My Perfect Drug (Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  “What the fuck, Johansson?” Topher demands in a slurred voice that makes fuck sound like duck and Johansson sound like pure gibberish. “Get the fuck off my property.”

  “We’re leaving.”

  Hiding his greasy hair and face under a hoodie, Topher stumbles forward, decides he needs something to keep him upright, and returns to using the car at his crutch. “I’m going to kill those Roche fuckers.”

  Cooper stands a few feet from Topher who uses his car to stand. My father seems like a big guy when he’s going apeshit on my family, but he’s downright puny in the shadow of the Reapers’ president.

  “I’ll be sure to pass that along when I speak with them later.”

  Topher snickers, sounding like a giggling child. “Wonder if they’ll kill your silly bitch daughter.”

  The next few seconds are a blur of movement. Cooper goes for Topher with the plan of punching him. I know my dad always packs a blade and will drunkenly lash out. As much as I wish to ditch their pissing contest, I can’t. If my father kills Lily’s father, she’ll never recover. Plus, our baby will grow up knowing his bad grandpa killed his good grandpa and then got destroyed by his good grandpa’s biker buddies.

  So I drop my bag and dive between the two men. Pushing back Cooper, I doubt the muscle wall moves an inch. Despite my unimpressive attempt to manhandle Cooper, I do a stellar fucking job stopping Topher’s blade from injuring Lily’s beloved pop.

  “Fucking shit!” I yell and yank the knife from my back. “This day just keeps getting better.”

  Cooper throws a punch that barely misses my head and nails Topher directly in the fucking face.

  All my favorite moments in life involve Lily. Stoned-Lily talking about how The Man has us all in chains. Drunk-Lily doing a striptease to “Kodachrome” by Paul Simon. Dominating-Delta threatening to cut a bitch who was flirting with me. Oh, and Sugary-Sweet-Lily proudly gifting me a knitted hat no sane man in the world ought to be caught wearing.

  No moment without Lily should be a favorite, but this one right here comes very close.

  Topher’s snarling mouth first implodes from the impact of Cooper Johansson’s mighty fist before exploding with blood and teeth. Stepping back, I stare in childlike awe at the sight of my father’s face shattering. I’m still gawking when he collapses on the ground.

  “You idiot,” Cooper growls while yanking me to the side so he can examine my back. “What the fuck?”

  “Is he dead?” I ask, sounding way too hopeful. “Could a miracle happen and both Rudy and Topher die on the same day?”

  “He’ll live.”

  “Don’t ruin my dream,” I say as he pokes my back. “Uh, dude, I got stabbed here. Stop going Pillsbury Doughboy on me.”

  “Now I need to take you to the hospital, and the cops will want to get involved.”

  Yanking away, I shake my head while also poking Topher’s unconscious body with my foot. “I don’t need a hospital. I can get stitched up by Betty Buck. She’s done it before. If we do need a hospital, though, just ask for Maj at the front desk, and she’ll keep the info from the cops.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Quaid Reynolds says, getting a frown from the other men since he most certainly means to interrupt. “But is there a reason we can’t kill this fuck and blame it on the other fucks who want revenge for the fucker who got shot?”

  “You spend too much time with Cap Hayes,” Cooper growls before adding, “Fuck.”

  “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “Your idea might satisfy the cops, but then we have no one to run the Mullen business since this idiot has no head for it,” Cooper explains and gestures to me.

  “He isn’t wrong, and Cy will receive pressure from our turd cousins to seek revenge for Topher.”

  “Your turd cousins are the only reason I haven’t killed your father long ago.”

  Quaid glances down at Topher and then frowns at me. Seeing the question on his face, I shrug. “My cousins are as fucked up as him plus doubly stupid. No one wants them moving to Ellsberg to take over the family business, and Cy doesn’t have the balls to keep them away.”

  “You need to stop bleeding,” Judd tells me and shoves a towel he found in the house against my back. “Let’s drag Topher inside and ditch him. This one needs to be checked, and I’m sick of standing in the open out here when there could be pissed Roches hiding in the cornfields.”

