by Bijou Hunter
“First off, we need to clean up the mess the Dogs left behind. Soso and I will figure out the motel situation. Jack, I want you to handle the two meth guys in the area. Ron, you seem to have a good grasp of the town’s dynamics. It was you who knew about that abandoned park,” I say, and he nods immediately. Ron is stupid and rude, but he’s loyal. He wants to prove his worth here like he didn’t in Ellsberg. If I give him that chance, he’ll ride with me to hell. Or at least, that’s what Soso claims.
Continuing with my speech, I explain, “I want you to figure out who is selling what under our noses. Pot, booze, sex, even fucking counterfeit Blu-rays. Anything that’s not legal in Conroe is our business. When we have the muscle, we’ll start pulling those distributors under our control.”
“The Dogs said...” Mom blurts out, but I wave off her comment. While she hates losing power, she wants me to succeed. It’ll take time to establish a balance between us, but eventually, she’ll see a man when she looks at me rather than just her boy.
“We can’t trust anything the Dogs said. They were likely siphoning cash off everything from the motel to the drug sales. They hoarded booze from the pub and never paid their tabs. Butch thinks they were the ones stealing shit from the worksites.”
I see Mom’s expression freeze as she realizes both the Dogs were fucking with her and that we didn’t inform her of this fact. She’ll give me hell about that later no doubt.
“We don’t know anything for a fact, though. We might have enemies in Conroe. The Dogs could have allies we never knew about. Nothing should be assumed. We’ll need to learn the backgrounds of every person in this town. I want to know who is a snitch, a bootlicker, or has a thief in their family tree. Everything about the citizenry is our business. It’ll take time, but we start building today.”
“What about the legit businesses?” Sawyer asks.
“You and Mom have that organized. Sissy and Dash are picking up the slack from Lily being on maternity leave. Soso will help more as she settles into Conroe.”
Before my speech becomes too tedious, I open the door and thank everyone for coming. Then I leave before anyone can get chatty.
Mom and Sawyer remain in the office while Ron and Jack leave immediately. I hear them talking about meeting at the pub tonight. As far as I can tell, Jace disappears into thin air. Only Butch joins me in the kitchen.
My brother was quiet last night while we disposed of the Dogs. While his silence might have been related to that mutism thing, I sensed he was processing the situation.
Now I hope he’ll express himself verbally, so I can stop guessing about what’s on his mind. Instead, he sits at the island and stares at me.
“Last night wasn’t how I wanted shit to go down,” I explain to him. “I saw them on the video and knew they were talking about Soso, and I just snapped inside. There was no more waiting.”
“I’d have done the same.”
“Trust is important. Last night didn’t help prove my word means anything.”
“You fucked up,” Buzz says, entering the kitchen.
“I did what I felt I had to do.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I’m not in your stinking club,” he says, leaning his head into the fridge.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Buzz says, closing the fridge once he locates a juice pouch, “I’d be flying off the handle every damn day.”
“You are impulsive,” I admit as soon as I realize he isn’t pointing fingers at me. “But I still wish you’d join the family business.”
Buzz walks over to me and smiles. “I’d never listen to you. I’d do whatever I wanted and talk shit behind your back. Do you still want me in your club, big bro?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Grinning, Buzz pats my back and starts to leave. “I might one day decide to do the legit side of the family business, but even then, I suspect I’d just push everyone’s buttons.”
I consider asking if he behaves that way with his current boss at the RV sales lot. Buzz is gone, though, and I figure it doesn’t matter. He has never wanted to be in the Reapers, and my brother should live his life how he pleases.
Butch studies me for a long time. I’m used to him not talking and assume he’s just stuck in his head. Then he remembers to speak.
“You fucked them up,” he says.
“Yeah, so?”
“I didn’t think you were capable.”
“I beat you up.”
“I let you beat me up.”
We share a smile. “This is a chance for us to get out from under Cooper’s control and prove we deserve to be in charge.”
