Never Say Never: Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter, #3

By Bijou Hunter

HEAT ღ HUMOR ღ HEA

 

Shelby Campbell had a very specific idea of what her perfect man would be. Goliath wasn't it. The gruff biker rubs her wrong in a million ways. Yet Shelby can't get him out of her mind.

 

Dean "Goliath" Midkiff doesn't want a woman. After five years in prison, he wants to be left the fuck alone. Yet Goliath can't get her out of his mind.

 

"Never Say Never" contains graphic sexual content, violent situations, harsh language, and drug use. The book is only appropriate for adult readers age 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bijou Hunter
• Release date: Jun 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9798224012824

Bijou Hunter

Romance Author of Contemporary, Suspense, and New Adult ~ Find me at www.bijouhunterbooks.com ~ Join my mailing list: www.bijouhunterbooks.com/mailing-list

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NOTE TO READERS

Never Say Never is the final book in the Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter after My Silver Lining. This book takes place after Down to my Bones (Ellsberg Chapter Book 1) but before Promise Me Heaven (Ellsberg Chapter Book 3).

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The Road to Shasta

There was once a great man who founded a motorcycle club, the Reapers, and built up a town, Ellsberg, for his young bride (Sunday Morning).

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One of the members of the club was an enforcer named Dylan Campbell (Damaged and the Bulldog). Another was Vaughn Majors (Damaged and the Outlaw).

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Dylan's children Shelby and Shane (along with Vaughn's son River) outgrew Ellsberg. The three struck out for Shasta, where they took over a club and started cleaning up the town.

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This is Shelby’s story.

THE CHAPTER WHERE THE STORY BEGINS

SHELBY CAMPBELL, AKA THE WEIRDO

I live in a house with ghosts. I’m not crazy. I’m completely certain I feel them, and this house has a history of violent deaths. No way am I crazy for believing in the ghosts.

But maybe I’m not a hundred percent sane either. After all, I choose to live in a ghost house. I haven’t slept in a bed in years because I feel as if the spirits won’t haunt my dreams when I’m downstairs versus in a bedroom.

I had a chance to get away from Shasta and the haunted Victorian-style house. I only moved to this stinky town to follow my little brother, Shane. Since my baby bruv was born, I’ve taken my big sister responsibilities very seriously. Sure, Shane’s currently a large man with aggressive tendencies. Though I’m handy with a rifle, I can’t do much to keep him physically safe. Instead, Shane needs me to care for his tender heart and his often-overwhelmed brain. My sweet little bro sometimes can’t understand how the world won’t revolve around him or bend to his usually very impressive will.

That’s why I moved to Shasta despite a nearby rendering plant leaving the town smelling like death. I even overlooked the haunted house we bought. I would do nearly anything for my brother. Yet I cut him loose when I learned a teenage girl—who lived in this very house—had disappeared years ago. Did her parents kill Violet and hide her body in the walls or the backyard? Or did a local serial killer—aka the Shasta Slasher—grab the sixteen-year-old off the streets? There’s no way to know her fate. The local police are idiots, and her parents died in a murder-suicide in this house. Is she the presence I feel at night? Or is it her parents? Or one of the other people who died in this hundred-year-old house from overdose and suicide?

When I learned Violet Navarro was last seen right outside this house, I got the fuck out of Shasta. This town was too violent for me. And I grew up around stone-cold killers. My father is an enforcer in the Reapers Motorcycle Club in Ellsberg. I bet he’s killed plenty of people. If he hasn’t, the other men that I knew as uncles certainly fucked up a ton of assholes. My own baby bruv and our best friend, River Majors, have killed many men. Even I’ve spilled blood for the club.

But our kind of killing isn’t the sort that befell poor Violet. The Reapers destroy bad guys. The type of violence that happened in Shasta—including in the very house I call home—was too dark for even a horror-movie fiend like me.

That’s why I bailed. I was never coming back. My brother and his new love—Ramona Verhees—could visit me in the much safer redneck paradise of Ellsberg. Nope, I was officially out. No more ghosts or that awful smell. I was ditching my friends—the Fearsome Foursome, aka Shane, River, Taylor, and me—and living a quieter life with my mom and dad.

