Because there are few things that I fear more than the idea of the man I love visiting a town I still see in my nightmares.
THE HOTHEAD
There are few noises in this world more invigorating than the sound of nearly a hundred Harley engines roaring as one. Ten miles out of Milkweed, our group—consisting of the six Conroe members and more than three dozen guys from the Serrated Brotherhood Motorcycle Club based in Hickory Creek Township—meets with the three other Reapers chapters. Uncle Cooper and my pop lead thirty guys from Ellsberg. As the new president of the Pema chapter, my cousin Colton brings a dozen men. The Shasta chapter is run River Majors, who leads his more than fifteen guys to our rendezvous spot.
Everyone knows the score. Milkweed is enemy territory. We’re here to put the fear of God in them.
And tremble the fuckers do. Their tiny Main Street can barely handle the sheer numbers of Harley roaring through town. We make our way up one road and down another. Every house gets buzzed.
For far too long, Georgia considered Milkweed her home. We pass her old house, and I picture her inside. I imagine her walking these streets in a desperate attempt to reach a hospital and save her baby. I picture the times she showed up in these stores with a black eye or a busted lip, only for no one to care.
I try not to hate the women here. They could be like Georgia was, trapped and afraid. But some of them were very fucking willing to attack her at the Go-Stop. Others showed up, playing tourists. And one of them convinced Ron to open his door on a cold night.
Milkweed is smaller than I expect, and we easily swamp the town with our numbers. Harleys line the main road while bikers fill the few restaurants and bars. Locals leave when they see us. They hide in their homes. A few stores even close. Their fear is fucking beautiful.
Finally, Sheriff Moore and his deputies Sean Hegseth, Avery Graham, and Ben Short arrive at the Main Street Deli. Many of us stand outside, talking loudly. Others sit on their idling Harleys.
“What’s this about?” Sheriff Moore calls out to no one in particular.
I smile at how they don’t even pretend as if they can arrest us. How would they take in so many men? It’s not as if these paranoid fucks will ask for help from nearby towns. Nope, these big tough assholes walk alone.
Bubba takes charge, and the older bikers let him. The rest of the Conroe guys back him up as he faces off with the sheriff.
“One of our men was murdered recently,” Bubba says while looking over the four uniformed officers.
I notice right away that Sean is sporting a black eye. So are a few of the civilian men. One of the guys farther behind the sheriff looks the most banged up. He’s cradling his busted left arm. I suspect he’s the bleeder at Ron’s house.
“Conroe sure is riddled with crime,” Moore says.
“And you have such a fine town,” Bubba replies immediately. “Cozy even. We’re thinking about relocating.”
“Fuck that!” Sean spits out, unable to control his temper.
Moore flinches at the younger man’s rage. Then he mutters, “We don’t have any available real estate for you people.”
“For now,” Bubba says and flashes his pretty-boy smile. “But the world moves fast, and we might snap up every available house as soon as it goes on the market. Yeah, this place could be very comfortable for us.”
“You need to leave town.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking.”
“You have a lot of women around,” Bubba says and points at Ainsley. “Can’t imagine you’d start trouble with Sean’s wife so close by.”
“Are you threatening her?” Sean demands while getting in Bubba’s face.
“Who gave her that black eye, Hegseth? Was it you or did she get hit by a roid monster?”
Something happens in Sean’s head. His wrathful expression freezes, and then his face goes blank. I’m not sure if he’s worried about his woman or he’s just realized we plan to kill him. Like he must know today is for show, but it’s suddenly occurred to him that he’s a dead man. He can huff and puff. Throw down and arrest a few of us. But no matter what he does today or tomorrow or next week, his life is over.
Sean steps back. “Let these fuckers spend their drug money in our businesses and make us rich. Fuck them.”
Bubba’s smile grows, and he looks at a pissed Moore. “You should have kept him on a tighter leash.”
“This can’t stand,” Avery says, stepping up where Sean once stood. “This is our town. No way can we allow this trash to stay.”
“Avery, shut up,” Moore says, sounding tired.