  Our gazes scan the many possible hiding places across the road. With the sun dipping low, we won’t have light for much longer either, and the lot’s electricity hasn’t worked in years. It’s not like anyone would rob us. The cars are shit, and Cy is quick to shoot at anything moving.

  Holding the towel against my back, I smile as Topher’s still limp body is haphazardly dragged along the ground, up the stairs, and into the house. I assume they drop him somewhere on the floor where he’ll hopefully choke on his teeth. While I logically don’t want for Topher to die and my cousins to show up in Ellsberg, the heart wants what the heart wants.

  I’m so busy enjoying the sight of Topher getting the rag doll treatment that I barely notice the way the towel in my hand grows warm and wet. A little part of me feels dizzy, but I haven’t smoked a full cigarette in hours, and I’m sporting an empty stomach. No reason to panic over a little vertigo when I could instead enjoy how much pain Topher will be in when he wakes later.

  THE CHAPTER WHERE THE NIGHT NEVER ENDS

  THE PRINCESS

  Mom and I take forever to calm ourselves. She comforts me even while trembling. Months ago, we thought MJ might die. Then we worried the shooter would try to finish the job. Even now, he walks around Ellsberg unharmed. That shooting remains an open wound, unable to heal until Gary Lee Roy is in a shallow grave.

  Today, I’m reminded of how, despite my mundane job, home, and everyday life, I’m still part of the Reapers sphere of influence. The police aren’t my concern. The Roche’s bloodlust will be, and my family isn’t safe. I did the right thing today by eliminating a threat, yet I’ve created an army of them.

  “I wish Dash and Pop were back,” I whisper once Mom and I cuddle on the couch staring at our phones.

  Sitting on the floor near the roaring fireplace, my sister leads Sissy and the kids in a game of “Life.” MJ frequently changes positions, unable to get comfortable with her new bump. I consider asking why don’t they sit at the table, but MJ does what she wants. The ground isn’t such a big deal to her. Or Sissy who once said Topher had her eat on the floor because he claimed she distracted him during meals. Those two women have a different way of thinking, and MJ has never been one to bend to the will of others.

  Besides, they appear much happier than I feel.

  “‘Yahtzee’!” Hart yells at one point, making me smile.

  Mom grins too while studying them. She leans closer to whisper, “Did Topher do that to her face?”

  “He was upset about Dash and me. I’ve never understood how such an evil man has survived so long.”

  “The people capable of killing him won’t for financial reasons, and the others are just afraid.”

  I think about how Pop and the Reapers keep Topher around because he’s the devil they know. Dash claims his two doofus cousins are just as bad as his father.

  “Imagine twice as stupid and double the violence,” Dash said years ago when we met up at a hotel for the night while my parents thought I was staying with a girlfriend from college. “Topher doesn’t kill them because they act as leverage against his enemies. No one, not even the Roche dicks, wants those fuckers in Ellsberg, so they endure Topher. I doubt killing Topher has ever occurred to my cousins despite him likely killing both their father and their mothers. Those two weren’t potty trained until they were nearly five, so on the scale of stupid, they’re shocking stupid even for Mullens. Just remember that when you think Topher is more trouble than he’s worth.”

  Back then, I considered asking why Dash and Cy couldn’t take over, but I knew my guy
had no fucks to give about the family business. He did what he was told and ignored the rest.

  “I wish I knew if Rudy was dead,” I say after Haydee gets a wife and Hart decides he wants a husband and asks if he can cheat to get one. MJ hands him a husband and a few kids. My sister lacks patience when it comes to “Life,” and I’m surprised she didn’t ask to play her preferred game of “Candyland.”

  “I texted your pop, but he hasn’t answered.”

  “How about Uncle Judd?” I ask since it’s family protocol to work around Pop by messaging his top-tier guys. Our method got so annoying that Vaughn even had a full-fledged meltdown a decade ago and screamed he wasn’t Pop’s receptionist. Even after all these years, the guys refuse to let him live it down and still send him flowers on Receptionists Day.

  “I’m texting him, but he’s worse than your pop about answering.”

  “Did Aunt Tawny come down with him from Pema?”

  “No, she’s helping out Vidalia.”

