Reaper’s Legacy Read Online Joanna Wylde (Reapers MC, #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, Drama, Erotic, MC, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Reapers MC Series by Joanna Wylde
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
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Toke took a deep breath, then let it out, visibly forcing himself to calm down.

“I’ll never forgive them for what they did,” he said. “Jesus, she’s still so fucked up. You got no idea.”

“You damned well shouldn’t,” Horse told him, voice serious. “What happened can’t be undone, and the assholes who did it deserved to die. Good news is, they did. Think ahead. We turn the Jacks into allies, we’ll own half the west coast with the Jacks as a line of defense between us and the cartel. That’s somethin’ we should consider.”

“I’ll settle for protecting my girls,” Picnic muttered. “Fuckin’ asshole knows where they are, maybe’s even watching them. You know what that means?”

“Means nobody’s safe,” Horse said softly. “And he’s damned right about one thing—in our world, we don’t fuck with citizens, so long as they show respect. We keep our towns safe and control what gets in. I know the Jacks did your niece, Deke, but she got as much justice as they could give. The cartel, though … They’re shootin’ women and children, and they don’t give a fuck who they kill so long as they get their money. No values. I’ll take the Jacks over them anytime.”

“If they’re telling us the truth,” Ruger said. “Remember—they lie. We need information.”

“Time to call the brothers together,” Pic said. “No help for it. You want to host, Deke?”

“Do it in Coeur d’Alene,” the Portland president replied, shaking his head. “We got nothin’ like the Armory. Whatever else the Jacks might be, they aren’t magic. We meet at the Armory, we’ll have space to talk. I’ll start making calls.”

CHAPTER SIX

SOPHIE

No girl should have to lose panties this expensive.

I felt almost wistful when I found them in Ruger’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 the man-whore.

I knew the pain of lost panties myself … On that less-than-spectacular night Noah had been conceived, I’d had to go without mine after we got kicked out of Ruger’s apartment.

Sighing, I dropped the couch cushion I’d been vacuuming under. I’d made my first pass through Ruger’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 Kimber, 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. They sounded every bit as nice and thoughtful as I’d suspected, and 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 Elle. She’d been widowed a couple years back and now she lived alone. We met her Tuesday afternoon, when Noah and I went exploring and wandered onto her property.

She and I spent a couple hours sitting outside her house (she had one of the old, original farmhouses, which meant a kick-ass porch complete with swing and rockers), sipping iced tea, and shooting the shit. Elle really hit it off with Noah, too, and had already offered to babysit if I needed it. I got a great vibe off her, Noah adored her, and we’d been thrilled when she had us over for dinner on Wednesday.

Wednesday was also when I started cleaning Ruger’s house.

This was partly out of boredom. I also felt guilty, because Ruger 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.

Didn’t change how I felt.

Anyway, I decided the best way to pay Ruger 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. They weren’t all the same sizes, either—Ruger 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. I dropped the panties into one of the four plastic boxes I’d lined up across the top of the dryer.


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