Wild

by Winters, KB

  Copyright © 2020 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Wild - Reckless MC Opey TX Chapter

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  More From KB Winters

  Free Book!

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Slayer

  Boring as fuck. Those were the three words that came to mind a lot lately. I never thought I’d say that after becoming a member of the Reckless Bastards. The truth was that things were boring more often than not, despite all the secret CIA fucking feds, crazy boyfriends with ties to gangs, mobsters and all the other bullshit the MC had been through over the past seven years I’d been here at the ranch. Damn! Hs it been that long? I lost track when shit was popping, but when it wasn’t…it was boring as fuck.

  As fuck.

  Even now, sitting thirty feet from a room filled with half-naked people in The Barn Door, looking for a good, hard fuck, I was bored. If I was in there and not on the clock, I’d be having fun at least. Instead, I was out here working the door as punishment even though Gunnar said it wasn’t punishment. He gave me some bullshit story that our prospect Ford, needed some experience working inside the club. That was bullshit, and we both knew it, but I didn’t mind because when shit was boring it didn’t matter where you were bored.

  Boredom was flexible like that.

  Who knew bein’ in an MC would be just as monotonous as the service? I mean, it was the exact same kind of hurry up and wait bullshit before you got to see any action. Some of the guys hated the action, figured it was a good damn day if they didn’t have to pull a trigger or spill blood. Not me. I thrived on the action. It was where I felt most alive. I was nobody’s adrenaline junkie but growing up in chaos made it real easy to get used to it. The government found they could take that, shape it, and turn me into something useful. Lethal.

  And Goddamnit, I was getting old.

  But at least, I wasn’t throwing punches at an enemy or lining up a shot on some terrorist. Hell I wasn’t even knee-deep in pussy. I was a glorified fucking doorman at a sex club. Okay, a sex club where I was part owner, but still. Gunnar didn’t play that owner shit. He cleaned up come and puke and other bodily fluids and expected the rest of us to do the same. And tonight, that meant door duty.

  I didn’t know how the fuck Ford could sit here for hours upon hours, doing jack shit in this little box that was about ten feet by eight feet. Maybe it was because he was always on that fucking computer of his, but I wasn’t a techy kind of guy so I didn’t have that, and I was going out of my fucking mind. So much so that I guess I must have dozed off.

  “What the fuck?” I said when a sharp smack on the back of my head woke me up really quick.

  Gunnar’s angry blue eyes glared down at me hard enough that he would’ve melted a lesser man. “Having a nice nap?”

  I sat up and stretched my upper body, muscle by muscle, smiling up at my glowering Prez. “It was more of a catnap, but it was all right. What’s up?”

  “What’s up? Seriously Slayer?”

  He crossed his big ass biceps over his chest, making him look like a big angry gorilla.

  “What the fuck is up is that tonight, you are our first line of fucking defense. And sleeping, you’re no fucking defense at all.”

  He was right. I sat up straight and said, “I hear ya.” I had no fucking excuse for sleeping on the job. No amount of boredom was an excuse for risking your brothers’ safety. “Really, Gunnar, I hear ya.”

  “Good,” he growled. “Because if someone else paints these fucking walls with his brains, yours are goin’ right beside him. I mean it.”

  The expression on his face was ice cold. Stony. I knew this was more than just run of the mill worrying.

  “I said I hear you, Gunnar. What’s going on?” He was a worrier by nature, our Prez. You couldn’t grow up the way he had and not worry all the fucking time. Sometimes his big burly ass was even a mother hen, but right now he was scared. “Gunnar?”

  “Nothing really, not yet anyway. But I need to know I can count on all of you right now.”

  “My bad, Gunnar. I have no fucking excuse man. I’m sorry, but you can always fucking count on me.”

  “Good. Just keep your eyes peeled, and if you notice anything or anyone that gives you a bad feeling, I wanna know about it.”

  Shit. Something was going on with the Prez, and he didn’t want us to know about it, not yet anyway. I nodded. “You got it, bro.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded and took my words at face value, arms still crossed. He got lost in his thoughts, and I let him. Gunnar clearly had a lot on his mind, and the best thing I could do was give him one less thing to worry about.

  He pointed to the door. “Go inside and do a circuit of the place. Flirt with a few girls and come back ready to finish out the night right here. Ya hear me, Slayer?”

  I was already on my feet with a wide, grateful smile. “Thanks, man. You need to talk, I’m here.”

  Gunnar laughed. “Yeah? You want to talk about why Stone keeps waking up at four in the morning for no damn reason?”

  Not particularly. “If that’s what you need to talk about.” His kid was cute as fuck, and I enjoyed spending time with the little dude, but talking about kids sounded boring as fuck.

