Wrecked & Reclaimed (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter Book 5)

by Bink Cummings

  Clearly not getting the reaction he wanted, Kade tries a different tactic to goad Ryker into a fight we know he can’t win. “She’s weak when it comes to you. I’m her best friend. Now get the hell outta here, Ryker, or I’ll fuck you up.” To drive his statement home, Kade stands tall, arms crossed, shoulders back, chin up, legs spread in a bring-it-on-motherfucker stance.

  Thankfully, Ryker doesn’t take the bait. He’s smarter than I thought. “One talk,” he pleads, eyes encased with dark circles. The man looks like he hasn’t slept in a decade.

  Still, the stubborn asshole doesn’t back down. “What don’t you understand about no? Hell no. Fuck no. Go to hell, no.”

  “Kade,” I begin and pause as both men twist their heads in my direction like cartoon characters as they just now realize I’m here.

  “Get on your bike.” I lift my chin toward said motorcycle parked beside the Suburban.

  “Excuse me?” Kade’s jaw comes unhinged in shock.

  “I said... Get on your bike. You need to cool off. Take a ride,” I repeat in my casual no-nonsense tone.

  Kade’s eyes flare with betrayal, making my gut twist in pain for doing this to him. “You’re on his side?”

  If I haven’t already driven a big enough wedge between us, this will do it. Sadly, it’s for his own good. “There are other things at play here you know nothin’ about. Have faith in Katrina’s ability to handle her own.” She’s strong. Not every woman needs a man handling business for them. I sure as hell don’t.

  The anger Kade once aimed at Ryker is now directed at me. “Have you not been here, watchin’ her mope because of this sorry sonofabitch?”

  “That’s not the point,” I scold, because it’s not. If he can’t see that then he needs to pull his head out of his ass. This isn’t about us. This is about Katrina and her choices. Not ours.

  Kade scoffs. “Then what is, huh?”

  I’ve had just about enough of that bad boy attitude.

  Firmer this time, I jab two fingers at his motorcycle. “I said, take a ride. Cool off.”

  “I… fine… fuck you both.” Admitting defeat, Kade stomps over to his Harley, chucks his helmet against the side of the cabin with enough force to dent the top, and mounts his metal hog. Turning the engine over, he heels up his kickstand before flipping us off and peeling out of the gravel driveway, kicking up rocks and dust in his wake.

  Ignoring the stab of guilt that slices through my chest for doing what’s best for him, I reenter the cabin and Ryker follows on my tail, the noise of his heavy boot heels ricocheting off the mudroom walls with every step.

  “Sorry about that,” he says to my back as we enter the living room.

  Beside Kat’s favorite chair, I turn to face him, arms folding across my chest. “I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

  “You’re right. Thanks.”

  I double nod in response.

  To be sure Kade doesn’t come back and start an even bigger fight with his brother, I take a seat on the couch and turn on Vikings as Ryker makes his way to Katrina’s bedroom.

  Good luck Kat. Wishing you the best.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rosie

  Lying on the couch, an arm tucked beneath my head for support, I immerse myself in Ragnar’s Viking exploits, as Kade sits in Katrina’s favorite oversized chair watching it with me. He returned from his ride a couple hours ago, windburned and smiling. He needed that freedom more than he thought and said as much when he joined me to drool over Lagertha. The open road’s funny like that for us biker types. It works better than the best therapy money can buy. Take it away and we get cranky when we shouldn’t. I feel it, too. The constant restlessness as I wait for the ball to drop. It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper ride on my Ducati.

  On the end table above my head my phone vibrates once, then again and again as it dances across the wood like a tap-dancing jackrabbit.

  Holding my breath, I look at Kade.

  He glances back, and our eyes tether there, his blues swirling with a myriad of emotions.

  Kade nods firmly as if reading my mind and cards a hand through the side of his hair. A tightness sets in his jaw that wasn’t there before, like he’s mentally preparing for the hours ahead.

  I return the nod as an even deeper understanding passes between us—of darkness and death, bloodshed and excitement.

