by Bijou Hunter
Violet’s sad story is proof of how nothing is promised in life. Her family had money, and she lived in a nice part of town. But she wasn’t any safer than she is in Pema.
Violet doesn’t remove her gloves when she turns our chess game into foreplay. Even when she strips down and straddles me, she keeps them on. My woman is learning how to deal with her weaknesses.
All my life, I’ve believed I was beyond fear. Nothing could touch me. Since death is a given, why fear it? Without doubts or hesitation, I was more machine than man. Now, I’m vulnerable. This feeling is something I never expected. Worse, it’s a burden I’m unsure I can bear.
Except when Violet gives her body to me after having it broken and battered by a monster, I accept how strength can be lost and regained. No one exists without fear or vulnerability. Not even me.
Despite fearing a world without Violet, I’ll have to take the shot and start a war.
THE GHOST
Caen’s birth signaled the end of my life in Shasta. By then, Pema already felt like my new home. Leaving Shelby, Dean, and the kids was the price I paid for freedom from a town where all my nightmares were created.
Drew’s birth seals my place in Pema. While Vi has her in-laws to help, I decide to step up. No more hiding in the background. I’m good with kids, and I own that skill. Babysitting Shawn and Cassie, cooking meals, cleaning around the house, I do whatever my newest friend needs done.
After the cops show up at the hotel, Maverick insists I have an escort whenever I’m out. If I want to visit Vi or Stella, I need a club guy on my tail. For shopping, I join Avery and Savannah, who are better with their guns than I am. When I want coffee across the street, I call Maverick to play chaperone.
Though the fuss makes me feel like a child, I never complain. Maverick needs to know I’m safe. I’m his one weakness. If I don’t let him protect me, he can’t focus on his VP job and the firehouse rehab.
After his minor bananas-moment regarding the Idyllwild dicks, Maverick gets back on track. He wants us moved into our duplex by spring. Every time I visit the worksite, the firehouse’s transformation is more amazing. I wasn’t sure how they could take that large, cold space and turn it into a home. By the time the nearly black wood floors are installed, I see it all coming together. Mostly, I love how our duplex feels like Maverick.
I’m completely useless with design ideas. When overwhelmed by choices, I freeze. So early on, we decided Maverick should choose everything. Our duplex feels like an extension of my perfect man.
The front door opens up to a warm, endearingly masculine open floor plan. Hickory-colored beams loom large over the connected family room and rustic kitchen. The dark colors mix well with the brick walls. Downstairs—kitchen, dining room, and family room—is a single space ideal for entertaining our family and friends, both local and those driving in.
Behind the kitchen is a small office that will one day be for stashing kid crap. The back door leads to a stone-and-rock courtyard with a six-foot-high brick privacy fence. Corky loves his yard, and I’m relieved he can’t escape. Once we move in, the cat quickly learns the courtyard’s side door leads to Avery’s similar backspace. He’ll run over and meow, hoping Io will open up to play with him.
Back inside the house and up the wooden and iron staircase, a right takes me to the master bedroom, complete with a shower and bathtub built for two. The park view makes me feel as if we’re living in the country rather than downtown. Across the long, half-open hallway are two bedrooms for guests and future kids.
When I’m stressed, I rest on the couch downstairs and turn on the large overhead fan. Watching it leisurely spin, I can relax enough to keep my past at bay.
Moving in when we do, Avery makes a huge deal out of how she beat Savannah. With all the Reapers’ work crews focused on our duplex, Savannah’s renovation is mostly completed by Louisville companies. Bjorn does his best to get those men to work on schedule, but it’s a mere job to them.
Building our duplex allows the Reapers to create a bigger club footprint. The men view our project as personal. Eventually, many of them take over Savannah’s house remodel, too. Most likely, Vaughn got involved so his daughter could move in faster. Now, a small part of Idyllwild belongs to her and, by extension, the Reapers. Plus, it must piss off the Cosgrove family and their COC allies to have so many tatted bikers hanging out in their town.
