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

by Hunter, Bijou

  Rebel meets up with Hart—as Thor—and begins making the rounds. We eat hot dogs better suited for summer, but Georgia is very much a fan of the relish.

  “I crave dumpster food,” she says, eating her second foot-long.

  I wish I could think of something to say, but her smile is making me stupid. The more I see of the real Georgia, the more I need her.

  Three days ago, our missing club member, Tommy, returned to town. Tonight, he shows up at the festival with his three kids and their mom. I’m unsure of the current situation with his former old lady, but I hope she doesn’t stick around. Then again, he might want to keep an eye on his kids since their mother is a lush.

  “Two-Tone, look at you pulling daddy duty,” I say when I spot him in the crowd.

  “Yeah, I hear you’ll be doing the same soon.”

  I gesture to Georgia, who points to her belly. She’s in the best mood tonight. Without hesitation, she meets Tommy, his maybe ex, and their kids. Smiling as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, Georgia is making it very difficult to pay attention to anything besides her.

  Despite all the fun around me, I remain agitated. Grandma Hegseth hasn’t asked for another visit with Rebel. They got shut down with their last attempt at spying. With the town crowded tonight, I can imagine them showing up. Signs for the festival were everywhere when those bitches did their snooping. My gut warns we’re not safe here.

  Bubba isn’t ready to go to war yet. He’s certain we have time, and waiting for November weather and the holiday season will help us handle all the targets with minimal effort. He wants to do things right and keep his people safe.

  But sometimes shit needs to be less about brains and more about primal violence. I find myself thinking I ought to drive to Milkweed and put a bullet in Sean Hegseth’s head. Will that be enough of a shock for these people to back off?

  It’s just as likely they’ll retaliate if we don’t hit them with our full force. I might have doubts about waiting, but I’m not ready to put everyone’s life in jeopardy by going in solo.

  But tonight might change my mind.

  I spot a familiar face in the crowd. At first, I figure I’m paranoid. Then I’m certain he’s the Milkweed asshole from lunch with Grandma. Georgia said his name was Richard.

  I don’t think he sees us. Between Rebel in his costume and Georgia wrapped up in a hoodie, they’re not easy to spot especially at a distance. I send a group message to the club and family.

  Then I rest my hand on Georgia’s shoulder and lean down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t panic. Milkweed assholes lurking. Stay right here with the boys, don’t look around. Keep your hair covered.”

  Georgia glances at me and smiles. “I’m not afraid.”

  A part of me believes her. Every day, Georgia gets a little tougher, wilder, and sexier. She pats her bag to remind me that she’s carrying a taser.

  I can barely take my eyes off her for long enough to search for trouble in the crowd.

  Butch appears nearby. I suspect he’s tracking Richard. Bubba can’t be far away since they came with Lily and Dash.

  Uncle Jace appears at my side. “What’s the call here?”

  “I assume burning it all down isn’t an option.”

  “Ask yourself what their goal is by showing up.”

  “They think we’re weak. I should have hit Sean harder.”

  “Let’s use the cops,” Bubba says, appearing next to me.

  Malibu is on his hip, and Soso is at his side. She smiles at Georgia.

  “The sheriff is here. A couple deputies too, I think. Let them grab the guy for questioning and see what happens.”

  I can’t deny Bubba’s idea is smart. Not to mention, it never stops being hilarious when a criminal organization uses the law to hurt anti-government dickheads.

  Sheriff Hamm rounds up Richard easily, but the Milkweed fuck isn’t alone. Sean appears in the crowd next. I recognize the guy with him as the asshole that Sylvie called dibs on.

  Likely seeing what happened to their buddy, they don’t cut their losses and leave. No doubt remembering me and my fist, Sean zeroes in on my location.

  I don’t move protectively in front of Georgia or Rebel, who are facing the game he’s playing. I don’t think Sean even realizes they’re so close. His gaze and the one belonging to Sylvie’s future victim remain on me and then Butch who hands baby Heather to Sissy.

  “I got barfed on,” my cousin mutters under his breath. “Heather puked all over my shirt.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I ask, without looking in his direction.