  “This is it,” I whisper and sit up slowly. Lost in my vortex of thoughts, the stark realization of what’s about to materialize shoots through every vein like a new strain of cocaine made for me, re-engaging parts of myself that were once dormant. I snatch my phone off the stand before it falls on the floor and thumb through the infrared camera feeds, counting each person infiltrating the woods surrounding Ryker’s cabin. One, two, three, fourfivesix, seven, eight, I count off one-by-one until I’ve hit the magic number twelve. There are a dozen men outside I get to kill.

  Goodie.

  An eerie chill washes down my frame as the dose of reality sets into my marrow. Goosebumps sprout from toes to nose, making my fingers itch to engage.

  Getting the show on the road, Kade shoots to his feet and exits the living room. “I’ll get the kids to the safe room,” he says.

  Not wasting any time, I follow suit and head to my bedroom first to grab a few weapons just in case. By the bed, I thrust my feet into my boots and lace them up quickly. Kade double knocks on my door frame as he passes by with Roxie and Scarlett in tow, his arms huddled around them for protection.

  “I’ll get her,” I call out as he hurries the blondies to the room Ryker had designed for emergencies like this. Remind me to give him a pat on that back for that later. It’s one of the smartest things he could’ve ever done.

  “I know,” Kade replies.

  Once I’ve got everything on that I need, I shake out my arms and crack my neck to loosen up. Patting my body down, I double-check my set of ninja stars before I bow my head, close my eyes, and send up a silent prayer to the Almighty, for protection and guidance. A sense of peace and rightness flows through me, centering my emotions and my thoughts, preparing me for the inevitable—the fight I’ve been waiting for.

  It’s time.

  Reopening my eyes, ready to take on the world, I address my husband next, not wanting to go to battle without speaking to him first, just in case he’s listening. I look at the ceiling beams and steeple my fingers in front of my heart, where it beats an excited rhythm. “This is it, Johnny. I love you. If we should meet again this night, I hope you’ll remember my name when I see you in Heaven.”

  Finished, I exit my bedroom, but stop in the hallway to glance at my phone to see if any more hostiles are surrounding us. Once I’m confident we’re looking at no more than a dozen, maybe a couple more, I enter Katrina’s bedroom not far from my own.

  She’s fast asleep as I wade in, her body curled on its side around that big belly, back facing the door.

  Approaching the sleigh bed, I stop shy and whisper a generic, “Wake up,” doing my best not to startle her. When that doesn’t work, I repeat the process twice more to no avail. By the fourth, I grow impatient and step closer to shake her shoulder. “Kat, wake up. Kat.”

  Her eyes pop open, rounding in surprise before she yawns and rolls onto her back, a dainty hand lying atop her chest.

  Hating that we’re wasting precious seconds to get her to safety, I stare down at Kat’s sleepy, unmotivated form.

  “You scared the piss outta me. Not literally, but still. What’s up?” she asks, eyelids fluttering awake.

  Not one to mess around, I go for the direct approach. “You need to get up. Now. Kade has the girls. This isn’t a drill. Get out of bed.”

  Still not taking this serious, Kat sits up slowly as if this isn’t life or death. I tried to play the nice card by waking her up gently, when I could’ve run in here yelling like a drill sergeant. Now I’m questioning if I made the right choice. We don’t have seconds to spare. I have men to off and she has a room she needs
to get to.

  Depleting the last of my patience, I grab her hand in a death grip, so she can’t pull away, and drag her behind me in a half-jog, out of the bedroom and down the hall.

  “Rosie?” she croaks in concern, still not comprehending what’s going on.

  “There are a dozen or more bodies in the woods. My motion detectors just went off. It’s about to get bloody. You and the girls need to get to the safe room before Kade and I handle these bastards,” I explain in a single breath as we enter the kitchen, headed straight for the pantry where the floor panel has been lifted, exposing a set of wooden stairs.

  Without a peep, Katrina follows me down the steps I take carefully to prevent her from tripping and falling. There’s a single bulb dangling from the ceiling in the basement. Ryker did an excellent job designing this space. The walls are smooth concrete. The floors and ceiling the same. In the center of the near barren room is a thick, steel door wide open. Inside are H.B.B. and Katrina’s girls.

