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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “A Sense of Purpose”

But I’m a romantic at heart; I want someone riding behind me. Or better yet, beside me, the way Cliff has Olivia. I look at them and the world makes more sense, in the way that the MC used to frame things for me.

They’re our future.

“A Sense of Purpose”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Mark

I’m the only one in the club who isn’t attached in some way. I put my dark and silent phone to the side, our second Zoom meeting over. With everyone homebound, the rules for Church changed a little—enough for me to see the rules changed for me, too.

Pru is now with Beer Can.

It’s cool—we were never exclusive or anything like that. It was just for fun. But Beer Can, really? It’s like looking at Beauty and the Beast.

I know, I know. I’m bitter, and I sound it. I guess deep down I kind of hoped that my occasional nights with Pru might turn into something more. My everything is comprised of the MC and my family, and my work at the strip club, in no particular order. The lines between them are blurred. The MC gave me The Wet Mermaid. Before, I had the management experience but not the purpose, not the means. Now I have it all. But I’m a romantic at heart; I want someone riding behind me. Or better yet, beside me, the way Cliff has Olivia. I look at them and the world makes more sense, in the way that the MC used to frame things for me.

They’re our future.

I stand in the middle of the empty strip club, the stage and bar dark. I’ve been coming down here a few times a week, just to check in, make sure everything is okay. Everything is always just fine. Without this place, without my club, I’m at loose ends. I have no purpose. I drift through my house and the club house, untethered, unattached. I’m pushing fifty and I have no wife, no children of my own, no one to fill my days when I’m not needed. This pandemic has made it clear that I’m not needed.

Strip clubs, after all, are hardly essential businesses.

Arguably, anyway.

For me, The Wet Mermaid is essential. It’s a moot point now. Pushing my hand through dirty blond hair streaked with gray, I give the club one last looking over. Not a chair is out of place. For the first time in years, I’m caught up on sales and use tax filings. The stage gleams. I’m like a mother whose children have all flown the nest.

I need a purpose. At the least, I’ll take a hobby. I can’t remember the last time I had anything like that. Years and years ago, I played co-ed softball. It was just for fun, when I was young—really just a way to occupy myself, to stay out of trouble for my mother’s sake. Then I met Ravage and discovered riding, and I didn’t need to fill my time anymore. I just fell into place.

Rapping on the door yanks me out of my thoughts. “We’re closed,” I call out even as I make my way over. Through the glass I see her, her dark hair not dark enough to hide the bruise blooming around her eye. My eyes drop down to her fist, also bruised and a little bloody. A medical grade mask hides her mouth and nose.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I mutter, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

She pushes past me, out of the sunlight and into the cool exterior of the strip club. Her wild eyes appraise the bar, settling back on me as if she already knows she’s safe here. “Pru told me to come here,” she says through the mask. “Is . . . Shannon around?”

I nod as understanding dawns. She’s another stray. This is usually Shannon’s territory. My gaze dwells on her mask. I didn’t wear one; I hadn’t planned on coming into contact with anyone. I came straight here and I planned on going straight home. I can’t exactly turn her away, though.

“She’s not,” I say. “I’m Mark. What’s your name?”

She hesitates. “I . . . Pru told me to ask for Shannon.”

I hold back a frown. I don’t know why Pru gave her this address instead of Shannon’s Haven, but she’s here now and that’s what I’ve got to focus on. I pull down a couple of chairs and seat myself, hoping she’ll feel more comfortable with me sitting. “Usually Shannon’s at the shelter—Shannon’s Haven,” I explain. “This is, uh . . .” I wave a hand around. “A strip club.”

“Pru works here,” she says, nodding. “I know. She says you can hook me up with a job here, too.”

“Me?” I peer at her a little more closely. Doesn’t she realize we’re in the middle of a pandemic? No one is working. The dark circles under her eyes tell the story of a woman who’s been living in hell for quite some time. When she runs a hand through her hair, I catch a wide shock of white buried underneath all that silky black.

“You’re Mark, right?” She lifts green eyes to mine, an emerald green that shocks me, freezing me in place.

I nod, because I can’t form words.

“Pru told me to ask for Shannon . . . and Mark.” She licks her lips. “I just didn’t know if I could trust you.”

I nod again. I’ve given jobs to more wary women than I can count. Even the men who work here—our bouncers—are refugees of some sort. The Wet Mermaid is a safe haven of its own accord.

