by Bijou Hunter
“I like that answer. Griff might have been my only other lover, but he didn’t teach me shit.”
Enjoying my response, Bubba smiles like a happy kid. Then he gestures to the cage and asks, “Want to introduce me to your girls?” His kind gesture sends me immediately into tears. Of course, to a man, my behavior is insane, and he assumes the worst. “They’re not messed up, are they?”
“It’s not that,” I mumble, overwhelmed by the realization that I’ll follow this man anywhere. How can I not? Bubba obeyed me when I told him to remain in the house. I know it had to kill him, but he trusted me enough to let things play out.
“You’re going to break my heart,” I whisper. “I thought I could fuck you and forget you, but you’re so you. How can I not love Bubba Davies?”
“I love you too, Num-Num. There’s no reason to cry.”
“What about when you leave?”
“I’m taking you with me.”
“It’s been less than two weeks,” I whisper, struggling with the logical part of my brain. “That’s shorter than your longest relationship.”
Bubba’s knuckles stroke my cheek. “Does this feel like anything you’ve ever known?”
“No, but I’m twenty-one, and you’re twenty-two. We’re too young to know better.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“I’m afraid to leave my home.”
“I know, but I have to have you,” he says with complete sincerity. “There’s no one else.”
“But you also want Conroe.”
Bubba looks pained when he says, “I can’t be a working stiff like my pop.”
“I know,” I mumble, now sitting between his legs and resting my head against his hard chest. “There’s no way I get to have everything. It’s either Bubba or Hickory Creek.
“The winner is most definitely Bubba. Now that we’ve settled that, can you tell me their names again?” he asks, watching the girls in the cage.
“Bjork and Ula.”
Bubba strokes my hair while studying the orange-yellow-and-white-feathered birds chattering at us. “They’re smaller than Odin.”
“He’s an African parrot while they’re Caique parrots. My dad wasn’t okay with me adopting them until he realized they’d be less than a foot long and weigh less than a pound. He figured they couldn’t hurt me like Odin did.”
“You do what your father wants,” he says, absentmindedly stroking the scar on my shoulder.
“About eighty percent of the time.”
“And when he says to stay in Hickory Creek?”
Bubba’s tone suddenly lacks his earlier boldness. Comforting him like he did me, I nuzzle his jaw. “My response will belong to the twenty percent.”
He lifts my chin, and our gazes meet. “If you come with me to Conroe, I’ll give you anything. Any weirdly shaped house you want, I’ll buy or build for you. If you want a bird sanctuary in our backyard, it’ll happen. I don’t care what goofy names you give our kids or if you force me to watch you walk around the house naked all the time. I swear I’ll be your slave if you give me this one thing.”
My kiss reassures us both. I even find myself grinning at how much he wants me to give into my nudist leanings. Feeling raw after Griff, I hadn’t felt comfortable enough to be naked around the house. Now, I have my birds back and Bubba at my side.
After I check them over, Ula and Bjork get reacquainted with the house. Not knowing where they’ve been—their toys smell of cigarettes and the newspaper on the bottom of the cage is from Nashville—I don’t rush them to do anything besides settle back into their home.
An hour later, I put on Loreena McKennitt's “The Mystic's Dream” and dress in my belly dancing costume. Before Bubba can devour me, I show off more of the moves I learned years ago in classes with my mom and aunts. Halfway through the song, the beat increases, and the birds take flight. They sail across the house, enjoying the high ceiling. Falling into their old habits, they rejoice at being home.
Soon, they’ll have a new one. I doubt moving will be any easier for them than it is for me, but Bubba Davies—in all his shirtless glory—is worth any price.
THE RUNAWAY
Birds aren’t my ideal pet. I never found them particularly interesting, despite spending time at the sanctuary. Odin makes me nervous because he clearly adores Soso, yet fucked up her shoulder when she was barely a teen. He makes me as wary as my uncle Cooper’s giant attack dogs did when I was a kid.
