A Risky Prospect (River Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 2) Read online

  A Risky Prospect

  River Reapers MC, Book 2

  Elizabeth Barone

  Contents

  A Risky Prospect

  Foreword

  Trigger Warnings

  While You Read

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Wanna Know If Mercy Finds Bree?

  Body Count

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Elizabeth Barone

  A Risky Prospect

  Brash social worker Olivia has been through her own personal hell and come out the other side, tattered but determined to make things better in her corrupt town—no matter the cost. Her roommate's current situation is the perfect place to start.

  When ex-con Cliff's wild ol' lady Olivia comes to him and the River Reapers for help, he's on board. His vigilante motorcycle club can get the job done, and it'll help convince Olivia to take the next step in their relationship.

  But when Olivia's traumatic past walks through the club's doors, there's no stopping her from doing whatever it takes to settle her own score. Even if it means crossing a line that Cliff might not be able to pull her back from.

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  For me.

  Foreword

  A Risky Prospect was the hardest book I’ve ever written. I took two “men” who hurt me, mashed them into one character, and used Olivia, Cliff, and the River Reapers to help me process those traumas.

  Some of the themes in this book might make some people uncomfortable, and may even be triggering for people with personal trauma. I’ve made a list of potential trigger warnings that I’m including here.

  For the sake of realism, I’ve depicted biker culture from my own experience and understanding. Although that culture and its attitudes toward women is changing, it has a long way to go. My goal for this book and its subsequent series is to help change that mentality.

  Trigger Warnings

  I 1,000% stand behind A Risky Prospect. I wrote this book for me. I took two “men” who hurt me, merged them into one character, and then got my revenge. However, I realize that this book isn’t for everyone. It might not make sense to a lot of people. But to me—and maybe for some of you who have survived hell, too—this book is everything.

  However, I’d never want my words to set someone else’s healing back, so I’ve put together a list of triggers so that you don’t walk in blindly. I can’t count how many fluffy romances I picked up only to find themes I wasn’t mentally prepared for. When you have PTSD or something else you struggle with, being equipped is an essential tool in your recovery.

  Here are the potential triggers.

  Drug and Alcohol Use: Some characters use drugs and drink alcohol.

  Childhood Sexual Assault: Several characters have a history of being molested as children.

  Guns and Violence: My vigilante bikers use guns to fight the bad guys, as well as other violent means of taking out the trash.

  PTSD from Rape: A character experiences flashbacks, anxiety, and other symptoms of PTSD due to being raped by an ex-boyfriend.

  Sexual Revenge: A character goes Full Dark, No Stars and a little The Girl with the Dragon Tattoos and gets their revenge.

  If you feel that you won’t be safe reading A Risky Prospect, please don’t risk your health. As a rape survivor and someone with PTSD, I wish many books came with a list of trigger warnings. No book is worth your well-being.

  Please also note that I don’t necessarily condone or endorse the themes contained in this book. I do, however, wish it was legal to kill rapists.

  If you’ve read A Risky Prospect and feel that I may have missed something, please email me at [email protected].

  While You Read

  Recap of A Disturbing Prospect

  Glossary of Biker Slang and Terms

  Character Guide

  Playlist

  1

  Olivia

  The fabric of my dress tears as Cliff yanks the top down to free my breasts. The ripping sound cuts through the air, loud enough that I swear everyone in the vicinity probably heard it. The vicinity being the River Reapers' club house.

  I always wanted sex so good, clothing had to be ripped. It's a shame that my graduation dress is collateral damage.

  Cliff thrusts into me, oblivious to the heat spreading through my cheeks. He wraps one hand around my breast, his other hand caressing my ribs, crossing my stomach, traveling down, down, down, until the pad of his thumb rests on my favorite nerve. As he gives it one quick stroke—like he's plucking a note on a guitar, checking to make sure it's tuned properly—my back arches and I forget that the whole club can hear us, that we just ripped my graduation dress. I fade into him, as in sync with another person as I'll ever be.

  There's something about him that absorbs me without erasing me. We orbit each other, a symbiotic relationship. Especially when his hands are on me and he's inside of me.

  My hips match his pace, his hand rubbing over my nipple, giving my breast just the right amount of squeeze, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. Without me ever saying so, Cliff instinctively knows the key to me coming with him is his giant hands on my chest. He's attentive like that.

