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

by Bijou Hunter

  “She’s safe where she’s currently headed.”

  I hear in his voice how he plans to keep Lily locked up at the Johansson Manor for the foreseeable future. I very much doubt Delta will sit still for that.

  “Yeah, but Lily wants to take care of me, and you don’t want me bleeding in your house.”

  “Fuck off, kid. You can bleed there all you want. I just don’t want you doing anything more strenuous.”

  I shouldn’t laugh, but I do anyway. Cooper Johansson’s grossed-out scowls just crack me up.

  The staff doesn’t hassle me on my way out. I bet they’re more worried about the big biker man than they are me, but I get out the door without any issues. Well, besides a fucking shit fuck ton of pain! Why did I think this was a good idea? And more importantly, when can I get buzzed on a stash of Mullen Mary Jane?

  “Don’t die,” Cooper orders when he opens the door to an SUV driven by Judd O’Keefe. “Lily doesn’t need the stress.”

  “No, no, that would be bad,” I mumble and climb into the car. Settling into the seat, I add, “But I can’t promise I won’t cry.”

  “Why didn’t you take pain pills, dumbass?”

  “Gotta stay sharp.”

  “Here,” Vaughn Rogers says and hands me a joint. “Lily texted to say you’d prefer this to the pharmaceutical route.”

  “She really is a fucking angel.”

  By the time we reach the old Dairy Queen, I’m lit like the brightest candle in the cathedral. Cooper says something about Bobby Bo making threats, but he tells everyone to keep cool.

  “He’s showing off,” Cooper adds. “Don’t react to his bullshit. I want to de-escalate this crap so Lily can get on with her life.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “We’ll keep so fucking chill.”

  Cooper rolls his eyes, which makes me giggle like a little kid. There’s no denying Lily’s pop is a funny fucking guy.

  I follow the three men out of the SUV, but they move too fast, and I only shuffle. By the time I reach where they stand across from Bobby Bo and a few interchangeable Roches, my buzz is on the losing side of a battle with my back pain.

  “My boy isn’t going to make it,” Bobby Bo says, and I think his squinting eyes are meant to show he’s sad. “How are we going to make this right?”

  Cooper crosses his arms. “I’m not paying for his funeral if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It’s a life for a life, Johansson. Your daughter took my son’s life. I need to be repaid for that, but don’t worry. I’m not looking to take your daughter’s life. Especially with her carrying a baby. No, that wouldn’t be right and just.”

  Cooper grunts next to me. The sound reminds me of when I attended a rodeo years ago. The bulls would snort angrily when trapped in the stalls. Cooper must have invisible ropes holding him back because he’s giving off the same vibes.

  “Say what you need to say, Bobby Bo, so I can tell you no.”

  “I don’t want more death.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Sissy.”

  Cooper’s arms uncross, and I think he might be ready to punch someone. “I’m not pimping out a girl to you.”

  “No, no, take your mind out of the gutter, Johansson. She has those pretty kids, and Rudy’s mama is missing her boy. If Sissy joins our family with her babies, we’ll call it even.”

  Cooper looks back at us, and I actually think he might be considering exchanging Sissy’s life for Lily’s. Then he looks right past me and gives an eye roll for Judd’s sake. His enforcer barely reacts, but the Ripper isn’t known for expressing himself much before tearing people apart.

  “What makes you think I have the power to hand over Sissy Mullen and her kids?”

  “You can do whatever you want.”

  “If that was true, why would I waste time talking to you?”

  “If I may,” I interrupt, stepping forward and getting skunk-level stink eyes from the two older men. “Rather than retribution, shouldn’t you be begging for mercy?”

  “How do you figure, asshole?” Bobby Bo growls, sounding like a less rabid Topher.

  “Your son came to Mullen property looking to murder us. Last I heard our families have a tenuous truce that Rudy shit on. Then there’s the fact that Lily didn’t shoot your boy to protect me but to protect herself. So your boy not only fucked with the Mullens, he nearly murdered the firstborn daughter of a man who allows you to run your drugs in his town. Now I can’t speak for Johansson, but I know Topher won’t forgive Rudy’s intent, and he’s certainly not going to hand over his only daughter to his enemy.”

