Thank you for your continued interest and support. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.
MERCEDES CONT"D
Braylon was a fantastic kid, but his mouth didn't have an off switch. As such, Sam had gotten him a little DVD player that strapped to the back of the passenger seat and plugged into the car.
Combined with Star Wars headphones and four new movies, the trip was already a thousand times more tolerable.
Speaking of...we were now nine hours into said trip, just leaving Twin Falls, Idaho.
It was still early, but I was wondering if at some point, we would make a rest stop and bunk for the night.
I waited until Sam's fingers stopped clenching the steering wheel so hard they'd turned white, before I opened the conversation.
"We need to talk."
He glanced towards me.
"Never good words, coming from a woman."
"I'm sorry if it's not convenient," I replied, rolling my eyes. "But we've got to figure some things out. At least, I need to figure some things out. First...are you planning on stopping for the night? Or are you gonna keep driving? If yes to the last question...I can take over for a while and let you have some rest. But either way is fine with me..."
Silence...
"Sam..."
"I heard. Not sure what I'll do yet. You think Bray would be alright if we went ahead instead of stopping for the night?"
"He'll be fine. He's a tough kid. Anyway, I can drive for a bit..."
"We'll see." He reached back and rubbed his shoulder with one hand. "Shit, I'm all knotted up here. That's what I get for driving all goddamned night last night."
I ignored the comment. But what I really wanted to say was...
"All the more reason to stop...or let me drive for a while."
I didn't. I just pushed ahead...
"Secondly...what's the plan once we're back in Colorado?"
"You're moving into my basement," he said.
"I know the basement part," I continued. "But I'm going to have to figure some other things out, too. Bray needs to get registered for school. It starts a week from tomorrow back home. Do you know when it starts in Colorado?"
"No idea," he replied.
"Do you know what school he'll be going to?"
"Nope."
"Did you think about schools at all?"
"I didn't think about anything other than getting him safe and hurting the fuckers who nearly killed him. That's fixed, so from here on out you're in charge."
"Oo-kay. I'll take care of school. The next thing to worry about is a job. You have any idea what the market is like right now?"
"Nope," Sam said again.
"You're not the most helpful person, you know that?"
"It's not like I planned this, babe," he replied. "I got a phone call last night, I called Stud for backup and we left. That's it. I haven't had time to do a damned thing since then. If I'd known about this shit ahead of time, I would've hurt the fuckers preemptively. I'm doin' this on the fly, Mercedes."
I felt my snark die. He was right.
Again...which wasn't fair.
Sam was always right. It didn't make any sense, because so far as I could tell he lived life without a second thought for the future.
Me...I scrimped and saved and planned and worked, yet I still couldn't get any traction.
"I might be able to arrange something for you with the club," he said.
I looked at him and frowned.
"I appreciate all you've done for me and Bray," I said slowly. "I even appreciate what you and Stud did earlier. And I don't even care that it was a crime. But that's where I stop, Sam. I don't want to get involved in any more illegal things. I won't be your drug runner or whatever..."
He burst out laughing.
"Jesus, Mercedes..." he said. "What the hell do you think I do all day? Hell, my life's not even close to that interesting."
I had no idea what to say.
"I'm a gunsmith and security expert," he continued, shaking his head. "This shouldn't be a surprise to you, seeing as I've wired up your apartments over and over. I spend most of my time repairing firearms in a perfectly legal shop the club runs. I also design and install custom security systems on the side, 'cause I get off on that shit. There's a lotta rich fuckers with summer homes on the lake. All of them need security and I'm more than happy to take their money."
"Wait...they let a motorcycle gang run a gun shop?" I asked, startled. "I didn't know that part. I'll bet the cops love that."
"First, we're a club, not a gang," he said. "And the store is technically owned by one guy, who's been a brother for fifteen years. I apprenticed with him. But we all pitch in. It's a group effort. And having him hold the deed makes the paperwork easier, given the type of business."
"So this gun shop is one hundred percent above the table?" I asked skeptically. "And people actually pay you to install their security. Aren't they afraid you'll be the one breaking in?"