  My cousins Gunnar and Heidi moved to Pema years ago where they’re now raising families with Vidalia and Jox respectively. They also run—barely according to Colton—the local Reapers chapter. Neither of them gets to Ellsberg much, so Judd and Tawny regularly travel back and forth. It’s uncommon for my aunt and uncle to be in different towns, but Vidalia is ready to give birth, and Pop’s kept Judd close since MJ’s shooting.

  Before I can follow up with questions about Vidalia, Mom’s phone rings.

  “Coop, I’m putting you on speakerphone, so you can talk to Lily too.”

  A second passes, and the silence makes my stomach flip. “Don’t freak out,” Pop finally says, and I instantly struggle not to vomit. “We’re in the ER.”

  “Oh,” Mom gasps.

  Sighing dramatically, Pop mutters, “I said don’t freak out.”

  “Don’t tell me how to feel, Coop,” Mom growls into the phone.

  Ignoring their tiff, I ask, “Is Dash okay?”

  “Aren’t you worried about me?”

  “No, because you're on the phone so you couldn’t be that hurt,” I grumble, though Mom immediately relaxes since I guess she hadn’t assumed what I did. “Is he okay?”

  “He will be.”

  I’ve never hyperventilated in my life, but suddenly I can’t breathe. Dash is going to die, and our baby will never know its father, and I’ll never love again. No way can I marry some runner-up after knowing what real love feels like. My life is over!

  Sissy is suddenly next to me, pressing my head against her stomach while caressing my head and humming. I quickly realize two things—Sissy is blessed with an innate ability to relax someone, and she’s also currently hungry. I listen to her growling stomach until my breathing normalizes and I can finally hear Pop saying Dash is fine.

  He’s lying though. I know he is because Mom gives the phone a grumpy frown like she used to whenever Pop brought us home from school and claimed he didn’t let us fill up on junk before dinner. The woman knows a lie when she hears it.

  “Pop, did you hurt Dash?” MJ asks from somewhere in the room. Even calmer, I sit up while struggling against vertigo and a powerful sense of doom.

  “No, he’s fine.”

  “What’s he in the ER for then?”

  “He got a tiny bit stabbed.”

  Sissy stiffens next to me, and Mom gasps again. MJ, though, just shakes her head.

  “You shouldn’t stab your grandbaby’s daddy, Pop. It’s just bad manners. You taught us that.”

  “Are you done?” Pop grumbles, sounding so loud I feel as if he’s in the room.

  “No, I also wanted to know if you’re going to stab my baby’s daddy?”

  “I didn’t stab anyone.”

  “Was it Uncle Judd?”

  “No.”

  “Uncle Vaughn?”

  “It was Topher.”

  A startled Sissy stands up and looks at her kids. She’s thinking of running even if she has no idea where the threat is or where she can hide. I grip her hand so she won’t waste her time trying to make an exit.

  “Why would Topher stab Dash?” MJ asks, still standing halfway across the room rather than moving closer to the actual phone. “Was he trying to kill you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, that makes more sense,” MJ says and nods at me as if I should feel better.

  “Can I talk to Dash?” I ask.

  “He’s getting fixed up. He’s fine.”

  “Fixed up?”

  “He’s in surgery, but it’s nothing.”

  Crying now, I can’t remember the last thing I said to Dash. Did I tell him I loved him or kiss him goodbye?

  “Good going, Pop. You made Lily cry,” MJ says, finally walking toward the phone as if she’s decided it’s no threat to her.

  “Miranda Johansson,” Pop growls.

  “Yes, Pop, it’s me, MJ. Your pregnant daughter who was recently shot. Can you hear me, Pop?”

  Mom’s laughter startles me. She bursts into giggles and seems unable to stop.

  “You broke Mom,” MJ announces to Pop and takes the phone. “They’re all broken here. Is Quaid around? Can I talk to him?”

  “Call him on your phone, MJ.”

  “But my phone is in my trailer, and I don’t want to walk over there in the dark. What if I get lost?”

  Sissy’s giggles join Mom’s, and I find myself laughing. I don't even know what’s funny anymore, but MJ’s babble relaxes me as much as it irritates Pop.