  “Mom!” Scarlett bolts off the bed she’s seated on and dashes for her mother. Kade puts an arm out to stop her before she can make it two steps.

  “Sit down. She’s coming in here with you,” Kade instructs in a brisk, straightforward tone.

  Scarlett’s nose wrinkles at being reprimanded by her uncle and immediately complies. Roxie, trying to soothe her sister, throws an arm over her shoulder in support.

  Handling business much like I do with the women I save, I tug Kat into the cramped metal room that’s not much larger than a prison cell. There’s a metal toilet and sink like those in jail. Plus, a bunk bed. The inlaid shelves are stocked with water and nonperishable foods I placed there when I arrived. On the wall, there’s a high-tech number pad I gesture to, and a small surveillance screen that displays the other side of the door in black and white.

  Releasing Katrina, I turn and plug a code into the keypad. “This is your only way out of the safe room,” I explain, praying she realizes the importance of my words.

  “Is this like Jodie Foster in that movie?” Kat asks, as if she expects I’d know that reference.

  “Never saw whatever movie you’re talking about,” I remark at the same time Kade blurts, “Yes,” standing right outside the metal box where he can be seen on the surveillance screen.

  Stepping to the wayside, to give Kat a clear view of the system, I enunciate my words, hoping they soak in. From my experience, women in dire situations like this often forget necessary details, and I can’t have that. “I just activated the room. No one can get in without you opening the door first. The code to unlock it is your birthday. Ryker made it so you couldn’t forget. Now, we must go.”

  As I exit the box, Kade pushes past me and wraps Kat in a quick hug. Drawing back, he cups her face, and I look away as they share an intimate best friend moment I’m not privy to. “You’ll be safe. Don’t worry,” he states with confidence.

  Handling her with kid gloves won’t solve our problem. She has to be brave.

  There’s a loud crash upstairs.

  “Shit,” I hiss and remove a set of throwing stars from inside my jacket, sliding closer to the steps. “They’re inside. We gotta go, Kade. There’s no time.”

  Stealing a few extra seconds we don’t have, Kade and Katrina exchange sappy, stomach curdling I love you’s and other mushy words that don’t belong in war. It’s time to peel the mask off. I need the beast from him. Not this ooey-gooey man I don’t recognize.

  Toe-tapping impatiently, I peer over my shoulder, checking to see if Kade’s gonna be finished anytime in the next century. We have men to kill and he’s busy playing ass-kissy to appease Katrina. This shouldn’t be a difficult job if I attack the bikers before they infiltrate the cabin. The longer he waits, the closer they get.

  “Keep my girls safe,” he says to her. “This place is bulletproof. Fireproof. You have a separate air system. Electric. Water. All of it. You’re gonna be just fine. Take care of our family.”

  “I will,” Kat replies. A best friend kiss is dropped on her forehead before he ruffles his nieces’ hair while they huddle on the bed. I wave a half-assed farewell and force a wooden smile. Guess I should be happy he’s the softer of the two of us. I can’t do the babying, hand-holding stuff, I’m not wired that way. This is as good as it gets.

  The metal door to the safe room comes to a flush close. I turn towards Kade, who has a set of impressive Bowie knives clenched, ready to maim. Good. I might need some backup. Probably not. But it never hurts to work smarter, not harder. This isn’t a game where showmanship counts. It’s life or death, and I’m a pint-sized grim reaper.

  Together, we pause at the bottom of the wooden stairs, and I hold my breath to listen. There’s at least one man inside the cabin. The light creak of the floorboards accentuates each of his steps. If you weren’t trained to hear them, you wouldn’t. It’s a good thing I am.

  Raising my chin to grab Kade’s attention, I flick my eyes to the top of the stairs. “I’m going up first,” I whisper.

  “Like hell you are.” Kade tries to butt his muscular body in front of mine. Kicking my leg out to stop his ascent, I massage my temple with two fingers, trying hard to convince myself not to hurt him since he’s an ally. Men. Always have to push their way into situations.