She remains standing in front of me, this mystery women. My eyes drop to her knuckles again, and I jerk my chin toward them.

“I’m guessing he won’t be a problem anymore.”

“No,” she says. “He won’t.” She tilts her head, watching me, waiting.
I push my hand through my hair, thinking. “Well,” I say after a few moments, “we’re closed, for the time being.”

Her shoulders droop.

I stare at the mask.

“A nurse in the ER gave this to me.” She holds up her left hand, exposing splinted fingers to me. “I . . . He didn’t keep a TV or anything in the house. I kinda just got the crash course.”

“Okay,” I say, and words start falling from between my lips before I can think about what I’m saying. “You can stay here. I’ll go get your paperwork. We’ll furlough you so you can collect. I’ll check in and train you to be a cocktail server . . .”

“No,” she says, lifting those intense green eyes to mine. “I used to be a dancer—a competitive dancer. He took that away when we got married. I want to dance again. Give me the stage.”

The word “married” barely registers. Her determination, the resolve in her eyes, her knuckles—all of it enthralls me.

I’m a goner.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Thank you so much for reading the River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles! “A Sense of Purpose” may be the last in this miniseries, but there are more RRMC stories coming your way.

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “The Sound of Waves”

I’m sick to death of rides. On the back of his motorcycle, I feel a little like a dog hanging out the window, hungry for any taste of the outside world. He’s trying, though, and I don’t want to crush him. Not when he rode miles to find me, after twenty years in prison.

“The Sound of Waves”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Bree

I stand in the bedroom that used to be Olivia’s nursery, back before everything blew up. I find myself in here every morning, mug of coffee in hand, one of Mercy’s shirts grazing my thighs. This tiny house once felt like home, and now it’s my prison. I’m surrounded by memories and what could have been.

I hate this house.

“Morning,” Mercy says from the doorway.

I turn, the soft fabric swishing around my breasts, rubbing against my belly—achingly empty. I don’t know if it’s being back here, or the near isolation, but all I can think about is how different things could be if Mercy and I made different choices.

“Morning,” I reply, and my low, slow tone gives me away completely.
He fixes intuitive brown eyes on me—eyes that I swear also belong to Olivia, even though that’s impossible. “Want to go for a ride today?”

I’m sick to death of rides. On the back of his motorcycle, I feel a little like a dog hanging out the window, hungry for any taste of the outside world. He’s trying, though, and I don’t want to crush him. Not when he rode miles to find me, after twenty years in prison.

“Or,” he says, stepping closer, “we could go to the park. Get some sandwiches or some other takeout, enjoy nature.” He slides his hands along my hips, and I melt into him immediately, holding my mug out and steady.

“I’ll take that,” he murmurs, plucking the mug from my hands. He sets it down—I never see where—and pulls me into him. The motion hitches his shirt up over my hips, and he sucks in a deep, appreciative breath.

“After all this time,” he says, gazing deep into my eyes, “you are still all I want, Bree. I’d walk through fire for you. I hope you know that.”

I nod and smile, because he has. Yet my heart clouds, because in this pair, I’m the runner. Part of me is still running. Part of me will always run.

I passed that trait to Olivia. Everything bad in me, I gave to her.

I sigh, leaning my forehead against his shoulder. Tears burn my eyes, spilling out before I even have the chance to shove the emotions down again. This social distancing is really getting to me.

“Oh, none of that.” He lifts my chin and uses his thumbs to brush fat teardrops away.

“I hate this house,” I sob, feeling like a two-year-old who hasn’t had a nap.
It’s only eight in the morning.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, enfolding me in his arms, holding all of my pieces together.

“I want to go to Marshall’s.” It flies out of my mouth, completely illogical, irrelevant, and impossible. Most stores are closed, unless they sell essential items. I don’t even need anything at Marshall’s.

“Ah,” Mercy says. He rubs his beard, more salt now than pepper. As his fingers move, the morning light breathes life into the faded letters on his knuckles: B-R-E-E, one on each finger.

“This is the only prison tattoo I allowed myself,” he told me once, a few weeks ago. His other hand has R-R-M-C—another prison tattoo, another constant reminder of what could have been.

“You need retail therapy,” he says now.

“No.” I pull away, shaking my head, aiming my hands for my coffee. “We don’t have any money to spend.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t look.” He lifts me into his arms, sweeping me off the floor.