Despite how competitive the twins are, they love and hate working on the hotel together. I play nanny with Io and Pollux while their mothers transform the once-gaudy train wreck into a cooler headquarters for the local club. Heidi often stops by to work in the front office, adding to my little group of kiddos to watch. Life is easier when my mind is busy, and I’m surrounded by those who keep me sane.
Though I’m our friends’ on-call babysitter, I still have time to improve myself. Maverick and I get better at chess. I become fluent enough in French to seduce him in the language, though likely not well enough to tempt anyone fluent in French.
“I hope you’re saying you want my cock,” Maverick murmurs whenever I coo at him in the foreign language.
Nodding, I babble more in French. I’m so much sexier when he doesn’t understand my lame dirty talk.
Thanks to the support of my friends, family, and the sexiest man alive, I’ve found a way to love myself, flaws and all.
OH, BY THE WAY, FROM THE SENTINEL
I’m looking in Amon Cosgrove’s eyes when his head explodes. Though I would have loved to be the one to pull the trigger, killing this one fucker won’t be enough to end the Cosgrove-Idyllwild problem.
That’s why we hit Amon after one of his flashy performances. The entire Pema club is present, even Vi, who only delivered a few weeks earlier. Gunnar carries her up the stairs again. Everything is similar to our first visit. Sylvie naps. Denver drools. My parents have finger fights when they get bored during the sermon. Avery is again Kiefer’s fake girlfriend and might want to fuck him for real based on all the fondling she does. Next to me, Violet stares in awe, despite not really paying attention. All those years of programming from her parents and O’Meara means she can put on a ruse for long periods.
After the sermon, we again trek down the stairs to the main lobby. The Idyllwild bitches never get a chance to start trouble. Though they do literally sneer at Nevaeh, who apparently offended their sensibilities during her first visit.
Amon stands at the doorway, basking in his followers’ praise. Colton pushes forward, using the crowd’s momentum to get closer to the face of the local crime family. I’m right behind my president. We’re smiling at Amon when River pulls the trigger. The shot is from such a distance that the loud crowd doesn’t hear a thing. Not until Amon’s brains drench the people around him and screaming ensue.
I relish the splatter on my shoulder. Setting up this moment, I picked the one Majors family member who wasn’t around for the first visit. All the local Reapers and my family are witnesses to the horror. We even give our statements later to the police. Everything’s all very above board.
The cops piece together the story I wrote for them. Amon was sleeping with the wife of a violent man with a large weapons stash and a drinking problem. In reality, Jacob Smith was too busy destroying his liver to care what his wife did. However, that’s not what the police decide based on the clues we leave for them.
In Smith’s truck, they found him dead from a single shot to the head. While River killed Amon, Shane kept our drunk patsy on ice. Before the chaos at the church ended, Smith was dead. Next to him in the passenger’s seat, River left the weapon used to kill Amon along with photos I took of the preacher getting sucked off by Smith’s wife.
My job might have been more difficult if Amon made even the slightest effort to hide his indiscretions. With the Cosgrove family controlling Idyllwild, he felt untouchable. Only now, by pushing into Pema and stepping on the Reapers’ toes, did they put themselves in danger.
Amon didn’t change his behavior despite the trouble they c
aused the club. He still messed around with women, often in semi-public areas. I followed him around for a few weeks to get enough photos to ensure the cops blamed Smith.
For months, Idyllwild remains distracted with gossip over what other women might have been in the seized pictures. The church falls into disarray without their star attraction. The money dries up. Soon, the COC struggles to bully homeowners into who they can sell to. Nevaeh even manages to snap up a house belonging to a pervert she decides should die.
Mostly, Idyllwild’s short-term disorder allows Colton, Heidi, and me to organize Pema for when the Cosgrove family and their allies get back in the game.
For now, though, the Reapers are solidly in control of Pema—just like I planned.
