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

by Hunter, Bijou

  “Those two handsome boys are my sons, and this gentleman is my nephew,” Bailey announces and then adds in the most obnoxiously upbeat voice, “We run a construction business in town and really care about Conroe.”

  “I want to know where Rebel is now. We have a right to know he’s safe.”

  “He’s with his legal guardian,” Hamm states.

  “No, I want to see him for myself.”

  Bailey looks Sean directly in the eyes and grins. “Then ask your mommy to take a fucking picture during her visit.”

  “Okay, that’s it,” Sean says, shoving back his chair.

  I can’t be sure if the asshole has a long-term goal with this move or he’s just so used to bullying people that he doesn’t realize it won’t work here. He throws back his chair, stands up in an aggressive motion, and the room gets hostile fast.

  Butch and Bubba step closer to their mother, arms loose and ready to fight. I don’t move at all. If shit gets violent, I plan to jump over the table—and my aunt and cousins if necessary—to gain access to Hegseth.

  Our sheriff stands up, and his deputy follows suit. The assistant just keeps typing shit into her laptop. Bailey, though, leans back in her chair and smiles at Hegseth.

  “Your badge won’t keep you out of our jail,” she says and then glances at Hamm. “But that’s up to you, Sheriff.”

  “We offered to arrange for the boy’s grandmother to visit with him. If you’d rather make this hostile, then the deal is off, and I would advise Georgia Russo to petition the court for a restraining order. With the records we have from the shithole hospital outside your shithole town, I don’t imagine a local judge would have any problem agreeing to that order.”

  Moore looks at Sean, who grips the table. Sensing they underestimated the situation, the Milkweed sheriff snaps at his deputy, “Sit down.”

  The younger man looks ready to tell his boss to stuff it. Sylvie said the sheriff lacks power in Milkweed and seems on his way out. Today, though, he puts on his big boy balls and gets his men under control.

  “I’ll speak to Missus Hegseth regarding the visitation and contact you. We appreciate your time,” Moore says and gestures for his deputies to leave. “Ma’am,” he adds to Bailey who’s just basking in her Cruella de Vil vibe now.

  Hamm and his deputy escort the out-of-towners from the building, and the assistant follows with her laptop. Shirleen never stopped typing, and I have to admire her commitment to the job.

  Once the door is closed, I try to find the right words to deal with my aunt.

  “I don’t want Rebel in the same room with that cunt.”

  “Settle your britches, Jack Johansson. I never said he’d be in the same room. Only that she’d see him. He can be on a video call without us actually breaking the deal.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I even want that.”

  “Well, what does Georgia say?” Bailey asks, and I frown at her. “Best ask his mother before you shoot down this shit. The grandma might be a bitch, but so am I and my grandbabies love me.”

  “You’re not a bitch to them, though.”

  “Eh,” she says, shrugging. “I have my moments. Talk to Georgia and Rebel and see what they want. The important thing is we know those fuckers are terrified of going in front of a judge, and they will not let this shit die.”

  “Is there a reason no one told me you were joining us, Aunt Bailey?” I ask in an odd singsong voice since I’m trying to sound calm when I’m not.

  “It was a surprise.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Bubba rolls his eyes. “It was last minute. That’s why she was late.”

  “I couldn’t find my office lady shoes.”

  “Well, next time, a text wouldn’t kill you fuckers.”

  “We need to destroy that asshole,” Butch says as if waking from a dream.

  “Soon, but not yet,” Bubba says. “We’ll talk shit out more later. Get Jace to sit in with us and make plans.”

  Again, my temper is calmed by Bubba’s clear interest in doing right by Georgia and Rebel. It’s not enough for them to be helping because of me. I want them to care about my woman and kids as much as I do. That way, if anything ever happens to me, Georgia and Rebel will never be alone and desperate again.

  THE DOORMAT

  Even Bowie and Lemmy can’t distract me from worrying about Jack’s meeting with Sean and whoever came with Patrick’s brother.

