Never Say Never (Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter Book 3)

by Bijou Hunter

“She’s gorgeous.”

  “Shallow,” I say, smiling at him.

  “Well, she’s also intelligent and has a great sense of humor, but, yeah, she’s hot.”

  We all take turns hugging him before making room for Vaughn’s return. Son and father embrace, whispering lovely sentiments or insults. Who can know with those people? River then ditches us, so he can return to Max.

  “Butt,” Iggy tells me.

  “Yeah, he is a butt,” I reply.

  Shane mutters, “I think he wants to go home.”

  “Then why say ‘butt’?” Taylor asks.

  Shane narrows his eyes at us. “You are both aware of his age. Stop acting like dipshits.”

  “I blame the Majors,” I say, standing up and doing my Donald Sutherland’s “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” bug-eyed-stare-and-point routine. “They’re bad influences.”

  “Suck it, Campbell,” Avery mutters.

  “Get bent, Majors.”

  This bickering continues even when we’re back at the Victorian. I have to give up my room to Savannah, Surfer Dude, and Baby Boy Funny Name. Packing up my clothes, I call them freeloaders and threaten to sic my dogs on them. Then I give Savannah a hug and admit she made a cute baby.

  “You will, too,” Savannah whispers in my ear. “A giant cute baby.”

  Narrowing my gaze, I’m uncertain if she’s back to fucking with me. Those Majors’ twins are tricky.

  Downstairs, Avery and Baby Girl Funny Name are getting settled into the sitting room.

  “Everyone else is going to Maverick’s,” she says before popping out a boob to feed her baby.

  “Everyone’s having babies,” I mumble, feeling weird suddenly. “River is a dad. Shane is a dad. Taylor’s going to be a dad soon too.”

  “Ha, ha,” my friend says, entering the room.

  “It’s just that everyone grew up.”

  “We’re in our twenties,” Taylor says, hugging me. “It was time.”

  “Shane's just a baby,” I whimper before crying for no damn reason whatsoever. “It seems like he just learned to walk. Then he was jacking off. Then he was killing people. Then he was married with two kids. Now he has no balls.”

  Shane grumbles under his breath while walking past the room. I whisper to Taylor. “I heard him coming.”

  “Nice timing.”

  “Still, when we moved to Shasta, we were just a bunch of twatty teenagers. Sure, we were technically adults and mature and shit, but we were living like kids just out of our parents’ houses.”

  “Because you were,” Avery says.

  “And you’re currently living where?” I growl at her.

  “Point taken.”

  “Well, I just can’t believe how it’s all changed so fast.”

  Taylor hugs me again. Taking advantage of her current affectionate mood, I cling to her strong body. “By the end of the year,” she whispers, “every member of the Fearsome Foursome and the Band will have a kid.”

  “Shane will be the leader with two,” I say and smile at him passing by again.

  Preferring this comment to the ball-less one, he gives me a wink. Then he hurries after Iggy, who is very curious about all the people in his house.

  Without Max around to cook for everyone, we’re forced to warm up a few casseroles she made weeks ago with the help of Maude and Lineke. I put two in the oven and walk out to the front porch.

  The frigid winter air should send me back into the house, but the cold reminds me of Goliath. Hansel and Gretel play just off the porch, snug in their little vests and hats. I know they look ridiculous, but I love dressing them up. One day, I’ll torture my kid with goofy hats too.

  Teary-eyed, I realize why I’m feeling mopey. I wish Goliath was here to soothe me. I’ve gotten addicted to his touch and the sound of his growly voice. My friends and family aren’t enough anymore. I need Dean, even though I know it would be hell for him to be around all these people and potentially screaming kids.

  Still, I text to say I miss him. Nothing more. I consider asking him to come to the house, but I don’t. It feels selfish to guilt him into a situation that I know he’ll hate. Goliath is just starting to feel as if he belongs. It’d be cruel to throw him into a world of snarky Majors who talk shit like they breathe. I might be a bitch, but I always make sure the person I’m teasing is in on the joke. Goliath rarely is. He takes comments personally. I will have to wait until later to see him.