"Not funny. And I'm damned good at what I do," he replied. "I'm not exactly forcing anyone to hire me, either. If you want to see the gun shop, come check it out. Check out any of the businesses."
"You have more than one?"
"We've got a strip club, a pawnshop and a garage," he said. "A lot of the guys work in those, but we got civilian employees, too."
"And what do you see me doing, if I worked for the Collectors?" I asked, considering the strip club.
"I don't know what we need," he said, shrugging. "I'm not even sure there's an opening. We'll have to check and see. But it'd be good for you. The club's got health care plans and shit."
"So you guys don't do anything illegal? It's all legitimate?"
"You think I'd tell you if we were doing something illegal?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Um, no?"
He laughed.
"Exactly! So it doesn't really matter what I tell you anyway, because you wouldn't believe it. Club business is for club members. And seeing as you're not a member, it's not your problem. All you need to know is I'm trying to help you here. If there's a job you're qualified for, it'll be yours. If not, no big deal."
No big deal. Was he kidding?
"Sam, don't take this personally, but I don't want to work for your club at all, even if there's an opening," I replied. "You know I've never wanted anything to do with the Collectors. You and Stud helped me and I appreciate it, but nothing's changed. I don't agree with your lifestyle. And I don't want Bray around your friends, either. I just don't think it's a good environment for a child."
"You've never even met them. Kinda judgmental, don't you think?"
"Maybe," I said, looking away. "But I'm going to do the best I can for my son. And hanging out with a bunch of criminals isn't part of that. I don't believe for a minute that there isn't something shady going on with you guys."
Sam's hands tightened on the steering wheel. Great. Now I'd insulted him.
"Considering your folks haven't talked to you in seven years, your son's father needs a restraining order, and you can't hold down a job or provide for your child, seems to me like you aren't in a position to be calling us anything," he told me, his voice tight.
Friendly Sam was gone...
"Lots of things happen at the clubhouse," he said. "Some of those things run deep, no question. Might even scare you. But I'll tell you one thing. When one of our own is in trouble, we don't kick them out in the street. Which is more than I can say about your daddy. He's the model citizen and we're the criminals. But if shit goes down, I can count on my brothers. You got anyone you can say that about? Besides me? Because deep down in my heart, in my guts, in my fucking DNA, I'm a Collector, Mercedes. Still sure we ain't good enough for you?"
I caught my breath, hating how my eyes filled with moisture.
Bringing up my folks was a cheap shot.
I tried to ignore the tears, refusing to blink and let them fall. Then my nose started running and I sniffed.
"That was low, Sam."
"That's true, I'll give you that. But if you wanna get all high and mighty, you need to find another target. Your ass is gettin' saved by me. And behind me stands the club. If you were with the Collectors, Bray would be surrounded by adults who care about him. There are lots of kids in the club, Merce. And they go home when things get wild. But lemme tell you...if something like this had happened in Colorado to one of our kids, I'd have to fight my brothers for the privilege of killing whoever did it. That's family, Mercedes. And Bray could use some of that family around him."
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Then don't talk," he replied. "But listen up. I get that you don't want to be part of club life. Don't worry. I'm not gonna force the point, because if you're gonna be a stuck-up bitch I wouldn't want you around them anyway."
"Stop it!"
"Shut the fuck up and listen!" he snapped. "This is important. Love the club or hate the club, you need to be aware of a few things, because they're part of your reality now. The asshole that upset Bray, you saw the ink on his back, right?"
"Yes," I replied, wishing him straight to hell.
"It's called a back patch," he continued. "It's his club colors, right on his skin. Club colors are what we wear on our cuts...our vests. We call them rags, too...and they say a lot about a man. In this case, those colors said he was part of the Black Devils. There are a lotta MCs out there, good and bad, but the Devils are one of the worst. Collectors and Devils are enemies. Things worked out this time, but if you run into a guy with colors like that again, you need to tell me. I'll still go after him, but I'll call in more backup first. This morning it all worked out as I've said. Next time it might not. You got me?"
I shrugged, looking away. But Sam growled in frustration.
"I don't think you get me, Merce," he said. "Let me tell you a little story. Got a brother named Deck, down in the Portland chapter. He's got a niece named Marcy...his old lady's sister's kid. She had jack shit to do with the Collectors, by the way. Anyway, Marcy went off to college down in northern Cali three years ago and started dating a guy who turned out to be a hang-around with the Devils..."
