Wicked: Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter

by KB Winters

  “I promise to try. How’s that?”

  “Acceptable. For now.” There was a long pause and some cooing in the background as she settled Riley. “In the meantime, you can start setting aside a week or two to come for a visit. Shannon can’t wait to share all the girly shit you send her, and Lord knows I’m tired of sitting for makeup sessions and pretend hair salon.”

  Her oldest daughter was a spitfire, destined to be a troublemaker just like her favorite aunt.

  “I’ll see what I can swing, but I just started so it might be some time before I’m even eligible for paid time off.”

  I didn’t want to rock the boat just yet, at least not until I replenished my savings enough that losing the job wouldn’t matter. Wouldn’t hurt. That was how the game was played. I got a new job and gave it my all, doing the tasks that were asked of me without giving anyone any shit. Unless it was warranted. Then when I got enough money saved, I still did my job, only then I began to tally up all the grievances and mistreatments until I couldn’t take it anymore, or until I got fired.

  Whichever came first.

  “I miss you, Hazel. Next time you move, come back to Oklahoma.”

  It was an old argument. One I had no desire to rehash. “I’ll keep it on the list of options, but you know how I feel about repeats.” I didn’t stay in the same place twice, and I didn’t go back to old lovers or friends with benefits. It was a rule that kept me from becoming to fanciful, to wishful.

  “Yeah but I was hoping that rule wouldn’t apply to your only family.” There was that guilt that only family could heap upon me. And Jessie was the only family I had, but thankfully I only had to deal with her in small doses on our monthly talks. We connected more if we needed to.

  Lately, Jessie hadn’t needed it much so I tried not to need her as much either. “I’ll come visit as soon as I can.”

  “Fine, I accept that answer. Now. Just, next time something happens with this Saint character, make sure you get his mouth in return. Get a little bit of heat for you too.”

  My mouth opened, and I actually blushed. Then I closed it, speechless.

  After a few seconds, she asked, “You still there?”

  “I’m still here, and I’ll take it under consideration. I promise.”

  “Good because I have to go. The savages need attention,” she said as the background noise grew louder.

  “All right. Give everyone a hug and a kiss for me, and I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.” It was always hard to say goodbye to Jessie, had been since I’d left her in Oklahoma years ago with Jake. Every time we said it, a little piece of my heart broke just a little more.

  “Love you more, girl. Bye.” The call ended and as usual, I felt lighter. Freer. More like the woman I should have been, could have been, if my life had turned out differently.

  I missed Jessie like crazy, but I also envied her and what she had. Not that I wanted Jake or her loveable, energy-sucking ankle biters, but the love she had, the life she had. I craved a life like that, more so with every passing year.

  Which made it hard to see it all up close and in living color. But I would visit, as soon as I could. As soon as I was ready.

  In the meantime, I wished for Jessie’s optimism. Saint was too fucked up for anything normal. I knew that much even if I didn’t have all the details and wasn’t sure what the hell a normal relationship looked like. But his brand of fucked up could likely be healed. He was a soldier after all, but there was a good chance that he was too normal for the type of fucked up that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

  It was a nice thought, though, that Saint and I could have some normal relationship like Jessie and Jake, but it was just that. A thought.

  A fantasy that, like so many others, would soon be forgotten the moment Saint revealed himself to be no different from any other man I’d ever come across.

  For now, he would remain a sexual fantasy that I used to get me through the hard times, because in my life, the hard times were always more plentiful than the good ones.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Saint

  “We could’ve taken the bikes tonight,” I told Gunnar as we left Hardtail Ranch in our rearview and headed for Opey proper. I wasn’t completely comfortable on the damn thing yet, but a little bit of practice each day had helped.

  “We could have, but this way we blend in, which is what we want for now.” Gunnar kept his gaze on a swivel while I drove the dark two-lane highway that dropped us right in the center of Small Town, USA.

