Heart Like Mine (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #3)

by Hunter, Bijou

  “Is Patrick’s family wealthy?”

  “Not really. There are a lot of sovereign citizens in Milkweed, and they watch out for each other.”

  “Those anti-government types?” When I nod, she frowns. “But this Sean fucker is a cop.”

  “They figured controlling the law in Milkweed would allow them to do what they want.”

  “And where is Patrick?”

  I haven’t had a conversation with an adult for so long that I feel as if I can’t keep up with her questions. Rebel and I talk about the same stuff every day. We just talk to hear ourselves speak. Scarlet, though, is on a mission.

  “Patrick was sentenced to a year in prison for a fight at a Louisville bar. I don’t know when he’ll get out. Once he was locked up, I ran, and there's no one back in Milkweed that I can ask about him.”

  “I’m assuming Patrick is a piece of shit.”

  “He broke Rebel’s arm,” I whisper, holding her gaze.

  “And did he hurt you?”

  I don’t answer because I’m struggling against the urge to blurt out everything from how I met Patrick as a teenager to our common law marriage to him killing our unborn baby. I know if I start sharing that I won’t be able to stop.

  “He’s a piece of shit,” is all I say.

  “But he’s currently locked up.”

  “As far as I know.”

  “And these people don’t live here, so how did they show up today?”

  “I don’t know. Someone from Milkweed told them about my job at the theater, but that’s not in Conroe. I guess they asked around or were looking for the SUV. I traded in Patrick’s car for a new one, but Sean would be able to eventually figure out what I was driving.”

  “And this bitch today wanted what exactly?”

  I like how Scarlet immediately assumes the worst about Ainsley. People never take my side. Then Katya and Talia helped me. Now Scarlet and Phoebe. Jack seemed worried too. I’m overwhelmed by the thought that anyone besides Rebel cares whether I live or die.

  “They want to take Rebel back to Milkweed.”

  “But they don’t care if you go back.”

  “I can’t let them take him,” I cry, instantly panicked. Will they sacrifice Rebel to protect the woman carrying Jack’s kid? “He’s not safe there.”

  “I know. It’s okay,” Scarlet says, and I realize I’m hyperventilating.

  “I don’t know you,” I whisper, fighting tears. “I don’t know who I can trust. People in Milkweed would tell Patrick if I did anything wrong, and I don’t know anyone here.”

  “We won’t let Patrick or his fucking family take your boy. They might have power in Milkweed, but that doesn’t mean shit in Conroe.”

  Stroking my stomach, I think back to Phoebe saying Jack was dangerous.

  “Your brother works in lawn care.”

  “Yes,” Scarlet says, leaning away as if defensive. “Why?”

  “How will he handle someone like Sean or Patrick? That night, I couldn’t tell him anything. I mean, we were mostly just having fun anyway, but I didn’t want Jack to get hurt either.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “The honkytonk was really loud. I didn’t get a whole lot more than his name, job, and that he thought I was pretty.”

  “Charmed you, did he?”

  “Your brother is gorgeous,” I say and then cover my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, he’s definitely physically appealing. Looks like a nice mix of our parents. No harm in you noticing.”

  “I didn’t think he really wanted me to call him.”

  “Georgia, whatever you tell me next will not change the fact that we’re going to help you.”

  “It’s his baby,” I say, answering the question I know she’ll ask. “I’ve only been with two men. Well, three if you count a hand job I gave back in seventh grade. But sex-wise, there’s only been Patrick and Jack. I know you probably don’t believe me, but that’s the truth.”

  “Can I ask you something else?” she says, lowering her voice. “If you’d only been with one other guy, why would you sleep with someone you hadn’t even shared a real conversation with? Was it just his looks?”

  Sighing, I don’t know how to explain the way that night felt. How dreamlike meeting Jack was, and how I couldn’t let the fantasy end without a taste of something I’d never enjoy in real life.

  “I got pregnant when I was fourteen. I thought for years that Patrick would kill me. Even after I ran, I assumed I’d end up dead. When Jack showed interest in me, I felt beautiful and special. I know that’s stupid. Jack is so handsome, and he could have anyone. But right then, he wanted me.”

