I'm With You (Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

  Gladys—or whatever the fuck her name is—Limbaugh looks high as a kite as she sits at the bar, away from a disinterested River. The second she sees Ramona, the blonde trash heap stops flirting with the bartender and heads toward us to cause trouble.

  “If it isn’t the Executioners’ whore in the flesh,” she announces, strutting over to Ramona, who I swear shrinks next to me. “You gonna suck your way through this club like you did the one in Ohio?”

  “Bitch,” I growl down at her, “do you not see me standing right fucking here?”

  Gloria did not, in fact, realize I was standing right fucking there. She flinches halfway through my question as if just then noticing I exist.

  “No, but, like, what can you do besides kick me out? I mean, my dad still has pull around here.”

  I glare at her, wanting to smack the smirk off her hag face. Except I still suffer from a raging misogyny that prevents me from slugging a bitch.

  “Well, I can’t kick your ass,” I admit and then smile at my approaching sister and Taylor. “But they can.”

  Goblin Limbaugh might be high, but she’s not brain-dead. She realizes very quickly how actions have consequences.

  “Run, bitch,” Taylor taunts, wearing a smile.

  Like all stupid women, Joey Limbaugh’s idiot daughter runs out the back door rather than through the front one where her car is likely located.

  Taylor and Shelby let the walking, talking dumpster fire get a little head start before they take off running after her. Considering she’s wearing heels and they’re in flats, I don’t think it’ll take them long to catch up.

  “Maverick, keep an eye on them,” River tells his brother, who appears from the back hallway. “I don’t want them in the woods alone.”

  The quiet-as-fuck enforcer disappears out the back door, leaving the bar to return to its earlier activities.

  “They’re going to kick Ghoulie’s ass,” I tell Ramona.

  Stuck with the same expression as when the bitch opened her mouth, Ramona finally studies me and then looks at River. She puts a few things together in her head before releasing my hand and heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You knew,” she mutters, and I can hear the tears coming. “Not just you, but River and Shelby. Everyone already knows.”

  I stop her as she pauses next to her car. Staring up at me, she asks, “Why are you still dating me?”

  “That shit with the Executioners doesn’t change anything. You belong with me, and you didn’t have a choice with them.”

  “I said yes.”

  “You couldn’t have said no.”

  Ramona shakes her head. “You don’t know.”

  “I know men like Fuse, and you do too.”

  “I said I would do it for a car. I’m a paid whore,” she says and kicks her car’s tire. “I didn’t even make him promise it would be a new car. Like new from the lot. He just gave me Safire’s piece of shit and bought her something new. I’m so stupid.”

  Her self-loathing tone kills me. I need to protect her from a cruel world, but she might be her biggest threat. Rather than point this out to her, I whisper, “He was a monster, Ramona.”

  “I have his filthy blood running through my veins.” Though I try to interrupt her, Ramona can’t stop. “My mom said if I didn’t demand respect that no one would ever give it to me. She never demanded it, and I don’t either. We’re trash.”

  I reach out for her, but Ramona smacks away my hand. When her gaze finds mine, she isn’t angry.

  “I didn’t want you to know. I knew you would find out, but I didn’t want you to know I was cheap. I went there and let them use me, and I got a crappy car with shitty brakes and mismatched tires.” Wiping at her eyes, she looks like a little kid lost and struggling not to panic. “This is the parking lot where he dropped it off. No, not him, but one of his fucking lackeys. He didn’t care enough to pretend once I’d fucked all those guys. He didn’t care because I was never his daughter. He wouldn’t have let them ruin Safire or Dymond.”

  “Ramona, your parents are shit. I know you love your mom, but she’s trash. They suck, but they’re not you.”

  “I want to break up,” she says, freaking out and scratching at her wrists. “I can’t be with you now that you know. We have to be over.”

  “No.”

  “No?” she asks, seeming startled.

  “I love you, Ramona. Losing you will break my heart, and there’s no way I can force myself to do something that’ll cause that kind of pain. I can’t let you go.”

  “I want to break up.”