  I sit outside for another twenty minutes. Despite the chilly 40-degree weather, the dogs are having a ball. They rarely enjoy the front yard, so it’s like a new wonderland for Gretel and Hansel. The little balls of furry goodness wag their tails at the sound of an approaching Harley. Yeah, my dogs are sweet on bikers too.

  Goliath isn’t even off his bike before I’m attached to him.

  “You came.”

  “I got the feeling you wanted me to,” he says, warming me with his gray eyes.

  “I’m emotional over Max’s baby and our baby and my friends all being so happy. I feel a little overwhelmed, but this right here,” I say, tightening my hold on him, “makes it all feel okay.”

  Goliath gets it. I’m his safe space too. Once he let me into his heart just a tiny bit, he felt what I did that first time I saw him.

  THE GOLIATH

  Maybe I’m stressed about the baby and that slasher fuck. Or maybe Shelby’s weirdness has crawled under my skin. After all, I’m watching a lot of horror movies lately. That’s probably it. Still, I swear I feel someone brush up against me at the Victorian when I know for a fucking fact that no one is in the room.

  “Ghost hugs,” Shelby insists as we prepare to drive over to the trailer for the night. “I don’t blame them for feeling you up.”

  This is our routine now. We spend time at the Victorian or out with her group of friends. Then we drive together back to my place. Shelby always rushes from her SUV to the trailer. I don’t know if she’s more scared of that slasher or werewolves. Or maybe a maniac with a chainsaw. Or zombies or some other fucking thing. She knows about them all, and the woods are home for most of the shit-fucks.

  “We need to find a place in town,” I say that night and the next one.

  I probably say it too much, but I’m getting restless. The trailer feels too small now that I know I got a little girl on the way.

  Seeing River’s new baby makes mine growing in Shelby feel more concrete. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to take care of someone that damn small. River looks like he's been doing that shit all his life. Then again, he’s got seven younger siblings. Plus, Shane’s kids. I guess he oughta look that smooth.

  One afternoon, I’m at the Saloon with Hugh when Shane comes looking for me.

  “Busted,” Hugh says, shaking his head.

  “Snitch,” I growl at him despite not even knowing why Shane’s got me on his radar.

  While Hugh snickers at my situation, I follow Shane. We ride for a few minutes into the Railroad part of Shasta. He parks in front of a container-looking house with a tidy yard and single car garage. Down the residential street, kids rev imaginary motorcycles and chase each other like outlaws.

  “This house doesn’t look like much,” Shane says, climbing off his Harley.

  “Looks like a box.”

  “The place has a weird design. The original owner tried to do something, and I don’t think the end result was what he wanted.”

  Realizing he’s showing me a rental place, I ask, “Why this house and not others?”

  “Shelby has several must-haves for her rental place. Fenced yard for the dogs. Check. Can’t be in the boonies. Check,” he says and then opens the house’s front door. “High ceilings so you don’t feel crowded. Check.”

  I walk into the box house and see what he means. The ceilings are probably ten feet high. The inside is clean with white walls and light wood floors. It’s just one big open room. In the back of the main area are three doors. One goes outside. I don’t know about the other two.
/>   “The kitchen is small,” I mutter, looking at the one wall of cabinets with a stove. There’s a stacked washer and dryer next to the fridge.

  “Shelby doesn’t cook. You’ll be at the Victorian a lot. This place has one good-sized bedroom and one tiny-as-fuck bedroom,” he says, walking to the mystery doors. “The bathroom isn’t big, but it’s larger than the one at the trailer.”

  I check out the empty bedrooms. He’s right that the master has space for a big bed. The smaller one is really a closet.

  “Look,” Shane says, crossing his arms, “I wouldn’t even be showing this place to you if I thought you’d live here for more than a year. But as a temporary place, it could work.”

  “Can a baby fit in that little room?”

  “Sure. I have two boys in a room not much bigger than that one.”