  Each day, I try to get more involved with something at the house. Cleaning, cooking, watching the kids, helping with schoolwork, anything that’ll make me feel less indebted to Scarlet and Phoebe. I also want to belong, and no one likes a freeloader.

  The only activity I avoid is working in the barn with the goats. Hay makes me sneeze. Even residue on Rebel’s clothes when he returns from helping will set it off.

  Besides, Phoebe says the goats aren’t particularly safe to be around when pregnant.

  “They kick and use their heads to butt you,” she said one day while cutting celery with me in the kitchen. “The little shits tripped me all the time. After a certain point, I avoided them when I was pregnant with the twins.”

  Today, the twins explore the side yard. We’re looking for leaves to glue to a poster board. Bowie tends to stay put if you don’t tell him to stay put. As soon as he believes he can’t run free, the boy takes off.

  Lemmy is so expressive. Jack gets weird about the boy laughing at him, but I love how lively he is. Lemmy will make such a big deal out of every leaf. He gasps during stories and claps at anything remotely exciting. He’s just fun to be around.

  Rubbing my belly, I wonder what my son will be like. Rebel was a quiet baby and then a loud toddler.

  The sound of Jack’s truck sends a jolt of relief and excitement through me. I worried something bad might happen, and he’d be hurt.

  Jack looks unharmed as he leaves the truck and walks over to where the twins and I finish up our hunt for leaves.

  “Lunch is almost ready,” I say when he watches me.

  “Let’s eat in the RV with Rebel.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  Clenching his jaw, Jack struggles to act relaxed. “Yeah, but a little privacy wouldn’t hurt.”

  I don’t want to panic, but fear grips me anyway. Did Sean threaten them? Will we need to leave?

  No, Jack wouldn’t back down. He might be prettier than sin, but he is not weak. I need to stop assuming he’ll get outmaneuvered by the Hegseth family or people in Milkweed.

  Once the twins are inside for lunch, Rebel and I join Jack in the RV to eat sandwiches and fries. We settle in around the dinette with Rebel next to me, and Jack spread out on the other side.

  “I saw your uncle today,” Jack tells Rebel, who instinctively scoots closer to me.

  Jack hesitates before continuing. I don’t speak because I’m afraid my fear will set off Rebel.

  Finally, Jack continues, “Your grandmother wants to see you.”

  Rebel tenses immediately. Jack frowns in that scary way he sometimes does. “Okay, let’s stop for a second, okay?” Jack grumbles, holding Rebel’s gaze. “Get out of your head any worries that those people will take you back to Milkweed. That’s never happening. This is your home now. We are your family. If they took you, I’d burn their fucking town down to get you back, okay?”

  Rebel still worries Jack sees him as expendable. As if the new baby has value while my firstborn is leftover trash from my bad life. Feeling expendable is often written all over his face when Jack cuddles my belly.

  But Jack’s tone when he says he’ll burn down Milkweed startles me. Rebel tenses too. Not out of fear, but we see him a little more like he probably really is.

  The Reapers are criminals. I keep forgetting that because everyone is so nice to us. But then I think of how they showed up that first day at the Go-Stop. There was a quiet aggression about the way they acted. This is their town because they took control, not because anyone handed it over.

  “Okay?” Jack as
ks again when Rebel and I stare at him.

  My arm wraps protectively around Rebel, who finally nods.

  “I’ll be square with you,” Jack says, holding Rebel’s gaze. “I don’t know if this grandma thing is just a trick to get close to you. I do know they were hoping we’d let them take you for a visit in Milkweed. Of course, we’re not fucking stupid. We know if they get hold of you, they’ll keep you and force your mom back. That’s never happening.”

  Jack pauses to let his words settle. He’s talking fast, and I sense he’s agitated at whatever took place at the meeting.

  “Maybe the old lady really does miss you, though. You’re her grandson and a great kid.”

  Marsha probably does miss Rebel, but I suspect a lot of her interest in having him back is to please Patrick. Sean’s always been less interested in her, and Ainsley monopolizes her kids. Marsha needs Rebel to give her value. That’s how it works in Milkweed and in the Hegseth family.

  “You have three options,” Jack tells Rebel. “Ready to hear them?”