  “Just in case I start punching these assholes, and you wonder what set me off.”

  “It’s baby puke.”

  “You’ll understand soon,” he says and takes a step toward Sean and Sylvie’s future kill. The men stop moving when they notice my cousin. Butch breathes like a pissed bull. The guy clearly hates baby puke.

  “Come back for seconds, princess?” I ask Sean, who isn’t wearing his uniform for once. He probably figured he’d blend in better, but this town is full of paranoid fuckers. He should be sympathetic to that kind of thinking.

  “Where’s Rebel?”

  “Who?” Ron asks, appearing next to the men.

  They both take a second to gawk at the roid monster feet away. He’s twitchy as fuck, and I assume buzzed.

  “You’re the one who lost control first,” Sean says in a conspiratorial tone. “Why so sensitive?”

  Leaning down, Ron growls in Sean’s face. “I’m going to stomp on your face until your own mama won’t recognize you.”

  Sean opens his mouth to speak. His expression implies he’s come up with a smartass comeback that’ll surely put the raging man to shame. Except Sean suddenly notices Ron’s vest. His gaze flickers to me and then Butch. Yeah, fucker, half a dozen guys wearing them have now surrounded you.

  Sean’s expression shifts. Almost turns off like when Georgia gets overwhelmed or afraid. He swiftly realizes he miscalculated a few things. Mostly, he assumed we were like Milkweed where the law was infiltrated by assholes. Now he’s caught on to how in Conroe the bad guys own the law.

  “Show up again,” Bubba says, “and Georgia files a restraining order. I can make one call and get a judge to sign off.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Sean says in a weird voice. “I know your type.”

  “Then you’ll stop sending your people into this town,” I mutter, drawing attention from Bubba.

  “No more bitches window shopping,” Jace adds.

  “If you can’t stay out of our town,” I growl, “we’ll return the favor by visiting Milkweed.”

  “Threaten all you want, but Patrick has rights, and we have judges in our part of Kentucky too.”

  “Tell that convict fucker that he better never show his face here if he wants to keep it,” Ron snarls so dramatically that I’d laugh if not for my own anger. “I ain’t interested in using the law to crush you. I’d rather do it with my bare fucking hands.”

  Sean isn’t completely stupid. He had a plan tonight. Maybe to intimidate Georgia. Or this was a recon mission. I can’t imagine he thought he’d grab Rebel and Georgia without anyone noticing. Who the fuck knows what his plan was? But I believe he fully intended to return to his hometown in one piece.

  With Ron breathing like a locomotive while men wearing Reapers patches watch on, Sean is no longer so certain about his fate.

  “We’ll leave it to Patrick when he’s released,” Sean says, backing away so quickly from Ron that he nearly knocks over Sylvie’s dibs.

  Not that I buy his bullshit. He’s scared, for sure, but he isn’t as scared as his cracking voice implies. Sean Hegseth is playing the long con.

  He takes his dead-man-walking friend and storms off for the parking lot. Only then, do we learn a total of seven Milkweed assholes were in Conroe.

  Bubba takes Malibu from Soso, and his daughter immediately tries to make him eat a piece of candy corn. Chewing what he clearl
y doesn’t want, he leans closer to whisper, “First snow, we’re going.”

  “What if it doesn’t snow until the New Year?”

  Fighting his gag reflex, Bubba frowns at Malibu, who tries to get him to eat another one. “Gross.”

  Throwing her head back, she laughs at his expression. Bubba stops teasing his kid and says, “If we don’t get snow by Thanksgiving, we’re stuffing those turkeys.”

  “Lame,” Soso announces, laughing at his attempt at tough talk while she takes Heather from Sissy.

  Bubba shrugs and nods at me. “You get my meaning. We’ll start working out the logistics next week.”

  “Even him?” I ask, gesturing toward Ron who’s threatening to pull off Dickie’s arms.

  While the younger man laughs, Bubba gives me a headshake. “We’ll keep things centralized for the time being.”

