Heart Like Mine (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #3)

by Hunter, Bijou

  “Yeah, but you need to rest.”

  “I should check on Rebel.”

  Inhaling deeply, I want so fucking bad to stay right here with her. I need to keep my people safe. But I also want to know what happened to Ron. Did some of his druggie bullshit get him killed? Or is this related to Milkweed?

  “Baby, you can watch him on the phone,” I say, reaching for hers and pulling up the camera. “I don’t want you going up and down the stairs when you’re tired.”

  “Is it them?” she asks, eyes widening and panic setting in.

  “I don’t know. Ron’s dead,” I say, unable to keep my mouth shut. I’m afraid if I don’t warn her that I’ll regret it. Georgia’s paranoia kept her alive during her months alone with Rebel. “Why don’t you get dressed just in case? I’ll tell Scarlet and Phoebe to stay alert. Just until we know.”

  Georgia hurries out of bed, nearly tripping over the blanket. I walk to her and rest my hands on her shoulders. I wish my brain would worry less about how we’re buck naked and more on the steps necessary to get my ass to Ron’s.

  “Don’t panic,” I say in a soft voice devoid of the rage I feel.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “We’ll get dressed and deal with this.”

  Georgia wraps her arms around me and sighs. “I’ll get my taser.”

  Smiling at how much she loves that fucking thing, I wish I could hold her all night, but we’re forced apart by the realization that outside this room shit is going down.

  Soon, we’re dressed. Her in comfy sweats, me ready to go out in the cold morning.

  Scarlet and Phoebe take shit seriously. My sister gets her shotgun, Phoebe packs a pistol. They call in the dogs and pull up on the laptop all the footage from their security cameras around the property.

  “I called Mom to tell her to be careful,” Scarlet mumbles. “Why didn’t Bubba send out a lockdown notice?”

  “He probably didn’t want to freak out everyone in the middle of the night.”

  “Or he figures most of us aren’t in danger,” Phoebe whispers and glances at Georgia. “We’re good here. Go be a tough guy.”

  I pause for a lingering kiss with Georgia, who both wants me to find out what’s happening and also doesn’t want me to leave her side. Soon, though, I’m on my way to my Harley.

  The entire house’s perimeter is bathed in white security lighting. Outside that area, the world remains pitch-black.

  I drive the three miles to Ron’s one-story, two-bedroom house on the southside of Conroe. His driveway is full of Harleys. Up the street, a patrol car idles.

  Inside the house, I find Butch first and then Dickie.

  “They done fucked him up,” says the younger guy.

  In the main room, Ron’s body rests on its back, arms splayed, bullet holes across his chest. One final shot to the head.

  The room is trashed, and there’s blood everywhere. Not only his either. He put up one helluva fucking fight before they filled him with lead.

  “You know this is Milkweed,” I blurt out when I spot Bubba in the kitchen.

  “No, we don’t know, but we’ll assume it was.”

  “Who else would do this?”

  “Why him?” Jace asks, and I’m surprised to realize he’s standing directly behind me.

  “Is this place clean?” I ask, waving around.

  Bubba nods, but gestures for us to join him in the small kitchen.

  “He didn’t think to dial for help,” Bubba says. “A neighbor called my mom to say she heard a lot of racket and gunshots. Dickie came by and found him.”

  Bubba’s obviously bothered by Ron’s choice not to reach out to his club. I consider pointing out how our brother was often drugged half-stupid. Him not calling was likely from his brain rot rather than an indication of his feelings toward the Reapers.

  But I focus on the issue at hand.

  “Why would Milkweed come after Ron?” Jace asks again.

  “At the fair,” I mutter, “Sean seemed to think Ron was raging for personal reasons. Meaning he thought Ron had Georgia. They came here, looking for her.”

  “But how did they find his place?” Bubba asks.

  “Someone snitched,” I growl. “No way around it. Someone in this town talked. Probably for cash. Maybe the Milkweed twats told a sob story about Rebel being in danger. Doesn’t matter. Someone snitched and sold out Ron and the club.”

