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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 55

“I’ll never stop reaching for you,” I tell her. “Every time you step too close to the edge, I’ll be here, pulling you back into the light.”

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

Cliff comforts Olivia in the moments after she frees herself from her abuser forever in an emotional chapter. To break the tension, he teases her about the hoodie she jacked from him. She asks if he wants it back.

Chapter 55Cliff

I need a cigarette.

Scratch that—I need a drink.

There is no substance on Earth strong enough to wipe out the last five minutes.

Olivia and I stand a room apart. She’s still trying to pick up her phone, still looking everywhere but at me. She is both the earthquake and the house about to cave into the abyss.

I call her name again, but she doesn’t hear me. I am out of my element. I thought I saw some fucked up things in the pen, but this . . .

This is something else.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 54

Cliff wasn’t supposed to see this. I roll off the bed and start dressing, afraid to look at him. Afraid of what I’ll find in his eyes.

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 Chapter 54Olivia

I feel the oxygen draining from his body, his life evaporating with it.

I hold pressure until he goes slack and the life drains from his eyes. Finally, he goes limp inside me. I keep squeezing. No mistakes.

“Olivia,” Cliff calls from the doorway.

I flinch, my whole body tensing.

“He’s gone,” he says.

I start shaking, cold sweat washing over me. He wasn’t supposed to see this. As if in a dream, I roll off the bed and start dressing, afraid to look at Cliff. Afraid of what I’ll find in his eyes.

I find my phone in the pocket of the hoodie I stole from Cliff. The tremor in my hands makes my fingers loose and clumsy. I drop it.

“Who do you need me to call?” Cliff asks, taking my shoulders. He turns me until our eyes connect.

I see nothing in his.

His brown eyes are dark but void of emotion, as if he’s stuffing down his revulsion.

Pressure squeezes my chest and lungs. I try to draw in a breath, but I can’t. I glance at the Oh Vile Eye poster again, my eyes dropping to the form on the bed. I can’t look at Cliff.

He wasn’t supposed to see this.

Already there are dark red handprints on Greg’s pale throat. They’re so much smaller than the ones he left on me, yet I already feel the darkness lifting.

He’s no longer loose in the world.

Cami is safe.

I am safe.

“Olivia?” Cliff asks, my name emotionless on his lips.

Part of him will always see me in this bed with the man who hurt me, chin lifted, lips spread in a vile smile. Part of him will always be disgusted.

My shoulders are free of the weight I’ve been carrying, but at what cost?

Thank you for reading Chapter 54 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53

I don’t want to step on her toes again. That’s how we ended up here, this place where we don’t talk and I follow her like some kind of creep.

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 Chapter 53Cliff

A work emergency—I don’t buy it. I give Olivia a head start, then follow her. I keep several cars between us, just in case she really is going to work. I don’t want her to think I’m some kind of lovesick stalker, like Eli. But when she turns onto her street, I know for sure.

This has nothing to do with work.

I hang back, shutting off my headlight, and watch her go inside. Barely two minutes pass and she’s already mounting her bike again. Nothing is different—that I can see, anyway. Still, my gut tells me something is wrong.

So I follow her again.

She takes Spring Street, then turns onto Mallane Lane. I continue by. I don’t need to alarm her. She’s too focused, body bent forward, shoulders hunched.

Who lives on Mallane?

I circle back down Spring Street, taking a left onto Springdale Avenue. It’s the only other way to access Mallane. By the time I turn onto the road, her Street Glide is already cooling down in front of a teal house.

My pulse jumps in my throat.

I consider calling Ravage or even Donny, but there’s a slim chance this could be a client’s house. Even if it isn’t, I don’t want to step all over her toes again. That’s how we ended up here, this place where we don’t talk and I follow her like some kind of creep.

I thumb the throttle, two seconds away from leaving Mallane. This isn’t healthy. Olivia’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself. Bright white light flashes through a window—a strobe light. I frown. Nothing is adding up.

Something crashes on the second floor, shattering as it hits hard wood. It’s then I know. I have to get inside.

I shut off the bike and vault over it, barely registering whether I’ve moved the kickstand into place. My bike, the street, everything fades away, my focus solely on the house. I lunge up the steps, yank open the screen door. The front door is unlocked. I push it open and race inside, careening through a dark living room. The dim light from the street highlights a framed photo: Greg with his wild red hair, and a happy blonde bride.

This must be their house.

“Was it like this?” Olivia screams from upstairs. Fear and rage sharpen her words.

I fly up the steps, hands tingling, fingers twitching for something to latch onto.

I’m going to kill him, if she doesn’t first.

I hit the landing and turn toward the sound of her voice. Bright light spills from a bedroom into the hall, a beacon guiding me to her. I take a step toward the door. The blood pounding through my veins pulses even in my eyes. My vision becomes a tunnel of red.

Something thumps—a boot against a footboard, a desperate thrashing.

“Was it like this?” Olivia screams again, pain and fury breaking her voice.

My heart rockets into my throat. He’s got her, and he’ll kill her if I don’t get there now. I close the distance to the door and stop dead in the hall when I see her in the bedroom.

Olivia straddles Greg on the bed, their clothing littering the floor in a trail behind them. Her hands wrap around her neck, all of her weight pressed into his throat. He jerks underneath her, but she’s got him in the most vulnerable position a man can ever be in.

I stare as his face turns purple.

“What it like this?” she shrieks again, tears running down her cheeks. She lets out a howl of pain, a growl of vengeance—a battle cry. Even as I gape in shock, my chest aches for her.

I’ll never know what it’s like to have survived what she survived, but I do know what it’s like to reach your limit, when you’ve had enough. When the phoenix of your broken soul rises, morphing into a beast whose thirst must be slaked. The evil of a man like Greg awakens that beast, and it won’t be stopped until its thirst is slaked.

So I watch her take her power back, both shock and awe warring in my heart. I should probably stop her, but I don’t.

Thank you for reading Chapter 53 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 52

“I’m just having fun,” I assure him, clenching. He thrashes underneath me, shock flickering in his eyes. His hands scrabble at mine, but it’s too late.

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 Chapter 52Olivia

I stop at the apartment first, sidestepping Dio on my way to the bedroom. He lets out the most pitiful meow I’ve ever heard. I pause for a moment and take him in my arms, holding him tight against my chest while I rub his ribs.

Then I kiss his little head and put him down.

I grab the gun, cursing myself for leaving it behind the one day I need it. I glance around one last time. I tell myself it’s because I’m making sure there’s nothing else I might need. Truth is, this might be the last time I stand in this living room.

I shake the thought away. I can’t think about what might happen or whether I’ll be here tomorrow. I need to focus on right now, take it all one move at a time.

As I ride toward Greg’s, I try to draft a plan. With Eli, I didn’t have time to plan. I just knew I wanted a gun, just in case. Now I have the gun. Now I have to get Cami.

I have no idea what I’m walking into.

I don’t know if the text was the last thing she managed to do—if she’s alive or dead. For all I know, Greg is long gone and she’s alone, palms full of fragments of herself. I have no idea how to put her back together. I’ve barely healed.

One thing at a time.

I turn onto Bad Lane. Dim light oozes from the streetlights, a sickly yellow. In the tainted light, the teal paint on the house turns a dark red—the color of drying blood. A single light shines through a window upstairs, a beacon: Come to me, Olivia.

I shiver, the Street Slide purring beneath me. I glance at the Thunderbird in the driveway, then back at the light. My stomach goes oily. He is here, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s inside, waiting for me.

No one moves in the window. From what I remember, there were three vehicles listed under his name in the town tax records database. Cami’s Jetta is gone. There’s a good chance I might’ve jumped the gun, that she might not even be home.

I pull out my phone and call the number she texted me from. It rings and rings, then goes to a cheery voicemail.

“You’ve reached Cami. Please leave a message . . .”

I hang up, the sweetness of her voice scraping my stomach. She might not be able to answer. I text her, letting her know I’m here but I don’t know where she is. Then I stare up at the house.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

Cami: I'm here. He's gone.

I chew the inside of my cheek. As much as I want to help her, I do want to see my cat again. I hate to put her under the microscope—especially in this situation—but I’d hate even more to be dead.

Olivia: Where's your car?Cami: ???

I bite into my cheek again, drawing blood. Anyone can text a confused string of question marks. My phone dings again, twice in a row.