I looked over at him, unnerved. But he stared straight ahead, his face grim.
"So little Marcy went to a party with him and a bunch of guys raped her, one right after the next," he said. "You ever heard of a train?"
I stared at him and swallowed.
Hard.
"Believe it or not, some women are down with that," he continued. "But Marcy isn't one of them. And they were not gentle. They tore her up so bad she'll never have kids. Then they carved 'BD' into her forehead and dumped her in a ditch. Deck found out when they sent him pictures they took of her with her own fucking phone. As a result, she tried to kill herself. But she's doin' better now, and is engaged to one of the brothers in the Portland chapter. Did I mention the Devils aren't nice guys?"
Sam fell silent. And I immediately thought about the two men I'd met earlier...the two Black Devils.
"What happened to the men who did it?" I asked hesitantly. "Were they...were those the guys you were talking to?"
"It was four hang-arounds and two Devils. Good news is, they won't be hurting any more girls. Seeker and Crash...the two from earlier...weren't part of that particular mess. But it still doesn't qualify them as decent human beings. So let me ask you again...you got me, Merce?"
"Yeah," I whispered, feeling sick.
Silence fell.
Then Bray started laughing at his video in the backseat.
But Sam drove, jaw muscle tight, staring straight ahead, while Marcy's story played over and over in my head, along with what he'd said earlier.
"I'm not a stuck-up bitch."
"Coulda fooled me."
"I have a right to keep my son away from your club."
"That why you left Colorado in the first place?"
"You know damned well why I left," I said, hating him. "And that's the second time you've called me a bitch. Don't do it again."
"Or what?"
"I don't know," I replied, frustrated.
I crossed my arms and the motion pushed my breasts up high. His eyes caught onto them and I dropped my arms, tugging up my tank.
What a stupid game I'd been playing that morning.
Sam wasn't a boy I could tease by dressing like a slut. I didn't want his attention, or to get more involved in his world.
Besides, I'd never be more than a toy to him, and the men in his family had a history of breaking their toys.
They just did it in different ways.
Sam didn't actually live in smack dab in the middle of Colorado. He lived out of town, back in the mountains at the end of a private gravel road.
We pulled up to his place around mid afternoon the next day...because he had to take Bray jolly riding and to whatever café the child wanted to stop at...with Stud behind us.
The driveway widened into a large parking area behind an L-shaped, two-story cedar house overlooking a small valley.
The setting was fantastic...
Evergreens surrounded us, and I heard the trickle of a stream somewhere not too far away.
A strip of grass ran down the hillside around to the front. It looked as though it needed water. And given the yard's condition, I got the impression Sam liked his landscaping natural.
Bray bounded out of the car, running around the house in excitement. And me...I stretched up high as I stood, pulling the tank up with me, exposing my stomach.
Instinctively, I felt Sam's eyes touched me, cool and speculative, and I quickly pulled it back down.
Really, really stupid idea, that tank.
What the hell had I been thinking?
You don't pull a tiger's tail.
I'd spent years wishing Sam would notice me, just once. Now I needed him to un-notice me and start treating me like furniture again.
Life as furniture might not be exciting, but it was definitely safe.
"Your car needs a tune-up," Stud said, walking over to us.
He tossed me the keys and I caught them, my chest jiggling precariously. He eyed me, then smirked at Sam, who watched us with something akin to disgust.
"I'll help haul your stuff in, then I'll head home to Marge," Stud said. "She's startin' school day after tomorrow. And I want to enjoy some time with her before she gets all stressed out and bitchy."
Sam walked to the door, which sat kitty-corner from the three-car garage forming one side of the L.
He punched in a code, opened the door, and we went inside. There, he put in another code, because apparently one wasn't enough for Mr. Security-Is-Critically-Important.
Anyway, I walked in and my mouth dropped open...
And I fell in love with the house instantly.
Before me was a great room with a giant, prow-shaped bank of windows looking out across the valley.
The place wasn't huge, but it was definitely big enough to impress me.