  Bubba prides himself on getting a handle on Conroe, but there’s only so much we can do. There are a lot of poor fuckers in this area, and they’ll do anything for cash. Others hate us because we have money or because we’re not the “right kind of people.” We’ll never have a hundred percent loyalty in Conroe even if we beat old ladies in the street and threaten little kids. Nothing is foolproof.

  “Let’s walk through this,” Jace says, glancing into the living room. “It was around midnight when they showed up. They seem smart enough to have done some recon beforehand. So why do they think she’s here?”

  “Ron always looks shady,” Dickie says and then shrugs when we frown at him. “I’m sorry he’s dead and all, but I used to think he was up to shit. Like I’d see how he would slip away from other people or seem like he was hiding something. Then I found out he was a junkie, and his behavior didn’t seem so weird. So those hillbillies in Milkweed probably saw him acting shady and figured he was sneaking around with Georgia.”

  “They didn’t bust in. He opened the door for them,” Bubba says. “Ron was paranoid as fuck, so why would he open the door in the middle of the night?”

  “They used one of their women to trick him,” Tommy says, glancing around at the blood splatter on the bare walls.

  “So this bitch claims to have car trouble or some shit,” I mutter, “and Ron opens the door. Then they rushed him, but they didn’t shoot him right off.”

  “No, they probably figured they’d grab her and the kid,” Jace says, looking at the TV knocked to the ground. “They didn’t want to kill him because that meant we’d want payback.”

  “But we’d want it anyway because they took Georgia and Rebel,” Bubba says.

  Shaking my head, I think about Georgia sitting up worried right now. “It’s about the baby. They think that’s why we want Georgia. If they had the baby in their town, we’d back off to keep him alive.”

  “Sick fucks,” Butch growls.

  Sighing, I mutter, “They came here to grab their bargaining chips. They might have even intended to use Georgia to get us to let them have Rebel. Not that I believe they’d ever let her go or not kill my kid. But they didn’t come here planning to kill Ron. They underestimated him.”

  “He hurt at least one of them,” Jace says, kneeling next to a pool of blood.

  “Now what?” Tommy asks Bubba.

  “We let the cops clean this up. They’ll sign off on it as a robbery gone wrong. Ditch anything in the house that looks bad.”

  “What about Milkweed?” I ask.

  Bubba rubs his bearded jaw and shrugs. “Jack told Sean if they didn’t stop showing up here that we’d need to check out their shitty town.”

  Jace covers Ron’s body with a quilt from the couch and then asks, “Road trip then?”

  “And we’ll bring some friends,” Bubba says, looking right at me. “A lot of fucking friends.”

  Nodding, I feel guilty for not feeling worse over Ron’s death. I knew the guy my entire adult life. We were never close, though. No one was close with Ron. He burned all his bridges in Ellsberg and was heading that direction with the people here.

  Still, Ron died because my troubles came looking for him. That does hit me in the gut. But I’m also relieved the assholes came here rather than showing up at the farmhouse.

  Bubba walks with me out to the Harleys and says, “This is on me.”

  “Georgia is my responsibility. I should have killed those fucks as soon as I knew they existed.”

  “They seemed like bitches, and I underestimated them. We’ll do them soon.”

/>   “Why the fuck not now?”

  Bubba might be tired and suffering from guilt, but he still remains patient when dealing with my shit. “Look, if we go there and kill those guys, then what? Their asshole friends might not even put two and two together. They could keep fucking with us. I want to make a very public show in Milkweed before we take them out. Then we’ll do Patrick the fucking second he’s released.”

  “No dicking around with him.”

  “Not a chance. We’ll go to Milkweed the day after tomorrow. I need that long to get everyone to ride. We need to make clear to Hegseth and the rest of them that we’re not a few guys. We need them scared. Fear is the only thing they’ll respond to. Not the law or logic. It’s numbers and blood now.”

  “I feel like I should do something about Ron.”

  “The guy didn’t have a family. We were it. There’s nothing to do but make his killers bleed and their families weep.”

