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

  “Most definitely,” Shane adds.

  “He’s a spoiled bitch. Even his mother says so.”

  Sighing, I mutter, “Farah Johansson would never publicly speak ill of her son. Now, our mother wouldn’t hesitate talking shit about us.”

  “Why, what have you heard?” River asks, grinning. “Does Colton need another enforcer? He has Gunnar O’Keefe and that meathead married to Heidi O’Keefe. Come to think of it, that town is run by the O’Keefe family.”

  “And your family,” Shane says to River as if I’m not right here, “is tight with the O’Keefe family. The three of them could gang up on Colton. See how easily we put together a plan?”

  While the two bat their eyes at each other, I say, “I’m not any tighter with Gunnar and Heidi than I am with Colton.”

  “You’re not tight with anyone.”

  “Taylor, Shelby, should I go on?”

  “Can you?” River taunts. “I feel as if you just hit your limit.”

  “Avery might move to Pema, too,” I say, pushing my brother out of the booth before walking to the bar top where I order water with lemon. “If she jumps ship from Ellsberg, you know Savannah will go, too. That’ll make three Majors kids, two O’Keefe offspring, and one Johansson. Our mother’s vibrant uterus will provide the win.”

  River grins triumphantly as if he had something to do with our mom banging out eight kids. Well, I guess, if he had been truly awful or very ugly, she might have stopped at one.

  “Wait, why would Avery want to move to Pema?” he asks, no longer smirking. “She thinks Louisville is a dump, and that’s the closest city.”

  “She’s sick of looking at Bjorn, so she wants to move away from him.”

  “But you said Savannah will follow.”

  “Yeah, they’re twins, River.”

  My brother gives me a defiant middle finger. “I still don’t get why Avery would leave if she knows Savannah will follow. Like, she’s aware of the twin thing, too.”

  “Avery’s restless, and she thinks running away from Bjorn is the solution. Not everyone has a well-thought-out plan.”

  “Do you? Colton doesn’t need another enforcer.”

  “Colton needs a VP,” I say, knowing what’s coming next. “That’s my well-thought-out plan.”

  Shane and River literally point and laugh at me. They chuckle so hard they end up leaning against each other to remain upright. Despite how annoying they are, I do understand their amusement over the thought of me working with Colton like they work together.

  “Oil and water,” River says when he finishes laughing.

  “Cooper is a thinker,” I point out. “Tucker is a hammer. They make the system work.”

  “Yeah, because Kirk Johansson wanted his boys to be president and VP. Do you really think Cooper would have picked Tucker if he had a choice? Because Colton has a choice here.”

  “Not really. No one is joining him in Pema as far as I can tell. His cousin, Jack, is staying in Conroe. And Colton can’t afford to let Pema fester. Leaving Ellsberg is a big move for him. His grandfather founded the Reapers, and his father expanded it. What’s Colton done? Nothing.”

  Serious now, River rubs his bearded jaw. “I wanted more members of our family to run shit. I’d rather you be president, but I know being out front isn’t your strong suit.”

  “Not that I was looking for your approval, but thanks for understanding how staying in Shasta isn’t possible.”

  “Shelby will fall apart when Violet leaves,” Shane announces, falling into a scowl.

  “No, she won’t. Shelby has survived far worse, and she has a good life here. Let’s keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

  Shane narrows his dark eyes in a way that’s meant to intimidate me. He pulls that shit on the other guys, and they back down. Shane is scary to people who worry he’ll kill them. Since I know he’s incapable of ending me, his frowny faces come off as posturing.

  “What’s there for Violet to do in Pema?” he asks, starting shit.

  “She and Avery get along. We’ll have to build a place to live since there isn’t much open real estate in the area. Plus, Violet has hobbies.”

  “Maybe you can make a kid,” River says.

  Frowning, I sip my water and mutter, “Not everyone needs to breed like rabbits.”

  “Spoken like a true Pema man,” Shane says, sighing. “Here in Shasta, we allow the Rendering Plant Gods to dictate our breeding cycle.”