A FINAL WORD FROM THE GHOST
Two years after Maverick and I move to Pema, I take a bad spill during a roller derby bout. Bruised up, I spend a few days shuffling around the duplex with a now-domesticated Corky. I eat too much junk food and fully embracing Slob Violet. For most of the day, I nap on the couch while Maverick rides around Pema, doing biker stuff. He orders dinner every night to allow me to rest more. During these absolutely lazy days, I decide I want a baby.
“I’ll stop my birth control, and we’ll see what happens,” I announce when Maverick seems open to the kid idea. “If it doesn’t happen, we’ll just not have a kid.”
“What about your fear of having something inside you?”
“I felt pregnant after pigging out the last few days,” I admit, and he grins as I pat my belly. “I’m sure I can deal with your son moving around in here.”
Maverick isn’t wholly on board with the idea. Not naturally inclined toward noise and mess, he would no doubt be happy waiting for a decade. But I want our son to have club kids his age.
“We’ll name him Rogue,” I suggest to Maverick one night while we’re relaxing at the duplex with Corky resting behind us on the couch. “Get it? Rogue and Maverick are loner names.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
Shrugging, I hadn’t even considered the possibility. “I don’t know.”
Those first few months, I’m nervous each time my period is due. Am I hoping to miss it? Do I need more time before the test comes back positive? Once Aunt Flo shows up, my worries fall into the background.
After six months, though, I wonder if I’m infertile.
“O’Meara gave me pills. I could be messed up inside,” I tell Maverick after my period starts again.
“The internet claims we shouldn’t worry for at least a year,” he says, forever calm. “More importantly, Shelby instructed we shouldn’t worry for at least a year.”
Keeping busy with life, I choose to allow nature to take its course.
Seven more months pass.
Finally, Maverick suggests we visit Shasta during my fertile days and see if the Rendering Plant Gods—which Shelby believes in so strongly—will grant us a baby.
“It can’t hurt,” he says, and I realize he’s got his heart set on a kid now, too. “You know, rather than running a bunch of stressful tests.”
After having sex for the first time with my handsome husband in Shasta, I get pregnant.
“The Rendering Plant Gods can defeat any birth control,” Shelby explains while rubbing my belly a month later. “Of course, they worked their magic when you’re unprotected. I look forward to meeting your little guy or gal.”
No matter what anyone says, I believe Maverick and I are having a boy. I’m so certain I choose to paint the nursery a pale blue. I even hang letters on the wall spelling “Rogue.” I refuse to learn the baby’s gender until we’re at the end of the pregnancy.
“What if I’m wrong?” I ask Maverick.
“My sisters like blue, and that X-Men character named Rogue was a chick. It’ll be fine.”
I’m aware my behavior is irritational, but I want a boy. That’s my one sticking point. I never do get creeped out over feeling my baby move like I thought I might. When my son wiggles and kicks, I recall the little boy held above water and imagine protecting my child one day.
During my pregnancy, I get confident enough to seek out therapy. We only discuss the past and coping techniques for the present. Years ago, I worried I’d spill something to a therapist about the Reapers and hurt Maverick. Now, I’m certain I can control myself and stay focused on the problems I want fixed. I plan to be as healthy as possible for my child, so I won’t make my parents’ mistakes.
Finally, at the end of an eventless pregnancy, I learn my son has no penis. Well, basically, he’s a she.
“Rogue Shelby Majors is a great name,” Shelby tells me. “And not just because she’s named after your mama.”
By then, I barely think of my birth parents. My mother’s constant nagging and endless disappointment are replaced by Shelby’s frequent praise and never-ending affection. My father’s snide comments are silenced by Dean’s mumbling compliments and almost-shy hugs. After watching them raise my little sister and brother, I know how to be a good parent.
Just like how Maverick learned mad skills from Raven and Vaughn. When he first holds Rogue, he shows no hesitation. All those practice runs with other people’s kids made him an expert. When she cries, he’s as calm with her as he is when I go bananas.