  The cops enter the house. Soon, a local mortician will arrive and handle the crime scene investigation. Conroe is too fucking small for experts. Doesn’t matter. We know who did what.

  THE DOORMAT

  Phoebe dozes off on one end of the couch while Scarlet sits at the other end, studying the security footage. I rub my belly and wish I didn’t want to sleep so badly. Ron is dead. I didn’t know him at all. The few times I saw him, he scared me. But Jack’s club brother is still gone, and I worry I’m the one who brought trouble down on him.

  By the time he returns home, Jack’s chilled to the bone.

  “I’m exhausted,” he tells us. “We’ll discuss things tomorrow.”

  “Is it safe?” a sleepy Phoebe asks.

  “I think so, but let’s leave the dogs inside just in case.”

  Jack takes my hand and walks to the bedroom where he peels off everything except his boxers and sweater.

  “Hell yeah,” I whisper once we’re in the mostly dark room and my body warms his.

  “Yeah, me too. But it’ll be over soon. Let’s just get some rest before the twins wake up, and the world gets loud.”

  I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Are we safe? Jack wouldn’t go to bed if he were worried.

  Soon, I do sleep because I’m exhausted, and Jack’s warming body lulls me past my fears.

  I wake at ten, long after Jack’s up. The house is full of activity when I emerge from the guest room. Maddy greets me first.

  “I saved you some breakfast,” she says, hugging me.

  I wrap my arms around her and hold on for probably too long. Maddy doesn’t push me away. Instead, she caresses my back and whispers that she’s so happy Jack found me.

  I finally let go of her and smile awkwardly. “You give really good hugs.”

  “I learned that from Jack’s grandma. No one back in my family was very affectionate, but Jodi took me in.”

  “That’s what Johanssons do,” I whisper, having caught on to how the family works.

  “Yes, it is,” she says and takes my hand as we walk into the crowded living room and kitchen.

  “Jack and the boys plan to take a ride to that town you lived in,” Maddy says in a soft voice that makes her words less terrifying. “They’re bringing a lot of friends. Don’t worry about them.”

  I already feel guilty about Ron, so the idea of Jack anywhere near Milkweed sends me into tears.

  “Mom,” Rebel says, appearing from the kitchen and hugging me. “Phoebe’s mom and dad are here. Her brothers too. Don’t be scared.”

  I wrap him in my arms and try to stop my tears. Scanning the crowded room, I search for Jack.

  “He’s in the RV,” Maddy says, sensing my question. “Let’s get you breakfast while he finishes packing.”

  “How long will he be gone?” I mumble while wiping my eyes.

  Janis brings me a tissue for my tears, and I smile at the girl. I remember how I used to get the three sisters confused because of their close ages. Now I know their personalities and feel as if they’re my nieces.

  But Sean and the others could take away all the joy in this family.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Rebel says, rubbing my belly and probably wanting his brother to kick.

  “He’s sleeping.”

  “But you feel him still?”

  Running my fingers through his recently cut hair, I nod. “His kicking woke me up, but he got quiet again once I started moving around.”

  “Like rocking a baby.”

  Rebel’s smile calms me a little. I’m not really hungry, but I eat anyway for the baby and so Maddy won’t worry.

  “Georgia,” Phoebe says, walking over with a woman that must be her mother based on their similar features and petite builds, “this is my mom, Lark. My dad, Aaron, is here too. They’re staying while the guys are out of town.”

  Despite my wobbly mood, I’m still excited to meet Phoebe’s family. I’ve heard so much about them. Her dad is a tattoo artist, and one of his paintings is hung in the hallway. Not creative at all, I’m always fascinated by Phoebe’s talents. Now I get to spend time with more creative people. That’s what I’ll focus on rather than Jack’s absence.

  Well, that’s the plan anyway. Until I see Jack enter the house and imagine losing him. He must see the worry in my eyes because he immediately wraps me in his arms.

  “Bubba got people organized faster than I thought. People are pissed about Ron.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “We’re going to scare the shit out of Milkweed,” he says and reaches over to stroke Rebel’s head. “Soon, we’ll do more than that.”