Cami: It's really me. He's really gone. IDK where my car is.

Attached is a selfie, except this Cami looks nothing like the woman I ran into at IGA the other day. She’s sporting a black eye, her cheek and lips puffy and streaked with blood. Her mascara runs into the blood, turning it black.

But I’m still suspicious.

Olivia: Don't you have three cars?Cami: JFC. Is this the Spanish inquisition? I need your help. I think he broke ribs and . . . I'm losing a lot of blood. I'm pregnant . . . or I was.

My heart jolts into my throat, shame twisting my stomach. I never wanted to be the kind of woman who doubts another woman.

Olivia: Hold on.

Besides, if he is still here, I’ve got my gun. I have nothing to fear.

Pocketing the phone, I turn off the Street Glide. For a moment, I consider texting Cliff, letting him know where I am. He’d come roaring in here, and right now Cami doesn’t need any more angry men in her space.

It occurs to me that I’m going to have to get her to the hospital. I’m sure as hell not driving that Thunderbird.

“One thing at a time,” I whisper to myself.

I climb the steps to the porch, gun drawn. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, the blood pounding through my veins. It’s not a helpful adrenaline. Nausea roils my stomach. Seeing Cami’s selfie was one thing. I’m not sure I’m ready to see the real thing, to dive into the destruction headfirst. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.

I step inside, leaving the door open behind me. The light from the street barely illuminates the pitch black living room. I’m pretty sure it’s a living room, anyway. I stand in the darkness, letting my eyes adjust. When they’re as adjusted as they’re going to get, I ease forward, carefully feeling my way. My fingers brush the soft microfiber of a couch, the hard edge of what I think is a coffee table.

“Cami?” I call out.

A floorboard creaks over my head, and a groan floats down to me. I swallow. I’m not ready. I cannot do this—even if it means being there for another woman. I bend over, eyes bleary, stomach spasming. I put my numb hands on my knees, suck in a few breaths.

I have to do this. I have to.

As if moving through a dream, I float toward a set of stairs. I climb them on legs I barely feel, the soles of my feet pins and needles. Light from an open door floods the hallway and top half of the stairs.

“Cami?” I call again as I crest them.

A thud answers, the sound of someone hitting the floor. I dart into the room, tucking the gun into its holster.

Light flashes, flooding my eyes. I stop short, holding my hands up. Even still, I can’t see a thing. “What is that?” I grunt, squeezing my eyes shut. “Cami?”

He laughs, the sound surrounding me.

My knees turn to water. I wrench the gun out, pointing it as I turn in a circle. The strobe light continues flashing, the room only visible in short spurts: a dresser here; a desk there; a half-empty closet, its doors standing open. It’s then that I know.

She’s long gone.

“The selfie,” I sputter.

He laughs again. “You like that? I do all our album covers.”

“The voicemail,” I say, taking on a pleading tone that I don’t intend. I think I’m in shock.

“She left her phone,” he says dully. His words come from all directions of the room. Between the stereo sound and the strobe light, I can’t tell whether he’s even in the room with me.

I’ve got to focus. I latch onto his words.

“She left you?” I stand still and fixate on a belt on the floor. It disappears then pops back into place, but it’s something to anchor myself.

“This morning. I woke up and she was gone. I got served, too.” he says.

At least she took me seriously.

I exhale, replay his words, examining them for hints, something I can use. “I’m guessing that’s my fault.”

“Why did you tell Cami I raped you?” he asks. “I’ve changed, Olivia. Really. I’m sorry for how I treated you. I really am.” His voice breaks.

“You wanna kill the strobe light?” It’s too hard to think with it on. More than that, I need to see his face. I need to know what I’m dealing with.

“Put your gun down,” he says, “and go into the hall.”

I hesitate. He’s got almost a hundred pounds on me, and years of combat training and experience. I can’t just walk away from my only advantage.

I can’t exactly see to shoot him, either.

I don’t trust him, but I need him to trust me if I’m going to get out of here alive. Bending forward slightly, I place my gun on the carpeted floor. “Gun’s down.”

“Come into the hall.”

I step out of the strobe light room and emerge into the hall. “Here I am.”

I tense, expecting him to grab me. Instead, another door opens, normal light spilling into the hall. Greg stands framed in the bedroom doorway, red hair disheveled, gray eyes hooded. Before, I’d run my eyes over his perfectly straight nose, the red strands falling into his eyes, and I’d think, I am the luckiest girl alive. Now I take in his bare chest, the dark jeans slung low on his hips, and I suppress a shudder. Part of me still thinks he’s gorgeous. The rest of me swallows bile.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I know.” My hands dangle at my sides, empty and feather light without the gun. The lie burns my tongue. I want to break his nose and turn and run. I want to go back into the strobe room, grab my gun, and put as many holes in him before he puts his hands on me. Instead I just stand, waiting.

“She left me,” he repeats, rubbing his hands over his face.

He blames me. That’s the version of Greg I’m dealing with—the one who never takes any personal responsibility. I adjust my plan. I no longer have to save Cami. I’ve got to save myself.

“I hoped she would.” I keep my tone conversational.

“What?” He frowns at me.

I lick my dry lips, but my tongue might as well be made of sandpaper. I inhale, taking in oxygen to steady my voice. “I meant what I said at the strip club. I know you’re sorry, and it’s all in the past anyway.”

His frown deepens.

“When I saw you at the club,” I say, taking a step forward, “everything came rushing back: our first kiss, driving around in your Thunderbird.” I don’t smile. I’m afraid my face is too wooden. “Except now, we’re all grown up. You’ve made something of yourself. You’ve changed. You said so yourself. You just had to go and get married, though.”

“She left,” he says again, incredulous. “I got served with divorce papers.”

I nod. “I had to get her out of the way.”

“Out of the way?”

I take another step forward, stomach clenching. Keeping my eyes on his, I nod again. “She’s a nice girl, but come on. A teacher?” I scoff. “You can do better.”

“Thought you were with that biker.” He crosses his arms.

“Past tense.” I wave a hand. “He’s long gone, too.” I swallow bile. Instead of looking at the monster in front of me, I summon the image of Cliff sitting at the bar, his eyebrow quirking as he turned down my tequila.

Greg makes a contemplative sound in his throat. “I guess we’re both single, then.”

“Guess so.” The two shots I downed earlier churn in my stomach, sour. It’s not the alcohol. Cold sweat spikes at the back of my neck. I move my feet forward until I stand in the doorway with him. “Guess we’re alone, too.”

“Guess so,” he says, leaning against the frame. Up close, his bloodshot eyes skim up and down my body. “You look good, Olivia.” He pronounces the syllables of my name slowly.

I flick a glance into the bedroom. An Oh Vile Eye poster takes up most of the wall space above the bed. I plant my feet firm against the floor, holding back the shudder crawling up my spine. “So do you,” I tell him, leaning in.

He lifts a hand, then freezes midair.

“It’s okay,” I say, my skin crawling.

His hand remains suspended between us. “You told Cami I raped you.”

My entire body goes still. “Yes.”

“I didn’t rape you,” he insists. “I just wanted to spice things up a little. Make it fun. The first time was so bad.”

I force myself to chuckle. “It’s hard to have good sex in a car.”

He laughs, nodding. “Right? I just wanted to be good for you.”

My stomach roils. “I get it.” The fear pitted in my belly swishes around, boiling into a hard rage.

“I should’ve been more gentle,” he continues. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t rape you.”

Retorts crowd in my mouth, my fingers twitching at my sides. I said no, and he did everything he wanted to do to me anyway. It didn’t matter what I wanted. Red tinges my vision. I gather my rage, focusing it. I place my hands on his shoulders. “What if you could do it all over?” I croon, backing him into the room.

His lips furl at the corners, bright blue eyes burning red. “I’d do so many things differently.”

“Me too,” I tell him. “This time, I promise I’ll be a lot more fun.” My lips spread, exposing my teeth. I push him toward the bed, then shove him onto his back. I undress, forcing myself to go slow and meet his eyes. I use my fury to fuel me, to keep my fingers from going numb as I strip down. His eyes track my movements, wild and wide, anticipation cresting in them. “Don’t just lie there,” I command. “Take your clothes off.”

He obeys, shedding his jeans. They drop to the floor in a coil. I look through him, into the past, all the times he hurt me playing on a reel.

“Got a condom?” I ask as I approach the bed. I want to touch as little of him as possible.