“Hey!” I stretch out a hand one last time, watching my coffee shrink away as he carries me into our bedroom. “No fair.” He deposits me onto the bed, then stretches out beside me.

“Here.” He hands me my phone, twirling a finger in the air. “Pull up Amazon.”

“It’s not the same.” I set the phone aside, turning so that we’re lying facing each other.

“Right.” He sighs. “Maybe we could go to Target later, stroll through the dollar aisle.”

I chuckle. “I do find good things there.”

He holds up a hand, indicating the newly decorated bedroom. Right before the pandemic hit, I dropped more money than I care to admit—all on breathing life into this house.

It still feels like a prison.

“Maybe when this is over, we can move,” I muse. “Go to the coast.”

It’ll never happen. As much as we’ve sacrificed, as much as he’s suffered under the oath, Mercy will never walk away from his club. Since I won’t walk away from him, I’m stuck here, too.

Foolishly, I once thought that by letting DCF take my daughter, they’d save her from me and the club. Yet here we all are, back in this town, still tied to the River Reapers MC.

I frown. Until now, I never realized how much I resented the club.

“Sure,” Mercy drawls. “We could go to Maine.”

This is a new game. I move closer to him, closing my eyes and resting my head on his chest. “We could move to a small coastal town,” I murmur, each beat of his heart a soothing crash against my ears. I pretend it’s the sound of waves.

THE END

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Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Shelter in Place”

No one ever rang my bell. My apartment was damn near a no-fly zone, and I liked it that way. Keeping my head tilted, I listened for signs of life outside the door. It had to be a mistake.

“Shelter in Place”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

This short is NSFW-ish.

Beer Can

When the virus hit Connecticut, my old ass was stretched out in my recliner, filling in a Sudoku puzzle with good ol’ fashioned pencil and paper. I don’t fuck around with that app shit. I know there’s no truth to the whole 5G thing, but there are a lot of downsides to technology. I’ve never been a slave to anything; I refuse to be glued to my cell phone all day.

The governor came on to urge everyone to stay at home, and right as I rolled my eyes, my doorbell rang.

I sat up in the recliner, frowning. No one ever rang my bell. My apartment was damn near a no-fly zone, and I liked it that way. Keeping my head tilted, I listened for signs of life outside the door. It had to be a mistake.

But no. The ding-dong of a second ring rilled my apartment. Setting the puzzle aside, I worked my way out of the well worn chair—too broken-in to get out of easily, but perfectly formed for my body and nice long naps.

Yeah, some badass biker, I know.

“Hold on,” I called out, making my way to the front door. I unlocked the top and bottom locks, and swung it open. There was no one there. The bell rang again, and I headed toward the back porch. Unlocking the sliding glass door, I pushed aside the blinds and shoved it open. “Pru?” I gaped at the dancer from The Wet Mermaid standing on my deck.

“Special delivery,” she said, thrusting a box toward me.

“What’s this?” I stared at the box, making no move to take it from her.

“Mark ordered some merch but it came to my place by mistake.”

“Your place?” I blinked at her. “Why in the world would it come to your place?”

Steely blue eyes met mine. She shook the box at me.

“You . . . and Mark?” My eyebrows furrowed. Pru was young enough to be my granddaughter, if I had kids. I was also pretty sure she was exclusively into women. The name of her band was Cervical Caves, for Christ’s sake.

This old man couldn’t keep up.

“It was a one-time thing,” she said, inching closer with the box. “Mark said to drop it off at your place, since you’re closer to me.”

“Oh, it’s none of my business,” I said too late. “But what does he want me to do with this?”

The sliding glass door of the adjoining apartment scraped open. My neighbor and the street gossip, Mrs. Henry, poked her head out.

“You know what, dear, you better just come in.” I ushered Pru inside, giving Mrs. Henry a harsh look before closing up.

Pru set the box down on my kitchen table. We stood there, eyeing each other, unsure of how to act outside of the workplace.

Five weeks later, we still don’t really know how to act.

I sprawl in my recliner, Pru curled against me. We’re still connected, neither of us making any attempt to move.

“This is a one-time thing,” she says, for the thousandth time.

“Sure.” I stroke her back, soaking in her presence. Even though I used to appreciate the peace of living alone without visitors, I’m not sure I could’ve survived the last month without her. I’m still not sure how we went from sorting hoodies by size to kissing to undressing to fucking more times a day than I can count. Suddenly I’m like a teenager again, and I’m still unclear on Pru’s sexuality.

