Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.

MERCEDES

No girl should have to lose panties this expensive...

I felt almost wistful when I found them in Sam's couch.

Dark, rich purple silk, delicate lacy cutouts in the front. Whoever she was, she'd shelled out way too much money prettying up for a one-night stand with that man-whore.

I knew the pain of lost panties myself...

On that less-than-spectacular night Bray had been conceived, I'd had to go without mine after we got kicked out of Sam's apartment.

Sighing, I dropped the couch cushion I'd been vacuuming under.

I'd made my first pass through Sam's house doing surface cleaning. Now I was on to the deeper stuff, which meant hunting through the bowels of the furniture, among other things...

It was Thursday afternoon and the week had come together nicely.

After my visit with Marley, I'd gotten in touch with some of the girls from the club who'd left their cell-phone numbers.

They were coming over on Friday night to meet me and hang out. And they sounded every bit as nice and thoughtful as I'd suspected.

Really, I couldn't wait to put faces to names.

I'd also gotten to know the neighbor down the road, a woman in her late thirties named Emma. She'd been widowed a couple years back and now she lived alone.

We met her Tuesday afternoon, when Bray and I went exploring and wandered onto her property.

She had one of the old, original farmhouses, which meant a kick-ass porch complete with swing and rockers.

She and I spent a couple hours sitting outside her house sipping iced tea, and shooting the shit.

She really hit it off with Bray, too, and kindly offered to babysit if I needed it.

I got a great vibe off her.

Bray adored her. And we'd been thrilled when she had us over for dinner on Wednesday.

Wednesday was also when I started cleaning Sam's house...

This was partly out of boredom. But I also felt guilty, because he was a single man who clearly enjoyed his freedom, yet he'd brought us home anyway.

This had to cramp his style. Not that I particularly liked the idea of him being completely free to indulge himself...

I knew I couldn't have him, but it still bugged me to think of him with other women.

And I totally got how messed up that was.

But it didn't change how I felt.

Anyway, I decided the best way to pay Sam back was to become his unofficial housekeeper.

He didn't plan to charge us any rent, but I wouldn't feel right if I wasn't earning my keep.

Which brought me to the pair of tiny purple panties lost in the couch...

Sadly, this was not the first piece of lingerie I'd found in the last twenty-four hours. And they weren't all the same sizes, either...

He clearly appreciated variety among his many booty calls.

I picked up the panties with a pair of kitchen tongs and carried them into the laundry room.

I didn't know who they belonged to, but I didn't think I should be tossing out anything I found, no matter how...used...it might be.

Anyway, I dropped the panties into one of the four plastic boxes I'd lined up across the top of the dryer.

The first held money. And so far I'd found ninety-two dollars and twenty-three cents.

Box two was condoms. I actually found stashes in almost every room. Some were definitely on purpose, and I left those in place. But I'd also found them in the pockets of stray pants, in the silverware drawer, on top of the bookshelf...

I'd even found two in the pizza box on the coffee table. Chocolate-flavored ones.

This led to a series of fantasies about pizza-themed sex, which grossed me out a bit.

It also made me sort of hungry...

Box three held women's underwear, bras, and a single silk stocking.

Box four was other small, strange chunks of metal, random tools, a Buck knife, and two ticket stubs from a Spokane Indians game.

So far it was working pretty well.

Because I could just close the lids and pretend they didn't exist.

Weird pangs of jealousy aside, I wanted Sam's house fresh, clean and comfortable when he got home. It was the least I could do.

Of course, I cleaned everywhere but his bedroom, although I did wade in just far enough to grab the worst of the laundry.

That night, Bray asked me when Uncle Wringer would be back. And I had no idea what to tell him.

Which made me wondered if living in this house could ever feel normal.

Free rent was great, but Marley was probably right. Because, ultimately, I needed my own place, where the couch cushions weren't full of strange underwear and the silverware drawer was condom-free.

The thudding of feet overhead woke me up around three o'clock early Friday morning.

Sam was home, I noted drowsily, and it sounded like he was throwing a party.

