Everyone gets an upbringing. Everyone is taught the essentials of life by their parents, and sometimes the parents’ essentials of life aren’t always the best.
I learned to roll a cigarette before I was taught to tie my shoelaces. I suppose in most families this would’ve been considered odd, but in ours, it was normal.
My father, Jed Harrison, was president of the Satan’s Sons Mother Charter...
Everybody gets an upbringing.
I learned to roll a cigarette before I was taught to tie my shoelaces.
I suppose in most families this would’ve been considered odd, but in ours, it was normal.
My father, Jed Harrison, was president of the Satan’s Sons Mother Charter.
He was a hard, rough man who was absent for most of my childhood.
My twin sister, Kim Harrison, was tall and blonde and a bitch. Male eyes were naturally drawn to her. She had the ability to get the attention of any man, and didn’t have to do much to keep it.
Kim and I were brought up on the brothers’ code and understood a world that to most was a mystery. We saw a lot of things, but always kept our mouths shut.
Dad often made us tag along on club runs—the non-dangerous ones. He took our safety seriously and didn’t trust anyone with it since our mom had died.
Dad did his best, but he wasn’t born to be a parent, and, hell, he never wanted to be a dad.
So we grew up in the clubhouse: not the best of places to raise two growing girls, but the boys took us under their wings, too, and not once did they hurt us.
My best memories are ones around bikers—tattooed, criminal bikers.
As we got older, Kim threw herself into shopping, flirting, and makeup. I threw myself into art and study, and removed myself from people as much as possible.
Kim got the hots for Dad’s vice president, Trigger.
What Kim saw in him I didn’t know, and why she would want to go there—where oh so many other women had been before—was beyond me. Especially since he was a man and she was basically a girl
Personally, he creeped me the fuck out, and if I could avoid him, I would at all costs.
Instead, I spent my nights bartending for the brothers, which is how I came to be walking around the bar in a miniskirt the night of my sixteenth birthday, a pitcher of beer in my hand.
Unlike everyone else around me, I wasn’t into the roaring party that Dad was holding for a visiting charter gang.
It was too loud, and I just wanted to be up in my room with my paint brushes and canvas. Too many drunken men had tried to grab my ass tonight, not aware I was their prez’s daughter.
“Hey, sweetheart, over here,” called Trigger, waving his cup at me.
I walked over to grab it, and I felt Trigger’s hand snake around to cup my ass as I reached over him. “I see the way you’re lookin’ at me, Kimmy,” he slurred.
“I’m Abby,” I snapped and backed up quickly, not wanting to get Trigger on my bad side. He could be one nasty fuck if you didn’t give him what he wanted.
As I stumbled backward, I stepped on one of my shoelaces and before I knew what was happening, I was falling.
But I didn’t hit the ground. Instead, my back slammed into what felt like a solid wall. A very warm and breathing solid wall.
“Watch where you’re going,” came a deep voice from behind me.
Feeling flustered, I whirled around to see who I’d hit, and the remains of Trigger’s drink flew out of the cup in my hands and splashed across the chest of one of the biggest men I’d ever seen in my life.
I watched as the amber liquid seeped through his shirt, the wet material sticking to his sculpted chest.
He looked to be in his early twenties and was built like a mountain, with a rough beard and a rougher face. The leather jacket and icy, and bitter eyes told me instantly he was one of Dad’s bikers.
“I-I’m sorry,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact with him, but it was impossible. His gaze seemed to burn deep into me.
“Aren’t you a bargirl?” he spat. “Shouldn’t you have a bit more awareness of your surroundings?”
I felt anger flare inside of me at his words, eclipsing my fear, and I narrowed my eyes, putting my hands on my hips. If he thought I was some brainless biker bitch who would take whatever abuse he threw at me, he was sorely mistaken.
“Aren’t you a biker? Shouldn’t you be used to a bit of beer?” I retorted, matching his tone.
To my surprise, his expression softened just slightly, and I could have sworn his lip even twitched a little. But a moment later, I was sure I’d imagined it.