  “How come you don’t move out?” I ask, remembering how Shelby said Shane will leave once River does.

  “I like where I am.”

  Studying him, I shove my hands in my pockets and smirk. “I forget how young you are sometimes. Living with all your people makes things easier.”

  “I’ll move when I’m ready,” he grumbles, sounding like Shelby’s kid brother rather than my VP.

  “Shelby doesn’t want to leave the Victorian.”

  “Sure, but there’s no room for you there, and she won’t sleep in the bedroom. The Victorian won’t work, and the trailer is too small for a baby. I also think Shelby misses having Hansel and Gretel around at night, and the woods aren’t suited for small dogs unless you have a fenced yard.”

  Shane looks around the living room area. “You need a house, and this is a house. Not your dream house. Just a temporary place where you can come home to Shelby every night. Oh, and it’s only a block from Taylor’s house.”

  I smile wider at that last part. “How come you’re telling just me and not Shelby too?”

  “If she likes it, you’ll feel as if you have to like it too. I wanted to let you see it without any pressure.”

  Shane’s words hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. He put my feelings before his sister’s. This man wanted to murder me less than a year ago. Now he’s making sure I feel right with shit. Shane’s acting like a friend. Hell, he’s acting like I’m his family.

  THE WEIRDO

  My baby bump flatters me. It makes my shirts look sexier, even though my boobs seem smaller. Yeah, I’ve hit the sexy trimester of pregnancy, and I plan to enjoy it. Having watched Ramona and Max through their pregnancies, I suspect the final trimester isn’t hot at all.

  I think I might be strutting when I walk into the Saloon. My escort is Vowel, who is terrified to make eye contact. I bet he worries Goliath will stomp on him if we’re too friendly. He might be right. I don’t know what the boys talk about when I’m not around. Even if they said it in front of me right now, I’d be too busy strutting to follow along.

  So full of myself, I barely get annoyed by Dione’s appearance at my booth.

  “I’m not looking for a blowjob, darling. Vowel might be interested.”

  The sexy little brunette gnaws at her nails, looking half a second away from shitting her pants. It’s not an attractive look, so I assume she isn’t flirting with me.

  “Would you like to sit down and discuss your troubles?” I ask, wondering if one of the guys hurt her or she’s knocked up.

  While I’m not normally the go-between with the sweet butts and club management, Taylor isn’t around, and I’ve heard I’m less scary than my friend. It’s bullshit, really. I’m just as crazy as that bitch!

  Dione sits on the other side of the booth, just like she used to when flirting with Goliath. I’m sure many a night she slid under the table and choked on his giant dick. I do not envy her that experience. The thing is huge, but I believe it loves me too much to skull-fuck me. We have a solid relationship, even if I will never under any circumstances suck on that thing.

  Tearing my brain away from thoughts of the mini goliath, I remember Dione is in front of me.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “I was the one who told the reporter about you,” Dione says, looking ready to cry. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because I feel guilty.”

  “You shouldn’t talk shit about club people, Dione,” I say in a low voice. “That’s the kind of stuff that makes a person turn invisible. I thought you liked hanging out at the Saloon.”

  “I do, but I got jealous and babbled to this girl I know who writes for the local paper. I just wanted for people to make fun of you for thinking you could catch him.”

  “You’re a bitch, Dione,” I state calmly. “Let’s just get that out there in the open. But I also feel sorry for you because you’re obviously fucking stupid.”

  “I was impulsive.”

  “Sweet butts never talk shit about club people. That’s rule one. I ought to kick your ass, but I’m not going to.”

  “You’ll just tell Taylor to do it,” she mumbles, ready to cry. “Or ban me from the Saloon.”

  “I don’t know. That letter gave us info that might help catch him.”

  Dione stops pouting and perks up. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a tip. Maybe it could put me in better standing.”

  “Why even tell me the truth if you were so worried about getting fucked by me knowing?”

  Shrugging, Dione says, “I figured you’d find out, and I might as well be honest.”