  Scarlet smiles. “My brother is an asshole, Georgia. He’s temperamental and childish and spoiled, but he’s also sweet and loyal. Well, I don’t know about loyal to a woman because he’s never been around one long enough to be tempted, but he’s loyal to a fault with family. He’s a good man, but he’s not a perfect one.”

  The more I think of how young and perfect Jack looked today in the kitchen, the more I worry.

  “I know you say you can handle Patrick’s family. They’re dangerous, and everything they touch turns to shit. Now they’ll touch your family. Because I took Jack into the back of my SUV, he’ll suffer. They’ll come here and hurt him and you and your children and...”

  “Deep breath,” Scarlet says and fans me. “Jack is the vice president of the local Reapers Motorcycle Club. I don’t know anything about your husband or his family, but I’m fairly fucking sure my brother can kick their asses.”

  “A motorcycle club?” I ask and start laughing. “Like a biker?”

  Grinning at my wild laughter, she sighs. “Why is that funny?”

  “He’s so damn pretty.”

  Laughing harder, I can’t get control of myself. All this hilarity just means I’m offending Scarlet and making my bladder hurt.

  Then Jack appears at the porch door, and my laughter dies in my throat. I stare at him, staring back at me. He’s so beautiful that I can barely breathe, but my gaze notices what I didn’t see earlier.

  He’s wearing a sleeveless top, revealing not only his tanned muscles but his tattoos. I hadn’t thought anything of them in the dark that night, but now in the bright light of the late afternoon, I notice the Grim Reaper ink on his arm.

  I’d viewed Jack as a beautiful angel. Just a sweet country boy. Now I see Jack a little clearer. The cold rage in his blue eyes, the sheer size of his ripped body, and the way he cracks his knuckles rhythmically as if he’s barely able to control his anger.

  My hands go to my stomach protectively as I bitterly accept that I’ve made a child with another dangerous man.

  There’s no denying I have a type.

  THE HOTHEAD

  My nieces ditch me so they can entertain Georgia’s kid. I don’t know why the boy makes me nervous. Probably that he doesn’t look enough like her, meaning he resembles a man that I assume is an evil fucker.

  I remember the way Georgia lost her smile whenever I had to raise my voice over the noise at the bar. I’d been too buzzed to wonder that night. Now, it’s clear she was afraid. Instinctively, I’d lower my voice and lean closer to be heard. Her smile always returned, but the fear lingered in her gaze.

  She’s looking at me with that same dread now, and it pisses me off.

  I hate how someone hurt her. How she blew me off. How I could have helped her if I found her sooner. How my sister thinks I’m a pig. How my mom will react to the idea of another pregnant woman possibly carrying my kid. How my father will rag on me for not knowing how to keep my dick wrapped. How I don’t know what’s happening or why it’s happening. I’m fucking pissed about everything.

  Anger feels good, but I can’t tolerate the way Georgia looks at me. I close my eyes and go to my “happy place” as my cousin-in-law, Soso, calls it. I think of myself riding around on a lawnmower with the summer sun on my back. I imagine my nieces and nephews watching me in that way they sometimes
do. I’m a fucking superstar in their eyes.

  Finally, I imagine Georgia watching me in the same way. The anger disappears, and I wrangle my temper under control. Opening my eyes, I find her looking at Scarlet, but her gaze repeatedly flickers to me.

  “Scarlet, Phoebe is looking for you,” I lie.

  My sister knows I’m lying. She says I have a tell, but she still pretends to believe me. Before she leaves the porch, Scarlet holds my gaze and silently warns me to behave. I stare back and promise I’ll be a good little boy. She gives me a grumpy snort and walks inside.

  I take her place, sitting across from Georgia. She’s wearing maternity clothes that I recognize from when Phoebe was pregnant with the twins. It’s weird to see Georgia in them now. Her hands rest on her stomach, and I think of that night. Wanting to ask a million questions, I hear my sister’s voice in my head, “Behave.”

