Hey, I don't know if you guys know or not, but I have toned down this story a lot, even though it might not seem so. The original is so much more...raw, raucous, rude and disturbing. And the male characters are belligerent, supercilious...and other adjectives I can't think of right now. But since my female lead is a beautiful black woman, I've tried to smooth things out. The property thing is a bit of bother for me too...but in this story it has nothing to do with race...and all to do with life in the Collectors Motorcycle Club.

Saying all of this, any offense caused...I greatly regret.

And for those of you who do not know...I am black, very short and thick...and completely happy with myself and my looks. And I often catch guys looking at my 'rack' and my behind...both are huge...but they're what I've been given by God :)

Anyway, 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.

Warning: mention of rape.

MERCEDES CONT'D

The party was surprisingly fun. Meg and I stuck together, seeing as both of us were man-free.

She wore Blade's property patch so guys left her alone. And I wore a ring of hickies that darkened and grew nastier as the night progressed, which may or may not have served the same purpose.

It would've been totally humiliating, except, I'd already decided I didn't give a flying fuck about any of the Collectors or their sluts.

And there were a lot of sluts floating around, including a blonde one from the kitchen. She gave me a nasty little one-finger wave.

Whatever.

More showed up every minute, multiplying like rabbits. And to be fair, most of them seemed like pretty nice people, but I was heavily invested in hating them.

Because I kept wondering which ones Sam had slept with.

The old ladies though...there were about ten total...were a different group entirely. I liked them a lot and was sorry I wouldn't be getting to know them better.

Meg and Marge must've spread the word about my situation, because nobody asked me any nosy questions. And the girls kept me so busy I hardly had time to think about my humiliation.

I did learn a few interesting things, though...

For one, Meg shared why Blade was in jail. It was an ugly story...

Apparently, he'd been convicted of raping a girl who worked at Top Shot.

We were sitting in a couple of camp chairs over by the playground, watching over the kids, when she started talking about it so matter-of-factly, that I thought I hadn't heard her right at first.

"Um..." I started, desperately searching for some kind of response. What do you say when someone tells you her man's in jail for rape?

"He didn't do it," she said, shrugging. "He got set up."

I looked away, wondering how a woman who seemed so smart could be so stupid.

Who stays with a rapist?

If he'd gone to prison, odds were good he'd done the crime.

"No," she said, taking my hand and squeezing it. "I can see what you're thinking. It's not like that. I was with him when it was supposed to have happened, hon."

"Didn't you tell the cops?" I asked, eyes wide.

"Of course," she replied. "But the girl identified him and there was another witness who said they got into a car together. They never tested the DNA, although we've got a lawyer working on that. He says it's just a matter of time before we get him out. It's not Blade's DNA, but the state lab is so far behind it takes a fucking miracle to get them to lift a finger. The cops said I was lying to cover for him. They made me look like a criminal and a whore on the stand..."

"Damn!" I said. "That's horrible, Meg."

"Tell me about it," she said, her face sober. "I love him so damned much. Blade is a wonderful man. He's done some crazy-ass shit, but he's not a fucking rapist, you know? But being a biker's old lady? To the cops, that means you're nothing more than a club puppet. My testimony meant jack shit by the time they'd finished with me. He's up for parole in a year, but I want his name cleared."

"Why haven't they processed the DNA?"

"Good question," she said. "There's a new excuse every day. Fucking prosecutors!"

Wow!

I didn't know where to put that, so I fell quiet. What I didn't do was get up or look away, because while I'd only met Meg recently, I believed her.

She wasn't stupid and she wasn't weak.

And it was scary to think the system could be so corrupt.

"They definitely screwed Blade," Marge said, plopping down next to us. "But the local prosecutors aren't all bad. I got off on self-defense last year, after things went down with my brother."

I glanced over at her, curious, but she seemed lost in thought. That story could wait for another day, I decided.

If we had another day...

The girls were being supportive, but whether they'd be friends long-term was iffy.

Because I got the impression that once you left the club, you were out...

And I was out before I'd even gotten in.

We settled in to talk about other, happier things even as the sky darkened. And by nine, the kids were all gone and things started getting wilder...

The music went up and women's shirts started coming off, none of which fazed my new friends.

Then the guys started a big bonfire and broke out a fresh keg.

Couples started disappearing into the darkness too. And I tried not to look too closely, afraid Sam had already found someone new to screw.

But, he was free to do whatever the hell he wanted. Didn't mean I needed to watch...

That seemed like my cue to leave, except I still hadn't talked to Rally about a job. But the more I thought about working at Top Shot, the less realistic it seemed.

Maybe I should just let it go...

I mentioned this as I helped Marge, Meg and Mel clean up the food tables. Spirit had taken her boys to her mom's house a while ago and hadn't gotten back yet.