  Relieved to hear the roid monster won’t be helping with the planning process, I finally turn to check on Georgia. I know if I find her pale brown eyes filled with fear that I’ll lose my shit. It’s why I avoided looking at her or Rebel until now. I needed to play the cold-hearted fucker, but these two can break me with a single look.

  Georgia holds Hopper and smiles at me. Rebel shows me his bag of candy. Hart gives his baby brother a lollipop. Unimpressed, the baby tosses it on the ground.

  Rebel picks up the candy and wipes off the lollipop before returning it to his friend.

  I search for some sign that they’re afraid after knowing Sean was close by.

  But they trust me to protect them. Their faith hurts my heart. Fucking up isn’t an option, and I’m not sure what the right answer is, but stepping back isn’t an option either.

  Johanssons don’t walk away from their family.

  Then as if to prove otherwise, I spot my pop in the crowd. He’s walking with Lily and Dash. I catch his eye and think to invite him over. Except Phoebe is nearby with the twins, and I don’t trust him not to say or do some shit that’ll hurt her feelings.

  The kid in me will always want my pop around, but I’m no longer a child. So, I turn my back on him and focus on the people who need me most.

  THE DOORMAT

  October goes by in a blur. Despite spending every day with Jack, I never get bored or annoyed by him. He still acts as if I’m the sexiest, most amazing woman he’s ever met.

  Yet our relationship doesn’t have the easy flow I see with Phoebe and Scarlet. Jack gets grumpy about sharing me. I still flinch way too much and melt into the background without realizing it.

  However, I’m also learning to take charge more, and Jack controls his temper better. We’re learning. And the good stuff far outweighs the bad. Jack really is the best man I’ve ever met.

  That’s why I trust him to handle Sean Hegseth and the other Milkweed people when I realize they’re at the festival. My gut says I need to grab Rebel and get as far away from the threat as possible. I’m close enough to Sean to hear his voice over the festival noise. He sounds angry as usual. Dangerous too.

  Of course, I don’t run. I’m safer with Jack than I’ll ever be on my own. Besides, Sean doesn’t seem so scary since I watched him end up on his ass.

  So rather than worry, I focus on Rebel and Hart shooting water into two mechanical clown mouths. When my boy tries to peek around Jack to see what’s happening with his uncle, I just turn him back toward the game.

  Then Ron starts yelling, and a startled Hart scoots closer to his mom. She gives him a smile, and he returns it. Noticing his friend’s reaction, Rebel again tries to peek around Jack.

  “I love you,” I whisper to Rebel while Sissy hugs Hart.

  Rebel exhales loudly, wanting to see what’s going on. I do too, but we need to trust Jack’s plan.

  Next to us, Soso acts as if she isn’t listening to the men argue. Malibu digs around her in candy bag and pretends to read the names on the wrappers. Yesterday, Rebel and I visited Soso’s house so he could see her birds. That’s what I do now—visit with friends, play with their kids, and help around the house. I already have a life here, and it’s a fun, warm one too. Even when someone like Bailey gets loud or pushy, she’s a million times friendlier than Ainsley or the other Milkweed women. I’m figuring out these people, and they’re getting to know me too. Friendship and family feel effortless here.

  After Sean storms off, Jack checks on Rebel and me. I give him a big smile to prove I trusted him to handle the problem. While Jack isn’t insecure, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love praise.

  “Good thing you dressed like a biker,” I say, tugging at his vest, “instead of a princess.”

  Despite the anger in his blue eyes, Jack grins. “I’d make pink on a guy look sexy as fuck.”

  Rebel frowns at Jack, probably because of the cussing.

  “Having fun?” Jack asks Rebel.

  “I didn’t fill up the balloon.”

  “Wanna try again?”

  Rebel leans around Jack and looks around for his uncle. His expression is unreadable when he looks at me.

  “Do you want to play another game?” I ask, stroking his cheek.

  “Why was he here?” Rebel asks Jack.

  “Do you mean your uncle?” When Rebel nods, Jack shrugs. “He probably wanted candy.”

  Rebel smiles a little. He likes when Jack’s silly. “Is he gone?”