Fortunately, my kid and I could sleep through anything, so five minutes later, I was out again.

The next day, Bray and I did our best to stay quiet as we got ready and used our own door to leave the house.

When I got back from dropping him at school, I had a near-miss with the house alarm, punching in the code twice before I got it right.

Sam's obsession with security was damned inconvenient at times...

I showered and straightened up our little apartment. By then, it was almost ten and still no noise from upstairs...

Maybe I had dreamed the whole thing up. God knew, Sam had a tendency to invade my dreams.

However, I slipped up the stairs softly, not wanting to wake him...just in case...

When I reached the top, I turned towards the kitchen and swayed, completely shocked.

Apparently, a hurricane had hit the house in the night...

Empty beer bottles covered every possible surface...

The furniture had been shoved around, with one end of the love seat actually lifted up and resting on the back of the main couch...

There were partially empty pizza boxes, spilled beer...and the most disturbing part of all...

A completely naked blonde chick sat at the breakfast bar, lighting a cigarette...

Seeing her hit me hard.

I actually couldn't breathe for a second. And I felt dizzy.

I knew he slept around. I'd found the evidence myself.

But somehow, this finally brought it all home for me.

The woman was gorgeous and utterly unselfconscious.

Me...naturally, I wore an old tank top and cutoffs, hair in a messy bun, and no makeup.

I wanted to kill her...

Dead.

I wanted to strangle her on the spot for being a damned whore and being prettier than me...

And for fucking my man...

Just like that, I gave myself a mental smack.

'Sam and I aren't together,' I remined myself.

I had no claim on him.

None.

This was his house and he could do whatever he wanted in it...including this whore.

I didn't even want him. Not really.

"So, are you Sam's property?" the blonde asked me, eyes hostile, red-tipped talons tapping the bar idly.

"Um...I don't think I understand the question," I replied, torn between staring at her perky, jiggly boobs and watching the trail of smoke rise from her cigarette towards the ceiling.

Once that smoky smell gets into a house, you never get it back out...

Yet another reason to hate this bitch.

"Simple yes or no," she said. "Do you belong to him? Did he patch you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, glancing around the living room, growing pissier by the second, despite the fact that it was none of my business.

This was going to take hours to clean and it sure as hell wouldn't be me doing it, I decided.

Let the whore do it. Or Sam himself.

What a concept!

"That's a no..." the woman said slowly. "So why the hell are you here? Did he call you this morning? Seriously, if he wanted a three-way, he should've talked to me earlier. No offense, but I can do better."

She looked me up and down as she said this, judging every inch of my body.

"I think I should go back downstairs," I said with careful control. And with that, I turned to leave, but Sam's voice stopped me.

"You still here?" he called. And the blonde answered, her voice all sweet like honey, eyes sparkling with possessive triumph.

"Sure thing, baby. You need me?"

He strolled down the stairs and into the living room, wearing only a pair of unfastened jeans.

I could tell this because they drooped low enough to leave very few secrets.

Damn!

I knew Sam was hot, but it seemed like I forgot just how hot whenever I didn't see him for a while. Because it still shocked me.

I could spend a year trying to describe him, but you still wouldn't fully appreciate his unique appeal, until your panties spontaneously combusted the first time he smiled at you.

Or, in this case, when he walked through the living room wearing half-fastened jeans...commando, his gorgeous green eyes still sleepy.

My eyes caught on Sam's chest, sliding down along the lines of his muscles.

Oh, my...

Perfect pecs, sculpted obliques and abs.

They disappeared into the denim, which just barely rode his hips, ready to slip at any minute.

I wanted to lick him all over...

Right after I killed him for screwing The Blonde Slut.

"Morning," he said, looking from me to TBS.

I raised my hand and gave a little finger wave, wondering if the knife in the laundry room was well-balanced for throwing.

"Welcome back, Sam," I said, trying not to sound like a jealous wife, because there was nothing crazy about that, right? "Did you have a nice trip? Bray missed you. Anyway, I was just going downstairs. Have a great morning."

