Promise Me Heaven (Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter Book 3)

by Bijou Hunter

  Hearing my footsteps on the gravel parking lot, Rae and Kori look up with matching blue eyes. Nothing registers across my friend’s face, but her daughter is huffy.

  “Where have you been?” she demands.

  “I did something bad.”

  Kori’s scrunched-up face relaxes, and she nuzzles closer to her mom. “What did you do?”

  Joining them against the Kia, I don’t explain right away. If not for the pain in my hands and the sweaty cash in my bra, I might convince myself that what happened was a stress-induced fantasy.

  “I saw the prick who took our money,” I finally say when Rae looks ready to start reading again. “I did something to his motorcycle.”

  “Are we in trouble?” Rae asks passively.

  “I don’t know. His friend said he wanted to help us.”

  “He’s lying,” Kori mutters, trusting no one especially men.

  “He gave us a hundred dollars so we could get a room.”

  Rae shows no reaction on her face. “What does he want for that money?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “When then?”

  “I don’t know. He is coming here tomorrow to tell me what happened with Rod.”

  “Who’s Rod?”

  “The prick.”

  Rae nods curtly. “Are we keeping the money?”

  “If we keep sleeping in the car, someone’s going to call the authorities.”

  “I want a room,” Kori says. “Is the money real?”

  “Yes,” I mumble and stand up. “I’ll go get us checked in, and we can have a shower.”

  Rae gets to her feet and grabs my wrist harder than necessary. She reveals nothing on her face, but I know she’s anxious.

  “Is it worth it for what he wants?”

  “We don’t have any other choice.”

  “Because of me.”

  “No, because of the prick.”

  Rae stares at me with the lifeless eyes I’ve known and loved for years. She’s like a sister, and Kori is my kid too. We’re a team, which is why my fuckups are our fuckups.

  “We can walk over to the Dollar Tree and find something to eat,” I suggest, breaking free of Rae’s grip.

  Kori finally stops frowning at me and pulls at her mom’s hand. “We can have pizza.”

  Forcing a smile, Rae looks down at her daughter and nods. “I would like pizza.”

  I leave them and hurry to the motel office where Lizzy takes my money and hands over a room key without speaking. She thinks she’s better than me. Normally, I’d agree with her, but I know she gets paid the same shitty amount here as I do at the gas station. She’s also a decade older, so she’s ten years more pathetic than me. No way should I feel insecure with this loser in the way I would with a winner like Colt.

  And tomorrow I’ll see him again. I try not to imagine what Rod’s told him by now or how Colt’s view of me might change. Instead, I pretend today was the beginning of something wonderful.

  THE CHAPTER WHERE THE HEIR WORKS HIS MAGIC

  THE HEIR

  Stella wanted me to kiss her goodbye. She had the look, and I was ready to make her lips melt against mine. Damn, I’m a great kisser too. One day, she’ll know my talents. This afternoon wasn’t the time. Not with Rod turning all men into skeevy predators. Plus, I offered her cash and Mom told me not to mix money and affection because women don’t want to be bought. Of course, Pop later pointed out women crave men capable of taking care of them.

  “Flash the cash,” he said when I was sixteen. “But don’t let women use you for money.”

  Suitably confused by how to handle the ladies, I’ve fortunately never before needed to play the money card to get laid. So, when Stella tells me yes, I don’t want to wonder if she’s trading pussy for cash.

  My daydreaming about the hot blonde is rudely interrupted by the arrival of my pop, our club VP who happens to be my uncle Tucker, Rod’s father, and the club’s top enforcers—Vaughn Rogers and Judd O’Keefe. They head straight to THE BUNKER which is the fortified back half of the bar where only the Reapers can enter. Whiskey Kirk’s staff isn’t even allowed in to clean. Hell, the old ladies can’t enter THE BUNKER, and my pop is undeniably fucking whipped when it comes to my mom. If she told him to get a faux hawk and wax his brows, I bet he’d do it. Oh, but he won’t break the rule of THE BUNKER. I’ve always found this stupid, but these rules were all instituted long before I was born.