“Hey, I have a sister named Avery!” River calls out from somewhere.
Irritated by the laughter, the deputy decides he has a better shot of intimidating me than Bubba and gets in my face. I’m instantly pissed, of course. In what universe am I less scary than Bubba?
“Are you the one fucking Georgia?”
“I heard you plan to be the next sheriff. Well, you or Sean.”
“You heard that, huh?”
“Moore is out within the year was what I heard.”
The sheriff flashes an angry look at the younger men. I swear these people are fucking clueless. My pop taught me on day one that I should never show my hand when the enemy was watching.
“Fuck you,” Avery growls, sneering at me.
Smiling, I know he’ll be dead by the end of the week. “The roid monster had cameras in his house,” I lie.
The guy’s face tells me all I need to know. I glance around and immediately tag the men who were there. Props to Ron for facing off against eight guys. Most of them didn’t get out of that house without at least a black eye.
“Cat got your tongue, princess?” I ask Avery.
Giving me a dirty look, he turns away and pulls the same dismissive move Sean did. Suddenly, he doesn’t care what the fuck we do.
We stay for hours, eating all the food at restaurants unaccustomed to so many customers.
Mostly we make noise. Guys ride in groups through Milkweed. By the time we’re ready to head out, the place is a ghost town. Even the cops give up and hide inside their tiny station.
As the sun sets, we roar one more time through town to get a final survey of our targets. Sylvie and her brothers provided the addresses for the ones they thought needed to die. Today, we figure out exactly where those people live and start making plans to destroy the power structure in Milkweed.
THE DOORMAT
Scarlet explains to me that everyone worth caring about in Conroe is currently locked down. The girls at the motel don’t take customers. The businesses run by the Johanssons and the club are closed. Sissy, Lily, Dash, and their kids are staying at Bailey’s house. Sawyer and her daughter, Kiki, are there too. Soso is at her home with her mother and her brother’s family.
“And we have Aaron, Oliver, and Leo to keep us safe,” Scarlet says and smiles at the men in the kitchen.
“I’ll kick all the asses,” Aaron says with his mouth full of cheese. “Not a one will remain un-kicked. Trust me.”
Smiling at his assurance, I can’t get enough of the snake tattoo he has on this neck. Any other day, I’d be asking a million questions about it.
But I’m too worried to think of anything besides, “Did it hurt?” Aaron just smiles and nods.
Knowing I’m skating close to losing control, I focus on the activity around me. The girls and Rebel play “Life” with some made-up rules that include yelling out “hot cheese” or “chocolate rain” depending on if the turn goes well or badly.
I watch them play, but my mind is on Milkweed and Jack. I know he’s tough, and Soso texted to say her dad sent up lots of guys to help. Jack will be fine.
But Milkweed is a place where people don’t act normal. There’s something rotten in the town, and it infects everyone who doesn’t leave.
Years ago, there was a young couple in my group. The wife, Tilly, didn’t like me. I never laughed at her dumb jokes. I don’t think she liked Ains
ley either, but that wasn’t okay. Marsha took Tilly’s attitude personally. She started telling everyone who would listen that the younger woman was always flirting with Avery Graham. The rumors built up for months.
Finally, at a church event, Tilly’s husband freaked out. First, he beat his wife and then turned around and attacked Avery for seducing her. The event ended when that one fight turned into a free-for-all as everyone holding a grudge went on the offensive. I grabbed Rebel and took off running when Patrick punched the sheriff, and Ainsley looked ready to come after me.
The next day, Tilly, her husband, and their two small children were gone from Milkweed. I never knew if they willingly left. Weeks later, I overheard Ainsley whisper to one of the other women about how Tilly slept with the fishes. Considering how often she was full of crap, I didn’t believe her.
But I always wondered if something as small as a rumor could lead Milkweed to murder a family. I decided to believe they left. Better to embrace a lie than to know I was surrounded by evil.
Now I think of one of those people hurting Jack. They couldn’t beat him in a fight. He’s too strong, and I see how fast he moves even when he’s just playing around with Scarlet. No, they couldn’t defeat him in a fair fight, but Milkweed cheats.