  “Yeah, and we didn’t let him have any candy.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  “Don’t worry, okay?” Jack says and Rebel nods, but my boy remains anxious.

  “Can I try shooting in the clown’s mouth?” I ask, and Rebel instantly loses his frown.

  “I can show you how,” he says, forever willing to help his mom.

  Jack also gives me some pointers, but I don’t win. When Rebel tries again, I suspect Jack signals the guy running the booth. It sure seems like the game is easier to win this time around.

  Rebel forgets about Sean after his success. He shows Hart his prize, and the boys return to their earlier relaxed bonding.

  I catch Jack’s gaze and give him a knowing smile. Even shrugging, he can’t hide how proud he is of himself.

  Not that I can hide how blessed I feel to have found a man like Jack. Patrick never appreciated his adoring son. He could only see Rebel’s flaws. Jack, though, goes out of his way to build up the confidence of a boy he barely knows.

  I’ve known Jack for barely over a month, but I believe with all my heart that anything is possible with him.

  THE CHAPTER WHERE THERE’S NO TURNING BACK

  THE HOTHEAD

  Georgia’s animalistic noises inspire me to thrust deeper. She rests on her side, leaning back against my chest. My arm wraps around her leg as I fuck her harder. She’s already come three times, and her pussy drenches my balls. She’s past satisfied, but whenever I slow down, a hungry growl leaves her parted lips.

  Giving her more cock, I slide my fingers over her swollen clit and give it a little pinch. Her hips buck, and she whimpers. I feel a smile on my face. Georgia is my sex slave, begging for more.

  With nonstop rain the last few days, I’m always at the house, and she regularly tugs me somewhere private. Sometimes, she only kneels down and asks to suck me. When she looks up so lovingly, how can I tell her no?

  Other times, she lifts her skirt or shoves down her pants to ask for a quickie. Between her going for so long without being properly fucked and the pregnancy hormones, Georgia can’t get enough of my cock.

  Tonight, after Rebel is fast asleep in his new bed in the basement next to the big TV and play area, I strip Georgia down and fuck her until she loses the ability to say anything besides yes. When I tell her that I love her, she can only mumble that single word. When I tell her to get on her hands and knees on the bed to show me her pussy, she can barely speak at all before preparing her body for more.

  I’ve been with other women who loved to fuck, but none could hold a candle to the way Georgia’s body welcomes me.

  “You were made specifically for me,”
I told her earlier as she rode my cock and leaned down to offer her tits.

  Her expression was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

  I orgasm with her one last time before holding her in my arms. Georgia’s hot, wet pussy refuses to let me go, and I gently thrust long after we’re finished.

  “I should check on Rebel,” she mumbles, half asleep as I tug the blanket over our sweaty bodies.

  “He’s snoozing like a baby,” I say once I’ve pulled up the camera from downstairs.

  Though barely able to open her eyes, she quickly smiles at the sight of him.

  I kiss the back of her head and close my eyes. “I’m going to sleep late like the rest of you slackers,” I whisper, and I swear she laughs despite seeming asleep.

  But I only get four hours of sleep before my phone starts ringing. I ignore the first two calls. I’m too tired to even reach over and set the phone to silent.

  A knock at the door finally gets my ass out of bed. I use a pillow to cover my junk. Answering the door, I find Scarlet wearing cow-themed flannel pajamas.

  She frowns at me and growls, “Answer your fucking phone, dick.”

  I mumble noises but skip attempting words. Shutting the door, I find Georgia scooting out of bed.

  “It’s fine,” I say, tossing the pillow on my side.

  “I have to pee.”

  While she’s in the bathroom, I check my phone. The message from Bubba turns my blood cold.

  “Ron was murdered. Get your ass over to his place.”

  Stuck between panic and rage, I don’t move for nearly a minute. Georgia returns to bed and runs her fingers down my spine. Her gentle touch distracts from the ugly thoughts burning through me.

  “I have to go,” I say, covering her with the blanket.

  Georgia is too tired to hide her worry. “Is it something bad?”