  River approves of this comment so much that he playfully shoves Shane. This flirting crap between the two is something I’ve endured since I was a kid.

  “I’m taking Violet to Pema next week,” I say while they slap each other. “If she hates it, I’m unsure where we’ll go. Maybe Cooper has an idea for a fifth chapter.”

  “Not when Conroe’s only started bringing in money, and Pema is a mess,” River explains as Shane takes him to the ground with a leg swipe.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to your tango. I’ve got people to spy on and gossip to round up.”

  My brother waves at me from the ground before kicking Shane’s ankle and forcing his best friend to join him on the floor. I know they’ll wrestle around until the bar opens for lunch. Then, they’ll need to pretend to be grown-ups again.

  Riding away from the clubhouse, I imagine my future in Pema. While there’s no telling what kind of relationship I’ll have with Colton Johansson, I’m one hundred percent fucking certain it won’t involve wrestling on the ground.

  THE GHOST

  Maverick doesn’t have a favorite food. Or drink or TV show or color or sport or anything, really. He enjoys many things but refuses to pick a favorite. His choice of a cat over another pet was based solely on convenience. One of Maverick’s Shasta gossips found an abandoned kitten litter. He claims he doesn’t know why he picked Corky over the other cats in the box. I suspect he literally put his hand in without looking and took the first kitten to show interest. Maverick claims no one picks their kids, so why should they put that much effort into choosing a pet?

  Named after a character from one of my favorite movies, Corky walks to the door when he senses Maverick arriving. The cat is forever trying to escape. Yet, I suspect he wouldn’t like the world outside this apartment. There are too many metal death traps waiting to smash his little body. I once saw a cat just after it was hit by a car, flopping like a fish trapped on land. After seeing the poor thing suffer, I never wanted a cat.

  But Maverick doesn’t know this fact. Why would I tell him that I sometimes look at our pet and think of the dying cat on the side of the road? Maverick Majors loves me, but he also needs me to pretend to be relatively sane. We can’t build a life if I’m honest about the level of bananas I am on an average day.

  Not that Maverick is an open book, either. I never know what he’s thinking. He could literally be staring at me right now because he plans to snap my neck. Or he’s thinking of getting me naked. Or he might just want an egg roll. Maverick is impossible to read.

  “Will we share a bed in Pema?” I ask as he stops watching me and instead starts unstrapping weapons from his tall, sharply muscular body.

  “That’s up to you.”

  Maverick stuffs three guns and two blades into a kitchen cabinet.

  “I want to practice something. Are you busy?”

  A sly grin spreads over his blazing hot face. “Not in the least.”

  “Put your arms in the air. Like it’s a stickup, and I’m looking to steal all your loot.”

  Still wearing his naughty smirk, Maverick does as he’s instructed and lifts his arms straight up. I step closer, inch-by-inch, until my chest presses against his. My arms wrap around his body, not touching it. Then, I inhale deeply. Husband wore a very specific scent—burnt wood. Every morning, I would dab a little along his right jawbone and then his left. If he felt I hadn’t used the exact right amount, he bit my hand and had me start again.

  Last winter, when the burning wood scent was strong in the air, I
often fought the urge to vomit. My hands even started hurting, as if the smell triggered memories in my flesh.

  Maverick smells like soap and a hint of heat and sweat. I don’t think he uses cologne. His deodorant and shampoo possess a sharp, clean scent. When I breathe in his aroma, I feel Maverick. The house with Husband falls into the darkest shadows of my mind.

  My arms tighten until they feel his warm body. I rest my cheek against his hard chest. My lips nuzzle the soft fabric of his black T-shirt. I look up at him and find unreadable green eyes watching me.

  “You can hug me back if you want,” I whisper.

  Maverick moves slowly, reminding me of how he was when Corky first crawled out of his carrier, spooked and ready to hide.

  Soon, his arms wrap tenderly around my body. I close my eyes and lean into his embrace. Right then, I truly feel Maverick Majors. The heartbeat I hear—unbearably steady—belongs to the man I love. While I might be dead, or this could be an illusion, I know for a fact that the person holding me isn’t Husband. I have no reason to panic.