But after spending two days with Ula and Bjork, I’m pretty hooked on the girls. Ula is hilarious, always dancing around and being a crackup. Bjork enjoys cuddling and whistles whenever I speak to her.
Even if I didn’t fall for the feathered flirts, Soso’s smiles when with her birds would be enough for me to love them. In fact, their return makes her choice to move easier. Something just clicks inside Soso, and she’s now willing to suffer a little pain to enjoy a bigger payoff. Hell, that asshole Griff did me a real solid. I’d thank him except he’s also the piece of shit that hurt Soso in the first place. The fucker can rot.
Soso decides if she’s moving to Conroe that I need to give her the details about my club and the town. No more dancing around the Dogs or how things work. One afternoon, we sit in the back booth of a nearly empty Hickory Creek restaurant, and I spell out the situation to ensure she can “have my back.”
“If you’re my man, I need to know your life,” she explains. “I don’t care if that’s how it’s done or not with the Reapers. I’ve got to be able to help you. When you’re stressed, I can’t wonder why. That’s not going to work. You need a safe person to dump your shit on, and I’m going to be that person.”
Without a doubt, loving Soso is the most natural thing I’ve ever done.
I tell her about the seven members of the Midnight Dogs Motorcycle Club. I explain how Vlad was their president and now Conroe’s VP. His cousin, Lex, handles the prostitutes because he’s a violent pig who wants power over vulnerable women. There’s psycho Vigo who is one bad day from going on a shooting spree. The other guys hide behind Vlad and Lex. They barely even acknowledge I’m the president.
“Because I’m their leader in name only,” I admit.
“That’s going to change,” she says immediately. I smile at how she doesn’t even swallow before blurting out that reassurance. Soso refuses to let me feel like a failure.
“First off,” she says in a low voice after I finish laying out the power structure in Conroe and the Reapers overall. I know it’s a lot of names to learn, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “You need to kill the Dogs. I know killing isn’t easy. Why do you think I haven’t just asked my brother to off Griff? I pretend I’m choosing rational over emotional as a way to prevent trouble for the club and the Hayes family. The reality is I can’t be responsible for his death. He was a part of my life even before we dated. Having him killed is more than I can handle, so I do get that whacking seven guys isn’t an easy suggestion.”
I snort and mumble, “Whack.”
“I do a brilliant Joe Pesci impression, but that can wait,” Soso says, sharing my smile. “The point is those Dogs people will never be safe. They don’t respect you. Nothing’s going to change that. You can return to Conroe and act like the biggest badass, and they’ll still see you as a kid. In fact, they’ll be more dangerous if you actually intimidate them. That Vlad guy wants to be in charge. He can’t do that if you’re a badass. I think he’s only behaved this long because he figures you’re a child he can manipulate. Once he knows differently, he’ll stab you in the back.”
“But killing me just ends with him dead.”
“I don’t think a guy like Vlad thinks that far ahead. I’m sure he believes he’s a wise motherfucker playing you all. From what you’ve said, Conroe wasn’t much of a crime hub before the Reapers stepped in. I bet there are tons of solo dealers and hookers running around that ought to be under your power umbrella. The Dogs weren’t smart or organized enough to expand their meager business. They started sm
all and stayed that way. Because it’s not business to them. It’s about their egos. They want money to pay for shit and women to fuck. Everything else is beyond their tiny brains.”
“Every time I think you can’t make my dick any harder, you say or do something to prove me wrong.”
Soso winks at me. “When you go back, you can’t start wagging your dick around. I know you have it in you to be in charge and make men respect you. Hell, I bet you can even get your mom to treat you like a grownup.”
“Did you just call me a mama’s boy and her a bitch?”
Grinning, Soso refuses to take my bait. “I suggest you go back and seem weak until you can get the drop on Vlad and his men. Make peace with Butch first. Get things in order. Right now, Vlad’s probably wondering where you went and what’s up. If you come back like you’re on the warpath, he might lash out and get lucky killing one of your people. Instead, let him believe his lies about you until you get your people in line. Butch, your uncle Jace, your nudist cousin Jack, and that old guy on steroids. They’re your core club. The Dogs are just dead weight. Once you kill them, you can build a bigger, stronger club. Those new guys will answer to you. Not your mom or Cooper.”