“You’re afraid you’ll fuck it up,” he says, being helpful as usual.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Think Jack will be a good VP?”
“No.”
“Seriously or are you worried he’ll boss you around?”
Butch stretches, hesitates while waiting to see if the movement causes him pain, and then accepts how his body works better these days.
“He already bosses me around. The difference is I’d need to listen to him if he was the vice president.”
“Do you want to be the vice president?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No.”
“Ron isn’t an option.”
“He likes drugs too much.”
“Jace claims he’s too old to give a shit about what happens.”
“He’s forty,” Butch mutters.
“Yeah.”
“Then I guess you have to give it to Jack, but make him beg first.”
We share a smile again and then glance in the direction of our mother’s very loud entry.
“My sons!” she declares. “Could a mother be any prouder of her boys than I am of mine?”
“Even me, Mommy?” Buzz cries out from somewhere in the house.
“You’re my favorite!” she yells back while winking at Butch and me.
Mom gives Butch a hug and pats his belly. Then she lunges for me.
“My boy is all grown up,” she says, stroking my head and making me worry she’ll try to put a diaper on me soon. “You’re a man with a woman and a house, and I’m so proud.”
I stare at Butch over Mom’s shoulder and find him smirking at my predicament. Breaking loose from her grip will be impossible without someone getting hurt. Relenting, I let her cuddle me. Minutes pass—so many minutes—and she just keeps holding on.
Finally, Pop enters the kitchen and tells her that summer break makes him lonely. Lunging for him, Mom latches on and refuses to let go. They’re still attached when Butch and I flee the house twenty minutes later.
Yes, Mom will need time to accept our new power-sharing situation. Fortunately, Pop still has plenty of summer vacation left.
THE CHAPTER WHERE NOTHING’S REALLY OVER
THE BOHEMIAN
Conroe is full of gossips, and I often feel uneasy as if being watched. They routinely spy on the Johansson family, looking for more dirt to tell at their tea parties—that last part might just be my vivid imagination. The disappearance of the Dogs likely gave them more evidence of wrongdoing by the newcomers.
Or I could be completely paranoid.
I never catch anyone looking at Sissy and me as we walk around the grocery store. No one even makes that move where they glance away quickly. Yet I still feel watched.
But I don’t tell Sissy. She already suspects everyone has a negative view of her. Mentioning how people are watching will make her more self-conscious. Lottie is the same way in Hickory Creek, though she seems less uncomfortable in White Horse. Again, I’ve always believed much of her concern is in her head. People aren’t nicer in White Horse. Since she believes they are, that’s how they seem.
Just as being watched is probably in my head. Ignoring the hunted sensation, I pay for my groceries. Behind me, Sissy hums a song I don’t know. She’s excited about Butch feeling better and them having sex soon.
“He makes me happy,” she says while we walk to her SUV.
I find Sissy and Butch’s relationship fascinating. They both forget to talk sometimes. She just spaces out, and he seems to lock up. I assumed they’d be a very quiet couple. Instead, when together, they seem to fix those bad habits in each other and speak normally.
Since moving to Conroe, I’m always analyzing other people’s relationships and imagining what they’re like when no one’s watching. Is Nick a super dominant alpha while Bailey giggles and swoons? That one I can almost believe. Scarlet and Phoebe are the two I have the most trouble analyzing. I keep thinking Scarlet is the dominant one because she’s louder, more Johansson-like. But Phoebe tends to be the one who gets her way.
What do people think about Bubba and me? Do I seem like a pushover? Am I one? I did give up my home to chase after a man I’d known for less than two weeks. No, that clearly makes me a romantic, not a weakling.
Leaving Sissy at her SUV, I push my cart to my truck. Bubba and I have an SUV now, but I still prefer to run errands in my clunker.
For every bag I rest inside the passenger seat, I stop to look around. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention. The parking lot isn’t empty. Gossips could be watching without me seeing them.