But maybe it’s as fluid as quarantine time, I don’t know. I’m just glad she chose to shelter in place with me.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

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River Reapers MC Series

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “More Than I Can Hold”

“When I’m dead and gone, I want to matter,” I say, my turn for confessions. This pandemic has turned me inward, put me more in tune with my emotions. Rather than cower from it, I’ve leaned into it.

“More Than I Can Hold”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

This short is NSFW.

Ravage

She lies with her head pillowed on my chest, strands of blonde streaked with gray and brown trailing across my skin. When she turns, her hair slips from my chest, leaving me cold in its wake.

“I feel trapped,” she admits with a sigh.

I can’t remember the last time Shannon was ever so still. We’ve been following social distancing protocol for weeks—before the governor even started signing executive orders. Many of Shannon’s clients have health issues, and some of our staff at The Wet Mermaid, too. Then there’s Olivia, living with her sister and newborn niece. If there’s one thing I can be proud of about myself, it’s that I take care of my family. I’d take a bullet for any of them—even if it was one of their fingers poised on the trigger.

Shannon would, too—that’s why she’s so restless.

“You’re not trapped,” I assure her, gathering her into my arms. I pull her into my chest, pressing her breasts to my skin, relishing the sensation. I’m not a religious or spiritual man, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but even the briefest of skin to skin contact with her is heaven. “You’re doing everything right,” I murmur into her ear, and kiss her lobe.

“I’m lying in bed while a skeleton version of my staff runs the house,” she says, brown eyes blinking rapidly.

I thumb away her tears. “Everyone is safe. That’s what matters—not how much you’re doing.”

Even as I say the words, I feel her frustration. While the virus sweeps through our state and country, with thousands of people dying, thousands more struggle financially. The Wet Mermaid—as much as people around town think it’s disgusting—gives Shannon’s clients, my club, and all of the staff we’ve accumulated over the years a living. The governor doesn’t see strip clubs as essential businesses, though, and as much as I’d like to strangle him for his lack of action and weird decisions, I know he’s right about that. A bar full of barely clothed women and horny patrons is hardly a safe environment.

Still, I worry, because that’s what I do. It makes me reconsider our business practices. We should be running something that will always be needed—like a grocery store.

I snort.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Harris?” Shannon’s fingers flutter back and forth between my nipples, and immediately my cock hardens.

Even after all these years, she’s the only woman I want, the only person I want to spend my life with.

I just have one regret.

“I’m picturing a bunch of bikers wearing grocery clerk vests,” I say, and haul her on top of me. I find her slick and ready against my shaft, and with slight rolls of each of our hips, we’re connected.

Her hair cascades over her breasts and I push it aside, closing my hands around her soft pink flesh. “Are you still thinking about bikers?” she asks.

“Nope.” I thrust up into her, watching her belly shudder with each stroke. I can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the possibilities gone and buried.

“Hey,” she says, stretching a hand out and cupping my face. “Where are you?”

“Sometimes I wish we had children,” I blurt, locking eyes with her. “Call me greedy, but I want more with you. I want a legacy.”

“Todd.” She stops moving, her brown eyes soft. “We’ve built a legacy. Olivia is as much ours as she is Mercy and Bree’s. And Cliff—we helped shape him, too. We have Shannon’s Place, the MC, The Wet Mermaid . . . And we have us. That’s enough for me. It’s everything.”

“When I’m dead and gone, I want to matter,” I say, my turn for confessions. This pandemic has turned me inward, put me more in tune with my emotions. Rather than cower from it, I’ve leaned into it.

“You matter to me,” Shannon says, leaning forward until our chests touch. She captures my lips with hers, wrapping them in her warmth. “You matter to your family—and it’s a big ass family.”

I laugh into her mouth. “It sure is.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her there on top of me, every inch of us connected, my awareness stretching, encompassing every single one of them—my family. I never knew it was possible to hold so much love in my heart, certainly not for a nobody who served in the military, did time, and took over his club when shit hit the fan. Yet this life turned on a dime and gave me things I learned to appreciate. I’ll never take them for granted again.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

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River Reapers MC Series

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “One Way or Another”

I’m not afraid of anything. I’m Abraham, member of the River Reapers MC. I haven’t earned my Sludge Specter patch yet, but I’ve proven my worth through the years. I’m the only one who voted nay who stayed. That should count for something.