  Bobby Bo doesn’t react to my threats, but the interchangeable Roches get squirrely behind him. They aren’t looking to die over Rudy.

  “He doesn’t care about that girl,” Bobby Bo says finally.

  “No, but Sissy belongs to Topher, and he won’t give her up for nothing in return. Besides, you want her as repayment for your son getting killed breaking a truce. How the fuck does that make sense, old timer?”

  “You’re turning a pleasant conversation into something ugly, Mullen.”

  “It’s what my family does, so what makes you think Topher won’t view Rudy’s attack on our home as an attack on him?” I ask, raising my voice from a four to maybe a six.

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  “You want to own my fucking sister, you piece of shit!”

  “No, wait, I’m talking about giving her a better life.”

  “By handing her kids over to Rudy’s mama?” I ask, losing my temper in a way I didn’t think possible. Then again, I was raised to hate every breath a Roche takes, and this one is inhaling and exhaling like someone who needs punching. “You want a breeding mare.”

  “Is your sister really good at anything else?”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Cooper growls. “No one is giving you anything. Dipshit Mullen has a point about how your fucking boy pulled a gun on my daughter. If you were smart enough to see the big picture, Bobby Bo, you’d be thanking your lucky stars that my baby girl killed your idiot son. If he had hurt her, or God forbid killed her, I’d have burned your entire family to the ground. True, I might let the little Roches live, but Grandma Roche was dying with the rest of you.”

  Cooper pauses long enough for his brain to imagine a future without Lily. An ugly rage fills his dark eyes, and I’d be terrified if I weren’t so buzzed.

  “I’d have killed every single one of you,” Cooper continues, “and I’d have enjoyed it too, so let’s think of Lily shooting Rudy as a happy little accident that allows your family to continue existing. Now, are we done here or do I need to think a little longer about how your fucking son came at my pregnant daughter with a gun?”

  When Cooper exhales weirdly, I realize he’s releasing his inner asshole. Each breath brings him closer to the homicidal beast he keeps chained up most days. I’m very curious about what Cooper-monster looks like, but Bobby Bo isn’t hanging around to see.

  “Screw you fuckers!” he hollers and stomps to his car. “Johansson fuckers always get what Johansson fuckers want! Rules and decency be damned!”

  “He isn’t wrong,” I mutter to Cooper who snarls at me. I grin at his expression and shrug. “I’m sure it’s tough being at the top, looking down at us peasants.”

  “Shut up, kid.”

  My snickers turn to full-fledged giggles by the time I return to the SUV. Oh, yeah, the power of the buzz has made a comeback. Now I just need my girl back in my arms to make this a perfect day.

  THE PRINCESS

  Home is where your heart is, but I refuse to stay another night at Mom and Pop’s house. I don’t feel safe here. Even with Pop keeping his temper in check with Dash and Sissy, I’ve spent too long viewing him as a threat to them. Logically, sure, he’s less of a threat than Topher or Bobby Bo, but my heart fears him nonetheless.

  The duplex feels safer. It’s mine. The creaking floors reassure me as does the usual ruckus from my neighbors. I miss the feel of my slip
per-covered feet stepping onto the chilly front stoop to get my paper and check the mail. I crave the uneven heat throughout my place. How many nights have I moved from one chair in the living room to another because I got too warm or cold? My home feels safe from the troubles of Johanssons vs. Mullens vs. Roches.

  I’m not naïve. Nowhere is truly safe if the Roches want to hurt me. Or if Topher decides he misses punching Sissy or needs to stab Dash again as punishment for making him stab him in the first place.

  There’s no controlling for sinister types, but my heart feels safer there, and I need to pretend Dash is safe.

  My fella ought to be in the hospital. MJ stayed two nights. Was her arm wound really so much worse than his back injury? Dash claimed he was released, but I know he’s lying. For a Mullen, he isn’t particularly skilled at threading lies. His gray-eyed gaze refuses to hold mine when he isn’t telling the truth. It’s why whenever he claimed to cheat on me or wanted to move on from me, I always knew he was lying. Dash Mullen can’t mask the truth from the one person created to love him.