  The rest of the Reapers already at Whiskey Kirk’s join us in THE BUNKER, and then we lock down the room so no one can wander in and hear our conversation. My pop and uncle stand in the middle of the group, looking younger than their advanced years. Tanned, muscular, tattooed, the blond men irritate me with their inability to grow old like normal people.

  As soon as the place is sealed, my former cousin-in-law, Animal, pipes in with this nugget of insight, “What’s the deal with the crazy bitch?”

  Legacy member, Neil, doubles down on the stupid by stating the obvious, “She fucked up Rodney’s bike.”

  “Scorned girlfriend?” Tucker asks.

  “He forced himself on her friend,” I blurt out.

  The men turn their rough gazes at me, but I’m not intimidated. Fuck them and their old man scare tactics. I’ve seen and heard it all before.

  “She told you that, did she?” asks Rodney’s father, Eagle Eye—or as MJ calls him “EEEE!” The old-timer shakes his head and chuckles. “Why would my boy need to force a bitch for sex when they’re throwing themselves at him left and right?”

  “What did the girl say exactly?” Pop asks.

  “She said Rod forced her friend to suck him off and then took her cash.”

  “There it is,” Eagle Eye says, chuckling again. “The bitch wants money.”

  “No, she wanted revenge,” I growl, protective of Stella already. “If she was looking to play the pity card, she didn’t need to attack his ride. No, that was rage I saw in her eyes.”

  “She’s probably jealous he hooked up with her friend instead of her.”

  Ignoring Eagle Eye, I turn to my pop. His dark eyes—which I own a better copy of—study me intently.

  “I talked to her afterward, and I’m telling you that she wasn’t jealous or pulling a con.”

  Refusing to be ignored, EEEE! mutters, “Don’t be naïve.”

  “Don’t you call me naïve, motherfucker!” I holler, charging him despite knowing I’ll never reach Eagle Eye before someone stops me. “I’m not a little boy you need to talk down to.”

  “Cool it,” Pop warns me.

  “I don’t care if he’s older than me,” I say, waving off Animal and Vaughn. “I’m twice his fucking size and can make him a stain on the fucking ground.”

  Pop wants to roll his eyes. He’s wearing that look he always gets before he goes full-dad on me. Restraining the urge, he remains stoic for now.

  “So where is Rod?”

  “Out getting his bike checked,” Newest Legacy Fuck, Steve, says.

  Eagle Eye refuses to shut the fuck up and growls, “I’ll tell you now that bitch is going to pay for the damages.”

  “She ain’t paying for shit,” I growl right back—louder, younger, better. “Rod needs to be fucking neutered.”

  The older guys look to Pop who crosses his arms and gets ready to make a speech. I know that look too.

  “We have rules in this club. It’s why we succeed, and no one ends up in jail. It’s why we expanded our reach. It’s why we all live well. Those rules make us men and keep us from becoming monsters.”

  Eagle Eye realizes his president’s speech is directed at him and not me. His panties in a bunch now, he cries, “Now listen, you can’t just believe some random bitch.”

  “We don’t rape women,” Pop says between gritted teeth.

  When his enforcers, Judd and Vaughn, tense up, I know someone’s getting a beating.

  “We don’t diddle kids or steal from old ladies,” Pop says in his scary club president voice. “We’re criminals,
but only because most laws are stupid. If people want to get a buzz, who gives a shit? If women want to sell their bodies to pay their rent, whose business is that? No, most laws are bullshit, but that’s not what we’re talking about here.”

  “Here’s what I think happened,” Eagle Eye says, sitting down and leaning back in his chair as if he’s shooting the shit. “This slut wasted her cash on drugs. Her friend found out the money was gone. That’s when the first slut tells the second slut that a scary biker took it. That’s assuming the entire thing isn’t payback for Rod not wanting her trashy ass.”

  Vaughn snorts. “No way is any woman going to show up at our clubhouse over Rodney’s lack of interest. No offense, man, but your son is a dud.”

  “Fuck off,” Eagle Eye mutters, but he loses some of his fire when dealing with a stone-cold killer like Vaughn.