“One Way or Another”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Abraham

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I tell him, with an adamant shake of my head. “You’re not going.”

Rui tilts his head, giving me his look. The look—the one that says “Silly boy.” Usually it’s accompanied by a smirk, but this time, there’s a hint of annoyance. “My shift starts in twenty minutes,” he says with a placating smile. “I’ve got to go, Abe.”

I consider my options. I could lift him over my shoulder, handcuff his ass to the bed, and be done with it. I could sweet talk him into staying, using kisses and nuzzles to melt away his decision. Or I could tell him exactly how I feel—expressing feelings, with my words.

I don’t do that shit, though. I never have. I learned early on that feeling anything could get someone like me killed, or at least beat up in every schoolyard, bathroom, cafeteria . . . Name it, I’ve had my ass handed to me in that spot. Then I discovered lifting, protein, good hair products, and the art of keeping my feelings to myself, and everything changed.

Things with Rui are different, though. Things are finally good for me—for the most part. I’m with a man who loves me, and my MC accepts that. At least, on the surface. Not a single one of them have ever said or done anything to make me think otherwise, but I know they don’t approve of me. It’s all because of that God damn vote.

If I’d known that a nay from decades ago would haunt my ass into the future, I’d have just voted yea. At the time, though, I truly believed that Mercy and Ravage were making a run for President and VP. We all believed that, because it was easier to swallow than the truth.

Kind of like right now.

“Baby, please don’t make this any harder than it is,” Rui says. He straightens his N95 mask, which obscures most of his face from me, except for his gentle brown eyes. Those eyes plead with me to understand.

I can’t.

“You’re being reckless,” I say, my volume increasing. I’ve never been able to control how loud I am, especially when I’m emotional. There are too many emotions boiling over right now.

“I’m going where I’m needed,” he soothes.

“You’re going to get sick.” I slash a hand through the air. “Don’t you watch the news?” I flick a glance toward the TV, which I haven’t turned off since this whole thing started.

Rui sighs. “Are you afraid something is going to happen to me?”

I burn at the word “afraid.” I’m not afraid of anything. I’m Abraham, member of the River Reapers MC. I haven’t earned my Sludge Specter patch yet, but I’ve proven my worth through the years. I’m the only one who voted nay who stayed. That should count for something.

“Baby,” Rui croons. “The hospital still has plenty of PPE. We’re not short. We’re testing everyone who comes into the ED. Our caseload is low, compared to the rest of the state. I’m in the safest place.”

“The safest place is here,” I said, “or on the maternity floor, or anywhere else. Not the fucking ICU, Rui. Why would you volunteer to go straight into the shit?”

“Because I’m a nurse,” he says, his soft tone only amplifying my gruff shouts. “I don’t want to look back and say I played it safe. I want to tell our kids—maybe even our grandkids—that I did something, that I mattered.”

“Kids?” I repeat.

“Kids.” His eyes crinkle, and I figure he’s smiling.

I’m not.

“I don’t want kids, Rui. I want us both to be safe. I want us to matter more to you than what people think.”

He blinks. “It’s not about what people think. It’s about what I think of myself. I can’t sleep at night, knowing every day at work I’m spared. It’s not fair.”

“You’re per diem,” I insist. “You’re not obligated to do anything.”

He sighs. “Abe, we’ve been going around and around this for days. Maybe you’re worried that you don’t matter, but this isn’t about you. This is about the difference I can make. Now let me go. I’ve got a twelve-hour shift ahead of me, and this mask is already making me tired.”

I realize I’m standing in front of the door, my limbs spread like tentacles. All of the tension drains from my body. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” I whisper. “Without you, I don’t even know if I’m real.”

“You’re real,” he assures me. He steps into me, and my arms wind around him of their own accord.

“I think the quarantine is getting to me.”

“I think you’re scared and you just don’t want to admit it.” He moves my hair out of my face and, standing on the balls of his feet, presses a kiss to my collarbone. “I’m scared too, Abe. But I’m not going to just freeze. This is my way of fighting back.”

I nod, tell him I understand. I just wish I had a way to fight back. I let him go, watching him walk out of our apartment and hoping he hasn’t made a deadly mistake. He’s probably right, that my own insecurities are getting to me.

I love my club.