TBS smirked, taking my attempted retreat as a victory for her. Or that's what I imagined was behind her smirk.

For all I knew, that could've been her thank-God-I'm-not-in-a-three-way-with-this-loser face.

Whatever it was, she could damned well shove it up her ass!

"No," Sam said, staring at me intently. His eyes flicked down my figure, and no matter how hot the chick in the kitchen was, I could tell he still wanted me.

His eyes were dark and needy like they'd been the other night.

And all those years ago, too...

'Nope, not going there,' I reminded my brain. This situation's fucked up enough already.

"We need to talk. It's important," he told me. Then he glanced toward TBS. "We're done, time to go. Don't call."

Wow! That was cold.

But I liked it.

"You seriously want her over me?" TBS demanded, looking between us, face genuinely confused.

"Mercedes is my nephew's mom," Sam said, his voice going hard and flat. "One of her in dirty sweats is worth ten of you naked on your knees. Now get the fuck out!"

Oh, that was SOOO cold.

Maybe I didn't hate him quite so much. Because he might be an asshole...but he was definitely being a bigger asshole to her than to me.

Justice, for once.

"You're kind of a dick," The Blonde Slut said, pouting.

"Ya think?" Sam asked, walking past us to open the fridge. He pulled out a container of orange juice and chugged it without using a glass.

When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and slammed the container down on the counter.

Juice splashed, reminding me of the brand-new, giant-ass mess everywhere else...

A mess I wouldn't be cleaning.

Enough of this.

I needed to retreat back downstairs, away from this bitch and Sam, the world's biggest asshole.

He ranked up there with the biggest pigs, too, based on what he'd accomplished in one night with his friends.

I turned to the stairs but his hand caught my arm, tight and unyielding as a handcuff. He tugged me through the kitchen to the bar, pushing me into a seat.

"Stay," he ordered me, his eyes hard. Then he looked over at Blondie. "Go!"

His tone didn't leave room for discussion, and she jumped up, scowling.

Next, he strode quickly across the living room and up the stairs. Blondie followed him, then ran back down fast, her clothes flying over the balcony from the loft.

Five minutes later, she was gone with a massive slam of the front door and Sam was back in the kitchen making me all nervous.

I wasn't quite sure what to say to him, though. I hated him for bringing her home.

I was jealous of her, because she was hot and she'd felt him inside her last night, when all I'd gotten inside me was my vibrator.

Hell, it wasn't even working right, there was some sort of loose connection.

Half the time it wouldn't turn on and I didn't have money to buy a new one.

How pathetic was that?

Too broke to buy a damn vibrator.

Maybe I should stand outside the Adam & Eve store holding a sign reading "Single Mom, Anything Helps" and a cup for change...

Sam narrowed his eyes at me. He still hadn't buttoned his pants.

Holy shit! I sincerely hoped I wasn't drooling.

"So, tonight the girls from your club are coming over," I told him, trying to find a safe place for my eyes.

They skittered across the tribal tattoo on his pec and caught on his nipple ring.

I instantly heated.

'Definitely not there, girl.'

"I guess we're planning some sort of party for tomorrow at your club's armory? Do I want to know why your club has an armory?"

"It's an actual National Guard Armory," he said. "The club bought it when it got surplussed, years ago. It's got everything from a big kitchen and bar, to rooms upstairs for people who need somewhere to crash for the night."

So, his clubhouse had beds. Why did this not surprise me?

I wanted to ask him why he hadn't taken TBS there instead of bringing her home to me and Bray, but I couldn't think of a not-crazy way of doing it.

Instead, I decided to keep talking about my schedule.

"They had me line up a sleepover for Bray at my friend Marley's house for tomorrow night," I said, eyes darting to his face.

Not a flicker of recognition at her name.

Good.

"Anyway, they invited me and I promised you I'd give it a shot, so...I'll see you at the party?"

Sam cocked his head and studied me, utterly impossible to read.

The silence stretched between us.