To the right was a door that had to lead into the garage. To the left was an open-plan kitchen with a breakfast bar. And a separate dining area held a table.
Dishes littered the counter, and a smattering of empty beer bottles stood on the bar, which separated the kitchen from the main room. Also, a stone fireplace lined one wall in the living room, and a sweeping staircase snaked upward along the other.
Forgetting all about the men, I walked slowly forward to take in the view.
Directly in front of the house was a broad meadow, ringed by evergreens lower on the slope.
The valley lay beyond that, stunning and sweeping. And here and there I saw other houses, a mix of high-end, new construction and original farms.
I looked up to see that the ceiling vaulted all the way to the second story. And behind me was a loft.
A pile of dirty laundry had been shoved against the open railing, and I couldn't help but smile.
Sam had never been much of a housekeeper.
The living room needed attention, too...
The leather couches seemed to be relatively new, as did the rest of the furniture, but for all the care he took to keep things clean, it could've been a frat house.
There was even an empty pizza box on the coffee table.
I heard a beer top pop and turned to find the men standing in the kitchen.
"Your house is almost as disgusting as the Armory," Stud said to Sam.
"Like yours used to be?" he asked.
"I don't remember that," Stud replied, his expression innocent.
"Just be glad you have Marge around. Otherwise you'd be livin' this way, too."
"I was never gross like this."
"It's not that bad," I said, smiling at Sam, my earlier frustration forgotten. I honestly couldn't believe how gorgeous his place was.
I had no idea what the basement looked like, but it could be a spider hole and I'd still be thrilled, just for the location. Not to mention, the yard for Bray.
"But how did you get a house like this? I mean, it had to cost a fortune. How much land do you have?" I asked.
"Fifteen acres," he said, a shadow crossing his face. "I bought it in March. I used my share of mom's estate for the down payment."
I cocked my head, stunned.
Sam's mother, Mary, had been disabled in a car accident a couple years before I met her. She'd been living on disability by the time I came along, pinching every penny.
I'd never forget the sacrifices she made when she brought me into her home.
I'd also never forget the betrayal on her face when I moved out after sending her stepson to jail.
"What the hell, Sam? Why was she living so poor if she could afford something like this? Why did you let her?" I demanded.
His expression darkened.
"They finally settled," he said. "After all those years, the fucking insurance company finally offered us a settlement. A little too late. It went into the estate and I used my half to buy this place."
My breath caught.
"When?"
"Just about a year ago."
"And Shaun got the other half?" I asked, swaying. "He's got money like this and he still stopped paying his child support?"
"Sounds like it," Sam replied, his voice tight. "Remember what you asked me earlier? Are you really surprised by anything Shaun does? Mom never thought she'd leave anything but bills. Estate planning wasn't a priority."
"That bastard!" I whispered, stunned. "We're starving and he's off spending your mom's money. She'd be so pissed."
"Hard to argue with that," Sam muttered. "Marrying his dad was the stupidest thing she ever did, and I've been paying for it ever since. Shaun's a fucking weight around my neck. Everything he touches turns to shit, and then I'm stuck hauling out his garbage. Again."
Hearing those words, it felt like he'd just punched me in the stomach.
"Is that how you feel about me and Bray?"
SAM
Fuck!
I couldn't believe I'd just said that. At least Bray hadn't heard it.
Mercedes, though...Jesus.
"I'm gonna start unloading the car," Stud said.
Coward.
"No, I don't feel that way, Mercedes. Believe me," I said, and I meant it. "You're the only thing he ever touched that's worth a damn. I'm crazy about Bray, you know that. And we don't always get along, but you're important to that little guy and that makes you pretty fucking important to me."
She offered me a quavering smile, and to my horror, I saw the glint of tears in her eyes.
Not good.
I could handle her pissed off. But crying?
No. Fuck no!
"Let me show you your place," I said quickly. "Downstairs. It's pretty. You've got your own French doors down there and a private entrance. But you can use the front door, too, if you like."
"Thanks," she murmured.
I walked across the kitchen to the basement door and opened it, leaning in to turn on the light and holding it open for Mercedes.