  I'm close, so close I feel like I'm dying. Every woman knows this agony: when you're right on the edge but not quite there yet. I'm burning alive from the inside out with his match igniting me.

  "Close?" he asks, voice rough. It's always deep and smoky, a rasp that sends shivers through me and makes me wet.

  I nod, forgoing words to focus all of my concentration into the final rub he gives me before moving both hands to my breasts. I moan. As long as he keeps doing that, I'll be more than close. This one's gonna be one of those firework shows, the kind that leaves me slightly dizzy, staring at the ceiling.

  Except the sharp rap of knuckles on Cliff's door yanks me right out of my happy place and reminds me of why I can't focus in the first place.

  "Olivia!" my roommate, Esther, calls. "We're gonna be late. Vamonos!"

>   It's the day I've been working toward for the past four years. In just a couple hours, I'll officially be a social worker. Esther, too.

  "Oh, shit," Cliff says. He pulls out, but just as his crown brushes my clit, he shudders and lets go. The hot pulse takes me with him, a mini spark instead of the fireworks I'd hoped for, but I'll take it.

  I lay back with a smile.

  "Shit," he growls. "I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry?" I laugh. "I'm pretty sure this is my fault."

  "I'm the one who grabbed your ass," he says as he pads away from the bed and ducks into the bathroom.

  I sit up on my elbows. "I'm the one who wasn't wearing any panties."

  Esther pounds harder. "Let's go," she calls, drawing out the two words. To think, a few months ago, my bookish roommate was the one dragging her ass, making me play time games so neither of us were ever late. Now she's in a rush.

  I glance down at my ruined dress and sigh. It's not too big a deal, considering no one's going to see it under my gown anyway. But still. I kinda liked it.

  "I'll get you a new one," Cliff says, handing me a washcloth.

  "I should punish you by just wearing my gown and nothing else." I clean up as quickly as possible, then start hunting through his dresser for something else to wear. I don't stay overnight with him in the club house often, but this winter I learned to keep extra clothing stashed in as many places as possible.

  A girl never knows when she's going to get dirty.

  Or bloody.

  I slip out of the remains of my dress and tug on the romper.

  Cliff groans.

  "What?"

  Instead of telling me, he closes the space between us and touches my hard nipples through the fabric. "You're killing me," he whispers, and I'm immediately wet again.

  "I'm leaving!" Esther threatens.

  "I liked her better when she was quiet," I tell Cliff, grabbing my clutch bag. "Donny is a bad influence."

  He chuckles. "And vice versa. Donny was as cold as ice. I saw him smile the other day, and Esther wasn't even in the room."

  "Please kill me if I ever change for a guy."

  His eyes drop from mine as he picks up his keys. He shrugs into his cut without a word. I wish I could have a moment to run my fingers over the stitching where the arms would be on a normal leather jacket, feel the silky patches and rocker that make him a member of the River Reapers. That make him a Sludge Specter. I pull the door open and come face to face with Esther.

  "Ready?" I ask her.

  She gives me a look—a death glare that is all Esther and zero percent Donny—and flounces away in her cornflower blue sundress and white canvas sneakers, the color and the dress complimenting and accentuating her long, dark legs.

  I roll my eyes at my pale legs, mottled with scars and bruises. There's also the scar at my hairline.

  Cliff catches my hand, drawing me in for a kiss. His warm lips touch mine for a full second, then he pulls back. "See you there," he says.

  Nodding, I leave Cliff's room and the other club rooms, heading toward the stairs that'll take me down into The Wet Mermaid, the MC's strip club and my place of employment. For now, anyway. After graduation, it'll be a whirlwind of state job interviews and shopping for business casual.

  I make my way through the club, my brothers in leather nodding at me and raising their glasses. Girls spin on the poles, and Vaughn mixes drinks behind the bar. Good thing it's not anyone else. I don't know where Mark—my boss and the MC's treasurer—finds some of these girls. They can't tell top shelf vodka from bottom.

  As I exit the club, the heat hits me like a wall, humidity wrapping around me and wrecking what was left of my hair. Gotta love New England weather—it always jumps straight from winter into summer.

  I spot Esther's car, but she's not in it. Glancing around, I scan the parking lot. Two minutes ago she couldn't hold her horses, and now she's nowhere to be found. Typical fucking Esther. Scowling, I grab a cigarette from my clutch and light up. At this rate, Cliff and Donny will be at the campus before we are.

