by Bijou Hunter
Vidalia grudgingly smiles. “I wouldn’t tell you either.”
“Why ruin the surprise?”
I give her a smile I hope seems trustworthy, but probably makes her worry that she’ll end up in a shallow grave out back.
“If you expect me to stay here, am I supposed to wear the same clothes? I only ask because my Walmart garb isn’t comfortable for lounging in a hideout.”
“You can wear my mom’s clothes.”
Vidalia frowns, probably thinking my mom dresses like a middle-aged woman rather than a biker bitch.
“I know this is a mess,” I say, standing too closely and watching her face for signs she’s scared by my proximity. “Think of this time as a weird vacation. Or a few days off from your real life. I’ll bring you take out, and you can relax, and soon it’ll be over.”
“And I won’t lose my job?”
“I’ll make sure of that.”
“And why would anyone listen to you?” she asks, feeling a bit daring based on the shine in her eyes.
“I have some pull. Don’t you worry.”
“And you aren’t planning to get me drunk so that I’ll be a modest slut like at the bar the other night?”
“I don’t even know how to make jello shots.”
Finally smiling, Vidalia exhales deeply. “I thought I was going to die earlier. Being stuck here with you is preferable to death, so I’ll make the best of the situation. And it’ll only be a few days, right?”
“A week at the most.”
“A week?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“At the most.”
“Okay, Gunnar.”
Hearing her say my name makes all the lies worth it. I smile a bit, making her frown suspiciously. She trusts me enough to go along with the situation, but a part of her remains cynical enough to suspect I’m full of shit.
8
Vidalia
⊱✿ ✿⊰
Long after changing my clothes and calling Reg, I sit in a chair in Gunnar’s parents’ master bedroom. I run my fingers over the gray sweatpants I borrowed. My gaze flashes to his mom’s dresser and I consider changing into a pair of shorts. Except I don’t want Gunnar to see my knobby knees.
I glance to the closet and wonder if I could fit in a pair of jeans. Deciding I should focus on something beyond Gunnar’s reaction to my appearance, I stand and walk to the door.
My hand hesitates, and my heart races. I hear the shots in the alley again. Closing my eyes, I steady my breathing and remind myself I’m safe here with Gunnar –– a criminal biker I blew off a few days ago.
Still uneasy, I return to the bed and work to steady my nerves.
My brother hadn’t believed my story. However, when Reg asked straight out if he should get involved, I said no. He only agreed to back off if I’d call him every few hours.
Now I’m wondering if I should call Reg back and ask for help. In fact, the longer I’m alone in the bedroom, the more convinced I become that Gunnar is the real threat.
I look around the room, noticing family photos on the wall. They seem like normal smiling people in the pictures, but I’ve heard stories about the Reapers Motorcycle Club. Rumor has it my old elementary school principal got on their bad side, and that’s why he disappeared.
By the time Gunnar knocks on the door, I’m nearly in tears. I don’t know what to do. I could climb out the window and run to the road where I might find help. But what about the guys with the guns earlier? Do I know if Gunnar is more dangerous than the one who took a shot at me?
Unable to run, I answer the door with the plan to say I’m tired and want to rest.
Then I see Gunnar’s sad, brown eyes, and the fear fades enough for my curiosity to get the best of me.
“Did you find everything?” he asks.
His tone aims for casual. The only problem is Gunnar’s size crowds the doorway, making him more intimidating than relaxed.
“Yes,” I say, taking a step forward, so he’ll move back.
Gunnar shifts his tall frame aside and allows me to walk past him to the living room.
Sitting on the couch, I stare at the dark TV on the wall.
“Do you want to watch something?” he asks, standing too close.
“Not really.”
Gunnar shuffles to the kitchen and brings me a soda can. Once he places it on the table in front of me, he sits in a nearby chair.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Gunnar chews on his bottom lip, looking like a huge, scolded kid.
“Are you close to your parents?” I ask when he stares at his hands.
His face lights up just a hint. “Yeah. How about you?”
“Reg and I are pretty tight, but he has a family and works a lot.”
“How about your mom and dad?”
“Dad’s in an assisted care facility, and I’m not allowed at my mom’s house.”
Gunnar’s expression shifts from irritation to confusion before he wears the sweetest curious face I’ve ever seen. “What’s wrong with your dad?”
“He got drunk and crashed his car into a tree. He was fine from the crash, but then he got out and walked into the street and was hit by another car. It scrambled his brain and broke his spine.”
“Does he live in Pema?”
“The facility is closer to Lexington.”
“Do you get to see him much?”
“He doesn’t understand I’m his daughter. He thinks I should still be eleven like when he had his accident. The last time I went with Reg, Dad flirted with me, and my brother went ballistic. My dad doesn’t understand who we are and Reg has trouble thinking of our father as anyone besides the jerk who messed up our family. So, to answer your question, no, I don’t visit him much.”
“I’m sorry. I have a club brother who fucked up his brain in an accident. He gets angry randomly and forgets things. It’s been hard on his family.”
