Gentle On My Mind (Reapers MC: Pema Chapter Book 1) Read online

  I don’t react to my father’s words except to offer him a nod. He doesn’t expect me to be an emotional man. I’ve never smiled when I didn’t want to. My parents let me be myself, even to this day.

  However, I must show some emotion since Vaughn gives me a knowing smirk before heading back to the hotel.

  Settling back into my work, I remember Violet’s expression when I woke up to find her watching me this morning. Even living in that ridiculous hotel and with my parents visiting, she smiled so effortlessly. Pema made the world real in a way Shasta never could. No more fearing she’s dead or I’m a dream.

  One thing I love about Violet is how when her mind is clear, she doesn’t mince words. Instead, she’ll bluntly explain a situation. Like in the texts, when she describes how she went for coffee, met the Idyllwild bitches, and agreed to come to their church this Sunday. Only that last part confuses me. Why the fuck would she want to go into enemy territory? I don’t believe for a second those lying snakes actually conned her into wanting to join their church.

  “I have a plan,” she texts. “When will you be home?”

  As angry as I feel over those evil cunts hassling Violet—and learning her true identity—I’m struck by how casually she refers to the hotel as “home.” Then she texts, “I love you,” and I realize I’m done working for the day.

  I ask Colton to join me at the hotel to discuss what Idyllwild is up to with Violet. He texts Heidi to see if she can meet us.

  When I arrive at the hotel, Violet sits on the lounge’s floor in front of the couch. She’s sketching the firehouse. Against each of her thighs are small pillows with smaller heads resting on them. Io can barely keep her eyes open as she watches the TV. Pollux is fully snoozing on the other side. With the three so comfortable, I second-guess asking Violet to leave them. Yet, Savannah soon opens the front door for Colton. No doubt, Heidi will show, too.

  I decide to sit nearby and watch Violet until everyone arrives. Back in the lobby, Colton makes small talk with Savannah, who mentions his youngest sister, Audrey. The twins were tight with her before having a falling out. At some point, they got friendly again. These days, Audrey lives in Tennessee with a giant.

  Thirty minutes later, Heidi arrives with Gunnar. Realizing we’re all here about the shit this morning, Violet gently slides out of her position. Io looks concerned at first but then notices her mom and Savannah standing together. Seeing two versions of her favorite person immediately calms the kid. Pollux never stirs, sleeping like a rock even with the new voices in the next room.

  “Are you angry?” Violet asks as I press her against me.

  “They ambushed my woman,” I say, wearing a mild frown despite my raging temper. “Yes, I’m angry.”

  “I meant at me.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you can’t think of a reason, how could I?”

  Violet cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, you’d be surprised how creative other people can be about my flaws.”

  “Do you mind talking to Colton, Heidi, and Gunnar?”

  “And us,” Avery says, appearing right behind me. “Savannah and I have a right to be involved.”

  “Not really,” Heidi mutters.

  “You will not gang up on our sister-in-law,” Savannah insists. “We’ll supervise you while Gramma watches her grand-angels.”

  Heidi rolls her eyes and walks to the lounge. Gunnar frowns at the twins and then shrugs before following his sister.

  “We outnumber them,” Avery whispers to Violet as the twins pass us.

  I don’t care about the family rivalries. My concern is with how soon I can start killing Idyllwild assholes.

  “What did they want?” Heidi asks Violet.

  “To lure me away from my scary biker. That’s why I agreed to visit their church this Sunday.”

  “Come again?” Colton asks.

  “I figured if they wanted to gang up on me, I could do the same to them by bringing my scary biker and several of his tatted friends to their Sunday service.”

  Placing a hand on her shoulder, I fight a smirk. “I want to walk into their territory and smile in their faces. Sit through their sermon and thank them for their hospitality. Then, we’ll leave and let them wonder what it meant.”

  “One problem,” Colton says, crossing his arms. “You never smile.”

  Though I don’t roll my eyes at his comment, Avery and Savannah do twin-style. Gunnar glances at Heidi as if creeped out.