He reaches for the nightstand, opening a drawer and rummaging through it. I wonder how many times he’s brought another woman into his wife’s bed. How many women he’s sent running out of his life.

It ends here, I promise myself.

At least Cami got out.

The knowledge spurs me on as he unrolls a condom onto himself. My stomach clenches again, and I wish I had more tequila. He rolls onto his back again and spreads his legs in an invitation.

“Let’s have some fun,” he says.

I kneel on the bed, then crawl into position. Settling my weight onto him, I place my hands on his shoulders, pinning him down. He might have a hundred pounds on me, but now I have what he took from me.

Men are so easy to control, so vulnerable once you get them onto their backs. His eyes flutter as I move, lulling him. They get heavy, heavier, the lids snapping shut. He goes lax, letting me do all the work.

Good.

I shift my weight, moving my hands to his neck, wrapping my fingers around his throat.

I put all of my weight into my hands.

His eyes fly open, alarm pinging through them.

“I’m just having fun,” I assure him, clenching. He thrashes underneath me, shock flickering in his eyes. His hands scrabble at mine, but it’s too late. “Was it like this?” I ask him. His face goes red, then purple, then marbles. “Was it like this?” I ask again.

The floorboards in the hall squeak under someone’s feet, but I don’t look away. I’m done making mistakes tonight.

Thank you for reading Chapter 52 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 53

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51

I know it’s for the best that we’re not together. I know that. But my whole body still aches in his presence. His scent, his voice, his body only a few feet from me—it’s all too much.

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 Chapter 51Olivia

Music pulses through the strip club, shaking my bones. I just want to go home and collapse into bed, but I could really use the money. For a Monday night, the place is pretty packed.

Vaughn raps his hands on the bar, announcing his arrival.

“How’s my favorite hacker?” I shout to him over the music and chatter.

“Let’s be real, Olivia,” he says with a lopsided grin. “I’m the only hacker you know.”

I shrug, and my bra strap tugs uncomfortably on my neck. It’s not even a bra. Technically, it’s a sports bra, and it’s at least two sizes too small.

It’s laundry day.

“What can I get you?” I ask, dropping any pretense of banter. I’m tired. Cliff is going to walk in here any minute. I want to go home.

“I’ll take a Salem Tourist.” He folds his hands neatly.

“That’s not even a thing.” I put a hand on my hip.

He makes a big show of looking around, then he pulls out a stack of ones. “The customer’s always right.” His grin is crooked, his flop of brown hair hanging in his eyes. “Salem Tourist, please.”

“Can we not do the whole torture the Prospect thing tonight?” I plead, resting my elbows on the bar.

His brown eyes soften. “I’m sorry. I heard you and Red Dog split.”

“Thanks.” Relief washes over me. Before Lucy, I never had any siblings. I always imagined having a brother would be a pain in my ass. But Vaughn is usually the target of good-natured club torture. He’s sweet. He’s also not bad looking, with a slight dimple in his chin and deep set eyes that make him always look sleepy. Despite the guys’ jokes about him living in his mother’s basement, he’s usually tied down.

Not tonight, by the looks of it.

I perk up a little. Maybe all I need is to toss myself back into the game. I lean toward him. “Empty arm tonight, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in, his eyes intent on mine. His lips are a little thin—certainly not as luscious as Cliff’s—but I can make it work. He cracks another crooked smile. “There isn’t a drink in my hand.”

I glare at him. “There’s no such thing as a Salem Tourist!”

“There are plenty of them in October.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’m done with you,” I tell him. I pour him a rum and Coke—his usual.

“Begone,” I say, shooing him.

Giving me one last grin, he takes his drink and saunters away.

I lean against the bar, closing my eyes for a moment. The clink of glasses, catcalls, and shitty music are far from peaceful. I open my eyes. Cliff sits on a barstool in front of me, his big hands splayed on the bar.

“Hey,” he drawls, and my knees go weak.

I swallow, then deliver my line: “What can I get you?”

“I stopped by Lucy’s. I saw our niece.”

The way he says “our niece” turns my whole body to water. I cling to the bar for dear life. “Oh? How is our little Bunny?” The “our” slips from my lips. His eyes latch onto mine, liquid heat pooling in them. I press my knees together.

“We’re calling her Bunny?” The corner of his mouth quirks.

We.

He still says it so naturally.

I know it’s for the best that we’re not together. I know that. But my whole body still aches in his presence. His scent, his voice, his body only a few feet from me—it’s all too much.

With trembling hands, I pour myself a shot of tequila. “Well, she’s a bun in the oven,” I explain, my voice stronger than I feel. I pour him a shot, too, even though he never drinks on the job. I set them both down on the bar.

“I’m good,” he says. “Last time we had tequila . . .” He lets the memory hang in the air.

I down both shots. “So how is Bunny?” I ask, changing the subject.

His face falls, but he recovers. His expression smoothes over. Must be a perk of two decades in prison. “She’s great. I can’t tell nose from foot, but I think she’s human.” His eyes meet mine. “Lucy called Ben.”

Shit. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own stuff, I’ve barely been there for Lucy. My head’s been tuned in to the Trauma Channel 24/7, and even though I know that’s normal, that I have to work through it, Lucy doesn’t know that. She has no idea why I’ve been MIA.

I take out my phone to send her a text. There’s already a text—from a number I don’t recognize.

Unknown: Olivia, it's Cami. I need your help.

I freeze, blood pounding in my ears, drowning out the music. I hoped she’d never need my number, that maybe he really had changed. That she’d write off my warning as the rambling of a pissed off ex, because her Greg was different.

I hoped, because once upon a time, he was different. Before that night, he gave me my first kiss, cupping my chin as we stood in front of our high school, blocking the paths of other students. I barely noticed. Snow fell in light flakes, dusting our shoulders. I barely noticed that, either. My entire existence was wrapped in that moment, suspended in his arms as his lips touched mine.

There was so much gentleness in him, so much good. It’s hard to reconcile the boy I fell for with the monster underneath all that. Sometimes I flip back through those memories and they’re sweet and warm—as long as I don’t think about the rest.

“You okay?” Cliff asks.

I come hurtling back into the present, gasping for breath in the cloying strip club. The air tastes hot, thick with sweat, lust, and stale beer. My hands shake as I tuck my phone into my back pocket. “I’ve got a work emergency,” I say, bending and grabbing my things from under the bar. “I’ve got to go. Tell Mark I’m sorry.”

With barely a look at Cliff, I fly out from behind the bar. My clumsy fingers text Cami back, letting her know I’m on my way. I don’t ask for her address because it’s burned into my memory.

I burst into the warm night. Sweat dots my hairline, gathers on my upper lip. Yet there’s an icy core spreading from under my ribs, pitting in my stomach and making my limbs slow. I try to start the Street Glide but keep fucking up. It’s like I’ve suddenly forgotten how to ride.

Instead of visualizing the steps, I keep seeing the skull-shaped candle he made me, the one that burned down and left a piece of heart-shaped jade. Except I’d forgotten about it, and returned to my room to find my table on fire.

That should’ve been my first sign.

I carried that heart around with me when he was deployed, pretending it was his and that, as long as I didn’t lose it, no harm would come to him. I was so busy worrying about him, I never saw him coming at me.

I won’t make that mistake again. This time, I’m making sure he never has the chance to hurt anyone again.

But first, I need my gun.

Thank you for reading Chapter 51 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50

Lucy stands, exposing her very pregnant belly.

“Damn, Luce. You need to tell him.”

With worried eyes, she grabs her phone. “Here goes nothing.”

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 Chapter 50Cliff

I drag myself through my shift at the factory on Monday, then stop in at Lucy’s real quick. I’m supposed to be at the strip club, but family first.

Besides, Mark texted me a heads up that he had Olivia come in tonight, and I’m not ready to see her. Not yet.

Lucy sits at her kitchen table. At least, it was a table. The thing is covered in her usual lesson planning paraphernalia, plus about a dozen parenting books and magazines. Smack in the center of it all is a snapshot from her latest ultrasound this morning.

I pluck the sonogram and squint at it. “Totally my niece. She’s got my chin.”

“How the hell can you tell?” She swats at me with a notebook. “And don’t jinx her. No girl needs that chin.”

“What do you mean?” I cup my chin, where a goatee’s finally grown in. “It’s a strong chin.”