“Do you want a girl?” Yancy asks, startling me from my thoughts. She kneels in front of me and says, “After this one, I mean.”
Maddy pats my hand, likely noticing my tears. I wipe my cheeks and shrug.
“I don’t know.”
“Girls are better,” she says and smiles at Rebel. “Boys are gross.”
“You’re gross.”
“I’m a princess.”
“No, I am,” he insists, having learned how to argue with the girls. “You’re a toad.”
“Ribbit,” she says, and he smiles.
“Croak,” Janis adds. “I’m a frog, and that’s prettier than a toad.”
“Turd is more like it.”
Maddy rolls her eyes. “Knock it off.”
“No,” Cady says, despite not being involved.
“No, what?”
“No, ma’am.”
Laughing, Maddy slides onto the floor to crawl toward Cady who lies on her back. The girl twists away from her grandmother’s tickling fingers. Janis decides to help Maddy, and they trap Cady.
A smiling Yancy places her hands on my stomach. “Can I hold the baby when it’s born?”
“Of course.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Name him Guillermo,” she says, flashing me a bigger smile.
“Why?”
“It’s what I’m naming my son one day.”
“But then they’ll have the same name.”
“Yes, and your boy will be Big G and mine will be Little G. They’ll be cool.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” I tease.
Yancy takes Maddy’s old spot and leans closer. “Don’t be sad.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“Uncle Jack put me in charge of taking care of you.”
I know she’s lying, and she knows I know. We share a smile as Rebel joins us and rubs my belly. He’s learning to stick up for himself with the girls. They’re not bullies as much as fiercely opinionated. He’s figured out when to let them be wild and when to push back. I knew my boy was smart.
“He needs a name like Rebel,” he says. “Jack Something Johansson.”
“Something isn’t as good as Guillermo,” Yancy whispers.
Rebel rolls his eyes, and she rolls hers. They fall into a contest where every facial expression is more dramatic and sillier. I’m not sure who wins, but they finally stop.
“Hunter,” Janis says from the floor where she massages one of Maddy’s feet.
“No, Maverick,” Cady suggests, rubbing the other foot.
“We have an uncle named Maverick,” Janis announces.
Shaking her head, Yancy says, “He’s not our uncle.”
“He’s River’s uncle,” Cady states.
Maddy laughs. “No, they’re brothers.”
“Name the baby Ranger,” Janis says. “Two R names.”
“I like Hunter better,” Yancy says.
“Maverick would be better,” Cady says. “Maverick means rebel too.”
“You can’t name him Maverick,” Janis tells me. “He’ll think he’s named after the other Maverick.”
“Name him Rocket,” Cady says, laughing. “Like the comic book raccoon.”
Rebel gives me a weird look and shakes his head. I run my fingers through his bangs.
“There’s lots of time left to decide.”
“Don’t name my brother Rocket,” Rebel pleads.
“I won’t.”
Yancy rests her head on my shoulder, stares into my eyes, and whispers, “Guillermo.”
Laughing at her earnest expression, I pretend as if it’s a contender.
The girls stop talking baby names and decide they want to play downstairs. Rebel doesn’t join them until I promise I won’t name his brother something dumb. I think to ask if he likes his name, but I’m afraid of the answer.
Rebel rubs my belly and smiles. Then he’s off with the girls, and I sit on the couch. My gaze remains on the front door. Maddy joins me.
“What about Ryder?” Aaron asks, and I’d nearly forgotten he was nearby. “You know because his dad rides a bike. That is if you want your kids’ names to match.”
“Mine doesn’t match Phoebe’s,” Leo complains, wearing a frown I’ve seen on his sister’s face so many times.
“We almost named you Phineas,” Aaron says, and Leo hugs him dramatically.
“Thank you for not doing that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I like Ryder,” I say when the men stop teasing each other. “It’s not too normal.” I look at Maddy and smile awkwardly. “I never liked the name Rebel, but he can’t be Patrick either. I’m worried if I give this baby a name that’s too normal that Rebel will be jealous and feel as if he got the short end. After all, he already has the bad dad.”