  “I let them think they were playing me. Did I do okay?” Violet asks as I rest my other hand on her free shoulder.

  “You did perfect,” I whisper against her ear.

  “I would have punched them,” Avery says and smiles at Violet. “That would have been the wrong move.”

  “But it would have felt great,” Heidi finishes for her. “These people never pulled that kind of crap with the club before. They’re worried or feeling cocky. I’m not sure which.”

  “Let’s say both and just stick to the plan,” Colton mutters. “If something happens Sunday, we’ll adjust.”

  His gaze meets mine, and I know he’s rattled. Those women approaching Violet is a warning shot. The Idyllwild fucks went from me to my woman. No attempts to intimidate Colton or Heidi. They went straight to approaching our loved ones. That means they might target Stella next.

  I don’t know if they realize this single act made their families targets, too. Or if they think we won’t go that low. I’m not sure if the Cosgrove brothers are capable of ending my woman’s life, but I’m more than willing to kill every adult member of their family. My father taught me the world is an ugly place, and I would need to be uglier to survive it.

  For Violet, my family, and the club, I’ll bury every member of that fucking church. After today, I’m already mentally digging a cemetery’s worth of graves.

  THE GHOST

  I wake up to the sound of someone calling my name. Sitting up, I look at Maverick next to me. He hasn’t quite gotten accustomed to sharing a bed. He naturally wants to stretch out in every direction. Instead, he rests on his side, always facing me.

  Maverick doesn’t stir when I climb out of bed. I don’t think to wake him. He won’t hear the voices. The ghosts never speak to him.

  I hear the women crying out for me. Some use my name. Others call me “lady.” One of them tried to escape. She saw me as she reached the top of the basement stairs. I stared into her eyes when O’Meara dragged her back.

  What could I do? He kept me cuffed to the stove when he had a victim downstairs. I couldn’t have saved either of us. Husband never let me use anything that could hurt him. Can a fork be a good weapon? Maverick could kill a man with one, no doubt. But me? No, I couldn’t even kill O’Meara with the knife I tried using on him. He barely got hurt. I think he told the ER doctor that he stabbed himself on a gardening tool. I can’t remember everything he said to me over the years. So many lies and rules and noise and screaming from the basement.

  Now, the voices echo in my head, pretending to be outside the hotel room door. But I feel them all around me. They’re angry tonight. I thought I was so savvy and badass dealing with the Color Bunch. Where was my gumption when I was facing off day after day with Barry O’Meara? Why couldn’t I have found a way to free myself long before many of them were taken to the basement? Not so savvy with O’Meara, eh?

  I hide in the closet and close the door, so Maverick can’t hear me. I don’t know why I try to reason with the ghosts in my head. They won’t listen any better than my parents or O’Meara did. They want me to rewind time and fix what I didn’t break.

  But the more I listen to them rattling around in my head, the less control I feel over my situation. Why didn’t I hide a fork on me and attack O’Meara in bed? Could I have poisoned his food somehow? I try to explain how I imagined many ways to defeat the monster. I wasn’t choosing to remain in that house. Even more than escaping, I wanted to save the women.

  Yet, no plan worked.
The few times I attempted to fight back, break free, or contact someone, I paid a painful price. While I lived, I don’t hear well from my right ear. Not after I tried using his cell one night. See, ghosts, I tried?

  They refuse to listen to me. Because they’re dead, and I’m not. Clearly, I was just looking out for myself. Keeping my head above water. Sacrificing everyone else to stay alive.

  I think of Maria from the river. Her child would be around seven now. She didn’t try to save strangers, and I doubt she ever apologized for not carrying the entire town on her back. She saved her boy and herself with the help of a stranger.

  That’s all I did. Save myself. Stayed semi-sane. Suicide wasn’t an option. If I was gone, wouldn’t he just replace me? I stayed alive for me and for the girl O’Meara would enslave if I were dead.