And I followed her down the steps, feeling like a dick. Then I felt like a bigger dick, because instead of thinking about ways to make things better, I checked out her rather fine ass.
Damn woman had been driving me crazy all day.
Her tits practically jumped out of that tank of hers. And those cutoffs...they had to be ten years old, the fabric was worn and thin. And they were tight, too, which matched my theory about their age.
But the way they molded to her body...
Torture.
Pure fucking torture.
Mercedes wasn't fat...she was thick...but she'd put on some weight since high school. In fact, she'd filled out far too nicely for my comfort.
Having her in the house is going to be a living hell.
Then again, it was hell already. Because, I couldn't look at her legs without imagining them wrapped around my waist.
When she'd propped them up on the dash earlier, I'd almost crashed the goddamned car.
Suddenly, my thoughts were back to that morning, on the couch in her apartment.
My dick grew bigger with the memory, and I hoped to hell she wouldn't notice, because I'd been right about one thing...
Mercedes really could be a stuck-up bitch, and I didn't doubt for a minute she'd use my attraction against me.
She might want to screw me...and I knew she did, she'd been as into it as I had...but that didn't mean she thought I was good enough for her.
Hell, she was probably right about that one.
Screwing her would kick ass, though. But after that?
Things would get weird.
I wasn't interested in settling down with any woman, but if I ever did, she'd be different from Mercedes.
She'd fit in with the club, for one thing.
She'd be the kind of girl who knew how to crack a beer at the end of a long day, kick back and then give me a blow job before bed.
And she'd love riding on the back of my bike.
Another thing...she'd be blonde. And she'd be tough enough to hold her own in a fight.
Most important, she wouldn't fucking talk back to me.
Mercedes had a hell of a mouth on her.
"Wow, it's beautiful!" Mercedes said, stopping me dead at the bottom of the stairs. I looked at her to find all traces of wistful sorrow gone. Instead, she smiled big at me, clearly thrilled with something or other.
Damn, the woman's moods changed so fucking fast, a man couldn't even begin to keep up.
"I can't believe this. How did you get everything ready so quickly?"
I blinked, then looked around, shocked.
What the hell?
When I'd left that morning, the place had been clean-ish. Not because I had cleaned it, of course, but because one of the girls from the clubhouse had a few weeks ago, for some reason.
Trying to hook me for her old man, probably. I'd screwed her and kicked her out, because I'd be damned if I'd let one of those bitches get their claws into me.
It wasn't sort of clean now, though. It fucking sparkled.
This was supposed to be a family room, with a small kitchen built into the back for reasons I'd never bothered to consider.
There was a short hallway to the side, with two bedrooms, a bathroom and a utility room. But I used one of the bedrooms for storage, the other as a place for my friends to crash.
Never once had it looked or felt like a home.
Until now...
Someone had come in and fixed all that.
Softy, fuzzy-looking blankets were draped across the couches, and a spiral rag rug full of bright colors covered the center of the beige carpet.
There were fresh flowers on the coffee table, right in front of the wall of glass looking out over the valley.
The French doors opened onto the little patio under the ground-floor deck. And two loungers covered in big, soft pillows sat ready and waiting for use outside, framed on either side by cascading hanging baskets.
They hadn't been there that morning...
There were even more fresh flowers on the pretty blue-checked cloth covering the round table near the kitchen...
A goddamn mystery table, because I had no clue where it came from.
Even the windows looked different as I studied them, only to realize, they had new blinds and long, gauzy curtains.
Then I saw the TV...
A flat-screen sat on what looked like an old-fashioned wooden radio, which I had to admit was kind of cool and different.
It wasn't a huge TV, but plenty big for the space.
Mercedes darted down the hallway, sadness forgotten. But I understood her sudden happiness, because right now the basement looked a lot more comfortable and welcoming than my space upstairs.
"Sam, I can't believe this!" she called from one of the rooms. And I walked in to find a child's bed, dresser and bookshelf set up and ready to go, complete with a motorcycle-covered blanket and pillowcase.
The walls had been painted light blue and little pictures that matched the blanket edged the ceiling.
One wall had a big, black square painted on it, with the words "Braylon's Room" written on it in chalk.
"Bray is going to love this. Thank you so much!"