“Jack will be his dad,” Maddy assures me. “He’s a good man, and Rebel is a good kid. They fit.”
Instantly crying at the thought of Jack viewing Rebel as his boy, I sigh. “I’m sorry I get so emotional. I know Jack is strong, but those people are awful. I wish he was back.”
“Loving a man like Jack isn’t always easy. The club has its secrets, and you can’t be certain he’s ever safe. But no one has those promises in life. You just have to decide to expect to see him again, and believe in that.”
Wiping my eyes, I know she’s right. Even if the Milkweed people disappear from the world, there’ll still be threats.
“I’ve never been good at imagining good stuff. Like I can plan for a million bad things to happen, but I can’t get hopeful about the good ones.”
“You just need practice. When life’s always a drag, you expect to be pulled down. When you spend your days smiling, you begin to expect happiness.”
Her words hit a nerve. Each morning, I find myself waking up without that constant dread clinging to me. I don’t immediately worry Rebel is in danger or my baby is dead. I’m not ready to expect good things, but I’m learning not to assume the worst.
Hours later, while Phoebe and Leo play guitars and sing Chris Isaak songs for Scarlet, my hope is rewarded by the sight of Jack on the front porch. He’s wearing the same clothes as before, which relaxes me for some reason.
I hurry to the door where he immediately wraps his arms around me. Jack doesn’t need to say a word. Just having him back erases all my fears.
Once his lips leave mine, and I stare into his eyes, I try to find the right words to express how much I missed him.
Instead, I blurt out, “What do you think of the name Ryder?”
Jack gives me a smile that promises our future will be as golden as he is.
THE HOTHEAD
In an ideal world, every man involved
in Ron’s death and Georgia’s suffering would die slowly.
But I don’t live in an ideal world.
The bullet from my rifle kills Avery Graham instantly. One minute, he’s enjoying a blowjob while in his patrol car in a lot next to a playground. The next, his face is gone.
Hidden in the bushes twenty yards away, I hear the woman screaming. She runs from the car, covered in blood. I’m a little surprised to recognize her as the non-Ainsley bitch from the Go-Stop.
Silenced by a bullet to her head, she drops mid-cry into the snow-covered grass. Nearby, Sylvie glares at me.
“Don’t be a wuss,” she mutters from behind her white balaclava.
The Majors hold a strong belief that bad women die just as easily as bad men. It’s not something I can do. Not that I’ll lose any sleep over the dead bitch now covered in a light dusting of snow.
Last night, the Conroe club met up with Sylvie, Denver, and Cavalry at a nearby rest stop. Everyone got their assignments. Some— like Tommy—aren’t as cool with spilling blood, so he’s sitting on Sean Hegseth’s house to ensure the asshole doesn’t sneak away.
Dickie is watching the sheriff, who we’ve decided to let live. Bubba figures the remaining assholes in Milkweed need guidance to prevent them from doing anything stupid like escalating a war they clearly can’t win. Sheriff Moore might be an asshole, but he’ll likely appreciate getting rid of Sean, Avery, and the other troublemakers.
Before our trip to the park, Sylvie enjoyed her revenge against the guy who tried to grab her melon. Honestly, my balls still hurt after watching her hack at his. But he died quiet enough not to alert the entire town.
A few minutes after Avery dies, Bubba sends a flame emoji to signal he’s handled his target. Earlier, Butch and Jace killed theirs. Of our eight targets, we’ve taken out seven.
Sean probably plans to run. But for now, he’s holed up in his house with his kids and Ainsley. He figures we won’t bust inside and kill him in front of his family.
He’s wrong.
I might suffer from a sentimental heart, but silly, stoner Sylvie Majors turns ice cold when on the job. Just after dawn, I shoot the lock off the back door, and she rushes into the house. Finding Ainsley alone in the kitchen, Sylvie fires one bullet into the bitch’s left eye. The woman, who tormented Georgia, drops to the ground without knowing what hit her.
Heart Like Mine (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #3) Page 23