That was the plan anyway. Yet once my brother’s super sperm claimed Ramona’s rocker girl egg, I had no choice except to return to Shasta. Being an aunt superseded my fear of serial killers and ghosts. My nephew needed me up close and personal in his life. While Shane and Ramona are great parents, nothing quite compares to the power of a doting aunt.

That’s why I returned to a town I hate, and it’s why I’ll remain here. I still feel the ghosts, and I plan to track down that serial killer. Weird? Sure. Delusional? No doubt, but I can’t change who I am.

When I set my mind to something, I can’t let go. That’s why I remain absolutely captivated by a horrible, rude fuck-face of a man who probably owns a dick so massive that it affects the planet’s gravitational pull.

Oh, my, Goliath isn’t a pleasant person. I ought to forget about him. But the rugged fucker owns a handsome mug, and there’s no denying his nearly seven-foot-tall body is smoking. I want to believe my feelings are simple lust. Not my fault, really. I’m just very, very horny after twenty-seven years without getting any sugar. If I can ride his dick for a few wild vrooms, I’m sure I’ll be fine. In fact, I’m uncertain my feelings are even lust. I could literally just be bored or lonely.

Because everyone I know is dripping with syrupy-sweet love—Shane and Ramona, River and his woman, Max, my best friend, Taylor, and her gal, Kelsi, our buddy Hugh and club brother Utah’s dick, my parents, River’s parents, other people’s parents, that ancient couple that walks past my house every day.

So many people are awash in love or, at least, lust. Hell, even Max’s sister and my newest buddy—aka I’m done with men Maude Leroux—got herself knocked up. Literally everyone in the entire world is rubbing against someone else except for me! I might be the loneliest, horniest person on the planet, and I’m including nerdy fifteen-year-old boys in my equation.

All I need is to enjoy a few sexy minutes with a man—specifically wildman Goliath—to fix what ails me. Then I can return to my comfortable existence of chilling with the Fearsome Foursome, babysitting my nephews, helping with the local Reapers’ chapter, and hunting a serial killer.

Goliath doesn’t even need to say anything during our romp. Not that I would understand him anyway. He apparently only speaks bear, and I haven’t found a quality grizzly-to-English translation software yet.

Yes, I’ll just show up at his trailer in the woods—not creepy at all—and offer up my virginal vagina. I bet I could complete the entire porking in between running errands too. No fuss and only the most minimal of muss.

Now I have a plan. Once I sate my lust, I should be content for a decade or more of celibacy. Yes, I’ll no doubt be considerably less crazy after a good, hard screw with a giant jerk who thinks my name is Shelly.

DEAN MIDKIFF, AKA THE GOLIATH

Five years ain’t that much time, but it felt like a fucking eternity. During my lockup, I got educated on what I wanted in life. In the past, I cared about club shit. Not just doing my job and watching my brothers’ backs. Nomp, it was more than that. I really gave a flying fuck. I wanted the best for the Crushed Skullz Motorcycle Club.

What did all that caring get me? Those fucking five years in prison, of course. I don’t suffer any delusion over why I got nabbed by the pigs that day just outside of town. Someone didn’t like me caring so much over club business, so away I had to go. Two of my club brothers—Swamp Thing and Grabby—suffered the same fates. That’s what caring got us.

Now I don’t do shit except what I’m told. I ain’t losing any sleep over someone dying. Before I got out of prison, I had people fighting for me to take their side in a battle that wasn’t about me.

There was my old vice president, Cum Shot, and the new president, Go-Go. Swamp Thing tried winning me over too. They all had plays in motion, and I was the guy they wanted for their big move.

By the time I got paroled, Cum Shot and Swamp thing were dead. While that Go-Go fuck is prettier than a girl, River Majors sure knows how to end a motherfucker. Wiped out a dozen guys in one night. I returned to Shasta to find only one play in motion. Didn’t matter to me who won that pissing match, though. I’m done giving a fuck.

As for women, I learned there too. Didn’t need to go away for that lesson. I’ve always had shit taste. Oh, I can find the sweetest pussy to fuck. No problem there. Ask me to find a good woman, and I’ll always choose the turd floating in the punch bowl. Other people can see the woman’s trash, but never me.

I blame my mom. I grew up thinking she was a cold bitch because life made her complicated. Except she wasn’t a mystery. She was just a cold bitch.

But I got that idea in my head about how women were complicated, and I needed to dig deeper to find the better woman hiding under all the drama.

