by Bijou Hunter
My parents love life. That’s why I do, too. I hope my kids will grow up to embrace every day and find new things to try. But I can’t be sure now.
A little part of me worries they’ll turn out like their mom—struggling, lost, worrying over stupid shit, needing distractions from the hole inside her. Teigh was a decent woman, and she loved these children with her whole heart. But her demons were always waiting to drag her down.
I wish I’d been around when she died. While I don’t so much regret going to prison for Brick and Gunnar, I do imagine how life would have been for Raimi and Caesar if I was free when they lost their mama. We’d still be at the old house in Pema. I bet there’d be fewer bullies in the town my club runs.
No use wondering too long about what-ifs. I made a choice based on the information I had at the time. I’ll need to deal with the consequences whether I wallow in regret or not.
“Are you staying home tonight?” Raimi asks me.
“Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss Nana’s casserole.”
My mother gives me such a proud look. It takes so little to impress her.
“Wanna watch a movie tonight?” I ask Raimi.
“We have to do our homework,” Caesar says and gestures for his sister to follow him.
“You can do it here with me. I can even help. I think I remember a few things from elementary school.”
“Oh, you’re no doubt still sharp,” Fred says and winks at me.
“Can I sit next to you at dinner?” Raimi asks, studying my face as if seeing me for the first time.
“Of course.”
“Will you tuck me into bed?”
Raimi seems so young right now. I remember how she used to crawl on my lap and tell me stories. My favorite times were when Teigh went shopping or over to a friend’s house, and I got to watch the kids alone. We’d hang outside, talking about bugs or birds or clouds. They were so easy to entertain, and I didn’t have to deal with the kind of bullshit adults pull.
After I promise to tuck Raimi into bed, she rests her head back on my chest and dozes off. I’m surprised by how tired she is and think to ask my parents. But they only smile at how sweet she looks. I don’t have the heart to make a big deal out of it.
Caesar, though, glares at me before walking outside, where he trims the bushes for some fucking reason. Right here at home, I’m with my favorite people, yet I feel out of place. Almost like the four of them follow a set rhythm, and I can’t even hear the damn music. I’m unsure how to insert myself into this house with my own family.
Of course, it’s not my style to stew in worries. Instead, I hold my baby girl and insist to myself how by next month, I’ll be dancing to the same beat as the rest of my family.
THE CHAPTER WHERE DRAMA ISN’T A DEALBREAKER
THE CRACKERJACK
My mother has a routine lately where she starts her day by video calling all her grand-angels. I witnessed this activity when I lived at the hotel with the twins. Mom’s struggled a bit with all her kids moving out of town except for the youngest three. As for me, my parents chat me up a few evenings a week. Last night, I expected some curiosity about Sam. Apparently, the gossip mill hasn’t reached them yet.
I go to bed, thinking of Sam. Not only because his clean scent remains on my pillows and sheets. I also feel Sam inside me.
Stretching out on my king-sized bed, I close my eyes and let my mind focus on the best parts of our time together. When he asked if I’d mind him stopping by again tomorrow, I almost fucking thanked him. Man, I’ve got it bad for Handsome Sam.
But a good night’s rest can erase my lust-filled crazy and return me to the no-drama bitch I aspire to be.
And it does. I wake up refreshed and more in control of myself. I take a morning jog with Galileo and Ghost, avoiding the direction of the Donners’ house. After my shower, I enjoy a breakfast smoothie and check over today’s Whiskey Kirk’s work schedule. I even get in some cleaning and a trip to the store for supplies. I’m on fucking fire with my productivity.
Then, as soon as I open the door for Sam, I go dopey. When I look into his lagoon-blue eyes, the world feels like a vacation. Zero cares, no past or future. Just relaxation and fun.
I don’t know if I say hello before my lips are on his. A plastic bag with lunch hangs from his left hand. His right one reaches around and tugs me against his body.
“Miss me?” he asks, smirking when our lips part and I welcome him into the house.