"Why don't you talk to Rally first and decide after that?" Meg suggested, piling half-eaten bags of chips into a cardboard box. "I'll help you find him. Let's get this finished first, though. All this shit needs to go into the kitchen."

"Here, give me the box," Marge said, reaching for it. "Merce, can you grab that other one?"

"Sure," I said, picking it up.

Marge was really sweet...she'd spent half the night talking about her wedding, which was just three weeks away.

And she'd made it very clear that she wanted me to come, no matter what was up with Sam.

Now, I followed her into the Armory through a back door, leading past a set of bathrooms into the large kitchen area.

It wasn't anything special, certainly not a professional kitchen, but it was still big...kind of like one you'd find in a church.

There were three fridges, lots of counter space and a big, round garbage can that had overflowed onto the floor.

We both stopped, staring at it...

"Jesus, I cannot believe what pigs these boys can be," she muttered. "Take the fucking garbage out when it's full. Doesn't take a genius."

"You think we can handle it?" I asked, considering the can. It was packed hard and looked heavy.

"Only one way to find out," she replied.

We both set down the food, stuffed in as much of the spilled garbage as possible and then each grabbed a side.

It wasn't easy, but we wrestled it out through the kitchen and into the main lounge of the Armory...which I hadn't seen yet.

"Holy shit!" I said to Marge, my eyes wide.

The place was full of men drinking and women walking around all but naked.

There was a bar with a naked chick giving body shots. And my eyes skittered away only to land on another girl whose head bobbed up and down over a man's lap.

"Just ignore it," Marge muttered, rolling her eyes. "Bunch of dumbasses! The Dumpster's out in the front, across from the parking lot. The geniuses who designed this place didn't put in many external doors. I know it was built to be a fortress, but it's annoying as hell."

We lugged the garbage across the room and I felt my cheeks burning. Then a man came up and grabbed the heavy can on my side.

"You girls should've asked for help," he said, smiling at me. He was kind of cute, I realized. A little older though...probably in his thirties.

He had a long beard, tattoos...they all had tattoos, I figured it must be in the bylaws or something...and he wore a cut with one of those little diamond 1% patches.

His name read "M.D."

"Thanks," Marge said brightly. "Grab the door for us, will you, Merce?"

I opened the big main door leading out into the front parking lot. There were more guys out there, sort of standing around.

They were the guys I'd seen earlier, who didn't have very many patches on their vests.

"Prospects! Get your asses over here and take care of this garbage!" M.D. yelled, and two of them jumped up to grab the can.

"It needs to go back in the kitchen when they're done," Marge told M.D.

"No prob, babe," he replied. "Who's your friend?"

At that, Marge and I exchanged glances. I could tell she didn't want to introduce me, but neither of us wanted to be rude, either.

"I'm Mercedes," I said, taking the pressure off her. "I'm just visiting. In fact, I'm heading out soon."

Marge opened her mouth to add something...

Suddenly, a giant man came up behind her, swinging her up and twirling her around, before throwing her over his shoulder.

Stud.

"I need you woman!" he declared, smacking her ass. Then he carried her back into the building even as she shrieked in protest.

Aaand...

I suddenly found myself alone in the dark with M.D. and the prospects...

None of the younger guys looked me in the eye, and I thought very hard about the warnings I'd been given earlier.

Yup...I was in the negative on every detail.

"Nice brands," M.D. said, even as he reached up to trace the stupid hickies Sam had given me. "You belong to someone?"

Now that was a loaded question...

"It's complicated," I replied, glancing around. I don't know what I was looking for. 'Marley would know what to do at a time like this,' I thought darkly. "I need to get back inside and find the girls. I'll just... Go over there," I added, nodding towards the big gate in the wall to the side of the building.

It was the gate I'd come in before, because there was no way I would be walking back through that clubhouse by myself. Not after what I'd seen in there.

"I'll take you," M. D. said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and tucking me in tight next to his body. And immediately, I smelled booze on his breath.

Shit! SHIT! SHIT!

"Hey there!" Mel yelled, waving at me from the gate. And I'd never been so happy to see someone in my life.

She walked over to us, her smile bright and sweet.

"Thanks for finding Mercedes, M.D. But I need to get her back now. Wringer's up next in the ring, and he'll be super pissed if she misses his fight. They live together, you know."

M.D. let me go like a hot potato and I ran over to Mel.

He frowned at me.

"Told you it was complicated," I said, my voice wavering. "Sorry."

He snorted as he turned and walked back into the Armory, slamming the door behind him. And the remaining guys looked everywhere but at me and Mel.

"Jesus, I could kill Marge for leaving you with him," she muttered, grabbing my arm and dragging me across the parking lot towards the gate. "At least she yelled at me to go get you as Stud carried her past. Never leave a sister behind, you know? That could've gotten ugly."

"She really didn't have much choice," I said. "Stud just grabbed her and carried her off. It happened really fast."