  “No, you just want to be someone else, but I don’t love someone else. I love you.”

  “You’re stupid,” she says weakly.

  “I’m fucking perfect, Ramona. No one knows me better than me.”

  Normally, she’d smile at my arrogance, but Ramona isn’t really here. She’s back with the Executioners or with Fuse or whatever ugly place she feels she deserves.

  “Let me take you home,” I say, still wanting to hug her and fix the pain I see in her eyes.

  “Every time you see my car, you’ll know I whored myself for it. We can’t be together.”

  “When I see your car, I’ll think of how Fuse was a piece of shit. I’ll think of those vile Ohio fucks forcing you to make things right, even though you never did anything wrong.”

  “It wasn’t rape. Don’t think of me as a victim. I said yes. I sold my body for a new car.”

  “You did it for Fuse. No, scratch that. You did it for your dad. The man you wanted him to be, but you couldn’t see him. He was an evil fuck.”

  “I want to break up,” she says with less emotion. “I can’t have you look at me and think of me fucking for a car.”

  “I’ve known for days, and I never thought that once.”

  “Who told you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I knew you were messed-up before we met. I saw that sad look on your face, and I knew life fucked you over. I also knew you were the most beautiful woman in the world, and I had to have you.”

  “You fucked me. We can break up now.”

  “I want your heart, Ramona, and I don’t plan to give it up.”

  “I want to break up.”

  “Well, not everything is about you.”

  Blinking rapidly, she doesn’t know how to respond. I suspect she believes she’s doing me a favor by breaking up. Or she hopes ending things will free her from the shame. None of that shit is real, though.

  “I love you,” I say and step closer. “I need you to love me.”

  “I can’t. I’m dead inside.”

  Realizing she’s just blurting out shit now, I change tactics. “Is that why you left Shasta? To get away from what happened?”

  Ramona looks around, struggling for the words. “Everything here reminds me of me. This parking lot is where I came to get my prize for being a whore. I could barely walk after they were done with me. Every time I see this place, I remember how I limped my slut ass here to get my prize.”

  My temper begs to take over and rage at the world. I want blood. The Executioners need to die for what they did. I want to kill Fuse, but he’s already gone. Someone needs to pay for Ramona’s suffering. I wonder if I can kill her mom or Fuse’s family. Someone needs to suffer.

  But Ramona is waiting for me to lose my temper. She wants me to lash out. It’ll feed the shit she’s already telling herself. I can’t let Ramona’s self-destructive side steal away the life we could share together.

  “You need new memories,” I say and look around. “Like this parking lot could be where you saw me dance the jig.”

  I shimmy my ass around, not knowing exactly how to do the jig. Ramona watches me with dull eyes. She’s falling deeper into that dark pit inside her beautiful head. I can hear the lies she tells herself. The hatred she spews at the person who should care most about her survival.

  “Or it can be the parking lot where I stripped naked for your amuseme
nt,” I say, desperate to see something in her eyes besides the ugly resignation living there now.

  After I slide off my jacket, I remove my shirt and swing it around dramatically. Ramona just stares and drops deeper into the pit.

  What would the Band do to help her? She can’t distract herself from ugly thoughts. Ramona needs me to help her because she can’t help herself.

  I stop trying to be sexy. Erasing the space between us before she can protest, I kiss her hard. Ramona doesn’t react at first, but she doesn’t fight me either. My tongue tastes her mouth, desperate to awaken something besides darkness in this woman.

  I press her limp hands against my chest and kiss her deeper. Ramona might need something else, but I don’t have any idea how to lure her away from the misery. As long as she’s in that dark pit, she can’t hear anything I say. The voices in her head drown me out.

  Ramona awakens a little in my embrace. When our lips part, I ask what she’s thinking.

  “That I feel heavy,” she says, staring up at me. “Like I’m so heavy that I can’t move or think or even breathe.”

  “That’s the depression, right?”

  “I take my pills,” she says defensively.

  “They don’t fix everything.”

  Ramona’s furrowed brow relaxes. “No, they don’t.”

  “Maybe you need different ones.”