  “All right, fine. I’ll let your ass go un-kicked, but I can’t promise Shane won’t ban you for a few weeks. He’s very protective of me. Now, what’s your tip?”

  “Well, you know how I work at the grocery store?”

  Fighting the urge to roll my eyes at her believing I’m well versed with the ins and outs of the sweet butts’ lives, I just say, “No, I did not know that about you.”

  “Well, I do. And there’s this guy that comes in every week, and he will often use my checkout. I never paid attention to what he was buying. To be honest, he’s one of those guys that blends into everything. Anyway, I was thinking about how Violet Navarro might be alive.”

  My interest perks up at the mention of that name. “Go on.”

  “My mind was on your investigation when he came through my line yesterday. I didn’t really listen to him make small talk. It’s all the same crap about the weather or customers being rude. Like I said, he’s bland. But I noticed how he was buying tampons and pads. I couldn’t remember if he did that before, but it was weird since he’s not married. I just can’t imagine him picking up period stuff for a girlfriend either. I guess he might have a daughter that he was buying for. Still, I thought it was weird, so I wanted to tell you.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “No. I never paid attention to him.”

  “But he comes into the store every week?”

  “Yes. Tuesdays or Wednesdays.”

  The Violet Navarro thing always felt off. She wasn’t like the other girls the Slasher took, which meant he probably didn’t take her. Except she was the exact physical type of girl—long blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, kinda innocent-looking—that he targeted. She was different yet the same. A part of me always wondered if he kept her. Mostly because I didn’t want her to be dead. I knew my thinking was dumb, but maybe Dione is onto something.

  “I want you to tell me every single thing you remember. Plus, I want the names of a few people at the store who will act as spies for me. If you do that, I’ll keep you from being banned from the Saloon.”

  Dione loses her weepy-eyed expression and allows a little smile. I don’t know if she’s relieved to be spared punishment or she’s looking to make nice with a supercool chick like me. Or, perhaps, she’s proud to do her civic duty and end the life of a man who’s ended so many others.

  I can’t be sure why Dione spends the next forty-five minutes working through details with me. All I know is I feel one step closer to stopping the Shasta Sla
sher.

  THE GOLIATH

  Dione’s information helps Shelby narrow down her suspect list to twenty-five. She searches information on them to find out who has wives and daughters. She uses Lineke’s gossip knowledge from The Barnyard to figure out the single middle-aged men’s dating habits. By the end of the day, Shelby reveals her five main suspects.

  “I’m confused about why this guy having a secret girlfriend matters?” Hugh says, sitting in the basement with Shelby, River, Shane, Taylor, Maverick, and me.

  “The envelope had DNA from a female along with a fingerprint.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  Shelby’s nearly bouncing in place as she looks to Taylor, who says, “The fingerprint matched the ones on file for Violet Navarro.”

  “Do you think she helped him send the letter?” Hugh asks while studying the whiteboards from his chair.

  “Maybe he’s taunting us,” Shelby says.

  “But he never kept the other women.”

  “They were prostitutes. He hurt them and threw them away like trash. That’s how he saw them. Violet was young. According to the police report, she had no boyfriend. The Slasher might have wanted her for a different reason. Now all these years later, a bitch is hunting him that happens to live in the same house as Violet did. He’s toying with us.”

  “Fucking hell if he’s had her all these years,” Shane mutters, staring horrified at the pictures on the board. “How old would she be now?”

  “Almost twenty.”

  “The working theory, then,” River says and crosses his arms, “is that this guy was killing prostitutes on a semi-regular business. He dumped their bodies on the same road but killed them different enough to throw off the idiot local cops. Then he grabs Violet, and his killing slows down.”

  “We also arrived,” Shane says. “Our guys started showing up at the trailer park. That was his hunting ground, but it wasn’t as safe. That’s why no one’s died since we switched Utah as the main guy there. He schedules our guys to ride through several times a day. Randomly too, so the killer can’t plan his abductions so easily.”