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “No, wait!” I cry, grabbing the phone. “I want to see Dash. I’m coming to the hospital.”

  “No, you stay put. That’s an order.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  “Seems about right,” MJ mumbles.

  “Your uncle is on his way over to keep an eye on you.”

  “I need to be with Dash.”

  “He’s unconscious and won’t even know you're with him. Stay at the house until I say it’s safe.”

  “No, I’m going,” I say, standing up. “I need to be there when he wakes up.”

  “Farah, take the phone away from them and take me off the speaker.”

  Mom stops laughing and does as he barks at her. She looks irritated before he speaks again, but her eyes flash with genuine anger after she listens for nearly a minute.

  “Don’t you lock us in this house, Cooper Johansson. I don’t give a crap about the Roche family. Kill them all if they’re so damn scary.”

  “Do I need to get my gun?” MJ asks from the kitchen where she makes a batch of popcorn on the stove.

  “No,” Mom says and hangs up on Pop.

  A weird moment passes where everyone stops moving. Sissy literally doesn’t breathe, and her kids stare slack-jawed at us. Even MJ is utterly silent as if she willed the corn to cease popping.

  “What did he say?” I finally ask.

  Mom rests the phone on the couch and takes a deep breath. I wait an eternity until she finishes exhaling.

  “Pop says Uncle Tucker won’t let us leave.”

  “I can make him,” MJ announces while carrying two blue bowls of popcorn into the living room.

  Mom sighs. “Tucker’s on edge since Maddy moved to Conroe.”

  “I don’t care,” MJ says. “He could move there too.”

  “He’s the VP here.”

  “I don’t care,” MJ says with her mouth full this time. “It’s not our problem he doesn't know how to make his woman happy.”

  “Being married for so long is difficult. You’ll see one day.”

  I open my mouth to ask Mom if she’s okay, but then Sissy distracts me by tapping her children on the heads, so they’ll stop staring at us with their mouths open. As if waking from a dream, they turn in unison and realize she has popcorn. I’m relaxed by the sight of their matching smiles as they eat. I’ve craved these moments together for years, but I imagined them happening at my home and with Dash. We’d be safe away from Ellsberg's troubles.

  Ins
tead, I don’t know if I’ll ever see Dash again.

  “Your pop made it sound like Dash would be okay,” Mom says, ignoring the bowl of popcorn MJ places in her lap.

  “He doesn’t care if Dash dies.”

  “I’m sure he does,” Mom says and then realizes she doesn’t sound convincing. “Maybe not like you do, but he doesn’t want you to be sad.”

  “He doesn’t want me to be with Dash.”

  “But he doesn’t want your baby to be born without a father.”

  I know Mom believes what she’s saying. She isn’t one to willfully lie to her children, but she vastly underestimates the level of ingrained hatred Pop feels toward the Mullens.

  And that’s who’s at Dash’s side when he’s at his most vulnerable.

  THE LOSER

  Quaid grabs me by the back of the neck in the same way I’ve seen cats carry their kittens. When he asks what car my keys are for, I point to the Tahoe. Quickly, he shoves me into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s door. I hear him say something to Cooper, but I’m not feeling all that focused.

  The newest local member of the Reapers hits the gas, and the old Tahoe lurches forward off the gravel lot and onto the paved road.

  “Keep that rag pressed on your wound,” Quaid instructs in a nearly robotic tone. “The blade wasn’t long, but it might have hit your liver. Not a death sentence as long as a surgeon fixes it quickly enough. Just don’t bleed out before I get you to the hospital.”

  “I feel pretty okay.”

  “Then I’m wrong, and you’ll just get stitches. If I’m right, I’ve saved your life, and you can thank me by acting as a distraction whenever I get on Cooper’s bad side. If he gets mad at me, I’ll send him after you. Then you and I can call ourselves even.”

  Grinning, I rest my head back against the window and close my eyes. His driving is making my stomach lurch. “I wish I had grabbed one of Topher’s teeth from the ground before we left. My sister would have enjoyed a keepsake from dear old dad.”