Would he mention the arrest? Should I? God, how awkward. The bell rang again, and I ran down the stairs, opening the door in a rush.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly. “I was upstairs, and . . .”

My voice trailed off as I realized something was wrong. Really wrong. Cooper’s face was hard, and his eyes burned with strange intensity. He also seemed bigger somehow, like I was seeing him stand up straight for the first time. This was the man I knew, only different. Still sexy as hell, but with an edge of danger I’d never felt before.

I stared at him, wondering why he was here and hoping to hell he wouldn’t notice that my nipples had just gotten hard. I’d had to start investing in a whole new set of padded T-shirt bras since he’d moved in . . . too bad I wasn’t wearing one right now.

“Hi, it’s a little late—”

“Time to talk, Tinker,” he said bluntly, pushing into the house. He caught my arm, jerking me away from the door before he slammed it shut and locked it with a decisive click. Then he walked across my mother’s prized front parlor like he owned the place, stopping next to her antique mahogany credenza.

“What’s going on?” I asked. He ignored the question, reaching back behind his vest to pull out a handgun, which he set down on one of Grandma Garrett’s hand-knitted doilies. Then he caught the end of his belt, unhooking the buckle. Wait. Why was he doing that? Talking doesn’t require taking off your belt. Oh, and there was the whole gun thing. That wasn’t exactly comforting either.

I thought about what Carrie had told me. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. I should’ve listened to her, kept my doors locked. So what if he thought I was hiding?

“Cooper, I think—”

“Gage,” he said shortly, whipping the belt out of its loops, freeing a big knife I’d never noticed him wearing before today. He dropped it next to his other weapon.

“Gage?” I asked hesitantly, swallowing. My instincts were screaming at me to make a run for it, except that was crazy. Maybe I didn’t know him very well, but if Cooper wanted to hurt me, he’d had plenty of opportunities before tonight. The back of his vest caught my attention—there was a patch in the center with a skull on it. Above it was another patch that read “Reapers,” and below a third that said “Idaho.”

I knew jack shit about motorcycle clubs, but even I’d heard of the Reapers MC. Fucking hell, what was going on here?

“My name is Gage,” he said, turning and stalking toward me.

“Your name is Gage?” I parroted weakly, taking a step back. “But I saw your ID, with your rental application.”

“Fake,” he said bluntly. “All of it was fake. Lot of shit’s gone down in the last two days. Things have changed, so it’s time for us to talk.”

Cooper—no, Gage—invaded my space, pinning me against my own front door. One hand came up, cradling my throat for an instant. I felt the strength in his tough, calloused grip and another wave of fear hit me. Unfortunately, a wave of lust hit, too, because our bodies were officially touching more than they ever had before. It felt every bit as good as I’d imagined, too. Then the hand slid upward, and he dug his fingers into my hair, pulling it loose from the hair band. Not completely, just enough for him to cradle the back of my head.

“There’s a lot of ground to cover, so I’m gonna give you the short version for now,” he said harshly, catching and holding my eyes. I swallowed as one of his thighs pushed between my legs. He surrounded me, using up more than his fair share of oxygen. It left me dizzy. “I haven’t been free since I got here. Now I am, which means I’m taking what’s mine.”

I squeaked, blinking rapidly as I tried to decide if I was scared or turned on. He leaned into me, nose brushing my ear as he took a deep breath.

“What do you mean, you’re taking . . . ?” I was so confused that I wasn’t even sure what question to ask. None of this made any sense. He’d never treated me like anything but a friend, so what the hell was going on here?

“I’m taking you,” he said with quiet force. His leg separated mine, and I felt something long and hard against my stomach. My hormones surged, because I knew what that was, and I knew what it wanted, too.

Oh, wow.

This couldn’t be happening. Could it? I’d had so many dreams about him over the past two months. Maybe I was asleep. Yeah, that had to be it. I’d wake up in a minute, and then I’d be able to laugh at how silly I’d been.

“You’re mine now,” he continued, rubbing his nose along my cheekbone. Then he pulled back, catching my gaze again. “A lot’s gone down, but right now the critical information is that you belong to me. You’re my property. You don’t understand what that means, and that’s okay. I’ll teach you. But when you look back at this moment, I want you to remember there was a before I claimed you and an after. Now it’s after. You got me?”

I’d never gotten anyone less. I swallowed, then bit my own lip. Not to be coy, but to wake myself up, because this dream was getting less sexy and more scary. Ouch. Okay, that should do it . . . Staring at him, I realized he was still in front of me. This was real.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“First, Talia has never been my girlfriend—that bitch is nothing. My club sent me here to check on the Nighthawks, and she was the easiest way to get inside. Fucking her was like fucking a praying mantis. She’s gone, or she will be soon. Either way, I’m done with her.”

I frowned, shaking my head because that was a nasty, nasty thing to say. Just hearing it sent a thrill through me, though, because apparently I’m a terrible person. Still, this was all too much, so I pushed against his chest, trying to get some space. In an instant, he caught both my wrists and raised them over my head. Then he was holding them with one hand while the other slid into my hair again, this time holding it just tight enough to hurt, twisting my head up toward his. He leaned forward, lips hovering over mine, and spoke.

“I’ve been watching you twitch that ass of yours for too long,” he whispered, licking his lips. “You sit on that pretty little porch of yours with your friends. You pretend you aren’t scoping me out, but you are. You’ve wanted it bad for a long time, and now you’re gonna get it.”

Then his mouth took mine, tongue shoving inside. You belong to me now, he’d said. Remember this moment.

Holy. Crap.

What’d I gotten myself into?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a prequel short story about Melanie and Painter’s first meeting. It takes place one year before the beginning of Reaper’s Fall (when Painter is released from prison), against the background of action from Reaper’s Stand. I thought you might enjoy reading it.

SUGAR AND SPICE

MELANIE

I fell for Levi “Painter” Brooks the first time I saw him, although in all fairness I did have a head injury at the time.

It was a weird start to a relationship, too.

You see, I blew up a house.

It wasn’t on purpose, and in my defense I’d had a really shitty day. My mom had taken off earlier in the week. Just up and left while I was at work on Monday, and she never came back. Neither me or my dad heard a thing from her, and while she’d always been sort of flaky, she’d never done anything like this before. By Wednesday night, I broke down and asked him if we should report her missing to the police.

He’d thrown his beer bottle at me, shouting about how “the whore” must’ve gotten herself a new man. She’d left me because I was nothing, just like she was nothing.

Then he’d told me to go buy him more beer.

I decided to call Loni instead.

Not long afterward, I blew up her house.