  Then, my future surrogate mom and her merry band of bikers saved me. And I’m okay with that, which is why I cry in the closet. I wanted to live, so I didn’t do anything suicidal against O’Meara. Maybe if I had given up on staying above water, I would have gone so bananas on him that he would have died sooner. Then, there would be fewer voices in my head now. Instead, I chose to save myself, and I resent the ghosts holding my choice against me.

  “Violet,” Maverick says after opening the door and kneeling down.

  “They know my name,” I whisper, still hiding my face. “Those women today know what happened. How I survived, and others didn’t.”

  Rubbing his tired eyes, Maverick sits on the ground and says, “Knowing your name doesn’t mean they know where you went for those years. They probably think I took you.”

  “They know I left the women behind.”

  “There was no one left, Violet. It was only you in the house.”

  “I made plans,” I say, flinching when he reaches for me. “How I would save the next one, but nothing ever worked. O’Meara was too smart.”

  “You did nothing wrong. It’s all on him.”

  “If I’m so innocent, why do the women haunt me?” I ask as my mind struggles between what’s real–the handsome man on the ground–and what festers in the dark corners of my mind—the ghosts of those I outlasted.

  “It’s survivor’s guilt. You know that. Just come out, and I’ll help you relax.”

  “I should have died. That’s why they haunt me. I’m not special. They want me to die like them, so it’ll be fair,” I say, shoving myself deeper into the small closet. “I want to die, sometimes, so the world will be quiet, and they’ll stop tormenting me. But then, I remember how I can’t be with you if I’m dead.”

  “Violet, you can’t die. I need you now. You have to live for me.”

  “You shouldn’t depend on me. I let people down.”

  Maverick’s cool never cracks. He watches me for nearly a minute before speaking. “Here’s what we’ll do next. You’ll take an edible and relax. Then, we’ll get into bed and sleep. Tomorrow, you won’t feel so lost.”

  “The Color Bunch knew, Maverick.”

  “No, they took a picture of you and did an online search. Those articles from when you went missing came up. That’s all. They don’t know about O’Meara. Most people in Shasta didn’t believe there was a serial killer. Those bitches know nothing except you went missing, and your parents died. They think I seduced you as a teenager and kept you.”

  “I wish you had.”

  “I did,” he says softly and extends his hand, “just not when they think. Now, please, come out.”

  My eyelids feel heavy, and I imagine how warm Maverick would feel against me in bed. Wouldn’t I rather be safe with him than scared in the closet with the ghosts?

  “Will they ever leave me alone?” I whisper as I crawl into his arms.

  “Yes,” he says as if knowing for certain. “In five years.”

  “You can’t be sure,” I whisper as we move to the bed.

  “I sense these things.”

  Smirking at his lie, I wave off the edible he offers. “I’m feeling better without it. I just need to focus on you. Then, the ghosts will become only a nuisance.”

  Maverick slides into bed next to me and tugs the plush burgundy blanket over us. “You’ll get rid of them.”

  “Do you fear I’ll always be bananas, and you’ll be searching for me in closets and in the woods forever?”

  Maverick dims the light. “When I was maybe ten, my mom bought me a pair of spiffy little boots. They weren’t all that expensive, and I hadn’t been dying for them or anything. I just liked them. Then, one day, I was running around in the yard in my boots and stepped in a pile of pig shit. You remember how my family has those big hairy porkers, don’t you?”

  Scooting closer to him, I nod. “Shelby says they know when she’s on her period.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they do.”

  “What happened with your boots?”

  “I looked down at them covered in shit and just started crying. I hadn’t cried in years before that. Raven insisted I rarely cried. But that day, I started bawling my eyes out. I knew they could be cleaned. I’d gotten other shoes dirty before. But I just kept thinking how those boots would never be truly nice again. I’d always know they were once covered in shit. I felt they were ruined.”

  “Am I the boots?” I ask, and Maverick frowns.

  “No, Violet, why would you be the boots?”

  “I clean up, but you won’t ever forget how I was covered in shit.”

