Sinfully Scarred: Reckless Bastards MC

by KB Winters

“Talon said she left a note.”

  “Yeah.” It just said, “Thanks for everything. I need to clear my mind for a while. That was it. No promise to fucking return or check in. Nothing. Just peace out, see ya when I fucking see ya. Adios, motherfucker.”

  “Can you handle it? I think you better figure that out before she comes back.”

  If she comes back. “I can handle a lot. What I can’t fucking handle is running.”

  Mick’s sigh said he thought I was a dumb shit. “Her parents never found her, and as far as she knows never even looked for her. No one saved her until Magnus, and even he left.”

  Well shit. I hadn’t thought of it like that. “Eyes up.” I didn’t have time to worry about it now that we closed in on our destination. I didn’t fucking trust Lazarus as far as I could throw his little Mexican ass, and if he wanted to try some shit, we would be ready. Lazarus and four of his men leaned against a black SUV, smoking and laughing when we pulled up in front of the meeting spot. It was near a crowded market which made it difficult to watch our backs, but the objective here was simple. Keep an eye on Roddick and Lazarus.

  We stepped from the truck, and the man’s face lit up. “Gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Before we could say a word, Roddick rode up on his bike and dismounted, slowly ambling to where we stood with Lazarus just inches from us. “Lazarus. We got some news you might want to hear, amigo.”

  “I’m listening,” he said in that deep heavily accented voice that was just a touch girly.

  “Word on the street is that your new transport is selling your shit on the side.”

  “Not possible,” Lazarus laughed and rolled his eyes. Lazarus stood tall and brushed his way too long hair from his eyes, but the lines around his eyes were tight.

  “Tell that to the Black Bastards and Grim Reapers. Hell, you can even ask the Dragons.” He named a few of the other clubs in the area, and I saw the lines around Lazarus’ mouth tighten.

  His eyes flared at the last name because they’d gone to war two years ago with the Dragons over the synthetic drugs the Chinese were selling. The war killed Lazarus’ young brother, Julio. “The fuck you say?”

  “You heard me,” Roddick told him. “You did me a solid recently, so I’m returning the favor. That’s all.” He walked away and hopped on his bike.

  “Gracias,” he called out, laughing when Roddick only waved in return.

  Mick and I jumped back in the truck and followed Rod, along with the other guys we had nearby, back to Brently. We didn’t even have time to get comfortable before I spotted it. “Burning rubber, two o’clock,” I said, and Mick went on alert as I knew he would. In the desert, the enemies always staged a distraction right before an attack.

  Mick groaned and flashed his lights up ahead to signal the rest of them that trouble was brewing. “Fucking fuck!” He smacked the steering wheel when Roddick fell off his bike a quarter mile up the road. “Shit!”

  We caught up to them quickly, all the guys surrounding Roddick to protect him from the bullets flying across the highway. I jumped out and went around to the driver’s side with my gun in hand, opening fire and shielding the guys so they could get Roddick to the truck without being hit. I heard an anguished grunt and knew one of them had been hit. I emptied my clip just to be sure then hopped in the back with Roddick while Mick raced back to the clubhouse.

  The truck came to a screeching halt outside the clubhouse, and we carried Roddick inside. We had a medical room in the back and put him on the bed, cutting off his jeans and getting him some water. We all knew the fucking drill, but it didn’t mean we weren’t worried about our Prez. “Go get Cherie,” I yelled. She was a nurse and Baz’s older sister which meant she knew how to be discreet. We paid for discreet.

  “She’s on her way already,” Baz said as he rushed in with towels, an IV drip, and Jack Daniels. “How you holdin’ up, Prez?”

  “Just fucking great, Baz,” he said, smiling around a grimace. “Don’t I look it?”

  “Pretty as ever, bro. Just a tad bloody for my taste,” he said as blood soaked through Roddick’s shirt.

  Roddick laughed and pulled the cap off the bottle of Jack. “Ah, thanks.” He offered a smile and smacked his lips, chugging back a heavy swig. “Bullet went out, so I’ll be good,” he said after Jack started to work his legendary magic.

