Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology - Wylde Joanna (книги бесплатно без регистрации полные .TXT) 📗

Then he shifted, rolling us to our sides and tugging me onto his body, rubbing one hand through my hair as the noises around us faded. It was just me and him, joined in our own private world.

You’d think the adrenaline would’ve kept me up all night, but apparently it wasn’t enough to overpower the sex and the booze. At some point I drifted off, despite the lights and the noise.

Boonie woke me with a kiss, raising one knee up between my legs as I squirmed against him restlessly.

Then a branch poked my ass and I remembered where we were.

“What the hell was that all about?” I asked, my voice a soft whisper.

“I think it was a riot. Although I still can’t quite figure out how it started. Never heard of one around here before.”

I shivered, and he tightened his arms around me, rubbing up and down my back.

“That’s pretty fucked up.”

“No shit,” he said, then distracted me with another kiss. I pushed back against his leg, realizing my skirt was still up around my waist.

Slutty, much?

“Um . . . I’m not sure—” I started to say, but he cut me off.

“Don’t think about it too much. Not gonna end well for either of us. Just consider this—every time we’ve gotten together, some big disaster hits. This time it missed us. Maybe that means we’re home free.”

I frowned at him, flinching as pain shot through my skull.

“Hangover?” he asked. I nodded. “You need some coffee and some food.”

“And a shower.”

“Great,” he said. “We’ve got all of that at my friend’s place. It’s not far—will take us about ten minutes to walk there.”

There are walks of shame, and Walks of Shame. I think when you come dragging in after a riot, covered in dirt, leaves, and dried come, you qualify for capital letters by default. We saw a few police cars along the way, but things seemed to be settling down. Early light traced the sky. If I hadn’t known better, I’d never have guessed there’d been people fighting in the streets just hours before.

His friend’s place was just an apartment over a garage. When we walked in, the first thing I saw was Kelly asleep on the couch. Well, she was on top of a man on the couch—the same man who’d helped rescue us from the crowd.

He opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again. More people slept in the bedroom, but at least the bathroom was empty. I followed Boonie through the wooden door, then frowned when he reached for his leather cut.

“Maybe we should shower separately?”

He shook his head.

“No way. Took me long enough to pin you down. I let you out of my sight you might go marry someone else.”

I think he meant it as a joke, but I frowned.

“Boonie, I was serious when I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship. The divorce isn’t even final yet—I can’t handle anything new.”

He pulled off his leather, hanging it carefully on a hook. Then he reached for the edges of his shirt.

“I get that,” he said, tugging it over his head. The sight of his bare chest caught me. Damn, this man was beautiful . . . “But what we have between us isn’t new, Darce. It’s always been here. I had to walk away twice. I won’t do it again.”

He was right. There really had always been something between us, and not just when it came to sex. As children he’d always protected me . . . well, protected me from everyone but himself. He’d fought Farell for me, and even when he’d stopped returning my letters, he’d thought he was doing it for my benefit.

This wasn’t new at all.

“I’m not willing to give up what I have,” I insisted, refusing to roll over. I’d had my fill of that with Farell. “My whole life I’ve had to live for other people. This is my time. I’m not willing to let that go, not even for you.”

“Does having ‘your time’ involve you fucking guys who aren’t me?”

I rubbed my stomach, a thrill running through me at the memory or him, deep inside. Could I imagine doing that with someone else?

Not really.

“No, but it doesn’t involve me moving back to Callup and giving up my career, either. I want to own my own spa some day—one of those places where people come to get their hair done, along with manicures and massages and all that.”

“Sounds great, so long as I don’t have to get my nails painted,” he said, shrugging. “But I definitely want more of those massages. Wouldn’t mind a happy ending, either.”

“Not funny,” I snapped. “I’m a therapist, Boonie. I help people who are in pain. You should respect that.”

The smiled dropped from his face and he caught my hands, pulling me close.

“It was just a joke, Darce,” he said. “I don’t need you giving up on your dreams. Hell, I’ve got my own life. The last thing I want is you all whiny and dependent. My mom was like that. Sucked. I just want to know that at the end of the day you’ll be in my bed.”

I leaned into him, laying my head on his chest.

“I could probably make that work. But no more riots, okay? My ass is covered in scratches. Let’s keep it boring from now on.”

“Boring. I can work with that.”

A sudden knocking pounded the door.

“Boonie, get out here!’’ his friend shouted. “You won’t believe what just happened.”

Boonie pulled away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I think we’re going to have to be bored later,” he muttered. I sighed, realizing I should probably get used to it.

“We really are cursed.”

Boonie shook his head, then gave my nose a quick kiss.

“We’re just normality-challenged. It’ll be okay.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I gave a squeeze then let him go. Guess I should get used to it—boring was probably overrated anyway, right?

_______

Historical note: The events in this story are based loosely on real events that took place at different times in the Silver Valley and Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.

The “riot” in downtown Coeur d’Alene took place in June 1999, during the annual Car d’Alene classic car show. It began outside the Ironhorse Saloon when police stopped a biker and were booed by the crowd. Things grew out of control when more officers arrived in riot gear. While the exact timeline of events is controversial, many witnesses (including my own friends who were present) stated that the police attacked them violently. Fourteen people were arrested and it led to a challenge in the Idaho State Supreme Court over whether police officers are immune from prosecution.

The Sunshine Mine Fire is one of the darkest chapters in Silver Valley history. On May 9, 1972, the second deadliest hard-rock mining disaster in U.S. history killed ninety-one men deep underground, many of whom were overcome so quickly they were found still sitting in front of their open lunch boxes. Escape efforts were hampered by out-of-date rescue equipment and leadership issues. Eight days later, two survivors were found 4,800 feet under the surface. No other men would come out alive. The oldest victim was sixty-one years old and the youngest was nineteen. They left behind seventy-seven widows and more than two hundred children, three of whom were still unborn. If you’re interested in learning more, I highly recommend The Deep Dark by Gregg Olsen.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Many of my books feature characters cooking, which leads to readers requesting copies of my recipes. Huckleberries grow wild in the Silver Valley and are a big part of the culture. They’re hard to find and take forever to pick, so a huckleberry pie is considered a rare and special treat. This recipe is from my book Silver Bastard. FYI—I’m not always exact with my measurements when I cook, so consider yourself warned.

Becca’s Huckleberry Pie Recipe