My Perfect Drug (Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  THE CHAPTER WHERE SHIT SHOULD GET BETTER BUT DOESN’T

  THE LOSER

  Before the police arrive, I return to the house to locate another jacket. Inside, I find a fresh pot of coffee and my brother chugging a cup in his lame attempt to fix what a keg’s worth of booze broke. With his head hanging low, Cy looks up at me from under his dark brows. I get the impression he doesn’t think he’ll survive the night. The reality is he might be right. Assuming the Reapers don’t kill us, the Roches might. Even if we dodge a bullet with those groups of violent men, we still have to deal with the one who gave us life by jizzing in women he hated.

  I’m not worried about my safety. Less than an hour ago, I was certain my Lily Bear was dead. I was completely fucking done living if she was gone. Knowing she’s safe and on her way to her mother’s arms, I’m ready for whatever happens next even if it’s my end.

  In the tiny front closet, I grab a ratty jacket I haven’t worn since high school. Though it does little to warm me, I return to the porch as the police arrive and park near the line of Harleys.

  Cooper and his men parrot their bikes, acting as a threatening wall against the fuzz. I hesitate rather than joining them. These men aren’t my allies. They care about Lily. To them, I’m no more than trash stuck to her shoe that she refuses to throw away.

  My entire life, I’ve feared the Reapers who exert more than simple brawn. The club also runs legit businesses in Ellsberg, giving them influence with the mayor and the police department. If the Reapers aren’t happy with someone, they can make that person invisible to the rest of the town.

  Years ago, a small church decided the Reapers were Satanists. Twenty or so members of the Righteous Kingdom protested the Reapers-owned bars—Tequila Jodi and Whiskey Kirk’s. When that didn’t work, they pushed the police to crack down on motorcycles around schools. Finally, they asked the city council to force the local tattoo shops to shut down. This last move is likely what set off Cooper Johansson whose buddy runs Kentucky Tattoos.

  The Reapers used their influence to turn the town against the church. Businesses refused to serve the parishioners, and locals avoided places owned by the church’s members. Even their children at school were ignored by classmates. Toeing the line, Topher instructed me to avoid a kid in my class, or I’d get a beating.

  I don’t know what happened to the Righteous Kingdom. At some point over the years, a storage unit facility replaced the church. They were lucky, though, that Cooper Johansson acts as a benevolent tyrant. Most killers with an army at their disposal wouldn’t let troublemakers live long enough to be ignored.

  Lily didn’t grow up knowing everything her father and his men were capable of, and I envy her innocence. My siblings and the Roche kids always knew what kind of shit our families were into, and we never got the luxury of looking away. Topher tainted his children as soon as they were old enough to know fear. If given the power, my dad would easily take up the mantle of a tyrant without any of that pesky benevolent shit to get in his way.

  So I try to see Cooper Johansson and the Reapers in the way Lily does rather than how I was raised to. It ain’t easy with them standing tall against cops who ask vague questions and accept vaguer answers. I recall Lily telling me a story about MJ after her sister was shot. One of the officers who came to interview her expected obedience from a family who expected the same from the cops. Much like the churchgoers, the officer learned his worth in Ellsberg. Lily told me in passing how the cop was fired for something unrelated to her family. I remember struggling not to laugh at how casually she said those words. Small-town cops protect their own unless someone scarier than the law says otherwise. And Cooper Johansson is plenty scary.

  The big man shoots me a dirty look when I finally join them in the lot. An ambulance turns onto the road, showing more speed than the cops did earlier.

  “Is Roche alive?” I ask the Reapers once I stand next to the buffer men.

  “For now,” Judd O’Keefe grumbles. “The cops want to talk to you.”

  “I was in the house when the shooting happened. I didn’t see anything,” I say immediately before adding, “Unless you need me to back up Lily’s version. In that case, I was with her the entire time and saw everything.”

  Vaughn snorts at my answer, but Cooper refuses to do more than glare. He’s pissed, motherfucker! Nothing will distract him from his anger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the biggest dog in a town full of them.