  Pop gestures to me. “What do you think?”

  “What are you asking him for?” Eagle Eye asks Pop.

  “Because he talked to her, and I didn’t. Is that all right with you, asshole?”

  Eagle Eye isn’t normally a coward, but he throws up the white flag at the sight of Pop’s growing rage. “Well, I don’t want you getting bad info just because your boy buys the lies of a pretty slut.”

  “Is she pretty?” Tucker asks me.

  “Stella is most definitely hella hot, but I believe her because she was freaking out. Not over Rod hurting her feelings. She didn’t even know his fucking name. She just knew what he looked like because she’d seen him around the motel.”

  “It’s still her word against his, and he’s our club brother,” my uncle points out.

  “She’s lying,” Eagle Eye mutters. “But even if she’s telling the truth, so fucking what?”

  “So fucking what?” Judd O’Keefe hollers, and everyone gets very still in the same way people act around a rabid dog. “Are we a club full of rapists now? Is that what I bleed for when I bleed for you fuckers?”

  “Settle,” Pop whispers to his enforcer.

  Judd grudgingly steps back, but he’s ready to jump Eagle Eye who pretends as if he isn’t worried.

  “We need to talk to Rod,” Tucker says to Pop. “His father can’t speak for him and neither can Colton. We need to hear his side before we believe a stranger.”

  “I never saw that woman before,” Animal says, hanging close to his former father-in-law, Tucker. “Is she even from Ellsberg?”

  “She just moved here,” I say as if I’m certain about this fact. I mean, I know my buddy at the sub store would have mentioned her when I dropped in a few weeks back. He’s always prowling for new trim, and we like to keep score. He didn’t mention any blondes working at the gas station down the block, so Stella is a very new resident to Ellsberg.

  “And she’s already fucking up our Harleys,” Animal says.

  Shooting him my “hot fart” glare, I consider reminding the asshole how my cousin dumped him, and he can’t stop whining about it. I decide to behave, but only because Pop is crossing his arms so tightly that they might break off soon.

  “Here’s what happens next,” Pop mutters, walking toward the door of THE BUNKER. “I plan to talk to Rod later tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll decide who needs crushing. Until then, everyone shut the fuck up.”

  My pop can storm out of a room like the biggest drama queen. Despite lacking his theatrical skills, I’m capable of stomping like a winemaking motherfucker as I bail. We leave in a huff with Judd and Vaughn, though the tall blond enforcer quickly ditches us so he can hang out with his daughter at the bar. No doubt they’ll gossip, and that info will reach Raven Rogers who will immediately share it with her crew of ladies who happen to include the best woman in the world—my dear old mom.

  THE UNWANTED

  Colt infects me with a fever. Hours after I leave him, I remain as flustered as when he was inches away.

  Thanks to his generosity, Rae, Kori, and I get settled into the motel room. Even after a long, chilly shower, his handsome smile still lingers in my thoughts and keeps me overheated.

  Returning to the 90-degree heat doesn’t help, but we need to pick up supplies. The road from the motel to the Dollar Store is a busy one and lacks a sidewalk. We take our time walking. I realize Rae hasn’t said much since we got into the new room. Not that she usually talks much anyway. Back when we met at a foster home, I first believed she hated me. She rarely smiled, and her face doesn’t react to much. She didn’t cry when she was sad, yell when she was angry, or smile when she was happy. Despite how cold she can seem, she’s my only reliable family.

  “My grandma told your grandma,” Kori sings as we hit the halfway mark to the store.

  After learning “Iko Iko” in kindergarten, she sings it every day. Kori loved school so much back in our old town, Prestonsburg, but the teacher was a bitch, and the kids were bullies. Still, she never missed a day, and I know she hates being on summer break.

  “I-ko, I-ko, un-day,” she continues as pickup trucks race by us.

  One of them honks because rednecks love to remind people on the side of the road that a large metal object just sped by them. I instinctively move a few feet over even if it means walking in the long grass.

  “Do they have snakes in Kentucky?” Kori asks, turning back to look at me trailing behind Rae and her.

