Reaper is a vicious killer. A cold, calculating predator with a taste for the hunt. More monster than man, he believes he will never know love. That is until he meets Harlow Kane. She’s beautiful and fearless and he cant stop thinking about her because for all of his faults, she’s so much worse.

This is Reaper & Harlow’s story.

Full Blurb & Release Date Coming Soon!

SNEAK PEEK SNIPPET!

Ladies and gents, meet Harlow Kane.…

REAPER © 2023 Avery Lennox

***

I opened the door to the clubhouse and stepped into the darkness. The only sounds greeting me were those of snoring bikers passed out on couches and the whirring of the air conditioner. The place smelled like stale booze and sex. I had no problem with grown adults getting theirs but why did it always have to be on the pool table? I rolled my eyes and shook my head, thankful for the dim lighting. I did not want to witness a sea of hairy asses.

It was almost time for church and I planned to be waiting when those unimaginative fucks rolled in. I pulled the pistol and the metal tin from the pocket of my long black fur coat before laying it over the back of the barstool. Snatching a bottle of bourbon and a clean glass from behind the bar, I weaved my way through the sleeping bodies and into the Sanctuary. I dropped myself into the one seat I was forbidden from ever touching and glared down the table where the most loyal soldiers were meant to sit in obeisance. 

And they would. 

After what I did tonight, they wouldn’t have a choice.

They would submit to me.

I laid my gun on the table and removed a joint from the tin I was holding before tossing that down as well. I poured myself a few fingers of bourbon, lit the joint with the matches Bear had left behind, and sat back to await everyone’s arrival. I relaxed into the pungent scent of cannabis now filling the air and closed my eyes, silently willing the flood of adrenaline to finally fizzle out. Only a few minutes passed before the first man came through the door. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rex slowed upon seeing me lounging in the President’s chair, then he took in the sight of me and came to a complete halt.

I was something to behold, I’m sure.

I was dressed in a white off-the-shoulder number that hugged me tight in all the right places. The slit riding high on my thigh gave way to a long tattooed leg crossed over my other and bouncing slowly out of boredom. The dress was the best I could get my hands on with such short notice and I looked like walking sex at the start of the evening. 

But my killer dress wasn’t what had his jaw pinned to the floor. 

It was the Jackson Pollock painting of fresh blood that covered me from head to toe.

None of it was mine.

“Sit down,” I ordered, my icy tone leaving no room for discussion. Wide eyed, he did as he was told, never removing his gaze from me, taking in every bit of the shitshow. I took another hit off my joint and then leaned forward, offering it to him. He accepted, gaping at me in stunned silence. The rest of the seat holding members filed in, every one of them shocked into quiet disbelief, and took their places at the table. My father was the last to arrive.

“Harlow.” The single word began as a demand but all of the heat was lost as he took me in, staring in horror.

“Daddy,” I greeted. “Go ahead and pull up a chair,” I added, making it clear that I wasn’t moving out of his.

“Harlow,” he warned, but his threat was empty. This was church and no one brought guns to church. 

“Sit down,” I ground out through gritted teeth. I laid my hand on the pistol grip and lightly fingered the trigger as I continued. “Tell me, Daddy. Do I look like I’m fuckin’ around?”

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