“Technically you’re her cousin. The chances of her getting that chin are pretty slim.”

“Damn, Luce.” I pull up a seat at the table. “You’re brutal when you’re pregnant.”

“Second cousin,” she says sweetly. She takes the sonogram from me and studies it. “I really can’t tell what the hell she looks like.”

“You didn’t want one of those 3D ultrasounds?” I ask, sifting through the pile of magazines.

She slides me a wry look. “Those cost money.”

I avoid her gaze. “Why not call Benjamin? I’m sure he’d love to have one done.”

She swats me with the notebook again, this time harder.

I hold up my hands. “What? You have to tell him.”

“I know that,” she grumbles. “How about you? Did you talk to Olivia?”

I thumb through a magazine, then peer at an article about DIY baby food like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever read.

“I can’t hear you,” Lucy chides.

“I did.” I put the magazine down and lift my eyes to hers.

“And?”

“And I let her go.”

“You what?!” Her voice is so shrill, it nearly pierces my eardrums. “That’s not the pep talk I gave you.”

“Yeah, well.” I spread my hands. “It’s what had to be done. Just like you calling Benjamin.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to.”

“No time like the present.” I grin, then duck out of the way before she can hit me. Likely with a rolled up magazine.

“Well, since you’re here. Moral support and all.” She sighs and sifts through all the shit on the table. “Can you call my phone? Oh, never mind. It’s over on the counter.”

I start to get up to grab it for her, but she pushes her chair back and stands, exposing her very round, very pregnant belly. “Damn, Luce. Where’d that thing come from?”

I wince. No walking that back now. I expect her to beat me over the head with one of her hefty parenting books, but she nods.

“I know, right? All this time, I had this little belly, and then pop! Mom says that’s how she was with me. She called it the Seventh Month Pop. Must run in the family,” Lucy says, retrieving her phone.

“Just wait ’til I get knocked up,” I joke.

Leaning against the counter, she rolls her eyes at me. “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Here goes.” She taps on her phone, then brings it to her ear. “It’s ringing,” she whispers.

“That’s what phones do.”

She gives me the tiniest crack of a smile before biting her lip. Shaking her head, she pulls the phone from her ear, then hits the speaker button. “Sorry,” she mouths.

I don’t really know how me hearing Benjamin’s side of the conversation is more supportive, but I give her a thumbs up anyway.

The ringing stops as he answers. “Lucy?” His voice is both crisp and warm, the kind of baritone you hear in commercials.

“Ben,” she says, as if they’re old friends who haven’t spoken in years. “Hey.”

“Lucy,” he says again. “Wow. I . . . did not expect to hear from you.”

Flicking a glance at me, she laughs nervously. “I was not planning on making this call.”

I wince and shake my head at her. “Easy,” I mouth.

She throws up her hands and pulls a bewildered face while mouthing “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“So,” Ben says, drawing out the word. “What’s up?”

I get up and join her at the counter, taking her free hand in mine. I give her a nod.

She blows out a slow breath. “Ben, I don’t know how to tell you this. I should’ve called you a long time ago.”

Silence on his end.

She surges forward. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence deepens.

Her eyes rocket to mine, widening as panic sets in. “Ben?”

He draws a breath. “So, you’re seeing someone else?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t been seeing anyone. I’m seven months, Ben.”

He gasps.

“It’s yours,” she says, as if that wasn’t already clear. Her hand squeezes mine, her knuckles going white.

For just a moment, I wonder if this is the kind of thing Olivia should be handling, instead of me. I’m way out of my element here. Then again, Olivia isn’t much better at this than I am. We’re both blunt, her more so than me.

Ben’s silence stretches. Lucy and I stare at her phone, but the seconds keep ticking. The call hasn’t been dropped.

“You still there?” she asks, a hesitant near-whisper.

“Yeah,” he replies, with more than a hint of bitterness. “You’re telling me this now? When did you find out?”

She clears her throat. “January.”

“January.” He laughs, but it’s derisive. “You’ve known this whole time?”

“Yes.” Her teeth dig into her lower lip. She glances at me again, tears pooling in her green eyes. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet.”

“Jesus.” The TV commercial cool guy is gone. There’s no more warmth to his voice.

My stomach clenches. I take the phone from her, holding it near her as I guide her back into a chair. Her hands shake in her lap.

“Didn’t you think I might like a say, too?” he demands.

I grit my teeth to keep my mouth shut. This is Lucy’s show, not mine.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal—”

“Ideal?” He laughs, the cruel sharpness cutting through my cousin. Her mouth drops open, then she presses her lips together. “I asked you to marry me. You didn’t want a family! And now you’re telling me you’re pregnant?”

“I know,” she says with a sigh. “It’s not the way either of us wanted things.”

“Then why didn’t you just get an abortion?” he snaps.

Lucy flinches, her face going from white to red. “I didn’t,” she seethes, “so let’s not even go there, okay?”

“So what, you want to get married now?” he fires back.

“No,” she begins, but he talks over her again.

“Because that ain’t happening. I proposed and you not only shot me down, but also cut me loose. Now I’m seeing someone else, someone who wants a future with me. I can’t—” His voice drops. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Well, it’s happening, buddy,” she says, taking the words right out of my mouth.

Despite the situation, I grin. I give her an encouraging nod.

“I thought I’d give you a chance to get to know your daughter,” she continues.

“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a daughter. Is that clear?”

My free hand—the one that isn’t holding her phone—clenches into a fist. “Hey asshole,” I growl. “This is your responsibility, too.”

“Not seeing anyone, huh?” Ben says. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Lucy sighs. “That’s Cliff—my cousin.”

“The one who went to prison for murder? Jesus Christ, Lucy. What’s happened to you?”

She inhales, nostrils flaring. Her face changes, morphing from a viper ready to strike to a teacher whose patience is being tested. “Look, I know this is a lot to swallow, but does it really have to get ugly? Because you know I can just take you to court for child support. Then you’ll never have the chance to get to know her.”

“Do whatever you want.” He hangs up.

I set her phone down with more control than I feel.

“That went well,” she says.

I squeeze her shoulder. “Sorry, kid.”

“For the record, he knows the truth about you. He’s just hurt.”

“Darlin’, you should know by now I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. What I do care about is you. You okay?”

“I want booze.” She pouts. “And, inexplicably, a cigarette. How the hell am I supposed to cope with my emotions like this?”

A lump appears in her belly, stretching her stomach before relaxing.

I blink. “Was that . . . ?”

“A foot, yes.” She holds out her hand for mine. “Want to feel?”

I hesitate, caught somewhere between curious and a little freaked out. “Dude. There’s a person in there.” Our eyes meet and we laugh.

“Crazy, right?”

“Yeah.” I give her my hand, and she places it on the left of her belly. A second later, I feel my second cousin slash niece kick. I laugh in wonder. “Holy shit, Luce.”

“I keep thinking eventually this’ll get old, but you know what? I’m awed every single time,” she says.

“Fuck Ben and his crisp Apple commercial voice,” I say. “You’re gonna be a great mom. But let me know if you want me to kick his ass.”

“Let me think about it. My current hormone level says ‘hell yeah,’ but I think I prefer you outside of prison.”

“Just say the word.” I glance at the time on the microwave.

“You have to go.” It isn’t a question.

“I’m actually a little late,” I admit.

“Go!” She shoos me. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. I’m gonna eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and read one of these books.”

“Trade you. Olivia’s working tonight.”

“The two of you.” She shakes her head. “Although, this thing would make a great club bouncer,” she says, running a hand over her taut belly.

“It’s beautiful.” I kiss the top of her head. “You’re beautiful. Ben’s a dick. Text me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” she says. She reaches for a book. “Now go. I’ve got a lot of reading to do.”

I leave her to it.

Thank you for reading Chapter 50 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 51

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 49

She’s so bright, so sunny. It makes me nauseous to think Greg is already dulling her shine. I clutch my purchases, debating whether to drop it all and bolt, or tell her the truth about her husband.

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 Chapter 49Olivia

Even though I need the money, and even though Harrison is going to kick my ass for it, I call out on Monday.

“You too?” Diane groans. “There’s something going around. Keep your germs to yourself.” She hangs up as if I’m sending her a stomach bug through the phone lines.

Just like that, I’ve got the day to myself. Except I’m not sure it’s healthy to lie on the living room floor any longer. Every so often, I catch a whiff of him, his scent still fresh on the carpet. Then I start crying again.