  My son remains rigid next to me. His relationship with his grandmother isn’t cut and dry. They spent a lot of time together, and she was very good at building him up when he did well in her eyes. But like Patrick, she enjoys withholding praise and affection to mess with a person’s confidence. Unlike with Patrick, Marsha cries effortlessly whenever someone tries to stand up to her.

  No doubt Rebel misses his grandma, but he also fears her.

  “The agreement is for Grandma to travel here. Well, not to the house, obviously. I don’t want them knowing where you live. They don’t know about your mom and me. They don’t know shit about anything here.”

  Jack’s talking too fast again. His temper isn’t completely under control. If it were up to him, we’d cut off everyone from Milkweed. But he’s giving Rebel the option for the same reason I am. He’s old enough to know his heart.

  “You remember my aunt Bailey?” Jack asks, and Rebel and I nod in unison. “Bailey thought you could meet your grandma at the Dairy Queen next to the Sheriff’s Office. You won’t be there alone. I’ll be watching out for you. Some other people will join us too.”

  Rebel blinks rapidly, and I see him settling into the idea. In his comic books, the good guys always do better when they have a team. Rebel now knows he’ll have backup when facing his nemesis.

  “If you don’t want to see her face to face, though,” Jack says, and I sense this is what he hopes Rebel will choose, “Bailey suggested Grandma could come here and video conference with you.”

  I startle myself by bursting into laughter. Covering my mouth, I’m embarrassed by my reaction. Jack and Rebel both frown at me.

  “What?” Jack asks.

  “Marsha will be so mad if she drives here and only gets to see Rebel on video.”

  “Tough shit,” Jack says, struggling to remain calm and my laughter isn’t helping. “Talking online would be the safest option.”

  “I talked to Hart on the laptop last night,” Rebel says. “It’s not hard.”

  “Yeah, so maybe that’s the way to go. But your third choice is not to talk to her at all. It’s up to you, and you don’t have to decide now. Your idiot uncle still has to work things out with your grandma. It’s possible she might not come.”

  “She will,” I mumble, no longer amused. “Rebel is her only grandson.”

  Jack seems to get what I’m saying. Patrick believes people belong to him, and he doesn’t share. Even if he doesn’t want them—like me—he refuses to let them go.

  There’s also pressure from the rest of Milkweed. He went to prison, locked up by the government for what they claim are bullshit reasons. I remember how Sean and the others believed Patrick was targeted by the state. They always view the outside world as hostile and scheming. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they claim I’ve been tricked into leaving. They’ll never admit their mistakes.

  Patrick needs to regain control of me and especially Rebel to prove himself to the other men in Milkweed. He can’t tolerate being the man whose wife and kid disrespected him.

  THE CHAPTER WHERE THE PAST HAUNTS

  THE HOTHEAD

  Rebel decides to meet his grandma at Dairy Queen as long as I’ll be there. As much as I don’t want him anywhere near those sick fucks, I like how he trusts me to protect him. The boy and I still share plenty of awkward moments, but we’re learning.

  Three days after the meeting, Milkweed’s sheriff calls to set up the lunch with Rebel and Grandma. Bubba hopes we can drag out these meetings until the holidays. People in Milkweed will get distracted, and the weather will keep them hunkered down in their town. It’s a good plan, but waiting a week, let alone months, is driving me fucking nuts.

  Despite worrying about those fuckers, I’m a happy camper. Georgia and I worried we only shared a physical attraction. But the more time I spend with her, the better life feels. This is the woman Mom said I would meet one day and never want to let go. I figured my romantic mother was hopelessly blind to my inability to commit. Well, she was right, and I was wrong. Yesterday, I even sent her flowers admitting as much.

  Enjoying the mild autumn Friday afternoon, Georgia and I rest on a blanket in the backyard. I can’t deny her mood’s been off since yesterday. That’s why I finished up early at work and skipped hanging out at the pub. Georgia seems to be sinking into some kind of depression, and I need to be close when she finally opens up about why.