  However, I’ve often found the skinny stray dogs like Topher are far more dangerous than the large, house-broken ones like Cooper. So I don’t flinch when he moves at me.

  “You only say that you saw Roche on the ground and his gun nearby. You kicked it away from him. Otherwise, you have amnesia,” he growls in my face. “Do you understand?”

  I think to say no just to fuck with him but instead sigh. “Lily was right about your eyebrows.”

  Cooper glares harder, but I know he’s more focused on what his oldest child said about his face. “You’re a little shit.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  Despite all the anger from the Reapers, the police seem bored by the entire situation. They ask me two questions. What did I see? What did I hear? Once they get their answers, they tell Cooper they’ll need to talk to Lily when “she’s feeling better.”

  “She’ll contact you,” Cooper says, crossing his arms in his trademark “I’m done discussing shit now” stance.

  The police shuffle away, talking about stopping for either pizza or what passes for Indian food in Ellsberg. I might find their behavior shocking if I didn’t know the cops found bloody Roches every other month. Last summer, one of them was found in a park slide with a gut wound. Roches get stabbed and shot several times a year. I doubt anyone’s ever been arrested for any of those injuries, and I know no one will for Rudy either.

  THE PRINCESS

  Sissy sings along with every song on the radio during the fifteen-minute drive to my parents’ house. I glance into the back seat to find the kids looking tired. Remembering myself at their ages, my biggest problem was acing spelling tests. I wanted to make my parents proud. Haydee and Hart just want enough to eat and get through the day without watching their mom pounded on by an array of men. If I were them, I’d want to be at school as much as possible to get away from the chaos of their home. They’re afraid to leave Sissy for too long, though. I suspect Topher threatened to make her disappear.

  Crying again, I often feel overwhelmed with the problems clinging to the Mullens. I want to take Dash, Sissy, and the kids away from Ellsberg where they’re always dragged down. Would it really be that simple? Could they be normal in another place or does trouble run through their veins? Is my baby a ticking time bomb of Mullen problems?

  The answer doesn’t matter because I can’t let go of Dash or Sissy. Something primal clicked between these people and me years ago. I trust Sissy despite her habit of mucking up situations. My heart knows she accepts me completely. Dash is even less a choice. I can’t look at other men without finding them lacking. Even Dash’s flaws are perfect.

  As for my baby, I don’t buy into the bad blood lie. The Mullens aren’t a mess because they’re biologically forced to be. They’re scoundrels drawn to other scoundrels. Then they raise their innocent children to do wrong too. They choose to corrupt everything they touch. They can just as easily choose to be better. After all, Sissy doesn’t beat her kids. She never steals their food so she won’t go hungry. She’ll take a beating to protect them. No way would Topher put anyone first. Sissy’s and Dash’s mothers are awful too, but that’s a choice. Just like my maternal grandparents were evil people who tried to ruin Mom and Aunt Tawny. Yet my mom never mistreated me. Being a scoundrel is a choice, no matter what the Mullens think, and I won’t allow myself to be conned into believing differently.

  “Thank you for driving,” I tell Sissy who smiles immediately. “I’m not upset about Rudy, but I can’t stop crying.”

  “You don’t want
your mom to be mad at you. You never do.”

  No, I can’t deal with upsetting my mom. Pop was always closer to Audrey and Colton while MJ did her own thing. As a mama’s girl, I can’t bear to disappoint her again.

  “Is that your sister?” Sissy asks when we turn off the side road onto the long driveway leading to my parents’ house.

  I lean forward and wipe my eyes. On the porch steps sits a woman I assume at first is Mom, but Sissy is right. A bundled-up MJ cuddles with two family dogs, one at each side. Her braving the cold can’t be a good sign.

  As soon as Sissy parks, MJ stands and walks to where I slide out of the passenger side. She never even looks at Sissy or the kids. Her gaze remains focused on me.

  “So I get pregnant, and then you get pregnant,” MJ says, her words slightly muffled by the scarf around her jaw. “Okay, so that’s not such a copycat move since you’ve been talking about babies for years. Now, though, you’re shooting people just like me? That, Lily, is a step too far.”