"All Stud thinks about is sex," Mel snapped, her voice heavy with a mixture of disgust and what sounded suspiciously like jealousy.

"At least Marge sent you out here," I said. "Would he have hurt me?"

"Not normally," she said, her voice smooth. "But odds are he's drunk. And if a guy gets drunk enough, he doesn't always hear the word no."

"Does that happen?'

"Rape?" she asked, bluntly. I nodded.

"It's not supposed to," she said. "And it's not considered okay or anything, but it could've happened here. I don't know. But it happened in my college dorm. Anytime you put people together, some of them are going to do horrible things. And if you get enough horny men drinking enough alcohol, it can lead to bad shit. I'll tell you one thing though, I feel much safer here than I have at some frat parties. Collector parties might get wilder than college ones, but we have rules and trust me, they're enforced."

"And you grew up around this?" I asked. "Wasn't that...scary?"

"I grew up with twenty uncles," she said, smiling brightly as we passed through the gate. She raised a hand to the guys standing there and they all waved back.

Clearly, she was loved.

"All of them would've done anything for me. I had aunties all over, too, and a bunch of kids to play with...kids I've known all my life. You saw how many children were here earlier, and they were all having a great time. Of course, we send them home before things get too crazy."

"And what age did you start staying later?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Dad told me to leave about half an hour ago," she admitted. "He doesn't want me to grow up, even though he knows that any guy here would never lay a finger on me. That's the thing though...this is a family. And family takes care of each other."

"And all these women running around?" I asked. "And that M.D. guy...he wasn't interested in me as family."

Mel's face fell, and she sighed.

"You aren't family," she said softly. "I mean, you're Wringer's family and you'll be treated with respect... M.D.'s not from around here, and he had no idea who you were. But if you're serious about not being Wringer's property, you'll never be a real part of the club."

"Would you hate me if I told you I don't want to be part of the club?"

"I get it," she said, sighing. "Believe me. I just wish it could be different for you guys. I wouldn't settle for what Wringer's offering either, though. No fucking way! You want to get out of here? My dad's gonna see me sooner or later, so I might as well bug out now."

"Yeah, I really do," I told her.

"Let's go watch a movie or something," she said. "You can come over to my place if you like. We have a killer home theater setup."

"That sounds good," I replied, sort of surprised. "You know, it's funny. I don't think of a motorcycle club president as being the kind of guy who'd have a home theater."

"I'll bet you wouldn't think he'd have a virgin daughter, either," she said, regaining some of her humor. "Fuck this, let's go. Last time they had a party this big, I walked in on my dad screwing this chick I graduated with. It was disgusting."

Back out in the courtyard, a circle had formed beyond the bonfire. People were cheering and yelling and they were also distinct groans every few seconds.

"What's that all about?" I asked, craning my neck.

"Fights," Mel said shortly. "That's what happens when you have too many penises concentrated in one place. Oh, and I wasn't kidding when I said Wringer was up next. He's out there right now. For some reason they think it's fun to hit each other. Let's find Meg. Maybe she'll come watch movies with us."

I giggled, then spotted Meg. She was standing near the fire, staring deep into the flames.

I walked over to her but she didn't look up.

"You okay?"

She sighed and crossed her arms, frowning.

"Peachy," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just sick and fucking tired of being here without my man. The club's great and all, but it's not like having Blade in my bed."

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I hugged her. And she hugged me back.

And I knew I really wanted to stay friends with these women, despite the whole Sam situation.

"Hey, you want to come and watch movies with me and Mel?" I asked. "I'm sick of Sam and Plank says Mel has to leave. And you're lonely. Sounds like God himself wants us to get out of here and eat some chocolate ice cream."

She snorted.

"Ice cream's no substitute for a man," she said wryly.

"We can have whipped cream on it," I said, waggling my eyebrows. "You can pretend you're licking it off him instead of the spoon."

"You're a dork," she replied, but she smiled.

"I know," I said cheerfully. "But I'm a dork who knows her refrigerated toppings, and that's mission-critical tonight. Let's go."

"I want you to meet Rally first," she said. "You need to ask him about a job."

I frowned.

Did I really want to work at a strip club...especially one owned by the Collectors?

Didn't seem like the best way to distance myself...

"You don't have to decide tonight," she said. "Just talk to him, and then we'll get back to what's really important...ice cream and chick flicks. A sad one, please, because I'm definitely in the mood for a good cry. But let's just talk to him, okay?"

"Not like you have anything to lose," Mel added, coming up beside us. "Let's find Rally, then ditch this place. I'm ready for a three-way with Ben and Jerry."

Meg took my hand and pulled me towards the crowd surrounding the fighters, Mel trailing us like a puppy.

I couldn't see much of the fight, with the wall of bikers cutting us off, but Meg wormed her way through them like an expert.