“The cool bitch in me insists I say no,” I say, wrapping my arm around his waist while we walk to the kitchen. “But you really shouldn’t listen to her.”
“I heard she’s got a mean right hook and a wide foot for ball crushing. I suggest we let her say whatever she wants.”
“In that case, she’s less interested in the Thai food and more focused on getting your pants off.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
In my bedroom, I nearly rip off my clothes like the fucking Hulk. I can’t wait to feel him inside me.
“I’m so horny I don’t think I’ll last long,” I say in between kisses as I stroke his hard cock, and he rolls my nipples.
“You and me both,” he moans as my thumb fingers his cock’s wet slit.
“Why don’t we get each other off, sixty-nine-style, just to relieve the pressure?” I murmur before sucking at his collarbone.
“Just thinking of your clit between my lips is about to make me come.”
Sam reclines on the bed while I crawl over him for a kiss. His gaze wraps me in calm. I stop obsessing over tiny things, seeing only him.
When I rest on my side, Sam gets the picture. Facing each other, my lips wrap around his cock while I prop up my top leg to allow him access to my pussy.
And does he ever take advantage of that position! I can’t believe how amazing he is at oral. I only keep from coming immediately by focusing on his hard cock tickling the back of my throat. The closer he gets, the more passionately he sucks at my wet flesh. Feeling my pleasure building, I want to get him off first. I can’t imagine how hot it’ll be to drink down his seed while I’m getting my rocks off.
No need to only fantasize. Jizz splashes against the back of my throat as his unrelenting tongue forces my clit to obey. I moan wildly, still sucking at his satisfied cock.
No one has gotten me off like Sam does. Yet, I’m not thunderstruck for long. Flipping over, I kiss him as if I can’t breathe unless he does it for me. My hands explore his body while my pussy strokes his cock, hoping for a good hard fuck next.
Sam gives it to me, too. On my hands and knees, I take him balls-deep into a pussy begging for more. I shamelessly cry out when he uses one hand to tease my clit and the other to knead my nipple. I buck and grunt with his hard thrusts. I’ve never in my life wanted to be fucked like this. Completely out of control. Literally begging for more. Calling his name as if speaking to the heavens above. I’m unhinged in a way I never want to end.
Once Sam demands my body to come one last time, he fills me with everything he has. I feel him timing everything so perfectly as if I’m an instrument in an expert’s hands.
Sam tugs me back, resting my body against his and wrapping me in his strong arms. I think I might have been shaking from pleasure and fear at how wild he makes me. But once I’m in his arms, I’ve never felt safer.
Yet, I can’t seem to enjoy this moment. Every time I try to settle into my happy feeling, I’m struck with the dread I felt when Yulia and I were over. As if I ought to distrust myself not to sabotage this relationship. Or was Yulia the one who ruined things? Or were we just not suited? I honestly don’t know anymore. I’m only certain my parents survived bumps in their relationship, while I apparently lack the same skill.
After we somewhat dress, Sam remains an agreeable guy, cool with eating out back while my dogs run around and sniff everything. He looks relaxed in his faded blue jeans and bare feet. When I allow myself to admire him, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. But I can’t
stick to such a plan. Maybe Alyn is right, and I really am my own worst enemy.
Sam tries beef oyster for the first time. When we texted lunch ideas, he hadn’t eaten Thai before. His curiosity mimics mine since I moved to Pema. I used to stick to a routine. Now, I try to be more open. Perfectly timed for meeting Sam.
“I had to deal with a neighborhood bully last night,” he says while sitting across from me on the smaller wooden back table. “I talked to his parents, who pretended to give a shit. They wanted to defend their turd son, but the dad feared me. I don’t know why. I’m one of the nicest guys living in that town.”