The first of my mistakes was named Becklyn. After two years together, I realized I was fucking my mom. Becklyn wasn’t complicated. To be fair to the bitch, she was always honest about what kind of woman she was on the inside. I’m the one that wasted time looking for a good woman hiding deep in her heart.

Learned my lesson, I thought. When I hooked up with Jaymes, I figured she was the exact opposite of Becklyn. That oughta fix shit. But Jaymes nagged me about every fucking thing—where I was going, when I would be back, who would I see when I was out? Everything was a question. The worst was how she wanted me to give up the club and spend every minute with her. I thought maybe that clinginess was her way of showing love. Nomp. I gotta stop thinking women have layers. What you see is what you get. Becklyn was a slutty bitch, and Jaymes was a clingy nag. They weren’t complicated.

I’m not either. I just want money to pay my bills. I need food and booze. I like to fuck. I enjoy killing people. I don’t know how to do anything besides run with a biker club. I’m a simple fucking guy.

And that’s why I got no use for the feelings I suffer when that sexy pain in the ass is around. The Reapers VP’s hot sister is always sneaking glances at me as if she wants my attention. Yet when I asked her to suck me off, she got offended. I think she just likes playing with men. No way is she innocent. Her family ain’t high class. Her brother is a killer. Her dad too. She grew up around men like me. Shelby Campbell isn’t complicated. She’s just a pain in the ass.

But the curvy brunette is a fine-looking woman, and I won’t pretend otherwise. In prison, I put on a whole lotta fake shit. Didn’t have any feelings. Didn’t want to be free. Didn’t miss my hog and a double-sized chicken fried steak sandwich. Instead of feeling anything, I scared people with my size and the ugly face I inherited from my no-good father.

I’m a free man now. No need to fake anything. If I want a chicken fried steak sandwich, I go get one. If I want pussy, I get that too. If I want to look at the prettiest woman to exist in the real world, well, I’m gonna look right at her, and I won’t look away. Not to please Shelby or her snarling brother. I ain’t scared of them. My greatest fear was getting locked away like a dog. I lived through that for five years and came out on the other side.

Now I don’t have a fear in the world. That’s why when Shelby Campbell shows up at my trailer with all her thick hair and those curves, I don’t shut the door in her face. I know she’s trouble. I have no time for that shit, but I refuse to look away even when she dares me to.

THE CHAPTER WHERE SEDUCTION IS A THING THAT SORTA HAPPENS

THE WEIRDO

Choosing the right outfit to seduce a grizzly isn’t a simple task. The chilly weather doesn’t help either. I need something sexy that’ll hold up in low fifty-degree weather. I’m not a thin woman. Clothes don’t hang off me. They cling to my curves. The wrong top can make me look like a whale. Even so, I don’t buy sexy outfits. My clothes are chosen for comfort rather than the ability to woo over a man.

I’m not one to judge, Maude says when I ask her to help me pick a shirt, and I don’t know anything about that giant man. However, I don’t sense he’s going to give two shits what you’re wearing.

Clothes aren’t my friends.

Don’t act insecure, mutters my bestie Taylor. You can’t pull it off.

It’s not about insecurity. It’s about making my first time the best time.

It’s going to suck, Taylor insists, blowing her feathered blonde locks out of her dark eyes. You don’t know what to do, and the porn you watched filled your head with idiot ideas.

I’m going to hoot and holler, I tell Barbie doll-looking Maude as I dig around my armoire since this ghostly Victorian house was designed without closets. I might make that Charo sound too.

Or you’ll grunt and fart, Taylor taunts.

Why are you a cruel fapsock? I demand and throw a sweater at her.

I don’t want you with that man. He’s fucked all the sweet butts and half of the town. You deserve Prince Charming, not that stupid dickhead.

He stepped on Taylor’s foot, I tell Maude, who nods. She can’t forgive him, even though he said he was sorry.

No, he didn’t.

Well, he grunted something that was probably ‘I’m sorry.’ The man just doesn’t enunciate his words enough to overcome his growly voice.

Whatever.

Did he fuck Kelsi? I say and tackle her onto my barely used bed, complete with a neglected quilt. Is that why you’re so hormonally imbalanced?

She wasn’t a sweet butt when he went to prison, and she isn’t one now that he’s out. There was no fucking to be done.

I pin her under me and blow her messy hair from her face. I love how possessive you are of your little muffin top, but you’re killing my horny buzz.