  A sob cuts through the thick air, and I whip around. I know that voice. I've heard my roommate cry at Finding Dory. I follow the sound, my fingers closed around the handle of the knife in my clutch. I don't go anywhere without it.

  Rounding the corner of the building, I nearly crash into Esther, who's sagged against the wall, her ass on the ground, knees drawn to her chest. Her shoulders shake and her limp hand loosely holds her phone. Her face is dry, but her chest rises and falls in rapid breaths. She gasps for air, and I drop to my knees in front of her, taking her hands.

  "Esther? What's wrong?"

  2

  Cliff

  "Everything good?" I lean into Mark's office, gripping the doorway.

  He nods from his desk. "Don't you worry your pretty, grizzled—" He glances up and the words cut off. "Face," he finishes, blinking at me.

  I run a hand over where my beard used to be. Now there's just a chin strap—a short beard accenting my jawline. I even let Abraham trim my hair—a little bit. Just enough to keep it healthy.

  He whistles. "Tell me she didn't make you do that."

  "Yeah right."

  Olivia likes my beard, as long as I don't let my mustache get too out of control. She says it pokes her in the nose when we kiss. I've let it all grow out so long, I don't know any different.

  Today is a special occasion, though.

  More than just Olivia's graduation.

  "Well, you look good, son," Mark says, eyeing my black jeans, black T-shirt, and the cut I hardly ever take off. That piece of leather marks me as a River Reaper until the day I die. "Just don't change anything else, or I won't recognize you."

  "You worry about tonight, and I'll worry about my personal grooming." I fish out a cigarette and light up, then hold out the pack to him.

  He waves it away. "We're all set. The band playing, Oh Vile Eye, will be here to set up around four. Bar's stocked. Caterer starts setting up at three. I think that's everything. I've never thrown a graduation party before."

  "How about the cake?" I suck in a long hit of nicotine.

  "Beer Can was all over that. Let's just hope it says 'Congratulations, Olivia,' and everything's spelled right. He was a little lit when he put in the order."

  "It's gotta have Esther's name on it, too, brother," I say, glancing into the club behind me. "Donny'll slit all our balls off if we forget her."

  "I'll check on it." He lifts the phone out of its cradle, then puts it back down. "You good for this afternoon?"

  I bow my head, moving it back and forth to work the kinks out of my neck. "No, but there's no helping it. I've done all I can."

  "Including making yourself look like a twelve-year-old boy." He laughs, getting even louder as I thumb the strip running down from my lower lip to my chin.

  A hand clasps my shoulder. "We're out of here," Donny says.

  "A'ight." I point my cigarette at Mark. "Check that icing." Turning, I fall into step with Donny.

  "That soul patch is making you bossy," Mark calls after me.

  I shake my head and make my way through the club, Donny at my elbow. "You got plans after?" I ask him. We break through the doors and into the heat. It's going to be a bitch riding in this weather.

  "Nah," he says, striding toward our bikes. He straddles his and straps his helmet on. "Essie's having lunch with her grandparents, and I ain't ready for that shit yet."

  "I hear you." I hold my helmet in my hands, bike between my legs. I'm not ready to meet the parents, either. Meeting Olivia's means facing my aunt and uncle for the first time in twenty years. I'll have Lucy there as a buffer, but that won't make things much easier. While I was away, they adopted Olivia, and that complicates our already tense relationship now.

  "Why are the girls still here?" Donny nods toward Esther's car.

  I follow his gaze. It's empty. No sign of Olivia or Esther. "No idea."

  Dismounting, I pull my phone from my pocket. I glare at
it before typing in my password with a thumb. Ever since the last update, the thing's been acting like a Y2K crash test dummy. Texts show up out of order. Calls don't go through—either in or out. For a smartphone, it's pretty fucking useless.

  I punch in Olivia's number and hit the call button.

  "Walking fuckin' phone book, right here." Donny grins.

  "Faster than scrolling through," I tell him. Olivia's phone rings and rings, but she doesn't pick up. "Jesus Christ."

  Donny and I exchange glances.

  "Should we go to the campus? Or just say 'fuck it' and have a beer?"

  "Esther was in a hurry," I say.

  "I know," he agrees, "which is why I kinda don't wanna know." He gives me a pointed look.

  "Amen to that, brother."

  With those two, it could be anything. Especially Olivia. I reach for my beard, then remember it's gone. I grab another cigarette instead.