“Watch where you’re going next time,” he spat, then turned and slouched away across the bar.
The moment his gaze left mine, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I took a deep breath and shook off his expression. For some reason, my heart was still racing.
“Hey…” slurred Trigger from behind me. “You don’t get to talk to other men, Kimmy. Now come sit on my lap.”
I rolled my eyes and marched away to the bar before he could touch me again.
“Abby, what have you been saying to Trigger?”
I groaned and looked up from the pint I was pouring as my sister’s shrill voice cut through the noise of the bar. She was storming over to me, dressed in her usual biker bitch attire.
“Kim, please just leave me alone,” I said, pushing two pints of beer across the bar at some of the mother charter boys.
“He told me you were coming onto him,” she hissed.
I gave her a look that said, “Are you serious,” and she backed down. She knew full well that I would never flirt with Trigger. In fact, she probably knew that he didn’t give a fuck which one of us he drunkenly groped.
“Fine. Just… whatever. I wanted to ask you something, though. Have you seen Reaper?”
I looked up in surprise. “Reaper?”
“Yeah,” Kim said, her head bobbing up and down in excitement. “He’s here.”
“Wow,” was all I could think to say. I scanned the bar with my eyes, wondering where he was.
Kade Wilson, aka Reaper, was the most deadly biker in the territory, maybe the country.
I should have known he’d be here, I knew he rode for one of Dad’s charters. Most people said he was a shoo-in for Dad’s job when he kicked the bucket.
“I wonder what he looks like,” Kim said, following my train of thought as she, too, looked around the bar. “I bet he’s hot.”
I scoffed. Of course, that’s where Kim’s mind would go. Never mind, they said he snuffed out lives the way most people snuff out candles. Just the name Reaper had most bikers either shaking their heads in awe or cowering in fear.
He was probably more of a brute than Trigger, so naturally, Kim would be drooling over him.
“Abby, sweetheart!” Dad marched up to the bar at that moment and slammed his beer down on the counter, his face red and flushed with excitement. “Ya need a break, darling?”
“No, Dad, I’m fine.” I flashed him a smile, refilled his drink, and then pulled a few beers out of the fridge.
“Have a break, sweetheart; you’ve been filling drinks all day now.” Dad waved his drunken hand for me to leave.
Not wanting to get into an argument, I stepped out of the way and let another bartender take over.
“I might get some fresh air then.”
I patted Dad on the shoulder and walked past him. When Dad drank, his hard exterior slowly softened.
It was one of the rare moments when I was reminded of my childhood father. Not, “Roach” that everyone knew him as.
“Dad, which one is Reaper,” Kim asked as I passed. I snorted, and Kim flashed me a glare.
I weaved my way through the crowd until my hand landed on the back door, and I stepped outside into the fresh air.
The dimly lit alleyway was centered between the bar and the main house.
It was where we kept the rubbish bins, and it wasn’t the door we mainly used, but it was my quick getaway.
I was heading up the alley toward the house when I heard the back door open behind me and someone step out.
I turned around. No one else used that door, and I froze when my eyes landed on his drunken ones.
My blood ran cold, and I knew instantly I was fucked.
He stumbled drunkenly toward me.
I could see a glint of hunger in his eyes and knew what was about to happen.
“Trigger…” I muttered, his name feeling dirty in my mouth.
“Come ’ere, Kimmy,” he slurred drunkenly and lumbered towards me. I didn’t bother to correct him this time. I could tell from his expression that he knew I wasn’t Kim.
I stumbled backward, trying to get out of the alleyway to the street. But before I could, I felt my foot catch on a crack in the pavement, and down I went.
No, no, no…
Trigger was weaving closer. Even drunk, he was a lot stronger than me. I didn’t stand a chance.
He reached down, his clammy hand groping my breast.
I screamed and tried to kick him, but it was like he’d been expecting it.
He grabbed my foot and whirled me around. My jaw made contact with the concrete, and I bit my tongue, tasting blood.