“It’s the tattoos. Those lame-o types are trained to view inked men as dangerous and trashy. You can smile all you want. Once they see a tat, they’ll clutch their purses and lock their doors. The Idyllwild fucks forced a bunch of Pema churches to shut down and then poached the parishioners. So, they want these people to attend and pay up, but they also treat them like second-class citizens for being rough around the edges. You know, older guys, working-man types with tats. Considering they can’t treat their own parishioners with any respect, you can imagine how much they hate the Reapers.”
Sam lifts his face to the sun and nods. “When Cooper Johansson took over Pema, I was locked up. The Reapers killed my president and longtime friend. I knew fighting back was pointless. The Reapers have been in the background of the Kentucky crime scene since I was a teen. I could have held a grudge, but that’s a foolish move, and I don’t fancy myself as a dumb man. Yet, these church types keep fighting the Reapers. Makes you wonder if they have a death wish.”
“My theory is they’ve never faced a real threat. At church, they came off as paranoid and were always whining about crime, even though this area is safe except for petty shit from a few tweakers or wild teenagers. There’s a disconnect with these people. They’re scared of their own shadows yet arrogantly challenge the Reapers. They think they’re in a movie where the good guys win, and they view themselves as untapped badasses. That’s why kids still bully Caesar and Raimi. If the parents truly feared for their safety, they’d give your kids a lot of space. Even when one of their own dies or gets punished, the rest believe they’ll be fine.”
“Who was hassling Caesar and Raimi before?”
“Two teenagers, a male and a female.”
“What did they do?”
“Talked shit, I guess,” I say, shrugging. “Caesar never got specific.”
“But that was enough to get you to act?”
“Is that a real question?”
Sam gives me a sly grin. “What did you do?”
“Nothing to them. They’re just children, and I don’t harm little kids.”
“There’s more to the story.”
Shrugging again, I think back to when I lived at the hotel, and this house remained in desperate need of renovation.
“I talked to the girl’s mom. The uppity bitch knew who I was. Okay, not me specifically, but my connection to the Reapers. The COC people fear my brother more than they do Colton. They think Maverick’s evil.”
“Did they tell you that?” he asks, reaching for the spicy tea I whipped up for us.
“People talk in hushed tones, thinking this makes their words silent,” I say, smirking at my devious nature. “Last year, the Reapers showed up at COC’s church for Sunday services. You know, to fuck with them. I would walk around while people gossiped about the scummy bikers up on the church’s balcony. The first time I went, the assholes noticed me. But other times, I dressed differently and disappeared into the crowd. That’s how I got info for my brother.”
“Did the girl’s mom back down when she saw you?”
I hear a hint of anger in Sam’s normally calm voice. “Of course not. She thought I was a floozy from a terrible family and going to hell. Why would she back down to someone God hated?”
“Did you threaten her?”
Smiling, I chuckle behind my hand. “No, I apologized for bothering her. Even thanked her for her time. The next night, I firebombed her car. I also stole the car belonging to the boy’s parents. That one ended up in a retaining pond. After that, the teenaged twats left Caesar and Raimi alone. That’s the only way some people will submit. They lack empathy or intelligence, but they value self-preservation. When they’re on top, they shit on everyone beneath them. When they feel even the slightest pinch of resistance, they back down. But the person next door will think they’re still immune from trouble. Making Idyllwild submit will be a long process.”
Sam studies me with his beautiful eyes and says in a soft voice, “For my kids, you were willing to pinch the assholes.”
“Few men would do what you did for Gunnar and Kiefer. Besides, I saw your kids at the skating rink, and my heart grew two sizes that day.”
Getting the Grinch reference, Sam smiles wider. Then, he surprises me by changing gears by asking, “Do you think I was an asshole for leaving my kids?”
Rather than answer, I lean over and kiss him. After all, I would most definitely go to prison to protect my sisters. Okay, not Sylvie. After her first week locked up, she’d probably run her own gang. But for the mommy-twins, I’d do time.
Of course, I would be leaving behind my fur-babies. Though Cornflake can’t stand my parents—and they don’t care for her either—the other animals would do fine back at the Ellsberg farmhouse. Kids aren’t as resilient as animals, so I imagine Caesar and Raimi didn’t shrug off their dad’s absence.