  “All right, Roddick, what have you got for me?” Cherie rushed in all soft blonde curls and no nonsense attitude.

  “You finally get a peek at these sexy legs,” he joked, making her do the impossible. Smile.

  “Easier ways to show off, you know?” She had her gloves on and bent low to examine the wound.

  “We’re going back for your bike, Rod. You’re in good hands,” Mick told him with an amused smile.

  “Be careful,” he told us, but his gaze stayed on me. “Get my bike and then go deal with your shit because you know what this means.”

  I knew what he was saying, and I nodded before I spoke the word we were all thinking but no one had said. “War.”

  Chapter Seven

  Minx

  I spent a week walking along the beach from early in the morning until late at night, and it hadn’t been nearly enough. I rented a surfboard and just sat in the water letting the waves toss me around while I tried to sort my shit out. I needed more time because my head was nowhere near clear, and the nightmares were back. But I had a life to get back to, or more accurately, I had a house and a small business that I couldn’t abandon if I wanted to keep food in my belly and gas in my car.

  I rolled back into Brently in the early afternoon and kept my promise to stop at Talon’s first thing. “Hey,” I said when she pulled open the door with a wide-eyed smile.

  “Minx! I’m so glad to see you.” She yanked me inside and wrapped me as close as her belly would allow in a choking hug. “I was so worried about you.”

  “You don’t need to worry. I’m always fine.”

  “That’s what worries me,” she said and poured two glasses of iced tea. “No one is always fine, girl, not even you. That means you’re internalizing it.”

  “It’s how I deal, T, but I’m trying.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up the box I carried in to stop her. “Now we can talk about that, or we can talk about the wedding gifts I found while I was away.”

  She smiled, and when her gaze slid to the box for the third time, I shoved it across the table. She pulled out the vintage twenties style veil and gasped. “I love it!” When she spotted the light blue gothic style garter the waterworks began. “Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome” I said, chuckling a little. “How have you been?” The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and my spine went stock still the longer it took her to talk.

  “Well, Cash has been worried sick about you.” She gave me an admonishing look, but I willed my entire being to stay still.

  “I figured he would be, but I just needed to get away.” I wouldn’t apologize for that, not even to Talon. I listened with a sickness I couldn’t name in my stomach as she told me about Roddick. “Is he okay?”

  She shrugged. “Mick says he will be, but tensions are high in town, and they’re talking war.”

  “Looks like my timing is spot on, as usual. Great.” I stood and hugged Talon, letting her squeeze me tight because I knew she worried about me. “I probably have a lot of stuff waiting for me at home, so I’d better get going. Gotta make that money.”

  “Come back tomorrow for dinner,” she ordered in that tone that told me that arguing would be pointless, so I waved and started the engine. I stopped at the store and picked up a few things before stopping at the club.

  “Hey, Roddick, how are you?” He looked like shit, pale with red-rimmed eyes.

  “I’ve been better, kid. What are you doing here?”

  “Talon told me you were hurt, so I came to bring you a few things.” I unloaded the box of his favorite snacks and the tablet he kept hidden behind the bar. “Might make
recovery less boring.”

  He laughed and looked at everything. “Thanks, Minx.” He tore open a box of Suzy-Q’s and bit into one of the chocolatey cakes with a loud moan. “I’m sure Talon told you what’s been going on, so you know why I’m going to have the prospects man the bar this week?”

  It was clear I was no longer needed, and that was just fine with me. These guys had become like a weird, horny family to me, but they weren’t the first family I lost. If I was smart—and I liked to think I was—they’d be my last. “Fine. I need to go so, feel better.”

  “Minx wait—”

  “It’s fine, I get it. Take care of yourself,” I told him and rushed from the room, through the club and back to my car. I knew what had to be done now, and it made me glad I’d picked up a few bags of groceries for myself. I spent the next few days holed up at the cottage, sewing and studying, studying and sewing. In between I would eat and sleep while music played constantly. I was always busy and it was always loud, just how I wanted it.