Motherhood acts as a balm for many of my issues. As much as I love Maverick, he can’t spend all day with me. I rely on my friendships and babysitting to keep my mind busy. One day, when Rogue gets older and is busy with her own life, I plan on studying for a degree. Maybe I’ll find a job that suits me beyond babysitting and helping with Reapers-run businesses. Until then, I adore motherhood.
Rogue is a happy baby with endless energy. Once she can walk, I organize our schedule to keep her physically busy. She’s not a quiet child, willing to play on her own. Rogue needs people, activities, feedback.
She’s always getting up in her father’s face, wanting him to react to her. Maverick learns to be more emotive. Like with me, he can get silly and wild at times. Over the years, Rogue comes to understand how her father is just a pensive man, and she learns to be quiet with him. While she’s a hardcore mama’s girl, Rogue will often sit on the front steps and wait for her daddy to return from club business. She loves to tell strangers how her father rides a motorcycle and never falls off. When he carries her around during club functions, Rogue wears the expression of a child in love with her life.
And I’m in love with mine. When I was growing up, I dreamed of going to college to get away from my parents. When O’Meara took me, I prayed to escape to any life besides his prison. When I was free, I struggled against the feeling that I shouldn’t be happy or even alive.
Then, I latched on to Maverick’s plans for Pema. He seemed so certain, and the man is never impulsive. My trust in him was rewarded with a beautiful home, wonderful friends, a great marriage, and now a delightful daughter.
Every once in a long while, I’ll question if my life is a dream. Am I still trapped with O’Meara, and my brain shorted out? Did I die, and this is my fantasy? In the end, I decide the answer doesn’t matter as long as I’m happy.
A FINAL WORD FROM THE SENTINEL
Once I needed Violet, I was always planning. Where would we move? How would I fit into whatever chapter I joined? Could Violet survive without Shelby? Was I strong enough to be the only person protecting her?
Fortunately, we create a support system in Pema. The twins bonded quickly with Violet. She doesn’t let their arguing and catfights bother her. Violet isn’t really affected by any of my siblings’ drama. Even when Sylvie tries challenging her—because Sylvie must challenge everyone big and small—Violet just stares blankly as if she doesn’t understand. Yes, my woman gets comfy in the Majors family.
Violet also gets along well with Stella and Vi. The three of them act as the queens of the old ladies, smoothing over any drama in a way Heidi and the twins can’t.
For the first year in Pema, I’m solely focused on making a life for Violet. Everything revolve
s around her from the firehouse to the club’s success. I need this place to be a good fit for my woman.
Only after life settles down do I consider how my life in Pema is working. And, turns out, I like being Colton’s VP. This job wouldn’t work if my president was anyone else. I couldn’t do this shit with River or even Bubba in Conroe.
Colton’s personality and experience are perfect for what I bring to the table. He’s got the men wrapped around his little finger. Colton hits a sweet spot where he’s fun to be around but intimidating enough not to disrespect. When he needs someone to play the bad guy, Heidi is willing to do it. If he needs someone to bleed, he sends me.
Yeah, I’ll never be the one the men come to with their problems. I’m the guy always spying on them and snitching them out to the boss. Though they respect what I do for the club, I’m also the Grim Reaper. If they’re stealing, cheating, talking shit, I’ll find out. If they need to die, I’m the one who’ll show up to end them. So, no, I’ll never be any of their best friends.
And that’s fucking fine. I’d rather spend my time with Violet than joke around with my club brothers. Not that I don’t get tight with Colton, Heidi, and Gunnar. In fact, when the four of us are working on a problem or just shooting the shit, I get an eerie feeling about how our fathers could be doing the same thing miles away in Ellsberg. I sense Colton feels it, too. He’s very focused on his family’s legacy. Vaughn Majors and Judd O’Keefe joined the Reapers at the end of Kirk Johansson’s reign and stood with Cooper for decades. Now, their kids are taking up the mantle. This feeling isn’t something I could have found in Shasta.