  Opey wasn’t just a small town, it was the proverbial small town, with wooden sidewalks on both sides of the main strip of commerce, colorful awnings with catchy business names like Curl of the World Beauty Salon, the Opey Doke Café and my personal favorite, Doggone Tires, where you could get wheels for everything from motorcycles and ATVs to tractors, mowers and even cars.

  This time of night a lot of the smaller shops had already rolled up the streets and tucked itself in for the night. “Shit it’s quiet around here. No wonder these guys strike so late at night. No one’s around to hear.” It wasn’t a secret that I wasn’t completely sold on the idea of going after these guys. But seeing Opey like this, all innocent and quiet, pissed me off, that these good, hard working people were being victimized for being, well, good hard working people.

  We rounded a corner and Big Mac’s place came into view.

  “Son of a bitch!” The big window with a cartoon image of the man himself and the store logo emblazoned across the front had been replaced with plain old ugly ass boarded up stand-in. “That shit just ain’t right.”

  Gunnar’s deep chuckle sounded beside me, his blue eyes missing nothing as we drove through town.

  “Ye Olde Stuff has already replaced its windows, at least.” He nodded in the direction of the antique store with the funny name. The old stained glass windows had been replaced with replicas, but they didn’t have the old world feel of the originals.

  Many units were available for rent above the businesses, clearly built before people worried about things like safety hazards and fire escapes. Every block of the main strip was pretty much the same: big picture windows so proprietors might entice tourists and shoppers inside to boost the economy. But as we rounded every corner, something became clear to me.

  “This is a crew. I’m sure of it.”

  Gunnar nodded silently as I drove down another street that connected with the final dead end street where the City Hall and Courthouse complex took up an enormous plot of land. “I think so too, but what makes you so sure?”

  I looked at the Prez and wondered if he was placating the head case or if he really gave a damn what I thought. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I sighed and slowed the car down.

  “The businesses that were hit so far, they all have at least two entry points. Hell, probably only two entry points. I’ll bet you anything that the doors in back have little to no security.” It had been a safe town, and no one would have thought to spend the extra money on security when it had never been an issue. “I bet those fuckers broke the front windows as a distraction so they could escape out the back. It’s what I would do if I was a criminal. And that’s only based on a cursory glance of the layout.”

  A slow smile spread from Gunnar’s left ear to his right as he turned to face me. “I knew you were the right fuckin’ guy for this job.”

  I didn’t believe that shit for one second, but I could see that Gunnar did and instead of wondering why, I merely shrugged. “Dude, it’s one small detail,” I argued.

  “Maybe so, but logistics is your shit, man. You see what other people miss and if we can figure out who these motherfuckers are, then we can come up with a response. An appropriate response,” he amended in deference to my reluctance for vengeance. “This is exactly why we need you, Saint. You’ll keep the rest of us from going all the way off the deep end.”

  “Then we’re all fucked,” I told him as I thought about the three men who’d needed me, who’d depended on me to
keep them safe, who had relied on me to make choices that wouldn’t kill them. They were all dead and buried, proving once again that I wasn’t up to the task.

  “Peaches was right about you, Saint.” I stifled the urge to tell him I didn’t give a fuck what Peaches thought because the truth was, she was cool as fuck and treated us all like family. Also, disrespecting the Prez’s woman seemed a good way to earn an ass whooping from the whole MC.

  “Yeah, what was she right about?” Peaches hadn’t lived an easy life so I was sure her insights to Gunnar were about as accurate as they’d been when she gave them to me.

  “She said that you underestimate yourself and your worth. I thought it was just PTSD but I’m starting to think that, once again, she’s right.”

  His lips quirked into a smile as I made a U-turn at the dead end, giving the other side of the street a careful look.

  “Don’t tell her I said that.”

  “Somehow I’m betting she already knows,” I told him with a laugh. Hiding shit from that woman was useless, but Peaches wasn’t pushy or overbearing. She knew everything it seemed and waited until you were ready to talk about it.