  And I don’t. Not then in the kitchen or later when we sit on the couch. After a mental pep talk, I take Maverick’s hand while we watch a football game. I’m warier when his hand holds mine. Trapped under his strong fingers, my weaker ones—broken more than once by an angry psycho with a biting fetish—consider escape.

  I breathe slowly, focusing on Maverick’s unreadable face. I’m not trapped. There will be no punishment if I pull away my hand.

  As Maverick’s thumb caresses my battered knuckles, I’m grounded in the moment. His gaze is on the TV, where two teams challenge each other. I study his sharp jaw with dark blond growth since his shave this morning. He used to have longer hair but cut it before I entered his life.

  I’ve seen many pictures of him. His mother insists on a slideshow during the holidays. Last Christmas, I stood in the corner at River’s house while Raven forced her embarrassed sons to endure the fifteen-minute presentation titled “The Fruits of my Looms.”

  I remember how everyone laughed and teased Maverick and River. Their banter felt cruel to me, but I’ve accepted how these people behave. Tormenting each other is the way they create emotional armor against a world very willing to hurt them.

  Maverick never seemed embarrassed when they razzed him. He just focused on a spot on the wall and let their teasing bounce off his cool exterior. I noticed most how his expression turned steely. His mind went elsewhere. Maverick remained untouchable.

  Right now, I feel him with me. His gaze is too laser-focused on the TV screen, yet Maverick doesn’t see the game. He’s very purposely not looking at me. He fears too much attention from him will send my battered mind spiraling. Lately, I’ve been doing well. We’re going on a trip. If I’m careful, I can fake normalcy for long enough to give his patience a payoff.

  THE CHAPTER WHERE PEMA OFFERS FREEDOM

  THE SENTINEL

  I half-expect Violet to bail on our trip to Pema. She’s pushed herself too much over the last few days with the hugs, hand holding, and kisses on my cheeks. Then last night, while we relaxed on the couch watching a movie, she sat on her knees and turned my face toward her.

  Violet often forgets to speak. O’Meara believed the best wife was a silent one. I never mind Violet’s silence. As much as I enjoy a motormouth like Shelby, I’ve always been careful with my words. Can’t really be mysterious if I’m blabbing all the time.

  When Violet kissed my lips last night, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her back. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve wanted her for a long fucking time. I often imagine kissing her soft pink lips or caressing her pale skin. But I can’t sweep her onto my lap and make out like normal people do.

  Because while a year is a long fucking time, it’s not even half as long as she spent under the thumb of a monster obsessed with turning her into an empty-headed sex slave.

  That’s why I let Violet use me to build her confidence last night. Not that I didn’t relish the taste of her.

  The only moment when I struggled to remain passive was when Violet pulled away and held my gaze with her lust-filled one. Her blue eyes were literally begging me to take her to bed.

  I kept my dick in neutral, and we slept separately. That won’t be the case in Pema if Violet gets her way. I’m less worried about what happens on the trip and more concerned about her reaction after we return. Violet tends to suffer delayed reactions, meaning her kiss last night might not send her spiraling until two days from now.

  Before we leave for our trip, Avery and her daughter arrive to cat-sit.

  “You’re a vision of light and other happiness crap,” my sister announces after arriving at my apartment parking lot.

  My sister’s blonde hair hangs loose over her “Beach Crusher” T-shirt. On her hip sits her toddler daughter dressed in a gray top and pale pink jeans.

  “Is that code?” I ask as she walks up the outside staircase.

  My sister grins as she reaches the top step. “You look good in love, little brother.”

  I offer her a smile and then one for Ione—Io to the ones in the know. My curly-haired niece gives me her usual resting bitch face while Avery asks if I’ll grab their crap from the SUV.

  “Be careful with the cat,” I warn as I head down the stairs. “Corky’s an escape artist.”

  Returning with my sister’s suitcase and a rolling container of toys, I find Avery in the kitchen looking over delivery menus. On the ground, Violet, Io, and Corky relax. My woman’s body language mimics my niece until I feel like I’m lusting over a little girl.