  “I’ve always been a big fan of yours,” I say, hugging her too tightly. “Is Mom okay?”

  “She’s talking to Aunt Tawny.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  MJ pulls back and gives me a frown. “Well, it’s not a good one.”

  “Is she chopping foods?”

  “No, she’s doing her clingy hugs. I finally had to wiggle free and make a run for freedom. I left so fast that I didn’t grab the right jacket,” she says and sniffs the collar of her oversized coat. “Based on the smell of cheap booze and women, I assume it belongs to Colton.”

  “Should I stay outside?”

  MJ stares at me in the way she always stares at me when I say something she finds dumb. Rolling my eyes, I turn to find Haydee and Hart shivering behind me.

  “We might die,” Haydee says dramatically

  “No,” Hart adds

  “Yes,” Haydee replies and I know they need to be distracted, or this conversation might go on for a while.

  “Let’s get inside,” I tell Sissy who is still humming the last song from the car.

  “Are you sure your mom wants us inside?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” I ask.

  Sissy stares at me in almost the exact same way MJ did seconds ago. I know she won’t accuse my mom of thinking all Mullens are trash, but that’s what she’s thinking. I even catch her glancing around as if she and the kids might remain warm in another building away from Ellsberg’s queen.

  “I need to get hydrated,” I announce, and Sissy and MJ perk up. They both like to take care of people, though my sister also detests taking care of people if she’s expected to. She’s a stubborn little lady, but Sissy looks a little panicked at how I’m crying out all my fluids. She even wipes my cheek and frowns at the tear on her fingers.

  “We need to go,” she says and takes her kids’ hands.

  With woods lining both sides of my parents’ property, the area with the house and garages turns into a funnel for the cold wind. A gust shakes us and sends the dogs running for the heated garage where they’ll bunk for the night.

  My mind is on Dash and his need of a jacket. I’m sure he’s wearing one by now, but I still worry about the coat rather than what Pop might do after the police leave.

  MJ opens the door and waves us inside. While she slides out of Colton’s jacket, I walk past her and into the living room where Mom waits. She stands up immediately, almost jumping to her feet. I’m startled by her quick movements but relieved when her arms wrap around my shivering body.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” I sob against her.

  “You’re okay,” she cries. “That’s all that matters. Fuck the Roche asshole cocksucker.”

  My mom doesn’t cuss often, but when she lets loose, she goes full biker bitch.

  “I thought he might shoot Sissy and her kids,” I mumble while my face hides in the sweet-smelling warm curve of her throat. “I think I killed him.”

  “Fuck him,” she growls, sounding like Pop. “The entire Roche family is scum. Fuck them all.”

  Lifting my face, I stare into my mother’s wet eyes. “This isn’t Dash’s fault.”

  “It’s that Roche loser’s fault.”

  “He came to their house with a gun. If I hadn’t been there, Rudy might have killed them all.”

  “God sent you to protect them.”

  Mom’s encouraging words reignite my tears. I’ve been so worried about disappointing her that I didn’t prepare for her support. The woman’s always owned my heart in a way that no one else could. For years, I’ve feared she’d withhold that part of her if she knew the real me. With her arms wrapped tightly around me, I feel both stronger and weaker than I have in my life.

  THE LOSER

  The Reapers huddle outside, making plans to deal with the shooting’s aftermath. I overhear Cooper tell Vaughn to meet club brother, Dylan Campbell, at the hospital to spy on the Roche family. He sends Tucker to give an update to the rest of the Reapers at their clubhouse, just in case Bobby Bo decides to make a stink. I miss his plans for the rest of his men when I’m distracted by Cy packing a suitcase in the next room.

  “You’re taking my shit,” I mutter, yanking my shirt from his ratty bag. “Where are you going?”

  “Louisville maybe. Anywhere out of town until shit settles down. Topher will be on a rampage. If he can’t go after you or Sissy, that only leaves me, and I’m not getting nailed for something I had nothing to do with.”

  “Fair enough. And I get you’re in a hurry but stop packing my shit. I need to grab a few things for my move to Lily’s.”