  I don’t think Rebel understands what Jack is saying. Or maybe he does. Either way, he just smiles at Jack in the way he often does lately. I think Rebel struggles with his ugly “Hegseth” side. That part of him wants to lash out because strong is better than weak.

  Now he’s met a man who is strong but also in control of himself. Jack is a big goofball with his nieces and nephews. He wrestles with Scarlet like they’re two kids. He laughs loudly and smiles easily. Jack doesn’t walk around miserable like Patrick does. He never knocks me down when he’s angry or calls Rebel names. Jack is the kind of strong Rebel wants to be.

  “Lots of heroes are flawed,” Rebel told me the other day. “They aren’t perfect people. They make mistakes, but they always try to do right.”

  When he said those words, he looked at Jack nearby. That’s how he sees the new man in his life.

  “I’m taking an extra set of clothes, just in case we stay overnight near Milkweed or I get dirty,” Jack explains later when we’re on the front porch. Even wrapped in a quilt, I shiver next to him. He slides his arm around me and nuzzles his lips against my head.

  “The other Reapers chapters will meet us there. Bubba plans to make a show of force to scare the Milkweed fuckers. That way, when some of the assholes go missing eventually, they’ll know exactly who did what. They won’t be able to prove it, but they’ll know what happens to people who mess with the Reapers.”

  “I’m sorry about Ron,” I say again.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “I want to say my life wasn’t worth him losing his, but it’s not only mine,” I whisper and grip his shirt. “It’s Rebel’s life. It’s our son’s too. Saying Ron dying was better than us dying makes me feel like a bad person, though.”

  “The only people responsible for Ron’s death are the assholes that killed him,” Jack says, lifting my chin to force my gaze to meet his. “You have nothing to feel guilty for. Those people are rotten. They tried to destroy you and Rebel. Running was the right thing to do. Everything they’ve done is the wrong thing. Never feel guilty.”

  I wonder if Jack believes his words. Does he feel responsible for Ron? I don’t know what he could have done differently. I’m not even sure I understand why they killed Ron. Why does Sean keep making everything worse?

  Then I watch Jack with Bubba and Butch. Their uncle Jace shows up soon too. The club pushes each man to be more. They need to prove their worth. Ja
ck wants to be like his pop, just like Tucker wanted to be like his own father. The club builds up each man. When one guy is in trouble, the entire club reacts.

  Milkweed is sort of the same, but their rules aren’t set, and no one feels secure. Everyone judges everyone else. No one can fail. There is no mercy.

  People pretend to have each other’s backs. Except when Patrick was arrested, Marsha got nervous around other people. Her worth decreased with him gone. Her friends didn’t rally around her. Even Sean became more domineering to prove his value over hers. It’s always a contest.

  And that’s why they killed Ron. With every day Rebel and I are gone, Sean feels judged by the others. Even if no one says anything, he hears them in his head. The pressure builds, and he can’t step back. Rather than focus on what he has, Sean’s been trained to obsess over what he lost. He’s also afraid of Patrick, who will never accept blame for my running away.

  Now, to avoid angering his failure brother, Sean starts a war with a motorcycle club. The men in Milkweed are ready to follow him to hell. They can never bow. Their egos are all they have in the end. They’re not rich. Their jobs are boring. Their wives fear them. Their children fail. Life sucks except for the belief that they’re better than outsiders.

  When I consider how far down the rabbit hole those people have gone just to save face, I can’t imagine them backing down even against a large number of bikers.

  But I don’t tell any of this to Jack. He’s set on his plan, and he has the backing of other powerful men. If they think they can break Milkweed, who am I to disagree?

  Instead of sharing my worries, I hold on to Jack until he’s forced to join the men leaving on their Harleys.

  “I’ll try to be back tonight,” he says, staring into my eyes with his electric blue ones. “Don’t stress if we stay longer to mess with them.”

  “I love you,” I say, struggling to remain calm.

  “I love you too, baby. I’ll be back.”

  Jack’s kiss demands I submit. His strength normally allows me to be weak. Today, though, I need to be my best or else my fears will send me into a full-blown panic attack.