Page 2 of Reaper's Claim

I poured Gitz—his real name Brad—another stiff shot. He, unlike everyone else, wasn’t into the roaring party that Dad held for a visiting charter gang. He hadn’t left the bar, and he hadn’t stopped pushing his empty glass back to me, either.

Gitz was in his early twenties; he swore a lot and slept with a lot of the club women, but one called Lilly always had his attention. She had left the previous week, and even though Gitz had voted against it, Dad let her leave the club after seven years of service.

Club women are owned by the club and, like the bikers, they are sworn in. Unlike the bikers, though, they aren’t given respect and are usually referred to as club pussy.

I guessed that was why Gitz drank so heavily and ignored the party around him. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he liked Lilly, and it was his stupid pride that stopped him from claiming her as his old lady. From what Lilly told me, that was part of the reason she left.

“Abby, sweetheart!” Dad slammed his beer down on the counter, his face red and flushed with excitement. “Ya need a break, darling?”

Bartending was not where I saw my life heading, but I didn’t fight it. “No, Dad, I’m fine.” I flashed him a smile, refilled Gitz’s drink, and then pulled a few beers out of the fridge.

“Have a break, sweetheart; you’ve been filling Gitz’s drink all day now.” Dad waved his drunken hand for me to leave and not wanting to get into an argument, I stepped out of the way and let another guy, Tom, 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 the ‘Roach’ that everyone knew my father as.

I weaved my way through the crowds until my hand landed on the back door and I stepped outside into the fresh air.

The dimly-lit alleyway was centered between the pub and the 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 headed up the alley when I heard the back door open behind me.

I turned around, interested. 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.

Reaper

A drunken man has a happy soul—my dad brought me up believing that, and there I was, twenty years old, staggering out of the back door of the clubhouse.The Mother Charter knows how to throw a welcome party.

I leaned against a rubbish bin, trying very hard to keep the booze down, when I heard a scream. Glancing around the darkened backyard, I couldn’t see anything out of place. Then I heard the scream again followed by a hushed conversation. The thumping music from the clubhouse and loud roar of drunken men muffled the sounds, and I couldn’t be sure if it was my drunken mind playing tricks on me.

Placing one hand on the wall, I followed it around until I reached the end of the pub. She screamed and slammed her tiny fists on the man’s shoulder. I blinked away the drunken blur that was creeping across my vision, fighting not to pass out.

“I’m not Kim!” she yelled, frantic, and continued to hit him.

The more she moved, the more she was trapped. He had her pinned against the wall, rubbing himself against her. He wasn’t interested in what she was saying, and I knew there was only one thing going through his mind.

I took a step back and thought to back away completely—it wasn’t my place to get in the way—but found myself moving towards them.

“Get off, Trigger!” she yelled. The terror and panic in her voice coated each word.

“Oi!” I screamed down the alley, and I knew he would have heard me, but being the drunken prick he was, he ignored me. “You heard her. Get off her!”

Trigger got his name because he was always the first to pull the bloody thing. He was a full-on dick, and we had been in numerous punch-ups.

“Fuck off, Reaper. This is between me and my girlfriend.” Rage spread across Trigger’s face as he spat the words at me.

Although the Brother’s Code was to never get in the way of another brother’s dick, I took one step closer to him, giving him plenty of warning. “She’s not into it. Now back the fuck off.”

Temper control wasn’t my strong point, and the alcohol fueled my rage. I glanced at the girl; she was terrified, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“I’m not fucking Kim,” she yelled in his face and pushed him again with all her strength, but it didn’t even move him.

She was weak, small, and after taking a second glance, it was apparent that she was young, too.

I warned him; he didn’t listen. I let my temper get the best of me, moved forward, and grabbed him by the back of the neck. “Did ya not fucking hear me? I said get the fuck off her!” Grabbing his collar, I threw him backward, ripping his flirty hands off her.

He fumed. I could nearly see the steam coming out of his ears. I baited him with my eyes, wanting him to charge at me—nothing like a fight over a woman—though, in this case, it might be a girl.

“Whatever.” He glanced at her, his eyes scorching. “I’ll fuck you later, Kim.”

I watched him stagger off, bastard of a VP he was. Prez actually had respect for that little shit.