  But Violet isn’t one person. No one is, probably. Shelby can be dumb, selfish, and infantile. But she can also be wise, selfless, and mature. I’ve seen her flee from menacing squirrels and then challenge men bigger than herself. People are complicated.

  True, Violet is especially fucked up. No doubt, parts of her aren’t nearly mature enough to handle a relationship. Of course, she may never love me like I love her.

  But there are three things in the world that matter to me—my family, my club, and Violet. I’ll do just about anything to ensure their safety. Otherwise, the world can’t touch me.

  “I might join you on your next trip to Pema,” Avery announces as she opens Io’s suitcase of toys and organizes them in the living room.

  When my sister first spoke of moving to Pema, I wasn’t happy. She just blurted out the news during one of my video calls to my parents in Ellsberg.

  “I need to get out of this fucking house,” she whispered loudly and shoved her face against the laptop camera. “These people are driving me to fucking madness.”

  “What’s she saying?” Savannah immediately cried. “Is she sharing tawdry gossip about me?”

  Avery disappeared from the screen long enough to tell her identical twin to fuck off.

  “I will never buzz off when it comes to the one who shares my heart!” Savannah yelled.

  My older sisters have always been inseparable. That doesn’t mean they don’t drive each other fucking crazy. Much of their current insanity comes from living in our parents’ house with their toddlers.

  Oh, and Avery’s desire to get away from Savannah’s husband, Bjorn. She’s been sensitive since she and her twin fell for two surfer twins—a double match made in heaven. Both girls got pregnant within a month of each other. Except Savannah’s surfer stuck around, and Avery’s bailed. My sisters have always been competitive. They’re different yet equal. Until Bran ran off to surf, and Bjorn gave up the beach for his woman and kid.

  Now, Avery wants to leave Ellsberg and start fresh with Io. Though I’m sympathetic to her plight, she can be as bossy as Heidi O’Keefe. I really didn’t want a town full of diva bitches tormenting Violet and me.

  “I still don’t know what you’ll do there,” I say as Avery returns the menus to my cabinet.

  “The same thing anyone of importance does in Pema,” she murmurs and smiles. “Work for the Reapers.”

 
“Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I want to visit Pema.”

  “There are very few houses available. Where will you live?”

  “In the other half of your big idea.”

  “Where will Savannah live?”

  Avery narrows her green eyes. “She can find a place in Ellsberg.”

  “Isn’t it specified in your twin contract that where one goes, the other must follow?”

  “Yes, but that contract was null and void when she got married, and I stayed proudly single.”

  Nodding, I look at where Io crawls into Violet’s lap to cuddle.

  “Oh, and remaining in Ellsberg isn’t an option for another reason,” Avery says, smiling at her baby girl. “I might want to get laid, and there are no viable cocks for me there.”

  “Your child can hear you,” I grumble.

  “All the best women cuss, Maverick. Didn’t you ever fucking hear that fucking saying, brah?”

  I roll my eyes at her imitation of our youngest brothers and sisters. Everyone is “brah” or “dude.” Denver especially likes referring to people as “dude-bros.” I’m relieved they can’t turn Pema into their home base. Cavalry just took Colton’s old job for the Reapers. Where that sibling goes, Denver and Sylvie must follow. Those three stoner-amigos can stay where they’re at.

  “Does Mom know you’re planning to move to Pema?” I ask Avery while setting my suitcase next to Violet’s at the door.

  “Mom knows all, but she hasn’t told anyone. I mean, I assume, she hasn’t since Savannah isn’t giving me the vapors over ditching her luscious ass.”

  I know I’m supposed to point out how their asses are identical. But I’m not falling into any trap where I compliment my sister’s butt. Avery smirks at my refusal to play her games.

  “You’ve always been my favorite brother,” she says and reaches up to pat my head before walking to the spare room to get her crap organized.

  “And you were always my favorite twin.”

  Head popping out from the doorway, she unleashes the power of her active bitch face. Too bad for her, I built up a resistance to it when I was in junior high.