So maybe it’s time to get up.

I really should take a shower, but my skin and clothes still smell like him, and I’m not quite ready to let that go. It’s cool and gray out, so I dig through my bedroom until I find one of the many hoodies I’ve stolen from him. Except I never gave this one back. It’s one of the River Reapers hoodies, with the MC’s Sludge Specter embroidered on it. I tug it on over my tank top and leggings, the material soft and warm against my skin.

Just like he was last night.

I take a shaky breath. Olivia, I tell myself, get your shit together. I’ve never let myself get all wrung out over a guy. But then again, I’ve never met a guy like Cliff. Still, the truth remains: I don’t do relationships for a reason. Maybe someday I’ll be ready, but Cliff and I are miles away from the same page.

It’s for the best.

Really.

I swallow hard. No more crying. I’m afraid to look in the mirror, but I do anyway. There’s mascara smudged in tracks down my cheeks. The dark circles under my eyes aren’t from makeup. If someone from work saw me, they’d definitely believe I’m sick. I feel sick—sick to my soul.

My phone chimes with a text. I glance around my bedroom, but it’s nowhere in sight. Grumbling, I tear apart my room again. It’s such a mess, I might just toss it all and start fresh at Lucy’s.

I find the phone under one of my old textbooks. “What the fuck, Olivia,” I mutter, waking it up.

Mark: Need you to work tonight, Prospect.

I scowl. Before I became a Prospect, he at least asked. I send him back a “K” and toss the phone onto my bed. Then I grab the Michael Kors convertible backpack that Lucy’s parents bought me for my high school graduation. Before today, it lived in the back of my closet—it was always too small for textbooks. Today it’s finally coming in handy.

I slide a paperback inside, along with some cash, my driver’s license, and house keys. Then I grab the keys to the Street Glide. I push myself toward the front door, then leave the apartment and my phone behind.

I ride over to Big Y, where I wander the aisles for Gatorade and salty snacks. Then I head over to the deli, my arms full. I step into line behind a blonde with a longer bob. I touch my dark curls. Maybe it’s time for something different. I straightened it the other day like I was in high school again. It didn’t feel like me, though.

The woman turns, and my breath catches in my throat. It’s Cami. Shit.

“Hey,” she says with a smile.

She’s so bright, so sunny. It makes me nauseous. Has Greg already begun dulling her shine? I clutch my purchases to my chest, debating whether to drop it all and bolt.

“Day off?” She eyes my wild hair and hoodie, but doesn’t comment on it. Her gaze is warm and kind.

How the hell did he land someone like you? I want to ask. Instead, I swallow. “I thought your family owned a deli.”

She laughs. “Caught me. I love their Kalamata olives.” She points inside the case. “My family keeps it strictly Italian in their place.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” I look down pointedly at the chips.

She laughs again, an uplifting peal. Again I wonder how the hell she ended up with Greg.

“I never got your name,” she says. “I’m Cami.” She starts to hold out her hand, then remembers mine are full. A lovely blush splashes across her cheeks.

Bile races up my throat. I cannot let him ruin her. I can’t.

“Cami,” I say, dumping my items on the counter. “I’m Olivia.” I watch her, searching for any sign that she recognizes my name.

She only smiles back, pleasant and sweet as ever.

I take a deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”

A line appears between her eyes, but otherwise she’s unruffled.

“Can we go outside?” I push my items toward the deli clerk.

“Sure.” She steps away from the counter.

“We’ll be back in five,” I tell the guy behind the counter. “I want a turkey and American cheese sandwich when I get back. Don’t be a dick about the mayo.”

I leave him blinking.

I step into the cool gray afternoon. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” I ask her.

“Caught me again.” She glances around as if the parking lot of full of spies. “I’m playing hooky.”

We have too much in common, Cami and me.

Except she’s cute where I’m crude, soft where I’m stoic. Maybe Greg hasn’t hurt her because she’s everything a straight man with a pulse could possibly want. Cami is family material, the cornerstone of a wife, picket fence, and babies.

“Cami, I need to tell you something, and I need you to take me seriously,” I say, fishing in my backpack for cigarettes. Damn. It’s the one thing I forgot.

The line between her eyebrows deepens.

“I haven’t been honest with you. I came to your house because my ex lives there.”

“Oh,” she says with a shrug. “Okay.”

“Lives,” I say, enunciating the S. “Greg is my ex. Your husband.”

She draws back from me. “What the hell is this?”

“You need to listen. Your husband raped me when we were dating. I don’t want him to hurt you, too.” I bite my lip. There might’ve been a more tactful way to tell her. I don’t know.

Cami’s face moves through a variety of expressions. Her frown turns to shocked disbelief, lips parted, eyes narrowed. Then her upper lip curls, the line reappearing between her eyebrows. She shakes her head and backs away from me, looking for somewhere to sit. There aren’t any benches, so she settles for leaning against the brick exterior of the grocery store. “What do you want?” she gasps.

“I don’t want anything from you. I just want you to know the truth.” I pause for a moment. “I don’t work here. I’m a social worker.” I fish in the backpack for pen and paper. All I find is a tube of lipstick and the paperback I tucked in earlier. I rip out a blank page and scrawl my cell on it. “I want you to call me if you ever need me. I’m also a Prospect for the River Reapers. They’re my family, so they’d help you as a favor to me.”

I hold out the paper and she takes it with a shaking hand.

“That’s all. I’m sorry to bother you.” I leave her outside and go back in. I really want that sandwich and, as long as it doesn’t rain, I plan on spending my afternoon reading on the bridge.

I can’t control Greg, and I’m not responsible for his actions, but knowing that Cami has my number restores some of my power.

He can try to hurt her.

He’ll have to get through me first.

Thank you for reading Chapter 49 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 50

A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48

I followed her into the dark. Somehow I’d get us out without getting us killed. Even then, I was trying to protect her.

She never needed it.

There are only ghosts here now.

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 Chapter 48Cliff

After leaving Olivia’s, I kill some time by riding around. I stop at Cara’s diner for coffee—cup after cup. I order food, homefries I usually eat by the plateful. But everything tastes bland. I can’t stomach food right now.

I pull into the parking lot of The Wet Mermaid, considering ordering a drink. There’s a general ache in my bones, and I could use the warming comfort. It’s too early in the day. I’ve got too much to do, anyway.

Not enough to keep me distracted.

There’s no such thing.

I step into the cool, dark interior. The place is utterly silent, none of the usual dancers or hungover hangarounds. The only light comes from underneath the Chapel doors. I stop at the empty bar, remembering my first night here. How I stood in Mark’s office, then turned around and saw her. It might as well have been a century ago.

I followed her to the bar, admiring the way her hips swayed even as I tried to figure out how to get out of this without Lucy killing us both. Even then, I was trying to protect her.

She never needed it.

I run my fingers along the wood top of the bar, remembering the way she smirked at me. I try to count how many drinks we had together here, how many nights we closed up together and went upstairs.

I don’t even know if I can go up there.

There are only ghosts here now.

“In here, brother,” Donny calls from the Chapel doors.

I tear myself from the bar and the past, and go to Church.

“You good?” Donny asks in a low voice as I pass.

Shrugging, I drop into a seat at the table, my attention on my President.

“Where we at with the benefit?” Ravage asks his officers, jumping right in.

I pull my face into a blank mask. I completely forgot about our benefit for rape survivors. We’ve been discussing it here and there since the vote, but my head’s been in the wrong place.

“I figured a strip club isn’t the best place for this,” Mark says, “so I booked us for the thirteenth at the Polish club.”

I pull out my phone to set a reminder. “The thirteenth of July?”

Beer Can frowns at me. “When else?”

“Yeah, dude.” Vaughn chuckles. “Today’s the sixteenth.”

“I know what day it is,” I growl.

“It’s June, in case you didn’t know which month it is,” Abraham joins in.

Donny clears his throat. “The thirteenth—that’s a Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, shooting me a curious look. “We’ll have the place for the day. Cliff, you’re in charge of raffle prizes.” He slides a credit card across the table to me.

“Him?” Abraham sputters.

“I’ve still got a roll of raffle tickets, so you don’t gotta worry about those,” Mark continues, ignoring him. “Just hang out after and I’ll run you through what we usually do.”