Even though they all hate me, even though they don’t bother to hide their suspicions. One vote and all trust is lost. I made a mistake. It’s time to prove to my brothers that I can be trusted, that even though I loved Bastard, I was wrong about him. Once this pandemic is done and over with, we can finally move on—one way or another.

I grin into the gloom.

I will fix this.

THE END

Get More

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

Click here!

River Reapers MC Series

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Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Tigers and Twin Flames”

I hate it, because that means I was wrong.

It might even mean I was wrong to fuck up my engagement, that I was wrong to wait to tell my daughter’s father that I was pregnant.

“Tigers and Twin Flames”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Lucy

“They cancelled it?!” my cousin—a biker who towers over everyone, swinging his scarred fists at his sides—exclaims. As if he’s never heard of a TV station cancelling a show before.

I shrug. “That’s what this website says.”

His brown eyes narrow. “But it was such a smart show. And now I’ll never know what happens.”

“Sorry, dude.” I fight a smile.

“A better question,” Olivia says, standing and stretching, “is what the hell are we gonna watch now?”

I glance from my adopted sister at the clock. It’s four in the morning. Time has no meaning for us anymore. We’ve been on quarantine time—and so is my infant daughter, lucky for all of us.

Olivia plunks herself into Cliff’s lap and I stiffen—only slightly. No one would ever even notice. It’s not that I don’t approve. We might be family in various, weird ways, but they aren’t actually related. My feelings about them are the complete opposite.

They were meant to be.

They’re twin flames, written in the stars, the stuff that tarot card readers and romance novel junkies are obsessed with. And I take it personally, because I don’t believe in that shit. At least . . . I didn’t. Not until I saw them together for the first time. They’d only just met, yet it was like they were reuniting, the way they stepped into place with each other and just kept walking. Whether either of them knows it or not, they’re head over heels in love.

And I hate it, because that means I was wrong.

It might even mean I was wrong to fuck up my engagement, that I was wrong to wait to tell my daughter’s father that I was pregnant. Even worse, it might mean that I was right, that Benjamin and I just didn’t have that spark. I loved him, and he loved me, but love isn’t always enough.

Olivia scrolls through Netflix, shaking her head every time she lands on a title.

“Seen it,” Cliff says, nuzzling into her neck.

I fight the urge to vomit.

Again, not because I think they’re gross. I mean, they kind of are. I scowl.

“What’s wrong, Luce?” he asks, lifting his nose and lips from my sister’s neck.

I breathe a sigh of relief. It comes out more like a sigh of frustration. “It’s just that we’ve finished Netflix,” I say, glancing at the clock again. “And we have a whole day ahead of us.”

“Well,” Olivia says, dragging out the word. “We haven’t seen everything.”

“Tiger King,” Cliff says, snapping his fingers. “Come on, Luce. We have to.”

“No fucking way.” I cross my arms. “I’ve heard all I need to know. A bunch of animal-abusing narcissists running around? No thank you.”

“I heard the same things,” he says, “but I also heard that it’s laugh out loud, outrageously hilarious. It’s got something for everyone.”

Olivia starts counting off the fingers on her hand. “Redneck gay zookeeper,” she says, holding up a finger. “Polygamy with straight meth addicts. Murder—there’s murder. We love murder.” She grins, her wide smile spreading.

I shake my head. “Of which I know nothing about,” I say loudly. Because I don’t. I can never, ever get involved with their club. It’s bad enough I know they sell drugs behind the bar, and that sometimes they sell guns. It’s also bad enough that my past is tied directly to their other dealings. Whether I agree with it or not, it’s saved my life and countless other lives.

So it’s better that I don’t know.

“Tiger King,” Cliff chants, and Olivia joins him.

It’s so weird to see the two of them this carefree. I mean, Olivia has always been loose in one way or another. She’s always marched to the pulse of her hot blood, straight to wherever her passion carries her. I’ve always been the careful one, forever playing it straight, never taking risks.

Cliff once took a huge risk for me, sacrificing most of his life. I guess the least I can do is loosen up and watch the stupid tiger show with these two fools.

That doesn’t mean I’ll be breaking any other rules. I don’t believe in love, even though it’s literally right in my face.

The only love I believe in is the love for family. That kind of love is forever.