  “Hi,” I say, and Georgia repeats the word. “I’m Jack Johansson.”

  “Georgia Hegse—” She cuts herself short and then says, “Russo. That’s my name.”

  I see a mixture of fear and curiosity in her pale brown eyes. Forgetting all about the slow-go plan, I slide forward and drop to my knees in front of her.

  “Is the baby mine?”

  Her eyes widen, and she instantly nods.

  “I believe you.”

  “Just like that?” she asks, frowning a little.

  “Sure. I want to believe you, so I do.”

  “We can do that test when it’s born.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “You should.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Georgia,” I mutter and she frowns darker. “I don’t like getting bossed around.”

  “Then it’s too bad you’re only the VP of your biker club,” she says and then slaps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes are so wide that I think they’ll pop out of her pretty head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I wanted to be president, but my cousin stole my spot. I’d fuck him up, but, you know, he’s my cousin. It’s complicated, but I agree being VP sucks when I don’t want to be told what to do.”

  Georgia relaxes, and the fear mostly drains from her tanned face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were like a dream, and I assumed I imagined all the good stuff.”

  “I don’t understand any of that, but I wanted to see you again,” I insist, feeling my temper flaring at how she ghosted me. Before I can say something stupid, I blurt out, “And now here you are.”

  Georgia exhales unsteadily. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Like, what am I supposed to do here?”

  “I have no fucking clue what’s happening with you and the people who did this,” I say, caressing her bruised eye. “I do know I wanted to take you out to dinner and have a real conversation. We’ll do that soon.”

  Georgia looks at me as if I’m an alien. I doubt she has any clue how hard she’s frowning. I sense she tries to hide her feelings, but she’s clearly confused as fuck right now. Then again, she got smacked in the head today. Who knows why she’s frowning or what she’s seeing when she looks at me?

  “Is Rebel okay?” she asks suddenly. “I’m never away from him for this long.”

  “Where was he the night we hooked up or when you worked?” I ask, sounding judgmental.

  “The owner of the house we were renting babysat him,” she says as her expression loses all emotion. “I should check on him.”

  I rest my hand on hers, which cradles the belly where my baby currently lives. My breath catches at the thought of this woman carrying my child. Even if doing so makes me an idiot, I believe Georgia. From the very beginning, I felt a need to be close to her. If believing a lie brings us together, I’m willing to play the fool.

  “I can check,” I say and pull out my phone. Soon, I’ve logged into the security around the house. In the media room sits her boy flanked by my nieces. “They’re watching one of those Spiderman movies.”

  Georgia’s lips curve downward, and tears fill her eyes. “We were just talking about superheroes today. Right before Ainsley showed up and tried to grab Rebel.”

  “Why Rebel?”

  “He’s her nephew.”

  “No, I mean, the name.”

  Georgia smiles while wiping her eyes. “You think it’s dumb.”

  “No, I just... Okay, I’m wondering what you might name our kid.”

  “Wouldn’t we both choose the name?”

  Her words shouldn’t make my dick hard. It’s a weird reaction, but Georgia fucks up my brain.

  “I don’t know how it works,” I babble.

  “Patrick chose Rebel’s name.” When I frown, she blinks a few times and catches up to how I have no clue what she’s saying. “His father and my ex. He named our son, Patrick Rebel Hegseth, but only called him Rebel because he hates his name.”

  “Why would he give a name he hated to his kid?”

  Georgia’s gaze goes blank as if she’s hiding in her head now. “It’s something Patrick would do.”

  “Did you tell my sister about him?”

  While holding my gaze a little too desperately, Georgia nods. She doesn’t want to explain to me what she said to Scarlet. I get her signal and slide my fingers across hers.

  “I like your darker hair,” I babble, wanting to change the subject.

  “It’s my normal hair. The blonde wasn’t.”

  “I like this better,” I say, stroking a lock of hair. “But hair color wasn’t why you had me hooked that night.”