  “Those are the ones the doctor gave me.”

  “The doctor could be wrong.”

  “He’s a doctor.”

  “Do you know what they call the last-place student in medical school?”

  Ramona allows a little smile. “Doctor?”

  “Exactly.”

  Shaking her head, she tries to push me away. “I can’t be with you.”

  “You need me, Ramona. I make your heart beat faster.”

  “I can’t feel that.”

  “Right now, no. We need to get you home.”

  “I want to be with the Band,” she says, pushing me away again.

  I don’t budge, and I don’t let my hurt feelings show. Ramona doesn’t trust me yet. She thinks I’m like her dad. Despite my sweet promises, Ramona assumes I’ll fuck her over and leave her with a shitty consolation prize. We haven’t ridden through hell and back enough times for her to accept how I’ll always be at her side.

  “I’ll take you home, and I’ll stay with you. That way, you’ll get what you need, and I’ll get what I need.”

  Ramona looks around, and I think she wants me to leave her alone. The dark shit in her head seduces her more than my shirtless kissing. Again, I’m bothered by how I can’t just fix what’s wrong with Ramona. I don’t know why I keep thinking I have that power. My mom remains fucked up after decades of pills, therapy, and a happy family.

  Ramona has something deeply wrong with her. It’s not just sadness. She’s dealing with crippling depression. That’s what Shelby called it. I can’t fuck away Ramona’s tears.

  “I’m cold,” I say and tug my shirt and jacket back on. “Let’s go to your place.”

  Ramona watches me, seeming like a shell of her usual self. She glances at the car, but there’s no shame or anger over how she got it. She’s past that now. Lost in the darkness, Ramona craves a permanent escape that I’ll never allow her to enjoy.

  I take her car keys and text River to come outside to get them. I don’t trust leaving Ramona for even a second. She’s staring at the dark woods in a way that makes me think I’d lose her forever if I take my eyes off her.

  River doesn’t say anything when he comes for the keys. I think maybe he knows shit’s gotten ugly, and he’s ill-equipped to deal with it.

  Once we’re alone in the parking lot again, I find Ramona’s buds and place one in her right ear. She stares blankly as I fidget with the phone. I have no idea what song to choose, picking the first one in a playlist. Ramona exhales heavily, and I wonder if the music is helping.

  “We’ll take my Harley,” I say, stating the obvious since I don’t know how much she’s been paying attention.

  Ramona lets me guide her to the bike where I help her on. She doesn’t wrap her arms around me, though.

  “Hold on tight,” I say, reaching around to make sure the bud is still in her ear. “I’ll drive slow, but you can’t fall off.”

  Ramona finally wraps her arms around my waist and hides her face against my back, just like the first time we rode together.

  The drive to her house is the longest eight fucking minutes of my life. I keep thinking she’ll let go and fall off. I imagine her bloody on the ground. I see a lot of ugly shit while struggling with my panic in the same way she does with her depression.

  Ramona doesn’t let go when we arrive at her house. I have to say her name twice to get her to look up.

  “We’re here.”

  “I don’t want you to go inside.”

  “I can’t leave. It’ll break my heart.”

  Ramona’s expression reveals a little more of the real her. She’s digging herself out of the darkness if only to protect my heart.

  “I need you,” I stress, and she wakes a little more. “I can’t sleep alone.”

  I know I’m using Ramona’s weaknesses against her. She has a pathological need to do right by people. I wish she didn’t, but I still use her weakness to keep her focused on me rather than the shit in her head.

  We walk to the front door, where she struggles with the key. Before I can take over, Hugh answers the door. He sees her face, and instantly knows she’s fucked up. The man’s entire demeanor changes.

  Taking her hand, he says softly, “We’re watching ‘Kids in the Hall.’”

  “I’m staying,” I say when he tries to block my entry.

  Ramona walks past her friend and toward where Kelsi sits on the couch. I don’t know if she realizes she’s left me behind. Maybe she doesn’t care. I can’t see her face. I don’t know where her head is at as Hugh blocks my entry.