“Most days, I don’t even think about my dad. I know that sounds mean, but his life and mine haven’t been connected in a long time.”
Gunnar looks awkward now, so I open the soda and take a sip. Resting back on the couch, I pull my legs against my chest and smile at him over my knees.
“It’s not that bad,” I tell him.
“It sounds pretty bad.”
“Because you hear it from outside my family. From the inside, it’s just something that happened. Don’t you have stuff like that with your family?”
Cracking his knuckles, Gunnar clearly remembers something, but he doesn’t share.
“I guess everyone does,” he says and then adds before I push for details, “What’s the deal with your mom?”
I tighten my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my knees. “My mom likes men, and sometimes, those men like me. Get it?” Gunnar’s gaze narrows, and I see a guy I ought to fear. “I moved in with my brother when I was fifteen and only see Mom when she visits Reg’s house.”
“That sounds worse than the dad stuff.”
“I’m sure it does. So, if we’re sharing, why don’t you tell me about your parents?”
Wiping his hands on his raggedy jeans, Gunnar shakes his head. “That seems like a cruel idea. I’d be a jerk to kick you while you’re down. Especially after what happened earlier.”
“I think I can handle it.”
“All right, but stop me if it sounds like I’m bragging too much.”
Sharing his smile, I love the way Gunnar looks when he mentions his family.
“My parents have been married for thirty years. Dad is the strong silent type. Mom’s got a real tender heart. They took good care of me and my younger sister, Heidi. We grew up in the club, and that probably seems scary or something, but it never was. The club guys and old ladies were extended family. Their kids are like my cousins. So, let’s just say I had a good childhood.”
“You should brag. Some people aren’t built to be parents. I’m glad yours are.”
My words awaken something intense in Gunnar’s eyes, mak
ing me shiver. His intensity is both terrifying and arousing. I’m accustomed to fear, but no man’s ever stirred hot lust in my gut before. We fall silent, both unable to put into words what’s happening between us.
9
Ogre
⊱✿ ✿⊰
How does Vidalia look even sexier wearing my mom’s sweatpants and a Kentucky county fair shirt? I’m relieved her hair is still up in a bun for work. If I see her shiny red hair hanging over her narrow shoulders, I don’t think I can keep my lips to myself.
We sit quietly in the living room of my parents’ quiet, double-wide. Even though I’ve prepped for this moment, I can’t think of anything to say that won’t make me sound like a fucking idiot. When my stomach growls like a 400-pound bear, Vidalia fights a grin.
“I can run and get us some food,” I offer, standing up.
Vidalia’s nervous gaze flashes to the front door and then back at me. “Isn’t there anything here to eat?”
“There are a couple of places like two blocks away,” I say, standing and reaching for my keys. “Burgers, sandwiches, Mexican, whatever you want.”
Vidalia stands up and reaches for my arm before yanking back her hand as if she’s been shocked. I don’t know how to react to how she avoids touching me. Do I disgust her? Did Vidalia only think I was attractive at the bar because she was too drunk to see me?
“I don’t want to stay here alone,” she says, her voice trembling. “Please don’t leave. We can find food here.”
What kind of dick am I? Instead of feeling guilty for putting her in this position, I smile at how she views me as her protector.
“I’ll see what we have in the kitchen,” I say and rub my fingers against my jeans to keep from touching her pale cheek.
Vidalia follows me past the banquette to the fridge. Since she and Dad spend half their time in Ellsberg, Mom never leaves around food that’ll go bad. I only find a few Healthy Choice TV dinners in the freezer.
“Is there bread?” Vidalia asks from next to me. “I see jelly and peanut butter. We could make sandwiches.”
Smiling down at her, I can’t keep my fingers from brushing against her cheek. Vidalia doesn’t shrink away from my touch. Her lips tighten, though, and I suspect she’d prefer if I stopped touching her.
“Sorry.”
“About having no bread or entering my personal space?”
I know I’m blinking too much, but I have no idea how to respond to her accusation. I’ve never been smooth with women. Now the only one I’ve ever wanted for more than a quickie is accusing me of being a dick.
Vidalia suddenly smiles. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I don’t mean to seem pushy.”
Snorting, Vidalia pushes past me and reaches up over the fridge. “There’s bread right here. Can you get out the jelly?”
I set the jar on the counter next to the peanut butter. “Vidalia, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Then call me ‘Vi.’ That’s what my family calls me. Vidalia is the name of a country song by Sammy Kershaw. It’s about a girl with the same name as a kind of onion, and she always makes the guy cry. You know, like cutting an onion. My mom didn’t get the point of the song, so she named me Vidalia, but no one except her calls me that.”
“It’s a real pretty name.”
“Yeah, for an onion.”
Chuckling, I hand her a butter knife. “I can see why you might not like it.”
“It’s not horrible like, say, Champagne, but I prefer Vi. It’s simple which is more my style.”
“My mom hates how people call me Ogre. She doesn’t care if it’s a club name. She’s smacked a few club brothers upside the head for using the name in front of her.”
“Wow, your mom hits bikers?”