And soon, we were standing on the edge of the ring, which was just a line traced in the dirt.

She was looking around for the Rally guy, but the sound of a fist hitting flesh caught my full attention...

Sam stood in the center of the circle, naked to the waist, hands bare and his expression hostile.

He was facing off against a man I didn't know.

The guy looked a little younger than him, and based on the blood dripping down his face, Sam was kicking his ass.

Mel stumbled to a halt next to me.

"What the hell does Sketcher think he's doing?" she muttered. "I can't believe he's fighting Wringer. That's fucking stupid!"

"Why?" I asked, eyes glued to the men circling each other.

I could see the top half of Sam's panther tattoo above his jeans. It really was perfect for him...

Every movement was lithe and smooth and utterly predatory.

"Wringer's really good," Mel said shortly. "He'll slaughter Sketcher."

"Is that the one...?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice grim. "That's him. The guy who won't put out for me. I hope Wringer kicks his ass."

Sam chose that moment to plow his fist into Sketcher's stomach, and the crowd roared.

And Sketcher gasped but he stayed upright, recovering surprisingly fast...at least to my uneducated eye...

"He's over there," Meg said, grabbing my arm again. And I looked at her blankly.

"Who's over there?"

"Rally," she said. "You wanted to talk to him about a job, right?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, forcing myself to look away from the circling boxers. What kind of idiots fought like this on purpose?

Meg dragged me through the crowd some more, coming to a halt next to a big man watching the fight with his arms crossed.

He didn't look too happy...

"Hey, Rally," she said brightly. He glanced down at her and raised a brow.

I swallowed...

"Um, we can do this a different time," I leaned in and whispered to Meg. "He doesn't look like he's in a good mood."

"He's like that," she said. "Right, Rally? You're always kind of a dick, aren't you?"

The big man actually smiled.

"And you're always kind of a bitch, but I like you anyway," he said. "You ready to ditch Blade's ass and get with a real man?"

"I think Joanne might have a problem with that, and she's a helluva good shot."

This time the smile reached his eyes.

"That's the fuckin' truth," he said. "God, but she can be a bitch. But never boring. So who's this?"

"This is Mercedes," she said, jerking me forward. From the ring I heard the crack of flesh hitting flesh, and saw Sketcher staggering in the corner of my eye.

Sam was circling him like a cat playing with its food. But I forced myself not to pay attention, focusing on Rally instead.

Talking to him couldn't hurt...

"Mercedes is looking for a job," Meg added.

"Dancing?" he asked, raising a brow. His eyes crawled down my figure, assessing me closely in a new way...

All business now.

"I want to waitress," I said. "I've waited tables in bars before. Never a strip club, but I'm a hard worker. And I hear it's a good place to work."

He studied me, his face thoughtful.

"You belong to anyone?"

Meg and I looked at each other, and I shook my head.

"Not really," I answered.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"She..."

"Hush, Meg!" he said, although his tone wasn't mean. "If she can't talk for herself, she's got no place in my bar. So what's the story, you belong to someone or not?"

There was a sudden flurry of activity between the fighters...

A series of fast blows that I couldn't quite follow in my peripheral vision. And based on the crowd's reaction, things were getting interesting...

"You this slow takin' drink orders?" Rally asked. "'Cause I don't need a slow waitress."

"Sorry," I said, gathering myself. "Wringer is my son's uncle."

"Is he the one that gave you that ring around your neck?"

"Um...yeah," I said, grimacing. "And I live with him. There's nothing between us, though. I just really need a job."

Rally eyed me speculatively, then glanced at Meg, who she smirked and rolled her eyes.

He nodded slowly, then leaned over to the man next to him.

"Hundred bucks on Sketcher?"

The man stared at him, brows raising.

"Are you fuckin' insane?"

"Nope," Rally said. "We got a bet?"

"Sure, I'll take your money. The kid's almost finished."

Rally turned back to me.

"Show me your tits," he said.

My eyes widened.

"I'm not looking to dance," I said quickly. "Just wait tables."

"Yeah, I get that," he replied. "But I need to make sure you'll fill out the uniform right. You can leave your bra on, but lift that shirt if you want a job."

I glanced at Meg, who nodded reassuringly.

"Don't worry," she said, her bright eyes darting between me, Rally and the men fighting. "You need a decent rack to waitress at Top Shot. Go ahead, no one will care."

I took a deep breath, reached down and pulled my shirt up all the way.

Two seconds later...

I heard a huge crash. And suddenly, Sam was between me and Rally, his fist slamming into his face.

Rally went down and Sam followed, pounding him brutally...

Cliffhanger...I know, but some can't be helped. Some of these chapters are extremely long, but I always continue where they leave off.

Plus, early update = bonus chapter :)

Happy belated birthday son and a very happy birthday today to my two nephews Damien. Love them all :)

Stay safe!