He never would have classified himself as a Fairgood. But in Waylon’s case, she might have been right.
Waylon might have been half-Hispanic, like Ellie, but he was a whole lot more like the grandfather who started that original MC. A natural leader with dark instincts, he’d taken one look at the poppy fields outside the city he’d been stationed in and sensed an opportunity. An opportunity that had turned into a thriving side business until his second-in-command got brigged for the classic crime of getting high on his own supply.
“I need somebody I can trust,” Waylon had explained after his cousin arrived at his new base. “And it don’t hurt you got all the shit I don’t, including that pretty snake charm.”
They’d spent a whole summer together once when Waylon’s mother went into rehab with the promise she’d get better.
His mom did get better—at least for a year or two. Then she relapsed, and Galen didn’t see his cousin again until he walked onto his new base and found him running it like a king, though he wasn’t even an officer.
They hadn’t talked much over the years, but apparently Waylon had never forgotten what Nanan Cherise had referred to as his “pretty snake charm” when he complimented her into making shrimp etouffee for his cousin, even though Waylon wasn’t a for-real guest.
As it turned out, Waylon was right about Galen fitting right into his side business. Waylon was all “get it done,” and Galen was good at convincing people to do what Waylon wanted. Soon, their side hustle had expanded into a full-blown operation that included weapons and drugs.
And Galen had loved it. American hero during the day. Business man who actually made money at night. Waylon’s opportunity had been an exact right fit, utilizing a secret skillset and fulfilling a desire he hadn’t even been aware he possessed.
Galen had pretended to be the same ol’ him when he returned home to their swamp house. But he’d spent most of his break trying to figure out how to wash all the cash he’d brought with him—not to mention figuring out how to explain to his mother and Cherise how he’d come into his sudden windfall.
And that was only the beginning of his dilemmas. The business was thriving to the point that Waylon pretty much ordered Galen not to re-enlist after his contracted four years were up.
“You’re coming back stateside with me, and we’re starting an MC just like that great-great-grandfucker we don’t talk about,” Waylon said. “But ours won’t be racist.”
“Whatever he has you doing, stop,” Galen’s mother said as they drove toward the Perreault’s place. “Whatever he wants you to do, stop.”
She fretted her hands in her lap. “I can’t believe I’m even having to have this conversation with you after losing my sister to drugs.”
“It’s not like that. I’m not scum, like the guy who sold her bad goods. We’re not purposefully getting anybody hooked,” he argued. “There’s a demand, and we’re just fulfilling it. And we’re better than most because we do quality checks and make sure the stuff we supply isn’t laced with—”
She cut him off right there. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like an all-out criminal.”
She threw him a fearful look. “I know I haven’t been the world’s best mom. But I did my best, and I can’t…I can’t lose you too. You and Ellie are the only blood family I got left.”
“Mère…Mama, I’m doing this for our family.” Galen shook his head. “You can’t work for the Perreaults forever. Don’t you want me to take care of you? Of Ellie and Nanan?”
She rubbed his arm. “Aw, my sweet Swamp Boy. Always trying to figure out how to save all of us.”
He smiled. So she got why he was doing this.
But then she smiled back at him and said, “Find another way.”
He opened his mouth to protest, to explain things to her in a way she’d understand. But she cut him off with, “I did not work myself to the bone all these years just to raise another Fairgood criminal. Save yourself, Swamp Boy. Find another way.”
He no longer went by that silly childhood nickname. And he could have kept arguing with her. But in the end, he loved her more than he wanted to be right.
Nobody said no to Waylon.
But that was exactly what Galen planned to do when he got back to the desert. And driving his mother to the Perreault house convinced him even more than that.
She’d worked hard to get him away from that life. The least he could do was not repeat it. No, he’d stick with the Army and find another way to take care of his family—one that didn’t involve going the Fairgood way.
After dropping his mère off at the front door, he walked around the side of the house to the pool. And he started making a plan. A plan to be good. Be the opposite of the men she left behind.
A plan he completely forgot when he saw the vision, standing at the other end of the pool, wearing a yellow string bikini.
His new plan. All thoughts. The entire world. It all disappeared at the first sight of her.
Long springy curls. A heart-shaped face. Large brown eyes. Pillowy lips. And wide hourglass hips he could see himself gripping as he moved her up and down on his cock. She was a collection of all the things he liked put together in just the right way. And it was all overlaid with the brown skin that generations of Fairgood men had been told they couldn’t and shouldn’t like.
But he wasn’t a typical Fairgood. Just like she wasn’t a typical girl.