“She’s part of the Reaper organization, so it’s not like she’s a normal old lady. All the guys know Mom has the ear of our president. If you piss her off, he’ll finish you and send my dad to do it.”
Vidalia –– a name I like too much to stop saying in my head –– gives me an odd look, and I realize I’m bragging about my mom having people killed.
“She’s tough is all,” I say like an idiot.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Vidalia shrugs. “You come from a different lifestyle where things that seem crazy to me aren’t so crazy to you. I don’t get the whole club thing and finishing off people, but I doubt your mom would choose her boyfriend over her kid. So, there’s that.”
“My mom’s gonna love you.”
Vidalia’s eyes widen. “I thought you said they were out of town.”
“They are, but when they get back, I’m sure they’ll want to meet you.”
“Why?”
I don’t know how to answer in a cool way, so I say instead, “Because you’re Vidalia Cornish.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense,” she mumbles, trying not to laugh while finishing up the sandwiches. “Is one sandwich enough for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, giving me a look I’ve seen on my mom’s face when I lied to her.
“Two would be better.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Vidalia makes another sandwich while I get the plates and napkins. With us casually working together, I can’t get out of my head how we’re meant to stick. Like how my mom and dad met under unusual circumstances but couldn’t deny they belonged to each other.
I want Vidalia to feel my certainty too, but she’s difficult to read. While I don’t think she currently fears me, I haven’t done anything particularly frightening in the last hour. Vidalia remains calm because I’m calm. In the alley, she followed my lead, and I can’t help hoping she follows it when I finally come clean with her.
Vidalia sure makes a great peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Knowing just the right mix of each ingredient, she could teach my sister a lesson about moderation. Heidi goes so insane with mayo on her sandwiches that I can’t taste anything else.
As if knowing I’m thinking about her, Heidi texts to say she’s on her way to the house and I better not leave until she gets the chance to ream me out.
Rolling my eyes, I set down my phone and study Vidalia finishing the chips we found in a cabinet. I don’t know where her mind is, but I suspect she’s thinking dark thoughts about what happened earlier. Or what I might do to her tonight.
“My sister is dropping by to talk. She isn’t happy about what happened today,” I say, picking my words carefully. “I don’t want her to scare you, so I need you to hang out in my parents’ room while we talk.”
“Where am I sleeping tonight?”
“I assumed you’d like my parents’ room.”
“No way. Being in there feels like I’m entering a person’s private space. Isn’t there another room I can use?”
“The master has its own bathroom. You’d have more privacy.”
Vidalia stands up and stares directly into my eyes. “Gunnar, I do not want to sleep in the same bed where your parents knock boots. It’s their bed and should stay private.”
“They won’t care.”
“You don’t know that unless you’ve asked them, and I don’t think you have.”
“Why does it matter so much?”
“I’m wearing your mother’s clothes and eating your family’s food. They don’t know me, and now you have me invading their marital bed.”
“To sleep. It’s not like you’d be doing anything––” Vidalia gives me a disappointed frown. “You have the same pissed look that my mom gets. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work on me when she does it and it won’t with you either.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No. We have two guest rooms. You can pick one of them.”
“See how easy that was?” she asks, taking our plates to the sink. “Do you think your sister will kick my butt or something if she sees me?”
Trying to keep my lies to a minimum, I don�
��t answer her question. “I need to talk to her privately about club business.”
“And I’m a stranger.”
“Even if I knew you all my life, it’s still club business, and that stays private.”
“Understood.”
Vidalia finishes cleaning up after our lunch while I stand outside waiting for Heidi to arrive and chew out my ass. After a few minutes, I glance through the screen to find the kitchen empty. I don’t know which room Vidalia chooses, but she’s long gone by the time my sister arrives in her red SUV with Jox close behind on his Harley.
“What up, man?” Jox says, climbing off his hog and smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world. I doubt he even knows why they’re here.
“Please get the baby,” Heidi instructs the blond lump of muscle who looks around as if he isn’t certain where the kid might be.
While he finally wanders over to the SUV, Heidi stands in front of me and glares with her fierce blue eyes.
“What in the fuck?” she asks in the weird calm-ish voice she uses before calling a hit on someone.
“Chill, will ya?” I say, leading her away from the house. “I needed to get my girl alone for a few days and kidnapping her seemed extreme.”
Waving at the double-wide, she demands, “What do you call this then?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Of course, we don’t want your hostage finding out you’re a weirdo pervert freak.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“Before you whine to Mom that I hurt your feelings, keep in mind what I can tell her about you.”
“Don’t you want me to find what you have with Jox?”
“Is that your way of telling me this girl is an idiot? Trust me that I figured out her low IQ when she went along with your idiot plan.”
“She is a civilian, and I’m persuasive.”
“What exactly did you tell her?”
“That she saw that guy––”
“Do you mean Rick from Ellsberg who you asked to do you a little favor? That guy?”
“You’re so bitchy today.”
Heidi exhales hard. “Jox rolled over on me last night, and it took nearly twenty minutes to wake the drunk fucker. I hate men and their giant bodies right now.”