  Cy glances up at me, and his blue eyes appear especially gloomy in the dim room. “That bitch is gonna get you killed.”

  “Brother, I hope you one day meet a woman worth dying for.”

  “Fucking doubt it. Women are good for fucking and cleaning, but no pussy or housekeeper is worth dying over.”

  “That’s some romantic shit, Cy. No wonder the ladies duck when they see you coming.”

  My brother balls up his hand, ready to punch me. I don’t know what spooks him, but he decides leaving is better than fighting. Watching him go, I shove a few things into a duffle bag I find under my bed.

  I think to mention how Cy is making a mistake by leaving now. Topher won’t forgive him for bailing when our family needs numbers against the Roches. So while Cy’s cowardice will save him tonight, his choice to run likely just shortened his lifespan.

  I don’t share these thoughts with Cy who called my woman a bitch minutes ago. Death will come for us all eventually, and I doubt I’ll be so broken up when it hunts down Cy.

  Downstairs, I look through the keys of available cars in the lot. A few of them are such clunkers I doubt they can handle the dirt road terrain leading from the highway to the Johansson house. I settle on a twenty-year-old, banged-up Yukon with just enough giddy-up left in it to survive Ellsberg.

  “Where the fuck is your brother running to?” Cooper asks from the doorway.

  If I weren’t so mellow, his sudden appearance might have scared the shit out of me. I mean, how does a fucker that size sneak up on anyone? He crosses his arms when I don’t answer, and I imagine what he sees when he looks at me. Am I a disease-carrying insect to be squashed or his daughter’s obnoxious pet he’s forced to tolerate?

  “Well?” he asks while I light a cigarette.

  Exhaling smoke, I study the Marlboro. “Lily's going to want me to give these up for the baby. Fuck, that’s going to hurt.”

  “A man does what is necessary to protect his own.”

  “So I’ve heard, but it’s not a concept Mullens are familiar with.”

  “Is that why your brother sped away as if his ass was on fire?”

  I hold the cigarette between my lips while picking up my bag and the keys. “He thinks Topher will kill him.”

  “Why the fuck would he?”

  “You’ve known Topher for decades. Do you really think he needs a reason?” I ask while passing him on
my way out the door. “Lily’s at your place. What’s the plan for the night?”

  “She’s staying put where I can protect her until I make sure the Roche fuckers don’t think Rudy is worth revenge.”

  “You vastly overestimate the interest Roches have in their kids’ survival. Why do you think they pop out so many?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Their financial needs versus one dead kid isn’t any harder a choice for them than it would be for Topher.”

  Cooper opens his mouth to bitch at me and probably to complain about his daughter’s trashy taste in men. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want my daughter fucking a Mullen either, but he doesn’t get a chance to put me in my place.

  A car screeches down the road before swerving into the lot and inspiring the armed men to prove they’re carrying. Topher doesn’t immediately reveal who he is, and I hope the Reapers open fire. Unfortunately, they’re tough guys who don’t go off half-cocked. Topher is a blessed man. There’s no other way to explain how he acts like a wild animal yet keeps on breathing.

  “If I die tonight,” I mutter to Cooper, “tell Lily to name the baby something normal. She mentioned Barnaby as a possible name back when she was in college and talking babies. No kid needs that name. Tell her it’s my dying wish for something normal, so she won’t be able to refuse me.”

  “Kid, no one is killing you tonight,” Cooper says, following close behind me. “Though now I find myself hoping you die just so I can avoid that fucking name. Then again, maybe it’ll be a girl.”

  “Better scratch that dream, Papa Bear. Sissy is the smartest Mullen woman in generations.”

  “Well fuck,” he growls, but I’m not sure if he’s reacting to Sissy’s status as our family’s female brainiac or if he’s noticed Topher’s drunk.

  Chuckling, I shrug. “It’s Saturday, man. What do you expect him to be like?”

  Cooper grunts a word that sounds like fuck and cunt had a baby. He walks past me and storms toward Topher. I ought to warn him to slow down, so he doesn’t startle my temperamental—and always armed—father. Cooper Johansson won’t take advice from me plus he has three guys still pointing guns at Topher.