“I’ve never killed a man.”
Soso’s gaze reveals no disappointment. “I figured. Your family is like the mob with special rules for family and different ones for outsiders. You never had to prove your worth or toughness like an average guy, but that doesn’t mean you have no worth or toughness. I know you can run your club. You sure have the arrogance for it.”
Snickering, I lean over and kiss her head. “Do you think I should lay a trap for Vlad?”
“If possible. His guys outnumber your guys. But he underestimates you. That allows your guys a chance to surprise his guys. See, I think you should use your weaknesses to your advantage. Like my dad knew people didn’t think he was particularly loyal to management. This was back before he was VP. Dad came off as a drunk with no discipline. When he decided to cozy up with an asshole cousin—” Soso pauses to sigh. “Okay, I need to step back and explain. My great-uncle created and ditched bastard kids all over the place. But when this one son showed up and wanted to be part of the club, Dad didn’t trust him. The guy was on his best behavior with everyone else. He knew they were watching him. But because Dad had a rep of not giving a crap, he was able to get close to his cousin. He used the weaknesses people saw in him. That’s what you need to do until the Dogs are gone.”
“After eating shit for years in Conroe, I’ll finally be doing it for a goal besides obeying my mom and uncles.”
“Bubba, you don’t have to be your uncles or your grandfather,” she says, cradling my hand in both of hers. “I get how you look up to them. But if you spend all your time wanting to recreate their greatest hits, you’ll never appreciate your own.”
“That’s uplifting.”
“I read a lot of self-help books when I was younger.”
Wrapping an arm around her, I tug her close. “I’m a different man with you at my side.”
Soso’s smile reassures me that she knows the next few months—hell, maybe years—could be bumpy. With my family, her family, my club in disarray, needing to prove myself, leaving behind her hometown—there’s a lot of shit that can go wrong.
But we’re in this together, and I’m ready to stop running.
THE CHAPTER WHERE CONROE MAKES A COMEBACK
THE BOHEMIAN
It’s wild how quickly things can change. I wake up with plans to take Bubba to my parents’ house for dinner. Last night, I called to tell them I was moving to Conroe with Bubba. I assumed Mom would be supportive while Dad would demand I stay. I got their responses backward.
“It’s too soon,” Mom complained.
Dad added quickly. “Bubba’s smart to nail shit down quick.”
It makes sense for them to feel the way they do. Mom and I spend a lot of time together. Her closest friends are all family—her mom and sisters, Layla, me—and she isn’t comfortable with loss. Dad, on the other hand, knows what happens when a man doesn’t stake his claim soon enough. That’s why Keanu has a different father. Dad didn’t nail shit down fast enough.
Tonight offers an official opportunity for the rest of my family to meet Bubba. In a few days, we’ll head to Conroe with a suitcase of my clothes and a ton of pet-related boxes. Bubba says his family’s house will provide plenty of space for the birds to stretch out.
“What if your mom doesn’t want me in her house?” I ask as we’re cuddling in bed.
“She won’t, but Pop will overrule her. He’s going to get a kick out of the birds.”
Bubba still doesn’t seem in a hurry to return to Conroe. It’ll happen, but he isn’t chomping at the bit to go. He’s gotten accustomed to the weird angles of the ceiling in my house. He enjoys working in my yard. He’s always flirting with Bjork and laughing at Ula’s antics. Life in Hickory Creek is fun, but it’ll never be his home, and his vacation is nearly over.
But I don’t expect it to end so suddenly and with such a shock.
Bubba gets dozens of texts from his mom a day. I think nothing of his phone chiming every thirty minutes, especially after the rest of his family get into the action with requests for him to come home.
“My brother’s been shot,” Bubba says, jumping to his feet so fast that Bjork nearly slides off his lap to the ground.
Despite wearing a look of pure panic, he somehow manages to catch her mid-fall. I grab his phone and read the text from his cousin Jack.