  “We’ll take care of her.”

  “I didn’t do that,” I say when I realize he’s blaming me. “She found out that I knew about the Executioners.”

  Hugh’s expression answers the question of whether Kelsi told him about telling me. I suspect those two keep shit from Ramona but never from each other.

  “I won’t leave,” I tell him. “I’ll sit outside and knock on the door all fucking night.”

  “Well, don’t cry about it,” he mocks and backs up. “Men are so dramatic.”

  I give him a tight smile and enter the warm house. Hilly instantly runs over to smell me. I think he recognizes my dogs’ stink because he gives me a dirty look and walks away.

  Seeming tiny and fragile, Ramona sits on the couch next to Kelsi. When I stand next to her, she looks up, startled to see me. As if coming out of a fog, she blinks a few times and then scoots over.

  After I join them, Hugh sits in a chair. “Have you ever watched the Kids?” he asks me.

  “No.”

  “A virgin ready to be deflowered in the hall,” Kelsi says, and Ramona allows a half-smile.

  “Let’s watch from the beginning to help out the newcomer,” Hugh says. “And I have a bud that we can smoke to make the night more chill.”

  Ramona allows me to hold her hand while we watch the show. She doesn’t really react to anything even when her friends laugh.

  The pot might relax her too much. By the second episode, she falls asleep. Her head rests against my chest as I hold her securely.

  “I’m staying the night,” I whisper to Hugh and Kelsi, who notice her sleeping.

  “She won’t be better in the morning,” Hugh mutters. “If you’re expecting her to wake up happy, that shit won’t happen.”

  “I know, but she’s my woman, and I’m not leaving.”

  Kelsi gives Hugh a little smile, but he isn’t impressed. I’d normally resent him for trying to keep me out of their group. Except I know how few people protect Ramona. Outside of the two people in this room and Max, has anyone ever suffered for Ramona?
Likely not, which makes the Band my heroes. They kept Ramona safe and sane, so I could find her.

  THE LEGACY

  Ever since I met Shane, I wished he knew about my deal with Fuse. Then I’d know if he thought I was trash, and I could stop worrying.

  Except when Goddess said the words, I felt like she shoved me off a cliff. I fell without any way to stop myself. The world dropped open and swallowed me whole.

  Because everyone in Shasta knowing isn’t the same as Shane knowing. I was dumb to think I’d feel relieved once the cat was out of the bag. Shane and his friends aren’t Shasta people. Having them think I’m trash isn’t the same as everyone from my hometown knowing I am.

  Now I feel as if I weigh a ton. All that pressure, pushing me down into the ground. I can barely stand. My lungs struggle against the burden of breathing. Everything is too much, and I can’t see past the darkness. The world is an ugly, violent sea, and I’m a worthless piece of shit drowning in it.

  I can’t feel Shane. Or the Band. Or anything. I’m not stuck back with the Executioners, replaying those days that are mostly a blur. No, I’m right here in the middle of the darkness. There’s no one with me. I’m alone in this suffocating place.

  Somehow, I get home. I think I hear music. I might feel Shane’s heartbeat against my palms. I struggle to breathe in and out. Or think past the heavy despair dragging me down.

  The familiar scents at the house lift a little weight off my shoulders. I sink into the couch that I’ve sat on a thousand times. I hear Kelsi’s voice, and the world gets brighter. I notice Hugh near the door. I feel Hilly sniffing my feet. I hear the TV playing my favorite show. I taste the relaxing flavor of the pot.

  And then I dissolve into Shane’s warm embrace. He’s still here. Walking away would be so easy after tonight. If I were him, I’d run so fast away from me and never look back. For whatever reason, Shane remains at my side.

  When I rest my head on his chest, his heartbeat lulls me to sleep. I don’t remember waking, but somehow, we end up in my bed. Shane doesn’t leave me. When I wake up after the sun rises, I find him looking too huge for my full-sized bed. Curled up with no blanket over his bare upper body, Shane seems especially vulnerable in the pale morning light. I tug a blanket over his shoulders before tiptoeing into the living room.