I’m likely paranoid, but I dig around in my purse for my switchblade just in case. With no pockets, I stick it in the band of my skirt. It’s dumb, but I’m nervous.
Mom says people have a sixth sense about danger. She claims its leftover from our caveman days. I always assumed mine was broken. I hadn’t felt in danger at the party where a guy nearly raped me. I never sensed anything particularly fucked up about Griff. The day he destroyed my garden and stole my birds, my spidey senses didn’t go off.
But I’m struck by foreboding now.
Or I’ve worked myself into such a mental frenzy that I’m noticing things that aren’t there.
I dial Bubba. Hearing his voice will calm whatever crazy I’ve caught from a routine visit to the grocery store.
Before Bubba answers, I turn my head and realize I haven’t imagined anything.
Diving into the truck, I try to climb into the driver’s seat and away from Griff. He moves too fast, nearly running. His hand grips my shirt and yanks me from the truck. I feel the fabric tear.
Without thinking, I shove my phone down the front of my skirt and underwear, keeping it out of sight.
As I fall backward, Griff does nothing to keep my ass from crashing down on the asphalt. I don’t look up at him. Instead, I see past his huge build and into my truck where my purse and gun sit inside.
The bag is too far away. I flip onto my knees and start crawling. So startled, I nearly forget to scream. Layla mocks girls like me in horror movies.
“If she screamed, her friends would hear, and they’d live, but she was too stupid!” Layla yelled at the TV more than once.
I do think to cry for help, but it’s too late. Griff is on top of me, his hand over my face, covering my mouth and nose. I can’t breathe as he effortlessly carries me to a nearby black SUV.
My hand reaches for my switchblade before realizing it’s fallen into my underwear with my damn phone. Before I can fetch the weapon free, Griff body slams me into the side of the SUV.
Even stunned, I enjoy a momentary reprieve and can breathe while he opens the door. Then he tosses me like a ragdoll into the passenger seat. I plan to run as soon as he walks around to the driver’s side.
Clearly un-fooled by my momentary docility, Griff slaps me across the face.
I’m shocked by the pain. Despite freezing, I still plan to go for the door once he’s out of range.
Griff reads my mind, climbing over me rather than walking around the outside.
“You make everything so fucking difficult,” he grumbles and starts the SUV.
Escape is all I can see. Sissy is still in the parking lot. I don’t know if she heard my short-lived cry. Someone probably did. They might have seen the struggle. Help is coming, but I need to remain here.
Despite feeling as if I’m moving lightning fast, I never get the door open. Griff grips my hair and slams my face into the window. I see stars, tears blinding me.
“Either I can have you,” Griff growls, yanking my face closer, “Or I can make it so he’ll never want you. How badly do you want the day to go, Soso?”
I can’t see him through my tears. Is he smiling at my fear? Frowning at my silence? I don’t know what he expects me to say.
“Sit still and keep your fucking mouth shut, and we’ll do fine,” he mutters, pulling the SUV out of the parking lot.
I wipe my eyes just so I can see. Is there anyone watching us? Are the police on the way? Will Sissy tell Bubba? I think of my parents and wish I’d taken my mom’s warning about trolls more seriously. I could have shot Griff before he ever put his vile fucking hands on me.
“Shut up!” he screams when I cry louder.
Thinking of my parents was a mistake. I need to stay calm. Be cool like Keanu. He never shows his hand. He’s icy. I can be icy too.
Steadying myself, I study my surroundings. If I get the chance to jump out, where’s the closest safe place?
“I know where I made my mistake,” Griff says, driving with his left hand on the wheel while his right remains free in case I need to be hit again. “You rich bitches get bored easy. All women do. They need something to keep them entertained, so they don’t get stupid thoughts in their heads.”