  Sitting awkwardly on my parents’ leather couch, he is too pale, and I catch him wincing in pain more than once. He puts on a ruse of being okay. He even claims the injury isn’t such a big deal. A whole lot of fuss over a nick.

  “I’ve had worse,” he reassured me as soon as he stepped into the house and my arms.

  Again, he’s full-on fibbing. Dash detests anyone taking care of him. When his parents came at him with smiling faces, they always wanted something. He can’t trust others enough to lower his guard. Not even me, but I’ll teach him to let me baby him nonetheless.

  “We should get home,” I tell Mom and Pop as I tug on my boots. “Dash needs to rest.”

  “Why not stay longer?” Mom asks immediately.

  “Look, you know how much I appreciate you taking us in last night. You’re the bee’s knees as always, but why should we hide here? Pop put Bobby Bo Roche in his place. Topher Mullen is hiding out with his broken face. I want to get home, sleep in my bed, and cook in my kitchen. The kiddos also need to get comfy in their new home.”

  “It’s not safe,” Pop insists.

  “I have work tomorrow. Driving there will be easier from my place in this weather,” I explain while Sissy gets her kiddos bundled up to leave.

  “Call in sick.”

  “I need to work now to ensure I have enough vacation days for the end of my pregnancy.”

  “Quit your job and work for the family.”

  “Goodness gracious!” I cry and look for help from Mom with his paranoia. “I have no head for business, and I prefer having insurance especially with the baby coming.”

  “I ought to get to work too,” Dash says, standing with considerable trouble. “I’ll need to sell a lot of pot to pay off the hospital bill.”

  “I handled that,” Pop says, over his shoulder. “Now shut up.”

  “Why you?”

  “Topher meant that blade for me,” Pop says, refusing to look at Dash. “I didn’t see him making a move, so you did me a favor. Now shut up while I explain to my daughter how she needs to stay here.”

  “I want to go home,” I growl, fighting against a panic-fueled rage. Rudy expected me to bow to his will. Topher does the same with Sissy. I can’t deal with another man throwing around his weight when I only want to spend the night in my own bed.

  “What you want and what you need are two different things,” Pop insists, unaccustomed to backing down.

  Mom steps in front of her husband and forces him to back up. “Not to interrupt your contest of wills, but I see no reason we can’t compromise.”

  Sitting next to Quaid, MJ snorts. “Pop, are you okay?”

  “Yes, MJ.”

  “I only ask because Mom just put you in a corner.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Pop grunts, giving her an irate look that only makes her laugh.

  “After being sidelined like that, do you need a hug?”

  “No,” he grows, but I can tell he wants a hug. MJ must sense this fact because she hurries over to him and gives him a tight embrace.

  “I’m sorry your woman emasculated you like that, Pop.”

  Pop shoots a dirty look in Mom’s direction, but she’s very obviously ignoring him and MJ. Her brown eyes remain solely on me.

  “Let me explain why I think it’d be best if you stayed a few more days,” she says and continues before I can disagree. “You mentioned getting bunk beds for the kids in the second bedroom. I’ll call around to find you one. Colton can get it moved in before you return to the duplex.”

  “I still think we’d be more comfortable there.”

  My always patient mom nods. “But Dash needs to be watched over for a few days.”

  “I’ll take care of him,” I say, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “You’ll be at work tomorrow.”

  “So will you.”

  “MJ will be here.”

  “I’m the house manager,” MJ tells Pop while still hugging him.

  Pop nods. “We’re very proud of you.”

  “As you should be.”

  Pop gives MJ a peculiar look, but she just smiles. Once again, my sister manages to seem both genuinely slow yet possibly pulling the wool over our eyes.

  Mom waits until they quiet down before she continues. “Just a few days here at the house while we get the duplex ready to suit five people.”

  I glance at Sissy who has stopped moving during the halfway mark of sliding on Haydee’s jacket. She stares at me like a robot waiting for instructions. Sissy can’t decide. After a lifetime as someone’s puppet, thinking for herself isn’t a skill she’s honed.

  Turning my gaze to a miserable Dash, I hope he’ll give me guidance or at least backup.

