the side, giving me a look. “They’re for us,” she says. “For the auction.”

I sit. “You bid on me?”

“Mmn-hmn.” She pushes a shot toward me. “Figured we’d have a drink.”

I lift the tiny glass with two fingers. “Don’t forget what happened the last time we had tequila,” I say, but don’t smile. The glass shakes in my grip. I don’t dare hope. I’d be a fool to let myself.

She lifts her shoulders and spreads her hands. “Anything can happen.” Then she picks up her own shot. Her lips part, but she says nothing, eyes dropping from my face. Her foot continues its spring, back and forth.

She’s nervous.

“And here I thought Trish had it in the bag,” I say, my attempt at lightening the mood.

She scoffs. “Only because I told her to.”

“Yeah?” I clink my shot against hers. I realize I forgot the limes. Tipping our heads back, we drink, then slam the shot glasses down. The cheap tequila burns all the way to my stomach. I grimace.

“Jesus Christ.” Olivia sticks out her tongue. “This is not going as planned.”

I catch her hands in mine. “What exactly is the plan, here?”

Her eyes meet mine. She rubs her lips together, the shine of lip balm on them. “To get you drunk,” she says in a soft voice, “and then take you home.”

“Are you trying to take advantage of me?” I say, matching her hushed tone.

“Only if you want me to.” Her eyes widen, growing more vulnerable the longer I look into them. Her hands squeeze mine. “I can’t move in with you,” she says quickly. “And I’m not ready to love you. But I’m ready to let you love me.” Her lips tug to the side. “If you still do,” she whispers.

I run a thumb across her cheek. “You asked me to bear with you,” I say, heart pounding a frantic hopeful rhythm against my ribs. “I’m still here, Olivia. I’m always here.”

“I know,” she says, her small hand cupping my face. “That’s why I can’t let you go.” Her eyes search mine, swimming with uncertainty. “Do you?” she asks. “Still love me?”

Thank you for reading Chapter 60 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect concludes right here on Thursday!

“Spill it… on her?” | Deleted scene from A Risky Prospect

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 58

“Cliff sounds like a good friend,” my new therapist says.

“He’s not my friend.”

“It’s okay if you have feelings for him.”

I squirm in my seat.

“We’ll come back to him.”

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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 57 Chapter 58Olivia

I don’t want to be alone, so Cliff follows me to Lucy’s. It’s late enough that my sister should be sleeping, but when I unlock her front door and we step inside, she appears at the top of the stairs. I glance at Cliff behind me. He gives me an encouraging nod.

So I sit at my sister’s table and, with Cliff by my side and a bottle of vodka in front of me, I tell Lucy almost everything. I tell her how Greg filled me with lies, coercing or all out forcing me into doing what he wanted. I tell her about Cami, and how I know that she left him.

While I tell her, she sits with her hands cupping her belly, tears sliding down her cheeks.

After I finish, she gets up and hugs me tight. “I could kill him,” she whispers in my ear.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 57

“I don’t know what you two did to get rid of our friends, but it worked,” Donny says.

“Oh, just a little extortion,” Olivia mutters.

“You’re coming along nicely, Prospect.” Stixx turns to Donny. “Tell them the plan.” His grin is ghoulish.

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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56 Chapter 57Cliff

I open the back door and motion Donny and Stixx inside, tipping my chin at them as they pass.

Donny stands in the center of the kitchen, appraising Olivia. “Is he dead?”

She lifts her chin. “Very.”

“Good.” Giving her a one-armed hug, he kisses her temple.

Even though I know the gesture is platonic—brotherly, even—my stomach clenches. I want to be the one holding her, kissing away the memories of this night.

But she won’t let me.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 56

I should feel lucky to be alive. Instead, panic still pumps through my veins.

I need to move.

“Olivia?” Cliff calls through the door. “You good?”

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 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 9 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 10 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 11 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 12 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 13 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 14 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 15 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 16 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 17 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 18 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 19 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 20 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 21 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 22 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 23 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 24 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 25 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 26 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 27 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 28 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 29 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 30 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 31 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 32 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 33 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 34 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 35 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 36 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 37 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 38 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 39 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 40 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 41 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 42 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 43 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 44 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 45 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54 A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55 Chapter 56Olivia

In the bathroom, I find bars of Dove soap stacked neatly in a closet, still in their boxes. Everything has come down to one question: What do I do next? Find soap. Turn on the shower. Get in. Don’t think. Just breathe.

Hot water beads pummel me, beating the soreness from my muscles. If nothing else, the motherfucker had great taste in shower heads. I cup the bar of soap in one hand and trace the Dove logo with the pad of a finger. It’s so smooth, so perfect, I almost hate to use it.

But there’s no way in hell I’m using one of his.

I jerk my mind back to the soap. It’s the sensitive formula, the kind that doesn’t suck all the moisture from skin. Not what I normally use, but it’s soap. It’s clean. It’s here.

I didn’t think to look for a washcloth, and I don’t really want any of his things touching me, anyway. So I wash up with the bar. The point isn’t really to get clean, anyway. The point is to . . .

I don’t know.

Wash away what I just did?

I didn’t even know I was capable of such a thing.

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“Read my masked lips”

I wanna be nasty
I wanna be mean
I wanna be rude
I wanna be obscene
I'm sick of being a good girl
I wanna go off rail
I'm tired of playing safe
I want an epic fail
I wanna tell you to your face
What I really think
I'll make my mouth a haven
Every time I speak

Photo by Oleg Ivanov on Unsplash