“Help, please,” I cried out, tears stinging my eyes as I felt Trigger’s rough hands rip my shirt and pull me to my feet.
He turned me around to face him and licked a tear from my cheek with his rough tongue.
“Don’t cry, Kimmy,” he crooned at me, his hands lowering to slide underneath my skirt.
“I’m not Kim!” I yelled, frantic, and continued to hit him.
The more I moved, the more I was trapped.
He pinned my hands above my head and started rubbing himself against me.
Just then, a shadow flitted across the alleyway behind us, and I blinked. Trigger hadn’t noticed. He was too focused on getting into my pants.
“What was that?” I asked breathlessly.
“Nice try, sweetheart,” wheezed Trigger. I could feel his hardness poking against my stomach. I wanted to vomit.
“Get off, Trigger; there’s someone there!” I yelled, the terror and panic in my voice coating each word.
He just cackled maliciously until, with a thrill of terror, I saw the hulking figure emerge from the darkness behind him.
“Hey!” came a cold, gruff voice.
Trigger blinked stupidly and looked up at the newcomer who slowly stepped into the light. I knew instantly that I’d seen him before. But where?
A moment later, it hit me.
It was him. The man I’d bumped into before. Oh no. He might be the only person who could make this worse for me.
“You heard her. Get off!” he said coolly, staring Trigger down.
I saw Trigger’s hand flick to the gun I knew he had tucked into his waistband.
Trigger had got his name because he was always the first to pull the bloody thing.
“Fuck off. This is between me and my girlfriend.” Rage spread across Trigger’s face as he spat the words at the man.
Any normal biker would have been terrified by the look Trigger was giving him. But not this guy. He took a step forward.
There was a glint in his dark eyes that told me he was going to enjoy this.
“She’s not into it. Now back the fuck off.”
He glanced at me, and I felt an unexpected emotion briefly pierce my terror.
I tried to stem the flow of tears. I needed to be braver.
“I’m not fucking Kim,” I yelled in Trigger’s face and pushed him with all my strength, but it didn’t even move him.
With a growl, the man with dark eyes moved forward and grabbed Trigger by the back of the neck.
“Did ya not fucking hear me?" he said. "Get the fuck off her!”
He threw Trigger backward, ripping his hands off me.
Trigger fumed. I could nearly see the steam coming out of his ears.
For a moment, the two men circled one another, both ready to pounce.
Trigger was the first one to lunge. He ran at Dark Eyes, his fist swinging.
The man ducked and sent a punch flying into Trigger’s ribs.
I watched Trigger stumble backward, clutching his side.
But before he had time to recover, Dark Eyes’ fist collided with the side of his head, sending Trigger careening sideways into a dumpster. I heard him hit it with a loud clanging sound.
He chuckled as Trigger spat blood onto the ground and tried to stand. He was shaky on his feet and fell back to his knees instantly.
“I think you’re going to want to stay down,” growled Dark Eyes, his fist still clenched in warning.
Trigger glared up at him, blood dribbling down his nose.
I saw his face curl into a hideous snarl.
For a moment, it looked like he was going to get up and try to keep fighting.
But after a moment, he spat at the man’s feet and stood up weakly.
“Whatever.” He glanced at me, his eyes scorching. “I’ll fuck you later, Kim.”
I watched him stagger off, feeling relief wash over me.
Until I remembered where I was.
I was alone in the alleyway with a man who had just scared Trigger away from a fight.
He turned slowly back to me, and I saw a glint in his eye. Our gaze met again, and I quickly looked away.
“Th-thank you,” I managed to choke out. “Mr… Um… I don’t know your name.”
He took a step closer to me, and I instinctively shuffled backward. The back of my legs hit the dumpster with a loud clang, and I jumped. He took another step towards me.
He was inches away from me, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him.
“It’s Kade. Kade Wilson,” he said, leaning even closer and turning my gaze to meet his.
“But you can call me Reaper.”