And I struggled not to start babbling just to fill the void.

"It's a bigger party than they think," he finally said, his voice low. And it took me a full minute to remember what we'd been talking about. Oh, yeah. Party planning. Armory.

"A whole bunch of guys from all over are coming in tonight and tomorrow. And I'm not sure I want you there," he said.

Then he shook his head slowly, his tongue flicking out to slide along his lower lip.

Dammit! I wanted to run my tongue on his lip, too.

Then I caught a glimpse of something else...

Shit! His tongue was pierced. There was a hard, round ball right in the middle.

That hadn't been there four years ago...

I would've remembered.

What would it feel like in my mouth...or lower?

I'd never kissed a guy with a pierced tongue, let alone had one go down on me.

I started tingling between my legs, which was not what I needed in that moment. Assholes this big shouldn't be so hot...

'Hairy ears,' I thought. 'Pretend he has hairy ears.'

"You're a very frustrating person, Sam," I said, torn between bitching at him for being such a giant whore and jumping over the counter, ripping off his pants, and riding his dick.

Not the best way to handle the situation.

I knew this.

Really.

"You say I shouldn't judge the club," I added, trying to focus. "You say you want me to get to know everyone, and that Bray's life would be better if he had the club behind him. If that's true, why can't I go to one of their parties?"

"Because this one's gonna get pretty damn wild. It's not really a starter party," he said, unfolding his arms to brace them on the counter on either side of his body.

I saw his biceps rippling under his tattoos. I also noticed he had more ink across his shoulders...some kind of rounded slash things in addition to the pattern on his chest.

There was also another tat curling around his stomach from his hip. One of a panther disappearing down into his pants on one side.

Lucky cat.

I really, really wanted to see the rest of it.

"You said some shit the other night that we gotta deal with. Um...Mercy? I have a face, you know," Sam said. And my eyes jerked up from his stomach.

I felt myself heat, even as he stayed silent, watching me with hooded eyes.

He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, biceps and triceps flexing nicely, then scratched at his stomach. And the muscles between my legs took note, pulsing their approval.

"What do we have to deal with?" I asked, feeling my face heat again.

"There'll be no friends with benefits for you," he told me without a trace of humor. "No fucking around, no kissing, or even fluttering your goddamned eyelashes at any guy in the club. That's the only way you'll be at the party. Or any club event."

I raised my brows at him and shook my head. No matter how uncomfortable this conversation might be, I needed to set some boundaries...

"That's stupid. I'm single. If I meet someone I like, it's my decision whether I flirt with them or kiss them or whatever. And you're one to talk...you just threw a naked chick out the door without even a thank-you for the road. Hypocrite much?"

"My house, my rules," he replied. "You go to that party, nothing happens. You're the Virgin fuckin' Mary, got me? Otherwise you stay home."

I thought about this, then straightened, placing my hands flat on the counter. Until that moment, I'd been on the fence about the party.

I wanted to give the club a shot, but I'd been nervous about jumping in headfirst. Now?

Now I was going to show up at that damned Armory even if it killed me. And I was going to flirt all over the place, too.

Fuck him and his whore!

I glared at him.

He glared back. And neither of us blinked.

There's a lot Sam and I refused to talk about, and God knew he could hide his thoughts from me. Now, I couldn't even begin to follow his logic.

He'd made it clear nothing would happen between us, so why the jealous boyfriend act?

"Why does it matter?" I asked finally. "Are your friends so dangerous that I'm not safe? Because you've spent a lot of time giving me shit for assuming they're dangerous criminals, instead of giving them a shot. So it's either that or because you're jealous. Is that it? You don't want me but nobody else gets me, either? Would it be easier if you peed on me so they know I'm taken?"

"It'd be easier if you'd shut the hell up," he said, eyes darkening.

"That's what you want from me? Silence?" I demanded, feeling my temper rise. "Call me stupid, but it seemed like you wanted a hell of a lot more the other night. You can't have it both ways, asshole. Either there's something between us or I'm a free agent."