  Not far away from our blanket, Rebel and Hart discuss the comic book I bought him to replace one left behind in Milkweed. My nieces are at Sissy’s house, doing chick stuff. The twins are with my mom or possibly with Phoebe. Last I saw Scarlet, she was discussing business on the phone with Soso.

  Then suddenly, my sister frowns down at me as Georgia dozes at my side. My woman really loves her afternoon naps.

  Frowning up at Scarlet, I don’t have to ask why she’s grumpy. She’s wearing a very specific expression—her “Pop doesn’t love me as much as he used to” look.

  “Where is he?”

  “Out front. The girls aren’t here to play intermediary, and I don’t want to talk to him.”

  My sister’s lying about that last part. She avoids Pop because he hurts her feelings whenever they speak. Even so, she misses the idiot.

  After kissing a still-dozing Georgia and giving Scarlet a quick hug, I hurry around front to see Pop.

  On the porch, he peers through a window and waits for someone to respond to his knocking.

  “I thought you were morally against visiting the farmhouse of sin?” I taunt while coming around the corner.

  Buffed, tatted, and still blessed with a head full of blond hair, my father paints an intimidating picture of a man barely past his prime.

  “Shut up, Jack,” he says, trying to sound gruff.

  “Your parenting skills remain stellar.”

  “Heard you might have knocked up another bitch.”

  “Neither one is a bitch,” I mutter, clenching my hands. “The first one used sex as an anti-depressant, and the new one is an angel.”

  “You’re so stupid,” Pop says, patting my jaw. “I don’t know where you get that gullible crap from.”

  “Did you drive two hours just to give me shit?”

  “I wanted to check on your sister and nieces.”

  We glare at each other while I state, “Scarlet won’t want to see you if you can’t stop being an asshole.”

  “I’m the asshole?”

  “Always, Pop. No one else even comes close.”

  “She threw away a marriage to be a farmer,” he says, scratching roughly at his jaw.

  “You know that’s not why she dumped that fathead fuck.”

  “Animal did his best.”

  “Why don’t you marry him if you’re such a fan?” I grumble and then add, “Not like you’re much of a husband to Mom.”

  “You’re talking tough for a fucker getting played again.”

  “Even if the baby’s not mine, Georgia is. Biol
ogy ain’t everything.”

  Pop narrows his gaze. “It’s sad to see a man go stupid.”

  “Did you not fall hard for Mom?”

  Losing his edge, Pop steps back and rubs the back of his neck. “Your mom’s special.”

  “In what way?”

  “She’s always been a flower surrounded by weeds.”

  “Is that a sex thing?” I ask, refusing to let him get sappy over Mom after so many years apart.

  “No, dickhead. I saw her for the first time at a party, full of fresh pussy, but I knew she wasn’t like them. She was like a flower surrounded by weeds.”

  “Well, not that this isn’t fun, but the girls aren’t around,” I say and walk away so I can check the mailbox at the road. “Come back later when they’re home.”

  “No, wait, I’m not done talking shit about your bad life choices.”

  My long strides create space between us. Despite being solidly middle age, Pop catches up quickly. Suddenly, he nudges the back of my knee and nearly takes me down to the ground.

  “What the fuck?” I demand.

  “Your mom says you’re talking about moving in with this woman before you even know if the kid is yours.”

  “Mom told you that, huh?” I mock since I know she doesn’t gossip with Pop anymore.

  “No, she told Farah, who told Cooper. He told me.”

  “Sounds about right. You and Mom don’t hang out and chat anymore, do you?”

  “Stop being an asshole and think about what you’re doing here.”

  “You don’t know Georgia. You barely know me these days. What the fuck do you think you’re doing by giving me advice when you barely speak to your wife?”

  “This bitch is fooling you, Jack. Don’t be stupid.”

  Sighing, I pat his shoulder. “How’s your back lately? Is it still bothering you since the tumble you took off your bike?”

  “No, it’s fine,” he says, frowning less now that he thinks I’m concerned about him.

  “Good to hear,” I say and shove his ass on the ground. “Don’t ever call my woman a bitch or I’ll break your face.”