While he babbles, I don’t waste time trying to convince Griff that I understand. I used up all that capital when I played him to get back my birds. He knows I don’t want him. He might think he can change that, but there’s no reason for me to pretend we’re at that point. I need to save my lies for when he might actually believe them.
“I should have knocked you up day fucking one,” he grumbles while turning the SUV down a road I don’t recognize. “The best way to keep a woman in her place is to breed her. Give her a kid or two to mind, and she won’t have time for fancy ideas. That’s all your bird shit is. You want to be a great savior. Your fucking rich aunt thought the same way. Bitch never had any kids and wasted her life. Went through husbands out of boredom. She needed someone to breed her. That was my mistake. I thought you were a Rutgers, but you’re a Hallstead. Those women only know their place when they’ve been bred by a powerful man.”
“I miss Hickory Creek,” I whisper.
Griff flashes an angry scowl at me. “You should have thought about that before you ran off with that fucking rapist,” he sneers and shoves my head toward the window.
This time, I keep my skull from making contact. “I thought he was the one.”
Griff hears my regret. I’m having second thoughts about Bubba. Moving here was a mistake.
I keep my gaze on my lap, only making quick glances up at him to see if my words affected him.
Uncertainty is written all over his face now. I’m no longer a lost cause. I can learn from my mistakes. He can teach me to make things right.
In my head, I remind myself to remain calm and wait for my chance to move. Griff isn’t smarter than I am, but he is stronger. I just need the chance to get away from him and then it’ll be over.
Griff can’t walk back what he’s done today. He had to know he was sealing his fate when he took me. This man is on the edge. Either he makes me understand, or we’re both dead.
I’m sure he believes he can kill me and go on the run, but deep inside, he knows there’s nowhere he to hide. Griff loves his mom and knows my family will tear her apart to find him. It’s the way the world works in Hickory Creek.
But now I’ve given him a chance to fix things between us. He doesn’t have to kill me or die. Life can be good again.
With enough time, he believes he can redeem me.
With enough time, I know I can escape.
Soon, we’ll learn which one is right.
THE RUNAWAY
Sawyer instructs Butch and me to organize the work sc
hedules now that we’ve “fired” over half of the club. We still have plenty of projects left open, and we were behind even before I ended the Dogs. However, rather than focus on worksites, I’ve spent the last day designing the specifics for the atrium.
“Other shit matters,” Butch grumbles at me when I say I need to spend tomorrow picking up supplies for the enclosure.
“Yeah, I see how you spend all your fucking time working rather than playing Mister Mom here,” I growl back at him and gesture toward Hart drawing next to us at the kitchen table.
“What’s your point?”
“I didn’t have one. I just wanted you to shut up.”
Butch narrows his green eyes. “People bitch when I don’t talk. Then they bitch when I speak up.”
I fight a smile since I can’t tell if he’s serious or not.
“Do you want to help me build it?” I ask when he stares at me with his grumpy expression.
Butch suddenly smiles. “Do you have your design sketched out?”
We skip the work schedule part and focus on how best to incorporate the atrium/enclosed porch into the house while also providing a secluded area for the birds.
As quiet as Butch, Hart draws Ula and Bjork in the atrium we’re designing.
“You’re a dad,” I mumble to my brother. Frowning instantly, Butch assumes I’m talking shit. “That makes me an uncle to three kids now,” I add before he hurts himself from frowning so much.
Butch’s smile returns. “Hart is excited about homeschool.”
The boy looks up at the sound of his name and smiles at Butch. There’s already a trust built between them even after a short time. Maybe that’s how Davies men roll. We all fell fast and hard for our women and raced to build lives with them.
Twenty minutes after Butch and I finish with the atrium design and finally start figuring out the work schedules, my phone rings.
I smile at the sight of Soso’s number. This morning, she told me that she decided to give our future children “place names” in honor of her father. I suggested Charlotte for a girl and Austin for a boy. Soso’s laughter indicated those names would never be unique enough for her tastes.