I close my fingers around the card. It’s an immense responsibility—an honor, even, that they trust me this much—but I don’t want it. Even though I technically stayed with Olivia last night, I couldn’t sleep. I was too afraid that I’d miss something, that later on I’d regret not staying awake.

I just want to crawl into bed and fall into a black sleep where I don’t feel this way. The room upstairs isn’t home, though. It already felt temporary. Now it’s just a reminder that everything is temporary.

“What are we gonna do about music?” Beer Can asks, yanking me back into the conversation.

“I’ve got that covered. I can plug into their sound system,” Vaughn says.

“You gonna put together a playlist?” Abraham ribs.

“We wanna keep this tasteful,” Ravage interjects. “Remember, this is to raise money to end sexual violence. We wanna have a good time, but use your heads, gentlemen. You two can figure out the tunes.” He motions to Abraham and Vaughn.

Abraham glowers at Vaughn. “This guy has the worst taste in music,” he grumbles.

“If you had it your way,” Vaughn says, “we’d be playing Shinedown all the time.”

“Shinedown is a great band,” Abraham insists.

Vaughn snorts. “Every single song of theirs sounds the same.”

“I want everyone reporting in to me,” Ravage continues, raising his voice over their chatter. “Moving on.” He turns to Donny. “How’re Esther and the kids?”

“Real good.” Donny’s smile lights up his face—the whole room, even. “She moved in with me yesterday. Girls are gonna transition over the next few weeks.”

“I’m happy for you, brother,” I tell him.

“It’s gonna be a process. They’re already in counseling but their new social worker wants to ramp it up to two days a week. We’re all excited, though. This afternoon, they’re coming over for a pizza and game night.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “Little one kicked my ass at Monopoly last time.”

Everyone at the table laughs.

“That’s why you’re not Treasurer,” Mark says.

“Yeah, that’s all right. You got the brains, I got the braun.” Donny leans back in his seat.

There’s an air of content that hovers around the table. I sit outside it, a stranger. It could be the lack of sleep, but I know that’s not it.

It’s her.

“Let’s get out of here and enjoy the day,” Ravage says, adjourning Church. “I want everyone outside in five for a ride. It’s been a while since we all rode together.”

“All?” Abraham looks around pointedly. “Where’s our Prospect?”

Every man at the table looks at me.

“It’s her day off,” Donny says, rising. “See y’all in five.”

I get up, too, and follow him out to the floor. I pluck my pack of cigarettes from inside my cut, intending to use my five minutes smoking in the fresh air—away from the curious eyes of my brothers.

“Cliff,” Mark calls after me. “Borrow you for a minute?”

Lighting up, I hang back, letting Mark catch up to me. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to run you through the kinds of prizes we normally get. Remember?” His eyebrows furrow. “You all right, brother?”

“Fine.” I exhale and try to look attentive. This benefit is important to me, but I’m having trouble caring about much of anything right now. I feel worse than when I first went inside twenty years ago.

“If you say so. You know I’m here, right? We all are. We love you.”

“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

“All right.” He claps me on the shoulder. “So, I’ve got some unisex River Reapers tees we can throw in. I’ve also got some Mermaid tees. What do you think about that?”

My eyebrows knit together. It’s weird that he’s asking me. The answer’s pretty obvious, anyway. “Well,” I drawl, “it’s a strip club, which a lot of people feel is derogatory toward women . . .” I trail off.

“We are known for how well we treat our dancers,” he points out. “No illegal activities. We screen. Everyone gets health insurance and other benefits, even our part-time dancers. Our bouncers keep out the riffraff. Anyone causes any trouble, Donny kicks their teeth in.” His eyes meet mine, and he says nothing else. Just waits.

My confusion deepens. “We can always throw the shirts in. If no one wants them, no big loss,” I suggest.

He nods. “Sounds good. Cool. Now, a lot of the time, we pick up more masculine prizes, like big ass bottles of booze and techie type things. I’ve got a feeling we ought to mix it up a little.”

“Women like booze,” I say, thinking of her and her tequila.

“That they do.” He chuckles. “We can do the usual hard liquor, throw in a few bottles of good wine for the ladies who like it. Any other ideas?”

I scoff. “Why are you asking me this? I don’t have a clue what women want.” I don’t mean to sound so dejected, but my voice oozes the hurt I feel deep in my bones. I exhale, finishing my cigarette.

“I was thinking we could raffle off a date with you,” he says, eyeing me slyly.

“What?”

“I mean, our girls here love you,” he continues. “I bet we could pull in a lot of cash from that prize alone.”

I start to tell him to fuck off, then clamp my mouth shut. It’d just be a date. Completely harmless, and for a good cause. Then I picture Trish the terrible bartender winning and grimace. Olivia would kill us both.

I kind of love the idea of making her crazy, but I can’t play games like that. Besides, I’m not in the mood for dating, even if it’s for charity.

“Not gonna happen,” I tell him, the words firm.

“Even if we vote on it?” He smirks. He knows he’s got me.

“This is bullshit,” I grumble.

“It’s a good deed.” Mark grins and strolls away. “Oh yeah, you’re gonna want to go up to Vermont for the booze,” he calls over his shoulder.

If I didn’t need a ride before, I really do now.

Vermont. Jesus Christ. That’s forever away, smack in the middle of winter hippie wonderland. I’m not even a Prospect anymore, yet I keep finding myself on these errands.

At least I’ve got a month before I have to worry about it.

Outside, my brothers mount. The sound of engines starting reverberates through the street. Even in my terrible mood, the purr thrums through me, waking me up a little. I climb onto the Screamin’ Eagle and start it, joining the chorus. The bike hums beneath me, trilling through my limbs until we’re one. I give myself over to the machine, shedding my heart and mind, no longer a man.
If riding is a sort of meditation, riding with your club is nirvana.

Ravage takes off, Skid close behind him. One by one we fall into formation. I’m last, the latest patched-in member. Normally Olivia would be last, but she isn’t here.

I’m simultaneously relieved and sorry.

We become a pack, effortlessly flowing with each other. I lose myself in the peace of it, letting go of the hurt and emptiness, letting my club fill me up again. It’s the reminder I needed, that no matter what, I still have my brothers. I’ve still got Lucy. I even still have Olivia, even if only to a degree. It’ll burn every time I see her, even if I live for the next thousand years.

I had to let her go, though.

So I follow my club down 63, through Middlebury and onto Route 8, into the deep green of Litchfield County. The hot summer air fills my lungs, flushing out the emptiness, reminding me of my purpose.

I need to get my head in the game. This benefit is important, not just to me and my brothers personally, but also to our community. To the Olivias and Lucys disguised among us, carrying a pain that tries to rot. If that means going on a stupid date with someone like Trish, I’ll deal.

It’s the least I can do.

Thank you for reading Chapter 48 of of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 47

The way he says my name makes things inside me melt. The slight burr to his voice, coupled with the way his lips cradle the syllables like they’re something precious. The way he says my name carries everything he feels for me.

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 Chapter 47Olivia

I’m floating in the most peaceful black when a knock yanks me up from the deep. I sit up in bed, eyes bleary, heart racing. My hand goes to my gun without me even having to think about it.

The knock sounds again, echoing through the mostly empty apartment. A familiar knock. Cliff’s knock. I leave the gun on the nightstand.

Tossing the blanket aside, I get out of bed but leave the fan in my room running. The second I get rid of him, I’m going right back to sleep.

I stalk to the front door, not even bothering to check my hair and makeup. I couldn’t care less. I yank it open. “What are you doing here?” I demand.

He stands on the front porch, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his head bowed. He looks up, that curtain of hair draping over his shoulder, masking part of his face. It doesn’t shield his eyes from me—eyes that scorch me, igniting every nerve in my body, sending a jolt straight to my heart.

Then he says three words, words that should be little but together nearly knock me over: “Can we talk?”

It’s the hushed, sorrowful tone that gets me, and I know: he’s come to apologize. My heart twists. I want to leap into his arms, drag him into my bedroom, and take his apology with my body. I want his words to soothe every scarred inch of my heart, a sort of salve.

Instead I just move aside, letting him in. I don’t want to stand out here in my booty shorts and tight tank top, no bra.

He moves past me, leaving me enveloped in warm cedar and vanilla in his wake. I breathe him in, wishing I could bottle it and spray it on my sheets when he’s long gone. I follow him inside, closing the door behind me.

He whistles, a long, low sound. “It’s so weird being in here without furniture.”