  Georgia’s eyes warm with the kind of vulnerability that makes me want to hold her. But I don’t wrap her in my arms. Instead, I think of what kind of gossip she’ll soon hear about me.

  “Two years ago, a woman told me that she was carrying my kid. People will probably mention it, so I figured you might as well hear it from me.”

  “But she wasn’t.”

  “At first, she said it was mine. Then she fudged her story and admitted it might be another guy’s too. It was still really early in her pregnancy. By the halfway mark, there were more guys on the possible list.”

  Georgia surprises me by revealing no reaction to my words. Like no disdain for the woman or me. Not even curiosity. She’s a blank slate, but I think she might just be hiding since talking about her ex.

  “This chick had a wild week,” I explain. “It was her birthday and let’s just say that she had a lot of fun. Of course, that’s when she got pregnant. I don’t think she was normally that wild,” I say, defending Jordyn for some reason.

  Georgia finally allows a little smile. Instinctively, my fingers curve around hers.

  “Anyway, it was nine months of wondering. My mom got her hopes up. I know that sounds weird, but Mom loves kids. My pop thought I was a dipshit for not using protection. I decided to be more careful after Jordyn. Stay clean and safe, you know? And that’s the thing, I kinda remember using a condom that night with you.”

  Georgia tenses immediately. It’s not obvious, but I’m staring so hard at her right now that any change is noticeable. She thinks I’m accusing her of lying.

  “Of course, I was drunk,” I add. “I might have used a condom but fucked up the process. If you catch my drift.”

  Georgia holds my gaze, and I see a lifetime of fear in her eyes. Not vibrant terror like I saw in Soso’s eyes after her ex tried to kill her. That was a fresh fear. What I see in Georgia is the sort of resigned fear like I used to notice from the women at the Rossiya Motel back when a violent group of assholes ran the place.

  Someone fucked over Georgia for so long that she’s accepted danger is always coming for her.

  “I don’t know how to put on a condom,” she says finally, and I don’t think she gets my drift at all. “I was only with Patrick and you. I was never in charge of that.”

  Georgia is close to my age no doubt
, but she suddenly sounds very young. The expression on her face—almost like a child afraid she’s about to get punished—makes me want to fuck up someone. I’m really good at hurting men. My dick gets hard when I pound on an asshole. I just love that shit so much.

  But there’s no one for me to punch. I have no idea if Patrick is even alive. Scarlet will fill me in later, but right now, I’m lost in a sea of rising rage.

  Georgia looks so small and fragile, and she’s carrying my baby. A child we made when I hinted if we could fuck in her car.

  I was an asshole, and I understand why she didn’t think I wanted her to call. Just a quick hookup on a Saturday night, but it meant more to me.

  Then she was gone from my life, and I kept wondering if I let someone important get away.

  Now she’s here, wearing my sister-in-law’s red “Preggosaurus” maternity shirt while I hold her hand. She’s banged up, but I’ll keep her safe. Her son might have his father’s name, and probably his face too. That doesn’t mean I won’t fuck up anyone who messes with the kid.

  Georgia is a stranger, but I feel like she’s mine. My feelings aren’t logical, which makes sense since I’m not a particularly reasonable man. I do whatever makes me feels good, and claiming this woman makes me happy in a million ways.

  THE DOORMAT

  Jack Johansson helps me forget I’m six months pregnant and sporting a shiner. When he holds my hand and stares into my eyes with his bright blue ones, I feel beautiful, safe, and treasured. That’s how he sweet-talked me into the back of my SUV despite it being so loud that I barely caught half of what he said.

  I wish we could stay like this forever, but we’re in a house full of people. Scarlet appears first. Then Phoebe says dinner will be in a few minutes. Scarlet returns to inform Jack that their mother and the twins are on the way over. Then I have to pee for the millionth time today.

  When I exit the bathroom, I hear Rebel telling someone that Spiderman in the Marvel movies isn’t as strong as he is in the comics. My son’s voice sounds confident in a way that calms my nerves. He feels safe here. I don’t know how long our sudden good luck will last. I just know we’re okay for now.