  “The stairs at your place are narrow,” he mumbles as if that answers my question.

  “Our place,” I correct.

  “Honestly, baby, I wouldn’t mind staying here where I don’t have to worry about your safety. I should probably pound on my chest and grunt caveman threats to impress your dad about my dick size. Except I got stabbed in the back which was a huge fucking killjoy. Plus quitting smoking is going to suck a hard one. So let’s just say I’d be cool with doing a whole lot of fucking nothing for a few days. Having you under your dad’s thumb gives me a break.”

  Choosing to ignore the stuff about my pop while I rush to Dash’s side, I ask, “You’re quitting?”

  “I didn’t smoke at the hospital,” he says, wrapping an arm around me. “And I barely smoked the day before at your place. I haven’t smoked but once today. Plus, I’ll be stoned a lot as I heal up, so that ought to help with the withdrawal. By the time my back is fine, I’ll be a former smoker and super fucking obnoxious about sharing advice on how other people should live their lives.”

  “Does that mean I need to quit too?” Sissy asks.

  “You do what you want,” I tell her.

  “What does that mean?”

  Dash smiles at his sister. “It means you need to stop, babe.”

  “Oh,” she says, and looks down at Haydee. “Are we going or staying?”

  “You’re staying,” Pop answers. “Three nights at the very least.”

  “One night is enough,” I reply, just because he’s getting on my nerves.

  “Two, it is,” Mom announces and reaches to remove Haydee and Hart’s jackets. “Besides, it’s cold out, and everyone needs to relax after the last few days.”

  I eyeball Pop who narrows his gaze in response. MJ meanwhile plays charades with Quaid while still hugging our father.

  “Why are you so against staying here?” he finally asks.

  “Would you have wanted to stay with Pop-Pop and Gram once you and Mom lived together?”

  “If it meant keeping Mom safe, then yes.”

  “Fine, fine, I’m the bad guy for wanting to have my own home.”

  The tears feel unnecessary, but my hormones dictate my responses lately. No rational thoughts need apply.r />
  MJ moves from Pop over to me, and I relax in her arms. “You lost a fight with Pop,” she whispers. “That’s okay. He lost too. You’re two losers, mad at losing when you should be happy for our winner Mom.”

  “I did win,” Mom says from the kitchen. “I always win.”

  Pop glares at Mom, and she glares right back. Dash sits on the couch, wincing in pain as he does. Once he gets comfy, he gestures for me to join him.

  “Ditch me,” MJ whispers. “It’s okay. I’m already moving on emotionally to Quaid and have begun to forget you.”

  My sister and I make a beeline for our men while our parents avoid each other.

  Dash sighs when I press against him. Then he whispers, “I’m telling you a fuck-a-thon in the Caribbean would fix what’s ailing those two.”

  “I can’t tell them that.”

  “Sex is a natural thing, Lil.”

  “I know, but if I discuss lovemaking with them, they’ll think they can discuss it with me. I’m not opening that can of worms.”

  Nearby, MJ sits with Quaid and snickers at my use of the word, “lovemaking.”

  “Grow up, nincompoop,” I tell her.

  Rubbing her belly, she feigns sadness. “We fucked to make our baby. Is that wrong?”

  “There are children in the room,” I answer.

  MJ glances at Haydee and Hart who are dancing. Sissy bobs her head nearby. Am I deaf or are they reacting to unheard music? Possibly, Sissy is humming, and the kiddos are dancing to that sound. I can’t really tell, but watching them is a helpful distraction from discussing how MJ made her baby.

  MJ, though, refuses to be ignored. “How can you complain about bad behavior when your dirty mouth called me a nincompoop? For shame, Lily. Now back to what’s important.” MJ pauses long enough to level her gaze on Dash. “I think our baby was conceived doggy style.”

  “Get the fuck out,” he says and snaps his fingers. “That’s exactly how I knocked up this one.”

  Laughing at his comment, MJ loves to have someone to play along with her. Audrey is always game to jump into the “fucking versus lovemaking” discussion thread. Colton never hesitates to join in too. With them both missing, MJ has located a new buddy.