“You wanted to talk?” I coax.

“Is that cool?” Something in his voice tells me that, if I told him to get out, he’d drop the whole thing and go.

I might as well get it over with. We’ve been in a sort of limbo, one filled with longing glances and lingering touches. “I’d offer you a seat, but the couch’s gone.”

There’s no way I’m bringing him into my bedroom.

I sit in the middle of the living room, where I left my cigarettes and an ashtray. I don’t light up. I don’t want to encourage him to stay.

He sits across from me, folding his long legs. He looks huge in my living room sans furniture. I want to crawl into his lap, let him wrap his arms around me. Put my nose in the crook of his neck and just breathe.

Neither of us moves.

Dio bounds into the living room, charging Cliff. He leaps into Cliff’s lap, nuzzling Cliff’s hand and purring.

Cliff grins. “Hey, bud.” He rubs Dio’s little head, the cat’s eyes closing in content.

Shit. Am I really about to toss away the man my cat loves? I’ve got to remember why I’m doing this. I can’t be with him when we’re whole books apart, never mind on different pages.

“So,” I prompt him.

The cat rolls onto his back and Cliff runs his fingers through the soft fur of his belly. He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine. “Olivia,” he begins.

The way he says my name makes things inside me melt. The slight burr to his voice, coupled with the way his lips cradle the syllables like they’re something precious. The way he says my name carries everything he feels for me.

My chest throbs.

“I fucked up.” His hand continues stroking Dio’s belly, the cat still purring in his lap. “I own that.” He swallows. “I broke your trust. I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but I’m going to do everything in my power to prove to you that I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

My eyes burn, my throat open.”You meant well,” I say, voice husky. “You don’t have to prove anything.” Because I know, is what I leave unsaid.

His shoulders relax, relief flooding his eyes. I see what he’s going to say before he even says it. “I miss you.”

I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”

His face falls. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Olivia. Am I supposed to fight for you or walk away?”

I shouldn’t have sat down. Rising, I grab my cigarettes and go to the open window. I light up, blowing the smoke out the window, careful to keep it away from my fuzzy orange buddy.

“I miss you,” he says again. “Tell me you don’t miss me. Tell me it’s all in my head.”

“Cliff,” I say, gritting my teeth together. I need him to stop saying things. Especially the right things.

He moves Dio from his lap and sets him down carefully. Then he stands, too. “Say it.”

“I forgive you,” I tell him again, “but I can’t be with you.”

His eyes close as he absorbs the blow. “Why?” he asks, voice strained. His eyes crack open, peering at me through a wince.

“Because I don’t know if I can do this.” I motion to us with the hand holding my cigarette.

“Because I asked you to move in with me.” He tips his head back. “You know we don’t have to take that step, right?”

“It’s not just that,” I tell him. “This isn’t really even about us.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he bows his head. “I know.” His shoulders curl. Nodding, he lifts his head, body loosening. His eyes meet mine. “Olivia,” he whispers.

Heat tingles down my spine. I lean toward him, my body deciding before I can. I die out the cigarette. “Yeah?” I take a deep breath, trembling in anticipation of his arms wrapping around me.

But the embrace doesn’t come. “I hate this,” he says, voice breaking, “but you know I’m still here, right? Whatever you need.” He joins me at the window, lighting a cigarette.

I nod. “Besides,” I say with a wicked grin, “we’re still family.”

He sputters, nearly choking on his cigarette. Coughing, he shakes his head. “Way to cut the tension.”

“Well, we are,” I insist. “Not in a related sense, but we’re both Lucy’s family. Then there’s the club. That makes us something, no matter what.” I swallow. None of this is coming out right. I meant to lighten things up a little, but now I sound ridiculous. It’s the equivalent of the ol’ “We can still be friends” spiel.

I don’t want to be his friend.

We aren’t friends.

But we aren’t lovers, either.

He smiles, and it warms me to my toes. “I know what you mean.” He sucks his lower lip. The gentle warmth burns hotter, flaring at my center.

I look away, grabbing my cigarettes from the window sill. I need something to keep my hands busy before I put them on him. I think of what Esther said about breakup sex. I don’t know if Cliff and I could survive that. There are too many feelings involved now, and I don’t think we can keep it all separate.

The room grows a few degrees hotter, his eyes on me, burning. I glance up, confirming what I already know.

I need to say something, break this heavy silence. I should tell him to go. If I did, he’d respect my wish. He’d walk away, and neither of us would get hurt. Namely him. I don’t want to hurt him.

I just can’t give him what he needs.

He takes a step toward me, and I move forward, too. He swallows hard. “I meant what I said, Olivia.” It’s like he’s saying my name on purpose, like he knows what it does to me. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

It’s an invitation as much as a promise.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” I whisper.

He smiles sadly. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

That’s how I know it’s too late. I’ve taken his heart, and I’ve broken it—all without meaning to. I don’t know how to mend it. I don’t even know how to heal my own.

He opens his arms, and I step into them. He holds me tight against his chest. His heart beats under my ear, a steady, quick pulse that sends my blood rushing, too. He holds me as if that alone could put me back together. It’s me that should be comforting him.

Tipping my head back, I gaze into his eyes. I reach up and brush his hair out of his face. I cradle him in my hands. Then, standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his. I taste salt and something sweet, the equivalent of spring rain. When a drop lands on my nose, I realize I’m tasting his tears.

What I’m holding is too precious to throw away, yet I’m doing it anyway.

Looping my arms around his neck, I tug him down, toward the floor. He follows me, body fluid, each movement synchronized with mine. Except, when I tug at the hem of his shirt, his arms tighten around me. We lay on our sides, facing each other. He hooks a leg over mine, pulling me even closer—his entire body encasing mine in a hug. His lips nuzzle the top of my head, placing a kiss in the mess of my hair.

His fingers run up and down my arm while his other hand strokes my back. Even though I feel him pressed hard against my thigh, he makes no move to remove my clothes. Confusion floods me, filling me with panic. If we’re not having sex, then I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be doing.

It’s like he’s trying to memorize the way our bodies fit together, which is sweet and all, but I’d rather get naked and then fit everything into place. His heart thumps against my ear, slowing to a steady thrum. I slow with him, melting into him, his warmth making me drowsy. Strangely, it reminds me of curling up in front of a campfire, wrapped in a sweatshirt four sizes too big.

He doesn’t say anything, just holds me, his hands never ceasing their trek back and forth across my skin. At some point I fall asleep, then wake curled against his body as he carries me through the dark apartment. He lays me in my bed, settling in next to me, again wrapping his body around me. I drift away again, feeling safer than I’ve ever felt in my life.

Now it’s me committing things to memory.

I fall asleep before I can memorize all of it. For the first time in months, I don’t dream about Eli. I don’t dream about Greg. I dream of a fireplace, its glow filling a living room I don’t recognize. I can’t see Cliff but sense his arms around me. It’s so warm, so peaceful, I never want to leave.

When I wake up, I roll over, lips parting to tell him. But my bed is empty. Cliff is gone.

Thank you for reading Chapter 47 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 48 Keep Cliff & Olivia for Your ShelfSigned PaperbackEbook

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A Risky Prospect, Chapter 46

“Come on. You joined a motorcycle club. Started dating a woman twenty years younger than you. Got a piercing most people get in their teens. Admit it, Cliff. It looks like a midlife crisis.” Lucy’s lips twitch.

I lean back. “Even I’ve wondered if it’s just a phase.”

“Is it?” she asks.

“It’s what I want,” I say. “The club, Olivia. It’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

She squeezes my hand. “So, are you gonna go fight for her?”

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 Chapter 46Cliff

The second the door closes behind Olivia, Lucy turns on me. She swivels in her seat on the couch, angling her body toward me. Her green eyes skewer me. It’s the fiercest I’ve ever seen her.

I take a step back.

“Uh-ah,” she says. “Sit.”

I drop into a seat as obediently as if she’d cast some sort of spell on me. She might be ten years younger than me, but Lucy is the matriarch of this family.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Olivia broke up?” she demands.

I scrub at my face with my hands. I don’t know how to answer without betraying Olivia. I don’t want to shut Lucy out, either. “It wasn’t my place,” I begin. “Besides, you’ve got a lot going on. There was also that time you told us you didn’t want to hear it.” I spread my hands.

She slides me a flat look.