If you’re horny, get off me.

You’d have fucked me in the past. How quickly you’ve taken to monogamy.

Taylor pretends to fall asleep until I finally crawl off her and sit at the end of the bed next to Maude.

I need a shirt that says I have a lot to offer sexually. It should also be easy to get off.

I hope you’re planning to bring a box of condoms, Taylor says while stretched out on the bed. And a bleach douche for afterward.

I probably will catch chlamydia or the other one. Maybe herpes. I’m not going to stress that.

Except now as I stand in front of Goliath’s double-wide in the deepest, darkest, and dankest woods in Shasta, I’m very much stressed about my vagina needing medical attention after getting pounded by this giant, slutty man.

The door to the trailer opens, and I stare up into the beautiful gray eyes of a man who crawled under my skin without even trying. Goliath wears jeans and a white sleeveless shirt showing off his tatted arms. He has to move sideways out of the doorway to get his wide shoulders through the narrow opening.

This won’t end well, I mutter to myself.

Huh?

Are you alone?

Come to kill me, Shelly? he asks, scanning over my head. Ya here to draw me out, so your brother can put a bullet in me?

At least, I think that’s what Goliath said. Since he sounds like a talking bear, I’m forced to guess a few words. Still, I’m fairly sure he used the wrong name.

If I wanted to kill you, I’d do it myself. Bam, you’re dead, I say, shooting him with my finger.

Goliath steps down from his trailer, but he still looms over me. His wild, brown hair hangs around his face. He hasn’t shaved in many moons, and I start thinking about how he’ll rub that rough beard against my fragile body.

Whatcha want?

I don’t know, I say, having second thoughts about letting this powerful, rugged man access to my virgin vagina. What if he goes savage on it, and I end up ruined forever?

What? he sneers, stepping closer.

I stumble back over the uneven ground and consider running away like a dumb girl in a horror movie. I can even picture Goliath chasing after me through the woods. I’ll surely trip over something and end up on the ground, where he’ll hack me to death with an ax. No, a machete would suit him better. He’s got a The Devil’s Rejects vibe about him. Should I just leave?

Is this a prank? he grumbles, and his face scowls in a fierce, I’m-going-to-kill-you way. How come you’re here?

I wanted to make out with you, I admit. I wanted to more than make out. I think you’re attractive, but you’re scary, and I’m afraid to get a disease. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but my feelings matter more.

His scowl takes on a confused flavor. Huh?

I wanted you to fuck me, I spell out, strongly enunciating each word. A lightbulb goes off in his big handsome head. Yet, I can tell he isn’t reading the room. Rather than notice my unease, he reaches out as if to touch me. I’m forced to take a big step backward. I can’t, though. I don’t have condoms, and I’m unsure how much they’ll help prevent the diseases you caught from the sweet butts.

How do I know you ain’t got a disease? he grumbles, offended by the insinuation that his dick isn’t surgical-room clean.

I’m the queen bee of virgins.

Huh?

I am a virgin, I say, enunciating each word since I’m not sure if he’s dumb or deaf.

Tapping his head, he smirks. Ah.

Yeah, and I’m afraid you’ll hurt me or leave me diseased or something.

Could happen.

Which one? Hurt me or leave me diseased?

Goliath shows me his huge hands. I hurt people. Why wouldn’t I do it to you?

Do you hurt the sweet butts?

Shrugging, Goliath looks me up and down. Ask them.

I will.

Shoulda done that first.

No doubt.

Now what? he grunts when I don’t speak.

I walk away and possibly return at a later date when I’m more certain about the pain and disease thing.

My dick’s clean.

Doubtful.

I got checked when I got my tetanus shot, he says and shows me his giant left hand where stitches hold the flesh together.

What happened?

Dog tried to kill a little kid.

I want to imagine this hunk of man-meat as a fully formed human with a gentle side. He saved a little kid! Whoopee! But does that mean he won’t call me by the wrong name during our fuck. Why am I here?

I’m sorry you got hurt, I say, shuffling away. Stay cool, buddy, and remember to duck.

Goliath shoves his thumbs into the loops on his jeans and leans back his head to let out a loud laugh. I don’t know what’s so fucking funny. Is he laughing at me or with me? Well, fuck, I’m not laughing, so that answers that.