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Slayer. I’ll talk when I’m ready.” And not a moment before, we all knew that, but the offer always stood.

  “Then I’ll go break a few hearts and come back to relieve you.”

  “Just flirt, Slayer. Don’t leave me out here while you’re off getting your dick wet.”

  My smile brightened. “Wouldn’t dream o
f it.” Turning away with one hand on the knob, waiting for Gunnar to press the button that would allow me entry into The Barn Door, I could already feel the pulsing beat of the music on the other side. Ever since Cruz and his chick, Hennessy, put on that big ass party a few months back, Gunnar’d been happy to keep up running themes one night a week. It brought in newcomers, which always brought in more money. That was good for the MC.

  Tonight, the whole place looked like a Greek orgy, or what one would have looked like if it had thrown up. Gold and white was everywhere, along with olive branches and leaves, big ass chalices and trays with fruits and cheeses were everywhere. It was actually pretty great, and I’d tell Hennessy, but not Cruz. That fucker would let it go to his head. Especially because, true to form, the regulars were all dressed according to the theme.

  Only these were rich ass Texans, not broke ass college kids like the one toga party I went to on leave. The women here were wrapped in white silk that barely covered their tits and gave tempting glimpses of pussy lips and all the ways women loved to adorn their pussies. Gold cuffs and gems were everywhere, but I didn’t give a fuck about that, my eyes ate up all the flesh on display.

  And that’s when I see her. A tall blonde with the sweetest pair of dick-sucking lips I’d ever seen was bopping her head to the beat. Alone. She was hot as fuck, at least an eight from where I stood, but these idiots were either too scared or too stupid to make her feel welcome.

  I wasn’t stupid and I didn’t do scared, so I flashed a smile and ran a hand through my long brown hair and walked over to her with a smile on my face. “Gold is definitely your color, sweetheart.”

  Surprise lit in baby blue eyes that were, unfortunately dilated all to fuck. She smiled and offered her hand. “Thanks. Audrey.”

  “Slayer.” I took her hand in mine, disappointed the stacked blonde was too high to take to bed tonight. “You all right, Audrey?”

  She shrugged and giggled, then stumbled. “I’m good. These shoes are killing me.”

  “Take’em off. In that dress, no one will notice.” She smiled again and when her skin flushed pink, I felt a rush of masculine pride go through me and stepped closer. Just because I couldn’t fuck her tonight didn’t mean I couldn’t flirt with her.

  “Charmer,” she murmured, biting her bottom lip. “I bet you’ve got a big cock too.”

  Yep, she was definitely on something. “Any other night that’s a bet I’m willing to take, Audrey, but you’re fucked up.”

  She giggled and pressed those DD tits against my chest. I could feel her hard nipples poking through the silky gold fabric, and fuck me, I was tempted. I was more than tempted when her hand wrapped around my cock through my jeans and squeezed. “I just wanna get fucked. By you. That’s all.”

  My cock hardened in her hand and she licked her lips, those dick-sucking lips that only made me harder imagining her on her knees in front of me, taking my cock down her throat. But she was high, and I liked my women fully engaged.

  “Not tonight,” I told her and waved at Saint who was slinging drinks behind the bar. She needed water. And a chaperone.

  “Let me get you a drink.”

  That got her moving easily, and as soon as Hazel set a bottle of water in front of her, I took off to finish my circuit, suddenly eager to get back to my little box of boredom.

  Chapter Two

  Ella Mae

  “All right, we’re done. Now get the fuck outta here.” That was Curtis Reeves, one of my closest friends and the President of my MC, the Lords of Buckthorn. He was a tough son of a bitch, but he didn’t stand on ceremony, not even when it came to something as small as ending a club meeting.

  The other Lords stood and filtered out of our temporary meeting place, while our club house was being put back together. After a particularly nasty fight with a group of Mexican gun runners, the club house had suffered fire and water damage.

  “It’ll be nice to get back to the Lair,” I said.

  The Lords’ Lair was where we held church. We discussed all club business inside the Lair, and every time we met here, it made me want to kill those gun runners all over again.

  Curt laughed and shook his head, lighting up a joint laced with tobacco as soon as we were out in the warm Texas sunshine.

  “Thanks to you puttin’ the fear of God in those contractors, Ella, should be meeting there again this time next week.” He took a long pull on his hand-rolled cigarette and let it out with a satisfied exhale.

  “It’ll be nice to put the table back where he belongs.”

  The he Curt referred to was the original Lord, Carter Buckthorn, whose shoulder-length, feathered brown hair and thick handlebar moustache were carved into the table. Two sapphires stood in for his eyes, and his handlebars were etched in chrome on the table with him. Forever. It was as sacred as church for us, more so because we actually fuckin’ meant it.