When my lips leave Sam’s, I sigh. “Do you want to talk about unpleasant things?”
“I have no view on the matter either way.”
“So, if I gave you the option of talking about pussy or prison, you’d give zero fucks?”
“Either way, I’d be fine. I like talking to people.”
Snorting at his unflappable nature, I mutter, “Annoying.”
“I understand how you want me to get upset. Save the effort. I’ll let you pick a topic.”
Reverting to my cruel bitch mode, I ask, “How did your woman die?”
Sam’s expression never falters. I swear he knew my question would cut deep. Or maybe he really is that unflappable.
“Blood clot in her lung,” he says. “I guess she hadn’t been feeling well, but not enough to be worried. Then, one minute, she was tucking Raimi into bed. All smiles and good mood. Next minute, she was dead on the ground.”
Unsettled by the image he paints, I mumble, “I feel like a shitty person for asking.”
“Everyone asks,” he says, reaching over to stroke my cheek. “It’s not a problem, but I’m curious why you feel so guilty.”
“I only asked to put you on the spot.”
“You get uncomfortable with lowering your guard. That’s fine. Plenty of people are the same way.”
“It’s a flaw,” I mutter, angry with myself. “Though I try to be fearless, I lash out when I’m under even the smallest threat.”
Smiling at my frustration, Sam stretches. “No one is truly fearless. Well, no, I assume very stupid people are. Maybe those with a mental illness and disconnected from reality might be fearless. But everyone else gets scared. They just hide it in different ways.”
“What are you scared of?”
“My kids suffering,” he says, revealing pain in his normally relaxed gaze. “I never feared that until Teigh died. Next thing I knew, I was trapped in prison while my elderly parents had to raise my kids. Fred and Pricilla do their best, and I had a wonderful childhood. I didn’t worry about them fouling up the job. But I felt powerless to help.”
“Did you love Teigh?” I ask as my mind flashes to Yulia.
“Sure.”
“That’s it?”
Shrugging, Sam grins at my frowning face. “It wasn’t the idealized romantic sort of love you’re probably imagining.”
“Explain.”
“She was a fun chick,” he says, smiling softly. “I partied a lot. We hooked up a whole bunch at Stained Kidney. It wasn’t love. Just having a good time.
One day, she comes along and says she’s pregnant and the baby’s mine. I didn’t believe her, to be honest,” he admits, chuckling at the memory. “But I figured if she was desperate enough to lie, I ought to help her out. Giving Teigh a hand was no skin off my ass. She moved into my little house, and we were like roommates who fucked on occasion.”
“But Caesar is yours, right? I mean, he looks like you, and Raimi does, too. So, yeah, duh, they’re yours.”
“When we got the test, I was genuinely surprised. Never really thought he would be mine. But I’m glad she was right.”
“And you fell in love with her.”
“Not like you mean,” he says, giving me a look similar to when my father thinks I’m acting like a dipshit. “I loved Teigh. She was my friend. After I found out Caesar was mine, it made sense for her to stay at my house. She had issues. Her family was garbage and unwilling to help. Seemed like living on her own with a baby wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t mind sharing my house. Like I said, we were friends. Teigh was fun to be around. Over the years, we fucked. That’s how Raimi happened. Though Teigh had other men, and I had other women, we came home to our kids and were a family.”
“I feel as if you’re sanitizing your old life to protect my feelings. Like you don’t think I’m mature enough to know you loved someone.”
“You’re getting sweet on me, huh?” he asks in a voice capable of winding itself around my heart and squeezing.
“Well, fucking duh.”
Sam throws his head back and chuckles loudly. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty damn obvious.”
Smiling at his amusement, I explain, “I won’t freak out if you say you loved Teigh with your whole heart, and no one else will measure up. I’ll still want you.”
“That’s good to know. But I can’t lie about my past, just to fit whatever fantasy you’ve built up in your pretty head.”