“Well, you did. In this very house. I think we were in the kitchen.” I give her a lopsided grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

She sighs. “I did say that,” she admits. “I’m sorry if I made either of you feel like I don’t care. I do. I really, really do.” She scoots toward me and takes my hands, hers so small. “It was just all happening so fast: I turned down Benjamin’s proposal, I found out I was pregnant, you called me . . .” She shakes her head.

“Aw, Luce.” I pull her into my arms, bearing the weight that’s crushing her, if only for a moment. “I never thought that, kid. Never. I wish you came to me sooner. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” she says through tears. “It just didn’t seem real. Like, how the hell could this happen to me? I was so careful, Cliff. I had a freakin’ IUD. Apparently it shifted, and it’ll come out when I give birth.”

I hold back a shudder as that particular mental image passes. “Uh, thanks, Luce.”

“What? It’s just biology.”

“Yeah, but it’s your biology, and I don’t wanna think about it.”

She sniffles, leaning her forehead against my chest. “Yeah, well, you better get used to it. I want you in that room with me.”

I laugh. “Good one.”

“I’m serious.” She tips her head back, green eyes meeting mine. “I can’t tell Benjamin. He’ll think I kept this a secret from him and then bolted when he proposed. He’ll be so hurt. And there’s no way I’m having my mother in there with me.”

I rub her back like she’s eight again. “You haven’t told your parents?”

“God no.” She leans into me. “And you and I both know that no matter how much Livvie loves me, she is not good at this stuff.”

“She . . . has a lot of her own stuff,” I say carefully.

Lucy lifts her head again and pins me with a hard look. “Spill. Now.”

“I can’t, Luce. I already betrayed her trust. That’s why we broke up.”

Straightening, she presses her lips together, evaluating me. A finger bare of nail polish taps her chin. Ever since she came to get me in Lewisburg, she’s always had her nails done. Usually that natural look that so many women get. A French manicure or some shit.

“You two are so stubborn,” she says. “Have you considered, oh, I don’t know, begging her forgiveness and telling her how much you love her?”

“I can’t. Honestly, Luce, I think that’s most of our problem. I’ve ‘caught feelings,’ as you kids say, and Olivia . . .” I trail off, staring out the front window. The Screamin’ Eagle sits alone in the driveway behind Lucy’s car, Olivia’s Street Glide long gone.

“Can’t handle it,” she finishes for me. “Yeah, Olivia’s got abandonment issues. I mean, can you blame her? She’s been ditched by everyone who’s supposed to care about her. Even my parents aren’t the warmest.”

I nod. No matter how awful Bastard was, at least I had Ruth reading to me at bedtime and telling me how much she loved me—even if only for a short time.

“That’s why she blows through men,” Lucy continues. “Olivia likes to be the ditcher. That way, she can’t get hurt. She’s never had anyone chase her, though.” She eyes me, lifting an encouraging eyebrow.

“It’s not just that, Luce.” I sigh. I can’t tell Olivia’s secret. Not again. It doesn’t matter what my intentions were then or what they are now. I know I was wrong. I won’t make the same mistake twice. “She’s got a lot of demons, and I can’t kill them for her.”

“No,” she says, “but you can help her take out the trash.”

I think of the night she called me, how I slid that tarp under Eli’s body and took him apart, piece by piece. I never even questioned whether I should. I just did it. Then I held her. I don’t know if that’ll work this time. “Is it really that simple?” I ask out loud.

“Well, this is Olivia we’re talking about. Nothing is ever simple with her.” Lucy puts her hand over mine and squeezes. “Don’t you think it’s worth a try, though? Tell her you’re sorry. I can see how much you regret whatever you did. Let her see that, too. Then just be there for her. Be whatever she needs. Don’t try to push her into anything like getting married or moving in together.”

I hold up my hands. “Whoa.”

“I’m just saying,” she says with a laugh. “Olivia and I are cut from the same cloth. We don’t like being pushed into corners. I promise you, if you two get through this, you’ll eventually naturally find your way into an apartment.” She says it so sternly, I chuckle.

“I really thought it was the next natural step.”

“I know, but Cliff, you’ve got to remember, even without all the other stuff, Olivia is twenty-one, and you’re thirty-eight.”

“Way to rub it in.”

She snorts. “I see you, getting your septum pierced and switching up your look.”

My hand goes to where my goatee’s grown back in. “Yeah, well.” I shrug.

“I think the septum suits you,” she says, “but dude, there are seventeen years between you. That’s a love-child-wide gap.”

I glance pointedly at her bump.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, you’re just going to have to accept that if you want Olivia bad enough, there are certain challenges you’re going to have to overcome. You’re going to have to stop freaking out about your biological clock.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I grumble.

She tilts her head at me. “Dude. Septum. Need I say more?”

I glower at her.

“If I didn’t know you, if I didn’t know the why behind the story, I’d say you were going through a midlife crisis.” She laughs. It’s not an unkind laugh, though.

I still keep my glare going.

“Come on. You joined a motorcycle club. Started dating a woman almost twenty years younger than you. Got a piercing most people get in their teens or twenties. Admit it, Cliff. It looks like a midlife crisis.” Her lips twitch.

“Go ahead, laugh.” I lean back in my seat. “You’re right, it does look that way. Even I wondered if what I feel for her is just a phase.”

“Is it?” she asks, her eyes soft, her hand still on mine.

“No,” I say in nearly a whisper. “This is what I want. The club, Olivia. I can’t explain it, but it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. I know it.”

“I know.” She squeezes me hand. “So, you gonna keep telling me, or are you gonna go fight for her?”

“Right now?”

“I mean, there’s no time like the present,” she says. “You’re just wasting time sitting here with me.”

“I’m not wasting time,” I assure her. “I’m here for you, not to dissect my problems.”

“Honestly, I feel a lot better now. I’ve got you and Olivia. Secret’s out, so that’s not eating at me, either.”

“Luce,” I say gently, “I’m just throwing this out there: you need to tell him. It’d kill me if Olivia and I parted ways, and I found out down the line that she had my baby and never told me.”

Lucy sighs. “She said the same thing.”

“About my baby?”

“Calm down,” she scolds, a playful edge to her tone. “She didn’t say anything about you or your fictional baby. God, you really do have a biological clock ticking.”

“What can I say? I’ve always wanted kids,” I admit.

“And I never did, yet here we are.” She shakes her head. “How about you take this baby off my hands?”

“Yeah, that’ll help me woo Olivia,” I joke. I sober and pull her in for another hug. “You’ve got me, though. And her. Even if we aren’t together, we both love you.”

“I know. Thank you.” She wraps her arms around my waist.

Even though everything else is so upside down, in this moment, I’m more content than I’ve been in twenty years—I’ve got my best friend. I kiss the top of Lucy’s head and my chest loosens. I hate that I’ve missed two decades of her life, but I’m so glad to be back. Releasing her, I sit back. I’m relieved to see that she’s blinking away tears. She smiles up at me.

“So, Olivia’s moving in,” I say, lightening the mood. “I’m glad she’ll be here with you.”

“Me too,” Lucy says, “though she’ll be more moral support than anything else.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

She chuckles. “Can you really see Olivia changing diapers and waking up in the middle of the night for feedings?”

I do my best to picture it, but I can’t. “No,” I admit. I try not to feel defeated. If by some miracle we get through this, eventually kids will be another sticking point for us. Because I know I want them, and I know she doesn’t. We’ve never actually talked about it, but I know all the same. “Don’t worry,” I say quickly, determined not to let Lucy pick up on my thoughts. “Uncle Cliff is already looking forward to sleepovers, and I don’t mind changing diapers.”

She grins. “I love the image I immediately get of you, all tough in your MC leather, changing diapers and singing lullabies.”

“I changed yours,” I say with a shrug.

“You’re gonna be the best uncle ever.” She beams at me. “Now get out, and go get that girl.” She shoos me off the couch. “I need a nap anyway. Why is pregnancy so exhausting?”

“Enjoy your nap,” I say as she lies down. I grab a throw blanket and drape it over her.

“Lock me in?” she slurs, her eyes heavy.

“Of course.” I kiss her forehead, then ease out of the house. I lock the door behind me as promised. Then I stand on the porch, between Lucy and my bike. I know what I need to do, but despite all of Lucy’s reassurances, I’m fucking terrified that it won’t matter what I say or how much I mean it.

Thank you for reading Chapter 46 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.

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