  By day three my mind began to wander to Cash, wondering if he was okay or how pissed off he was. But I knew the truth was he’d already given up on me like everyone else had, only this time I couldn’t blame him. I pushed and pushed and in the end, he realized what I’d always known—I just wasn’t worth the effort.

  Keeping weird hours and an impossible workload had taken its toll, and I fell asleep in the middle of the fourth day of confinement. I woke up to someone pounding on the door with the strength of ten men and instantly I went on alert, running to check the surveillance before pulling the door open. “Yes?”

  He looked at me, green eyes furious yet relieved, and pushed his way inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. I wasn’t worried because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but still I took a step back. “Don’t run away from me.”

  “I didn’t run—”

  He cut me off. “You did. You fucking did.” He toed off his boots and pulled me into the living room where he wrapped me in his arms. “You told me about your past, freaked out, and ran.”

  Okay, now he was pissing me off. “So what if I did, Cash? I’m not your responsibility just because we had sex a few times.”

  “I refuse to even respond to that bullshit, Minx. Lie to yourself, sweetheart, but don’t ever fucking lie to me.” His voice was low and daunting as he brushed a whisper-soft kiss against my lips, so achingly tender I felt my eyes begin to sting.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “As soon as I found out you were back in town I came to check on you. Though it would have been nice to get a call or a text. Maybe a smoke signal.” He leaned in and kissed me again and this time it was all hungry and frantic, demanding and desperate. I couldn’t resist his kisses if I wanted to, and I didn’t want to. I missed him, and I told him so with my mouth. My tongue. “I’m glad you’re okay, Minx, but goddammit I want to paddle your ass for making me worry so long.”

  I rolled my eyes up at him and smiled. “Promises, promises.”

  He tossed me over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom where he tossed me on the bed and kept his promise. “I told you, Minx, I’m a man of my word.

  I was starting to see that.

  ***

  Willingly sharing my body with someone was an act of trust and intimacy that scared the hell out of me. I just wish I’d realized it before now—before another earth-shattering night spent with Cash’s big body wrapped around mine. The man was a master lover, using his entire body to bring mine to unspeakable heights. And he made the most delicious noises when I explored his big, strong body. I woke up and turned to him, and only one word came to mind. More. I wanted—no I needed—more of this man. My body buzzed with need like I just couldn’t get enough of him, and that scared the shit out of me.

  Yesterday morning after he kissed me until I was on the verge of begging him to stay, I gave him my number. A way to get in touch with me when he was worried or wanted to come by. Now that he knew why it was a big deal, I knew he’d call even if it was to tell me he was on my doorstep waiting.

  I smiled as I thought about how grumpy he got when he was worried because an alpha like him didn’t do vulnerability. It was nice to have someone in my life who seemed to give a damn about me, but it would take some time to get used to. Probably a long time.

  Or maybe I was fooling myself, thinking I could have anything that resembled normal after what I’d been through. A guy like Cash would probably want someone with less baggage, less damage. Eventually the nightmares, my hang ups about security and visitors, all of it would grow tiresome. He’d get sick of it just when I was getting used to having him around, and then he would leave. I sighed. Why did the thought of losing him make my heart feel hollow with a dull ache? I didn’t like that shit. Not at all.

  I couldn’t get used to this, I had to back away.

  No more sleepovers.

  No more sex.

  No more Cash.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! “No. More. Cash!” I said out loud just to get it through my thick skull.

  Yet when he called later that afternoon, I answered halfway through the second ring. Weak, that’s what I was. Fucking weak. “Yeah?”

  “What do you want for dinner?”

  “I’m already cooking so if you want, you can stop by.” He went silent because apparently, I surprised him as much as I’d surprised myself.

  “I’ll be there in ten. Wear something sexy,” he chuckled and disconnected the call.

  “Fucking weak, that’s what you are.” I told myself that at least three times before I put the chicken, potatoes, and vegetables in the oven to roast. And though I wouldn’t change my clothes—a girl had to have some pride, after all—the cook time would allow for one more taste of that sweet man.