THE GOLIATH

Shelby’s wearing a furry red sweater that I bet is real soft. I’m sure her skin is even softer. I don’t know what she was thinking by coming out here to ask for a fuck. What’s she nervous about? These last few months, I’ve seen her plenty of times at the Saloon. This scaredy-cat act has gotta be a joke, but I don’t get it. When I reach out for her, Shelby doesn’t look amused. She’s fucking freaked. I won’t be surprised if she runs away like a little rabbit.

How come you never flirt with me at the Saloon? Why just come here and ask for a fuck? I mutter, suspicious again. As soon as I saw her drive up, I assumed I was about to be ambushed.

Shelby slides her tennis shoe across the leaves-covered ground. I’m not good at romancing a man.

No one needs that romancing shit.

I think I do, she says, suddenly wide-eyed and backing away. I think I’m soft and girly inside. Why did I come here?

You wanted to fuck. Now you don’t. Hope you ain’t expecting me to beg you to stay.

Right, because you can just fuck someone else.

Yeah, that. Or I can wank it. I don’t need nothing complicated.

Shelby looks cornered, even though there ain’t no corner behind her. She can leave. She can stay. Nothing’s keeping her from doing what she wants.

Why don’t you get on your motorcycle and ride home to your little brother? He can tell you the answers since you can’t find them on your own.

Shelby’s panic routine fizzles out. Now she glares at me. Hey, now, don’t you dare suggest I’m not a wise woman with all the answers just because this one single time I’m a little clueless.

Her anger makes her face fiery. Those shiny light brown eyes widen like someone shot her full of moonshine and set her crazy ass loose. I remember thinking her eyes were green. Then I thought they were just regular old brown. I like seeing them so clear in the daylight. I especially like having them looking at me.

But I’m not as dumb as I look. I get how fucking this woman ends. Dipping my dick in the Campbell family pussy won’t lead to a happy ending. Her brother is my VP, and he doesn’t even pretend to like me. I know what happened the last time I got on the wrong side of my VP. While Shelby might be a sexy fucking woman, no way am I going back to prison for her. Though I suspect Shane would end my life before taking my freedom. The Reapers don’t need to be sneaky anymore. They won the war.

I never want a girlfriend, I say, and the crazy in Shelby’s eyes fizzles out like the panic did earlier. You have to know that.

No, she says, and all the power in her body goes away when she exhales. She’s smaller now. I don’t know what to think of the look on her face. Is she gonna cry? Her bright eyes don’t seem sad.

Wanna beer? I ask, gesturing back at the trailer.

No.

Then what do you want?

I don’t know.

Then, are you leaving?

I haven’t decided.

Despite liking to see her up close like this, I ain’t a teenage boy begging for pussy. Do I have to stand out here while you decide?

If you’re exhausted from standing, feel free to rest your joints inside, she says, and her mouth does that thing where the lip corners on one side press together. I think she’s mocking me.

Are you shit-talking my age?

No, I’m shit-talking your lack of physical strength to remain upright for a few minutes.

Can’t I just be lazy? Why is it that I’m weak?

You can be anything you want, she says and looks around the woods. Do you want to live out here, or do you just not know where else to live?

I’m gonna build a house here.

Eyes full of curiosity now, she asks, When?

I don’t know.

Have you asked my brother to help you?

Why would I?

Our family’s company builds houses. River is currently designing his future home.

Yeah, heard he was gonna put his house where Fuse used to live.

Shelby narrows her eyes and asks, Do you miss him?

Shelby’s gaze sharpens. The soft, sweet thing she was doing earlier is gone. Suddenly, she’s the daughter and sister of killers. Shelby stands atop a pile of vanquished bodies left behind by the Reapers’ choice to claim Shasta.

He ain’t nothing to me, I mutter, keeping quiet about how I figure he set me up to get pinched by the pigs. Never visited me in the slammer. What do I care if the old president’s house is now the new president’s house?

Fuse was a bad man.

Aren’t we all?

No. It’s possible to be a criminal and a good person. Plenty of people follow the laws and are still bad. Fuse lacked honor and a heart. His death was an inconvenience. River’s death would be a tragedy.

I don’t respond because what’s there to say? She might be wrong about River. I wouldn’t know. He’s my president, but we aren’t friends. I did know Fuse. My former president wasn’t pretty like River. While I can’t say if he had a heart, the man sure didn’t