Sam pushed away from the counter, holding my gaze as he stalked across the kitchen.

"Oh, I can have it both ways," he said. "You shouldn't make assumptions about what I'm capable of, Mercy. But I'll be nice and give you a heads-up what's happening here. I want to fuck you."

He rounded the kitchen island, prowling like the big cat tattooed on his hip. And the kitchen felt smaller and smaller.

I was all too aware of his bare chest, black ink rippling as he moved, and just how tightly controlled he kept his strength.

Perhaps direct confrontation had been a mistake...

"That's the thing about guys like me," he continued, his voice low and smooth, eyes boring right through mine. "We don't do what we're supposed to. We take what we want. And me? I want all kinds of things. First I want to tie you up in my bed with my belt. Then I want to cut off your clothes and fuck you in every hole you have. I also want to come on you and rub it into your skin and lick your pussy until you scream at me to stop, because if you come one more time you'll die. Then I want to do it again. I want to own you, Mercedes."

He stopped beside my stool, so close the heat of his body engulfed me. I couldn't even turn my head to look at him.

I was frozen like a rabbit, his words turning over and over in my head.

His scent surrounded me. And I tried to breathe as he leaned in close, one arm braced on the counter, whispering in my ear...

"I want to own every part of you," he continued, his breath hot against my skin. "I want to throw you face-first across this counter, rip off those shorts, and screw you hard and fast until my goddamned dick stops hurting and my balls don't feel like they're gonna explode. Because they've felt that way for a helluva long time, Mercy. And I'm startin' to think it's not gonna go away unless I do something about it."

It took everything I had not to squeak in panic.

Every part of my body tingled and I clenched my legs together tightly, putting pressure on my clit with every pulse of desire.

It felt good.

Not good enough, though.

I needed more...

My cheeks warmed and my breath came quick.

I considered reaching down and shoving my hand into those half-fastened pants. And maybe discover for myself if Marley had been telling the truth about his dick...

Meanwhile, Sam hadn't even touched me.

He still wasn't touching me.

And I bit back a moan.

"But that's probably not a real good idea," he added, his voice cooling as he pulled back. "We both know it. It's not what Bray needs. But your idea about hooking up with one of my brothers? That keeps running through my head, Mercy, and then I start thinking about shooting people. I don't want to have to shoot anyone tomorrow, get me? That'd be a shitty way to end a party. Not to mention the president might get frustrated that one of the local brothers loses it in public with the whole fucking club here for a meet."

Holy crap!

I nodded, my chest tightening.

"So, all things considered, you might think about doing exactly what I say at that party," he said, and while he phrased it like a suggestion, it was a straight-up order. "I get that you don't want someone like me in your bed, not as a keeper. And I don't want things to get weirder than they are between us, either. But if you're gonna screw a biker, I'm the only one you get, Mercy. I won't stand by and let you mess around with one of my brothers."

"I can't believe you just said all that," I whispered. "That's wrong on so many levels. I don't even know where to start."

He considered me, his eyes hard and his voice cold.

"I don't care if it's wrong," he said. "That's the way it is. My house, my world, my rules. Tell me you understand and I'll let you go to the party."

"I'm an adult," I managed to say, although my voice shook. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

"And yet I'm doin' it," Sam returned, shrugging casually. "Do you really think I won't enforce this? I'll fuckin' enforce it, Mercy. Don't test me."

"I haven't decided about the party," I whispered. "But I'm done with this conversation. I'm going back downstairs."

"No, you're not," he said. And that little, instinctive voice deep down inside me that was screaming to run finally won...

I slid off the stool and made a break for the stairs...

Big mistake, because Sam caught me around the waist and lifted me up onto the kitchen bar, his eyes blazing.

Two seconds later he stepped between my legs, one hand pulling me in tight and the other twisting through my hair, jerking my head back.

"Let me go," I whispered.

He cocked his head, as if considering the idea, then slowly shook it.

"I can't," he said.

Then his lips covered mine and a fuse blew in my brain...

Stay safe!