  “I’ll bring the booze to re-christen the room.”

  Curt flashed another smile at me and took another pull on the cigarette, staring off in the distance the way he did when he had something on his mind. It could be anything, and as his second in command, and the first female Veep of any MC in Texas, I learned early on not to guess. Curt would reveal himself in his own time so I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and leaned against the wooden fence outside the club that separated the grassy area from the graveled makeshift parking lot.

  “We’ve had a lot of shit to deal with lately.”

  “We have,” I agreed, shit like the bullet wound in my thigh that had finally faded to almost invisible, or the stab wound in my side that had only been healed for a few months.

  “Between the Irish mob and the cartels, we’ve lost three men. The Bratva isn’t much better, but at least we expect constant bullshit from them.” They had access to quality guns and those fuckers knew it, constantly changing terms, meeting places and all other types of shenanigans.

  “But right now, our biggest problem is Leon, and that’s a big fucking problem for me, Chance.”

  Curt used my biker name, Chance, when he discussed club business. I nodded, knowing he was right, but also knew that Leon was harmless. “You did what you had to do.”

  Leon used to be a part of our MC, but his own behavior got him kicked out, a fact he took with surprising calm. Our breakup? Not so much.

  “I know. So did you. But Leon is becoming a problem, Chance, and if you don’t deal with him, I will.” It was more of a promise than a threat, but there was no doubt about what he meant.

  “I’ll take care of him,” I said without looking up. It was a foolish promise, one I wasn’t sure I could keep. But I hoped Leon’s sense of self-preservation mattered more to him than us getting back together, because that would never fucking happen. Ever.

  “Good,” Curt said, a warning in his usually friendly voice. “I’ll see you later.”

  Curt walked towards his bike parked about six feet from the door of our temporary space. It was an old utility shed on the south side of Buckthorn Farm that we rented from one of Carter’s great-grandchildren. I'd parked my bike in a gravel covered lot that was more dust than anything, the spot all the other Lords used.

  My blue and chrome Harley sat there all alone, gleaming in the sunlight, and I couldn’t help but smile. My love of motorcycles, the only thing I ever got from my piece of shit father, had ended up being the thing that had saved my life. Had given me purpose. And power. And that had made me stronger, tougher and more confident. Kicking Leon to the curb and becoming VP of my MC had only made me…more.

  ***

  Before I had time to strap on my helmet, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

  “Looking gorgeous today, Ella.”

  It would have been a nice change if it was a surprise to see Leon, but the stupid fucker showed up every day. Wherever I was, he managed to find me and show up to plead his case.

  He stood between me and the road out of the parking lot, but as usual, I ignored him. As a woman in the twenty-first century,
I was used to little boys not being able to handle rejection, but Leon took it to new heights.

  “You’re not even gonna acknowledge me?”

  I turned to face Leon, mostly because I didn’t trust his unstable ass, but also because this man used to matter to me. He used to be my whole world and now, when I stared at his blond hair and green eyes, those boy-next-door looks, all I felt was annoyance. And anger. There was no leftover love and no breakup goggles. I made the right decision and every time I saw him only proved it. “Why should I say anything when you clearly have a hearing problem?”

  “Maybe if you were saying what I wanted to hear, I’d listen.” He tried for a smile, but these days he looked more gaunt than jacked, more crackhead chic than biker sexy.

  “Ella, baby cakes.” He reached for me, and I took a step back and got in a fighting stance. He wouldn’t catch me off guard.

  Not again.

  “Just listen to me, Ella. We were good together and if you’d just listen—”

  “No. I’m done listening to you, Leon. I suggest you get the fuck out of Oakley, hell, get the fuck out of Texas, if you know what’s good for you.”

  It wasn’t the first time I issued that warning, but that glazed look in his eyes said it did about as much good this time as it had the previous one hundred times.

  He smiled and pulled himself up a little taller, but that crazed look hadn’t left his eyes, so I kept my guard all the way up.

  “That’s a good idea. We could leave Texas, start over somewhere away from all this MC bullshit.”

  I barked out a bitter laugh. “MC bullshit? I seem to recall you used to live for this bullshit.”

  Leon used to bleed Lords of Buckthorn MC, until he lost his fucking mind. Apparently, he still hadn’t found it.

  “You need to stop this Leon. There will never be a me and you again. You made sure of it.”

  Not only could I not date a former Buckthorn MC member even if I wanted to, but he put hands on me and that shit is an immediate deal breaker.

  “Be reasonable, Ella.”

  “I am.” I grabbed my helmet and slid it down over my head with the windscreen open and straddled my bike. “You might want to consider making better choices than the ones that got you kicked out in the first place.” I didn’t need to wait for Leon to say anything else because I’d heard it all before, most of it over the past four months.