THE END

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

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River Reapers MC Series

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River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles: “Another Terrifying Prospect”

I never set out to be a father. When I met Esther, I had no idea there were three little girls attached to her. As soon as I realized how important she was to me, she revealed her sisters—three of the most important people in her life, and so, by extension, in mine. There’s an elegant, furious energy to these four creatures I live with. But this pandemic has me doubting everything I once knew.

“Another Terrifying Prospect”
A River Reapers MC Short Story

Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.

Donny

Three nearly identical faces glare back at me in defiance, chins lifted, brown eyes blazing, lips quivering. The smallest face—the one that belongs to the five-year-old who used to be my partner in crime—screws up, readying a scream to be unleashed.

“I wanna go to the park!” Ximena screeches, the remainder of her baby fat rippling as she shakes her arms.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the impending headache. This is how it’s been for the past few weeks. At first, we made it fun. Esther and I set up tents in the backyard, roasted marshmallows with the girls in a brand new fire pit we built together, and slept under the stars.

“Jimmy,” I say, opening my eyes and keeping my voice low and calm. She slams her fists against the table, a boom boom boom in protest, the breakfast silverware jumping against plates. The little girl ignores me, because of course she does. Why on Earth would she listen to me—a man—in the middle of the second traumatic event of her short life?

I never set out to be a father. When I met Esther, I had no idea there were three little girls attached to her. As soon as I realized how important she was to me, she revealed her sisters—three of the most important people in her life, and so, by extension, in mine. Usually, I take it all in stride: the tantrums (Jimmy), the screaming matches (Cierra and Abril, who are fourteen and eleven, so there will always be fighting), and the estrogen pool I live in. Not gonna lie, I kinda love it. There’s an elegant, furious energy to these four creatures I live with. But this pandemic has me doubting everything I once knew.

I’m a warrior. I’m not meant to sit tight in my castle, surrounded by unhappy women, my hands and guns useless while the virus rages outside, sweeping away life as we knew it.

I can’t fix this. I can’t make the park safe, keep my girls in a bubble. We’ve stayed home since before the executive orders. Esther’s grandparents are high risk, and we’re their only access to groceries and prescriptions. Safety became our religion before the governor’s ink even dried. But the girls don’t understand it. The only thing they understand is their usually cool resident male says no a lot, and their oldest sister does, too.

Maybe we haven’t said no enough.

It’s hard to tell them anything other than yes after what they’ve been through. I look at these girls and even though I’m annoyed by Jimmy’s still pounding fists, all I feel is the overwhelming urge to protect them. It’s a daily cracking open of my chest, a widening of my heart, exposed and willing to take a bullet for them—even if it was one of them holding the gun. It’s fucking terrifying, especially knowing that Esther wants a child of our own someday.

I want it too, more than anything. I want the whole package with Esther—another terrifying prospect. She whirled into my life and blew the dust off me, sifted through my contents until she memorized every word, and then put her hand in mine and led me into her heart. I never stood a chance.

She pads into the kitchen, casting a stern look at Ximena and then softening when her gaze lands on me. “Just another morning,” she quips, settling onto my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Ay, ew,” Cierra says, and Abril joins her chorus.

Grinning, I encircle Esther in my arms, plunking a big wet kiss on her forehead, then a soft kiss on her nose. Zeroing in on her lips, I engulf them with mine, giving the girls more reasons to groan and gag. Except it doesn’t take long before those turn into giggles, and soon we’re all laughing, because even in the worst of times, love can turn a mood around.

THE END

Get More

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

Click here!

River Reapers MC Series

Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

Read for FREE with BookFunnel | Order a Signed Paperback

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. Here are all the shorts in the mini series!

    1. “Zoom This” (Olivia)
    2. “Something Real” (Vaughn)
    3. “The Most Badass Thing” (Skid)
    4. “This Whole Time” (Stixx)
    5. “Another Terrifying Prospect” (Donny)
    6. “Tigers and Twin Flames” (Lucy)
    7. “One Way or Another” (Abraham)
    8. “More Than I Can Hold” (Ravage) | NSFW
    9. “Shelter in Place” (Beer Can) | NSFW
    10. “The Sound of Waves” (Bree)
    11. “A Sense of Purpose” (Mark)

Get More

River Reapers MC Quarantine Chronicles

Get a FREE short every Monday, plus immediately receive the standalone spinoff novella, Her Mercy.

Click here!

River Reapers MC Series

Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited | Order a Signed Paperback

Read for FREE with BookFunnel | Order a Signed Paperback