  Gunnar nodded, a small smile still on his lips as he looked out his window. I turned to mine. Other than a few stragglers and small groups of teenagers, the town was quiet as a cemetery. Finally, Gunnar’s voice broke the silence. “How are things going at The Barn Door?”

  His question made me immediately suspicious, and I wondered if Hazel had said something to him. “Fine. Why do you ask?”

  “Curiosity,” he said with a careless shrug that put me at ease right away. He didn’t know that I’d shirked my responsibilities where she was concerned, ignoring Hazel when I should have been training her all because those dark, haunted features were invading my dreams.

  “I didn’t think you’d say even if something was wrong or you needed more help, so I figured I’d ask.” He laughed again. “Peaches swears asking is an effective mode of communication, but I ain’t sold on it yet.”

  I laughed right along with him because I wasn’t sold either.

  “Maybe Peaches and Mitch have been comparing notes.” I regretted those words instantly, but Gunnar let the comment hang in the air for a long time, not bothering to respond.

  “It’s dead tonight,” he finally said with resignation. “We have to figure out how they’re choosing the businesses so we can figure out who they are.”

  He seemed so frustrated that I began to sympathize with Gunnar, to understand a bit more about why he wanted to do this for the town. For the club.

  “See if Peaches can access any security footage in town. It might lead somewhere,” I said. “I suspect Big Mac had some type of security system, and I’d bet that antique shop did as well. Even small town folks cared about insurance premiums, especially where their livelihoods were concerned.”

  “Good idea,” he said and we took off. After several circuits of the town, I aimed the car back toward the ranch. We drove for a long time in companionable silence.

  “You’ve talked to Mitch,” he said out of the blue.

  “I have.” It wasn’t a secret, but like we’d just discussed, talking wasn’t one of my favorite past times so I kept my secrets to myself. “I had a fucked up dream and figured he could help.”

  “What was the dream?”

  I should have known he’d want details. Gunnar seemed determined to live up to the larger than life reputation of his former Prez, Cross. “Same old dream of the day I lost my team. Only difference was that Hazel, the new girl, was dead in my arms, not my team.”

  Even now, nearly a week later I couldn’t figure out why.

  “Is she in trouble or the kind of woman who brings trouble with her wherever she goes?” Gunnar laughed at his insight and smacked his thigh in amusement. “You’ve got the hots for Hazel. She’s cute but a little on the quiet side, isn’t she?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Are we talking about the same woman? The one who has a smartass comment for everything?” The one who sucked me off like a rockstar?

  “She always shrieks like a damn mouse when I talk to her. I haven’t said anything because I thought maybe she’d left some kind of domestic violence situation, and I didn’t want it to be fucking weird. Also, because the members love her.”

  That much was true. When Hazel was behind the bar she wore a big, welcoming smile and charmed everyone who ordered from her.

  “They do love her and her personality,” I conceded, thinking of how many offers the newest bartender got to join in on the erotic fun. “And I don’t have a thing for her.”

  Gunnar was silent for a while but about five miles from Hardtail Ranch he barked out a laugh that startled the fuck out of me.

  “Oh, you have a total fucking thing for her and that’s fine. Do what you gotta do, Saint. Just don’t cost us a bartender, a damn good bartender.”

  “I won’t.” I planned to stay as far away from Hazel as humanly possible.

  “Good. Because good help is harder to come by than good pussy.”

  ***

  “I think it’s time I consider getting back out there.” The admission shocked even me but as I sat in what passed for Mitch’s office these days, a spare room beside Gunnar’s home office, I knew the words were true. Some of it had to do with Hazel, but not all of it.

  Mitch’s brows rose together in confusion. “Out there as in dating? The military? What?”

  “The military? I was medically discharged, Mitch.”

  “I know,” he said simply. The sneaky bastard.