  Fifteen minutes later a knock sounded and I went to the door, ready to give him crap for being late. I paused a fraction of a second before turning the knob as a weird sensation skittered down my spine. But it was too late. I groaned. “What are you doing here, Wagman? And how the fuck do you even know where I live?

  “Why, sweetheart, Minxy baby, I came for you,” he said with that smarmy smile that made my stomach turn. “Ain’t you happy to see me?”

  I didn’t get the chance to answer because a meaty fist flew at my face too fast to move, and then shit went black.

  Chapter Eight

  Cash

  Minx’s invitation surprised the hell out of me, but I wasn’t one to ask why she had a change of heart. I grabbed a bottle of tequila and her favorite pistachio ice cream and made my way to the small cottage. I climbed the stairs with a smile already splitting my face, ready to kiss the hell out of her, but that all quickly faded away as I caught the door partially open. And was that…blood on the floor?

  I pushed it open and called out for her. “Minx, you in here?” I already knew the answer, but I went in and checked all the rooms to make sure she wasn’t hurt in there somewhere. She wasn’t. I pulled out my phone knowing I would need the help of CAOS to get her back. “Mick, get to Minx’s ASAP. Her door was open, and there’s blood on the floor.” I hung up without waiting for a reply.

  I went back to the guest bedroom and pulled open the sliding doors that held the surveillance system of the property, going through the footage since I last spoke to her. Already a sick feeling settled in my gut. Wagman knocked and she answered the door far too quickly to have checked first, so I knew she thought it was me, and that was confirmed at the confused expression on her face at her visitor. They spoke briefly and then that motherfucker punched her, right in the face. He caught her before she hit the ground, making sure he felt up her titties as he did.

  “What’s up?”

  I looked up at Mick feeling more helpless than I had since leaving the Navy. “Wagman. That sorry motherfucker has Minx.” I raked my hands through my hair and paced the room while Mick viewed the video. Hang on, baby, I’m coming, I promised her.

  “Let’s ride, Cash!” Mick ordered, breaking my
frantic state, and I followed him out, making sure to close and lock her door. Full of rage and unable to concentrate, I didn’t even know what the fuck to do first. Where would he have taken her? That’s what I needed to know so I could save Minx and then fucking annihilate Wagman.

  Mick put a hand to my chest to stop my pacing on the street. “Dante called. He saw Wagman in a truck headed inside a building near the docks. Owned by Lazarus,” he added ominously.

  I nodded. “Weapons. I only have my nine and a blade, you?”

  Mick grinned. “I got Big Mama”—he smacked his hip affectionately where his .45 was— “a .38, plus a blade.”

  I nodded with a wry grin. “That’s all?” He shrugged and stole the keys from my hand before hopping into the passenger seat. “Let’s stop at my place first.”

  “She’ll be fine, Cash. Wagman just wants to fuck with you for putting his shit on blast to Lazarus.”

  I didn’t believe him, but I nodded because all we could do now was plan and hope like hell that she was okay. When we got to the house, we packed enough firepower to fuck up a small army and then we got back on the road. “Let’s go get the girl and fuck some shit up.”

  Mick nodded as he slid his phone in his pocket. “Just talked to Roddick, and Lazarus’ men will meet us at the gate. We’ll pick up a few guys on our way to the docks.”

  I stepped on the gas not needing to be told twice.

  Hang on, baby.

  ***

  Minx

  When I came to, I had no idea where the fuck I was. It was dark, quiet and smelled like the ocean. The last thing I remembered was Wagman throwing a mean jab straight to my face, which explained the throbbing in my right cheek and the swelling in my eye. I began to panic because this was all too familiar. No, not again. I couldn’t go through that again. I would die fighting, but I hoped and prayed Cash would prove to be my hero and swoop in and save me, even though I knew he didn’t have the slightest clue of where I was. For now, I was on my own.

  My wrists and ankles were shackled, a long straight metal pole keeping them separated. The kind of contraption I remembered all too fucking well.