  Maverick’s face goes blank. “I don’t think about you that way, Violet. No one does. Only you and your ghosts.”

  “Then, why are you telling the story of your crap-covered boots?”

  “Because I freaked out that day. I was so upset over those boots. Again, they weren’t special. I got plenty of nice things. And they weren’t ruined. But I was still overwrought for hours over them. My entire family stopped everything just to deal with my tears. It freaked them out since I rarely cried.”

  “I still don’t get it,” I say, stroking his jaw.

  “The human mind doesn’t always make sense. I’ll never know why I got so upset. But, at least, you have a tangible reason for why you get lost in your head. But even if you didn’t, that would also be okay. People are complicated. We aren’t in control of ourselves like we want. You can only do your best and give yourself slack when your best doesn’t feel like enough.”

  “Oh,” I whisper and sigh at the feel of his fingers brushing against my bare skin. “I’m sorry about your boots.”

  “I’ve had a dozen more since then. They’re quality boots, but nothing to cry over.”

  “Be nice to little Maverick. He was having a bad day,” I say, and we share a smile. “I’m okay now.”

  “The ghosts back in the past where they belong?”

  “For now.”

  “Those church bitches never should have spoken to you.”

  “They don’t know my drama.”

  “They wouldn’t have cared if they did know.”

  “No, probably not,” I say, closing my eyes. “I look forward to ruining their Sunday festivities with our presence.”

  Maverick kisses my cheek before pressing his lips against mine. I try to open my eyes to see him, but I’m so tired. Normally, my sleeping pill gives me a deep night of rest. With the ghosts quiet and Maverick’s reassuringly warm body against me, I immediately return to sleep. And, thankfully, I don’t dream.

  THE SENTINEL

  Violet wakes up in her ghost mode. She’s both present and also not really with me. I prefer to avoid sex when she gets in this mood. I feel as if I’m fucking a blowup doll. Violet does come, though, so maybe I’m assuming too much about how lost she is currently. She also laughs when my shaving gel misfires, and I get a big goop on my nose.

  Even after knowing each other for over a year and living together—off and on—for months, we’re still learning about each other. Violet often seems confused about what I’m thinking. I feel her guessing what I want rather than just asking.

  “Avery texted to sa
y they’re doing yoga downstairs in ten minutes,” she says after dressing in her “slob” sweats.

  I know Violet will overeat today, probably nap, and stare blankly at the TV a lot. I prefer her slob mood to her ghost one, where she doesn’t eat or sleep and stares blankly at the wall as if it’s speaking to her. Yes, Slob Violet is vastly more appealing.

  The Idyllwild cunts threw her into mental disarray, and she was already on edge about my parents’ visit.

  Downstairs, we join everyone in the meeting room, where the tables are folded against walls to give us room to work out. My father shuffles over, wearing sweats he likely bought when I was a baby. My mother follows behind him, decked out in a green tank top and a long, flowery skirt.

  Savannah is dressed in maternity clothes for some reason, while Avery wears her green surfer Godzilla shirt and loose shorts. Bjorn looks ready to play tennis in his white shorts and a collared top. I went for comfort with my black shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt.

  Entering behind me in her sweats, Violet doesn’t know where to stand.

  “I’m leading,” Avery says and waves her mother forward.

  I catch what my sister’s doing and take Violet behind the others. Io and Pollux decide to stick close to their preferred babysitter. Without an audience—mainly Raven—Violet relaxes into the exercises. She even grins when the kids imitate her.

  I grew up around men who thought yoga was for hippies and viewed hippies as weak. A few Ellsberg Reapers might still make those jokes, but most realize my father’s both one of the scariest fuckers they’ll ever meet and the most limber. Yoga’s one reason he can still take down men half his age. Over the years, I’ve climbed through gnarly brush when hunting an asshole. My upbringing with yoga kept me loose while my prey got tripped up on the terrain. So, yeah, in my family, hippies aren’t viewed as pussies.