  I sighed heavily and glanced out the window at the garden that had begun to grow on the side of the house. Peaches claimed she didn’t have a green thumb, but the tomatoes looked red and juicy, the herbs were vibrant and dancing on the breeze and all the other vegetables peeked above ground, temptingly.

  “Sex. Relationships. Whatever. That’s what I’m thinking about doing, Mitch. Fucking someone other than my hand.”

  Hell I’d barely even done that this past year.

  Mitch nodded, his blue eyes searching me, studying me for any signs of what, I didn’t know. “What’s brought on this change?”

  A groan escaped at that damn question. This is why I hated therapy, all the talking and sharing. It was total bullshit in my opinion and so far hadn’t done fuck all to stop the nightmares.

  “What brought it on? Other than horny sex dreams about a woman? A particular woman? Can’t say, Doc.”

  Mitch’s lips twitched in amusement while he scribbled some notes down on paper. “So Hazel has moved from your nightmares to your fantasies?”

  That was one way of putting it. “You could say that.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Ugh. “Come on, Doc. Seriously?”

  Mitch gave me a long look.

  “I don’t know, maybe because she’s fucking hot. Or maybe it’s because I saw her two fingers deep inside her wet cunt, and I haven’t stopped thinking about doing it myself. I don’t know. You’re the doc, you tell me.”

  “Sounds like you do.” He made a few more notes and continued, “Attraction is a good sign, Joplin. It means you’re growing. Healing.”

  “Forgetting is more like it.” I hated the thought that one of these days I wouldn’t be able to recall the sound of Jank’s laugh or that weird dimple that winked when Higgs smiled, or Pony Boy’s random encyclopedic knowledge of firearms from around the world. “I can’t forget.”

  “It’s not about forgetting, Saint. It’s about remembering the good things; the reasons you guys became friends. Brothers.”

  I nodded knowing he was right but still unable to see through the thick cloud of grief.

  “Now about getting out there. Have you thought about how it might feel being so vulnerable at the club with all those people opening up to their deepest desires?”

  My shoulders fell because no, I hadn’t thought about that and maybe I should have. Every night it was open, The Barn Door was packed w
ith naked, sweaty and gyrating bodies. It was an overload of lights, sounds, and sex. It could easily trigger an episode, which I hadn’t had since arriving on Hardtail last year.

  “No.” But something had to change, didn’t it? “I won’t know how I’ll react if I don’t try. Right?” It sounded pathetic, even to my own ears.

  “That’s a good attitude to have, Joplin.”

  I rolled my eyes at the words he left dangling at the end of that sentence. “But?”

  “But this is your place of business as well. Do you really want to risk it?” I didn’t know. The truth was my body wanted Hazel but my mind was willing to accept a reasonable facsimile or an equally warm body.

  “Maybe start smaller?” his words cut into my thoughts. “One man and one woman.”

  That was the last damn thing I wanted. One on one was too fucking intimate. It was how things could go wrong, and I couldn’t risk that. In a group, everyone would be safe. Probably.

  I wanted Hazel. Even thinking about her with her mouth fixed into a little ‘O’ of pleasure while her fingers, slick with her juices, brought her to climax had me hard. Aching. Dying to get inside of her.

  But I couldn’t have her one on one. It wasn’t safe. Not for me and definitely not for her. “One man and one woman, huh? Sounds like matchmaking to me.”

  Mitch’s lips quirked up, but the smile never fully formed. “Sounds like progress to me. If you’re fine with one woman, you’ll be fine with three or four.”

  Maybe Mitch had a point. And maybe he didn’t.

  Only time and experience would tell.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hazel

  This was quickly becoming an addiction, showing up early to watch groups of strangers fuck. The men were hard and their bodies sweaty as they thrust their cocks deep into wet pussies, swollen pussies, and tight, slick assholes. Hungry, greedy little mouths. The women were slender and buxom, shy and bold. Some were passive and waited for a big strong cock to tell them what to do—ride it, suck it, take it or feed it to another—while others took a cock, any cock, and had their wicked way with it.