Mercedes launched herself at me. And I wrapped my arms around her automatically, confused as hell.
Shit, she felt good.
My dick jumped to full-on attention even as I sniffed her hair, wondering what it'd feel like wrapped around my fingers while she sucked me of
After a moment, I felt her stiffened, obviously feeling my hard on. She tried to pull away, but I slid my hands down to her ass, holding her tight as I studied her face.
Her tits pressed tight against my chest and I felt her nipples harden.
She wanted this as bad as I did. Hell, her lips were plump and soft and wet.
I wanted to bite them...
"Mom!" Braylon called. "Mom, where are you? I can't believe this, there's a stream and a little pool to play in. Uncle Wringer's got four-wheelers, too. Stud says they'll take us on a ride sometime!"
I jerked away from Mercedes.
"We can't ever do this," she whispered, eyes wide. "This is breaking the rules."
"Yeah, you're right," I said, which was a goddamn shame.
For four years we've played this game, pretending the other didn't exist. But it'd been the right thing to do.
Sometimes we played it so well I almost believed it. But that's what my nephew needed from us, not some sort of bullshit one-night stand ruining things.
I could get laid anytime. Bray only had one mom.
The kid ran in and stopped, eyes wide as he took everything in.
"Is this my room?" he asked.
"Um, yeah," I said. "Looks like it. What do you think?"
"Cool!" he said. "I've never had a room like this. Mom, you gotta see the yard!"
He tore off again. Then Stud stuck his head in, offering me a shit-eating grin.
"Nice, ain't it?"
"We should talk," I said to him, jerking my chin towards the living room.
And Mercedes took the opportunity to dart through the door and investigate the second bedroom.
Stud nodded, and I followed him out.
"What the fuck happened here?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"What do you think?" he said. "Marge. She and the girls came over to fix the place up. All of them. But I asked her to."
"Why the hell did you do that?"
"You want your baby mama and kid to feel good about stayin' here, right?" he asked. "Maybe feel safe and welcome? Chicks need that. I figured it would make life easier. Not only that... it made the girls happy to do it."
"A heads-up would've been appreciated."
"You were too busy pretending you don't wanna screw Mercedes," he replied, shrugging. "Someone needed to step in. Marge charged everything, by the way. I told her to leave the receipts for you upstairs. On the counter. You can give me a cheque now or I'll catch you later."
I froze.
"Hell, I didn't think of that," I said, looking around again, appraising things with new eyes.
How much did TVs cost, anyway?
I glanced back at Stud, whose shit-eating grin had grown to full-on mockery.
Oh, crap...
"You did this on purpose," I said. "You did it just to fuck with me, didn't you? Like you give a flying fuck about welcoming Mercedes. You know I can't take it back now. How much did Marge spend, asshole?"
"I told her to keep it under three grand," Stud replied innocently. "And I think she got most of the furniture used. You know Marge, never spends money unless she has to. Hell, you don't even have to pay her back, it's not like you told her to do it. I'll cover the bill if you won't. Not every man provides for his family...takes all kinds. I get that..."
"You're a cock-sucking bastard!" I said, advancing on him. He laughed.
"You're a cock-sucking bastard," Bray repeated like a damned parrot. I turned to find the kid standing in the open patio door, looking proud as hell.
"Oh my god!" I heard Mercedes gasp. And I spun around to find her bracing a hand against the wall at the entrance of the hallway.
Perfect! Because we really needed more to fight about, right?
"Sam, you can't say things like that around Bray."
"Gonna have to work on that mouth of yours, brother," Stud told me. "Don't wanna make Mercedes mad. Like I said earlier, pretty sure she could take you in a fair fight. I'd pay to see it, too."
"Get out!" I said to him, jerking my head towards the stairs. "Just get the fuck out and go home before I shoot you!"
Mercedes opened her mouth, probably to say something. But I turned and stopped her with one look.
Enough.
"This is my house," I said. "I'll talk however the fuck I want, and you'll keep your goddamned mouth shut. Got me?"
She gaped as I turned and stomped back up the stairs.
Behind me, I heard Bray chanting,
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
God, I needed a beer...
Make that a shot.
Stay Safe!