“Butch shot by now dead Dog. Bro on way to hospital. Not clear how bad hurt. Ditch the pussy and get your ass back here.”
“Put the girls in their cage, Bubba. I’ll grab my suitcase, and we’ll take my truck.”
“We’re going to leave them?”
“There’s no time to prepare them, and we can’t leave them in the truck when we go to the hospital. I’ll ask Layla to housesit until we can return to get Freki and the birds. Right now, we need to focus on getting you to your family.”
Bubba nods, but he already imagines Butch dead. The brothers never made their peace, and he believes they never will.
I hurry to the partially packed suitcase in my room. Tossing a few weapons into the bag, I return to the kitchen where Bubba stares at his phone. He’s messaging someone while I nudge him out the door. His mind is too focused on learning details about the shooting for him to drive safely.
Taking charge calms me. I call Layla to ask for her to stay at my place until I get back. She quickly agrees and then suggests we get one of the local patrol guys to escort my truck to the Kentucky border.
“That ought to save you some time,” she says.
Dad gets in touch with someone, and we end up with a Hickory Creek Township officer escorting us all the way to the Tennessee/Kentucky border. With the help of my family’s connections, we arrive in less than two hours.
Bubba doesn’t speak much during the drive. His cousin says Conroe is on lockdown for those who matter. His father says Butch is in surgery. His uncle Jace says Vlad wants a meeting to explain what happened. Bubba’s green-eyed gaze rages at the thought of the Dogs explaining away an attack on his brother.
“My cousin Lily is in labor. That means her pop and brother are likely in Conroe or at least on their way.”
“Reinforcements are good.”
Bubba frowns darker. He doesn’t want anyone helping him get revenge. His anger makes sense. He’s itching to take charge, kill his enemies, and be a real leader.
“Remember to play to Vlad’s view of you,” I say when we’re twenty minutes out from the hospital. “He thinks he’s got you pegged. Let him think those lies until you’re ready to gut the fucker.”
I worry my words might come off as condescending to an already agitated Bubba. Instead, he gives me a smile. Even out for blood, Bubba remains in control of his emotions. Just like when he stayed in the house while I talked to Griff about the birds. Bubba knows when to play it cool and when
to fuck everything up.
Only as we pass through the hospital doors does it really hit me that I’m about to meet his family. For the last few days, I had everything planned out. Nothing is going like I expected, but I still expect to compliment his mom’s appearance if she gives me the stink eye. Women love praise, especially about their hair. I’m good to go there, but today isn’t about me or my feelings. It’s about keeping Bubba sane in case his brother doesn’t survive, and they never mend what their egos fucked up.
THE RUNAWAY
When I was little, Mom always had me hold my brothers’ hands during trips out. She figured if we got separated from her or Pop that we’d be safer together. I took my job as big brother very serious back then. Butch and Buzz were my responsibility.
But over time, we got stuck in our personas. I was the responsible firstborn. Buzz was the carefree joker. Butch was the silent grump. The walls we created on our way to manhood ended up separating us. Somehow, we lived in the same house and spent endless hours together yet grew apart. Now, I might never be able to fix shit with Butch.
The first part of the drive is manageable. I’m busy texting people, finding out how the situation went so wrong. Then things get quiet on Conroe’s end as everyone settles into waiting mode.
Butch is in surgery. Gut wound, lost a good amount of blood, should recover. Nothing definite. Only vague hopes.
Then there are the Dogs. Vlad texts to say he’s getting to the bottom of what happened with Vigo. Calls his longtime friend “nuts” and claims the asshole went “rogue.” Sounds possible. Vigo’s attacked people before over the smallest offenses. He’s clearly wired wrong, but I don’t buy it. Even if I did, Vigo was Vlad’s guy, and he promised years ago that he could handle his people.
“I’m a man of my word,” he told me many times in his Ukrainian purr.
Vigo might be dead, but someone still needs to pay for the bullet in Butch’s gut. Today might be the day when all the Dogs go down.