  “Yes.”

  “The kind that kills you?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You think? Didn’t you learn that when you were a kid?”

  “They don’t teach it in school, and no one ever cared enough to make sure I knew stuff.”

  Still frowning, Kori focuses forward as another truck honks. “I want to learn everything,” she finally says before returning to her song.

  Rae pats her daughter’s head and silently marches toward the store. When we finally reach the strip mall parking lot, I sigh with relief. The road terrifies me since I got hit as a kid. I wasn’t severely injured, but I had to crawl home only to find my foster family had left for dinner without me. I learned a lot that day—inner strength, my life meant more to the strangers who took me to the hospital than the family paid to raise me, and tremendous pain doesn’t necessarily equal severe injuries. Mostly, I learned drunk rednecks don’t stop when they hit something.

  “Colt said he’ll come to the motel tomorrow,” I tell Rae as the three of us walk in a line through the mostly empty parking lot. “I’m nervous he’ll want his money back.”

  “Why would he?”

  “He’s in that biker club, and they probably told him that I was a lying, loose nut,” I say, sounding stupid in my attempt not to cuss. “He might decide I don’t need the money.”

  As we enter the Dollar Store and inhale the chilled air, Rae says, “He didn’t give it to you because he believed you. He thought you were pretty. Men aren’t that complicated.”

  Rae doesn’t date or like affection, thinks men are vile, and has no interest in falling in love. For her, men really aren’t complicated. Meanwhile, I trip all over myself to get any man’s attention because I’m desperate for affection.

  “I love books,” she said years ago when Kori was still a fat baby. “I love you. I love my daughter. I might want to love a pet one day. Everything else is a waste of love.”

  Her words sounded bitter, but her heart never hurts over what she doesn’t have. There’s something wrong with Rae. More than the way she doesn’t react to pain or joy. She is fundamentally broken and can’t be fixed. Yet she’s happier than I am. Rae is satisfied with the bare minimum in life while Kori and I struggle because we always want what we don’t have.

  “Burgers or pizza?” Kori asks Rae.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I changed my mind. I want burgers now,” the girl says and reaches into the freezer in the back of the store. “The box comes with two. One for each of us.”

  I pick a pasta dinner to eat for tonight, a box of cookies for snacks, a bag of chips Kori keeps eyeing, and a box of pop tarts since Rae needs sugar in
the morning to get going. We end up spending seven dollars which isn’t much, but I’m stressed about every penny. Until we get our first paychecks and the car is working, I feel trapped in a way I never have before. There’s poor, and then there’s pinned under the boot of poverty. I thought the first one sucked, but my current situation is a whole new kind of stress.

  “What’s Colt look like?” Rae asks despite a complete lack of interest. I smile at her attempt to gossip as a way to settle me down. Flustered beyond common sense, I can barely count out the dollar bills to pay, and I work as a damn cashier.

  “You know that term ‘a mountain of a man’?” I ask, and she nods as we exit the Dollar Store. “That’s what he seemed like. A mountain of muscles and tanned skinned covered in tattoos. But he’s soft despite his size and the Grim Reaper tattoo on his chest. I think it’s his eyes. They remind me of that dog the Wilsons had. A Labrador mix, I think. Buster would stare with those brown eyes, and I’d think he was so wise, watching us all, seeing things we didn’t. Colt has wise eyes. I felt safer with him than I should have. He’s got a great smile too. He felt so open, and people never seem open.”

  “Could be that moving here wasn’t a bad idea after all,” Rae says, killing my smile. These are the moments when I wish her face were more animated or Rae could fake emotions. When she says certain things—like how my ideas are shit or even how this particular idea might have panned out—a reassuring expression would make all the difference.

  That’s not Rae, and I learned long ago that she can’t change. I can’t either, and she loves me anyway. We’ve had a lot of families over our lifetimes, but none of them wanted us to stay. We would be all alone if not for each other. The big difference, though, is Rae doesn’t mind being alone while I’m terrified of it. If things don’t turn around in Ellsberg, will she take Kori and leave behind me and my bad ideas?