  Listen. I get it. I’m small. Always have been. Always will be. It’s common for guys, especially bikers, to underestimate the little lady. Half of them either mock me or try to be the knight in shining armor and come to my rescue. What they don’t realize is I’m their savior, Big knows that, which is why he doesn’t interfere anymore. I’m the woman you want doing your bidding. The one who always gets the job done. This isn’t about whose balls are bigger or badder. Because mine are always the biggest and the baddest. Men don’t appreciate their fragile egos bruised by a chick half their size. That’s not my problem. It’s theirs. I’m smart enough to deduct a good dose of male chauvinism is about to unfold right here and now, as H.B.B. and his hunky muscles try to run the show to protect me, because he cares. When, in reality, we all know I’m in charge. It’s not a matter of cockiness. It’s a matter of talent. And I blow all his biker buddies, including his national prez, out of the water with my skills. You don’t spend years honing my unique talents for nothing. What would be the fun in that? Why else would I be here?

  Kade glares down at my leg that’s outstretched on the staircase, refusing to let him pass. Cocking my head to the side, I arch a stern, challenging brow. “Katrina’s mine to protect. You will follow my lead.”

  The dark and sinister prince opens his mouth like he’s prepared to argue.

  There’s a shuffle of booted feet in the pantry. A floorboard squeaks. Some idiot bad boy obviously thinks he’s made us. Out of my periphery, I catch a glimpse of the guy with a handgun aimed our way, seeking a clear target. Without thinking twice, I fling a throwing star up at his carotid, my eyes still focused on Kade. Half-smirking, as calm as can be, I raise my hand to count down the man’s expiration date…

  “Fuck!”

  One. Up goes my pointer finger. This is when the casualty yanks the lethal star out of his throat, thinking it’s just a scratch that can be compressed. Not with my special weapons it can’t. Two. Like clockwork, there’s a loud thud as he drops to his knees clutching said wound. Three. My smirk broadens to a knowing grin, as a telltale set of gaspy gurgles sing to my dead heart like a beautiful symphony. Four. My pinkie gets some action. Another thud resounds and is quickly followed by a stream of crimson that drips off the ledge of the pantry floor, staining the top step.

  “Any questions?” I test, my tone uniform. There’s no need to brag when I’ve proven my point. He already knows what I’m capable of.

  Kade’s jaw unhinges as he watches the drip drip drip of blood painting the step. Clearing his throat, he adjusts his crotch per usual in my presence. I’d laugh if it weren’t for the seriousness of the moment. Kicking into fourth gear so I can handle business, I issue my orders like any sergeant worth their
salt. Johnny would be proud. “Katrina might be safe down here. But it’s your job to secure this structure while I handle the hostiles in the woods.” I punch his shoulder in comradery, when I’m tempted to pull him into a hug. What for? I don’t know. “Don’t die. And clean up the blood mess. There’s a tarp under the sink.” Please, please, please don’t die. I can’t have that on my conscience.

  Not giving him a chance to debate, I listen half a second more before I ascend the stairs with Kade two paces behind me. Stepping over the prone biker with a pool of blood spread underneath him, I flick off the pantry light, and we shut the basement hatch. Picking my star off the floor, I toss it in the sink to wash later. It’s party time.

  Crouching, I duck walk out of the kitchen to my bedroom to retrieve my extra weaponry. A spray of bullets attempt to take out the front windows. Amateurs. If they were as smart as they think they are, they would’ve done their homework on the cabin. The walls are made of thick timber. Some of the hardest woods money can buy. They’re nearly impenetrable. And the windows are made of bulletproof glass. Sure, they won’t hold up indefinitely, but that measly round of ammo isn’t going to do diddly squat. Ryker outfitted this place to be a fortress. If we’d have remembered to lock the back door, my first kill of the night wouldn’t have breached the threshold so soon. Makes for fun sport, though.

  Arming myself to the nines with throwing knives, stars, and other fun blades, I shrug on my slash resistant jacket, my black beanie to conceal my blonde hair, and secure my military grade night vision band around my head. I keep the goggles folded upward to drop in place once I’m outdoors. Bet those imbeciles won’t be outfitted with night scopes. Wannabes never are.