Wicked

by KB Winters

  “Hazel. Nice to meetcha, Doc. How am I?” I remembered the greasy brown-haired dude and fighting him in the bunkhouse, but after the gun hit my cheek everything got a little fuzzy.

  Annabelle wore a sad smile as she took in my face, and I knew he must have fucked me up good.

  “You’re doing okay, considering the beating you took. A few bruises and abrasions so you’ll be in pain for some time, but everything will heal good as new.”

  Everything except my mind. My heart. “What about the other guy?” Why wasn’t I in a hospital?

  Annabelle shrugged and turned away, trying very hard to appear casual.

  “Not much I can do about a bullet to the chest.”

  She turned to me with a weak smile, and I decided question time was over.

  “I’ll give you enough pain killers for five days and I want you to get plenty of rest during that time.”

  Rest wasn’t possible, not when I needed to work in order to have a place to lie down while I healed. Bills needed to be paid, including medical bills.

  “Thanks, Annabelle. How much do I owe?”

  She waved off the question. “It’s been taken care of,” she said vaguely.

  “I didn’t know doctors made house calls. Not even in Texas.”

  She didn’t answer, but I was grateful that I wouldn’t have to deal with law enforcement. “How long have I been out of it?”

  “On and off for two days. I kept you sedated for the first day so I could monitor any swelling inside your head.”

  “Thanks for everything, Annabelle.” Two days? I’d been lying in this makeshift hospital bed for two days? Alone?

  “I’ll come back to see you in a few days. Make sure you take it easy, Hazel.” With a friendly wave, she left me alone with my thoughts, which inevitably turned to Saint.

  Dr. Anabelle said house, but I think she meant bunkhouse. Saint lived in the fucking bunkhouse but even hours later, after the sun had set, no one came in except Peaches and Maisie for a visit. I was awake most of the time, now, and alert when Slayer stopped in to make inappropriate comments that made me smile. But Saint…well Saint was no fucking where to be found.

  So much for caring about me, even as an employee or a friend, or just a fucking human being. Saint wasn’t here, and he hadn’t sent me any messages that said he wanted me to stick around or that he was even glad I’d survived the attack.

  As Jessie would say, that in itself was a message. Instantly I knew what I had to do.

  Leave Opey behind for good.

  ***

  I gave my apartment one last glance with a smile that I didn’t really feel. I laid my head here at night, occasionally cooked meals, and showered here, but I hadn’t done a thing to make this space feel like home. As I stood in front of the open duffel bag on my bed, I was happy I hadn’t gotten too invested in this place, since I’d already given my landlord thirty days notice.

  He wasn’t thrilled, but after everything that happened with Edna Mae, he also didn’t fight me. Which meant there was nothing tying me to Opey any longer. It was time to go.

  Time to move on. Start over new someplace else.

  Moving on meant I would miss my appointment with Annabelle in two days, but other than a little soreness in my midsection, I felt fine. Most of me felt fine anyway. Soon enough, the parts that felt less than fine would go back to normal, and this past year would be nothing but a memory.

  A blip on the radar just like Denver and Chicago, San Francisco, Seattle, and Boston. Just another place I lived once.

  My bags, all two of them, were packed.

  A knock sounded on the door and for a moment, I froze. I didn’t know what happened to the dead guy’s brother, and I didn’t care. Unless he was him on the other side of the door, ready to exact a little revenge. Slowly I walked to the door and lifted a shaky hand to use the door as leverage, letting out a sigh of relief at the unexpected sight of Saint.

  He was the last person I expected to see since I hadn’t seen him at all since he left my bed to go pick up that kid. By my count, that was at least five days ago. Maybe six.

  “Saint. What are you doing here?”

  He looked good, a little disheveled with his hair sticking up in all directions, and his t-shirt and jeans slightly wrinkled.

  “What am I doing here? You left the ranch!”

  “You’re upset. Don’t be. I’m fine. See?” I motioned to my body, biting back another grunt of pain, so he could see for himself that I was fine.

  “You’re not fine, Hazel.”

  “I am fine, Saint, and please do me a favor and don’t act like you give a damn. This is the first time I’ve seen you in almost a week. A fucking week so don’t show up on my doorstep acting like you have a right to question me.”

  Hurt flashed in his eyes, but I wasn’t moved because I was hurt, too. Dammit.

  “I’m sorry Hazel. So fucking sorry.”

  “Save it for someone else.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to hear his excuses and what was more, I was terrified I might actually believe him.

  “I froze, Hazel. I saw you lying there with that motherfucker on top of you and instead of rushing to your aid and pounding the shit out of him, I fucking froze.”

  He raked a trembling hand through his hair and a frustrated breath rushed out of him, which yeah, went a long way in making me see just how tortured he was by what had gone down. Still.

  “I had to get my head on straight before I could see you again because I was worried I’d lose my shit.”

  He smiled but there was no humor in it. “I lost my shit anyway, but I’m good. Mitch is a good head shrinker, and I’m healed up enough to say what I need to say.”

  That was good news. I knew there was something dark and troubling within him, but he never shared and I never insisted, mostly because it wasn’t my place.

  “Good for you, Saint. That’s good news.”

  I could see the difference in the way he carried himself, the half-smile that slashed across his face and the lightness that floated off his broad shoulders. I was happy for him, truly I was, but this wasn’t about me. Not really. My bag waited on the bed, and I went back to it, shoulders squared with determination.

  “Stay, Hazel.”

  “I can’t.”

  There was nothing to stay for, certainly not a man who hadn’t checked on me at all in five days.

  “You can. I know you can.”

  I shouldn’t have looked at him, dammit. I knew it was a mistake because that soft smile he wore went a long way to softening my resolve. To making me want to hear what he had to say next. Even though I shouldn’t.

  “I care about you, Hazel.”

  I had to snort a laugh at that. It was rich, coming from him.

  “Have I given you any indication that I need you to lie to me about your feelings? Ever?”

  Care. It was such a bullshit word that meant nothing. Hell, I cared about Edna Mae and every other person kind enough to smile at me on the street, but would I trust them with my life? Fuck no, I wouldn’t.

  “We’re both fucked up but in different ways. I know that and I don’t give a shit. I love you, Hazel, and I want us to be fucked up together.”

  His grin squeezed at my heart and brought a smile to my face.

  “I love your sassy fucking mouth. Your don’t fuck with me attitude that seems to come off you like smoke. Hell, I even love your kink.”

  He stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder, resting it gently there as his thumb grazed my collarbone.

  “I want to be better for you. For us. For the life we could have together.”

  If we were strong enough to go after it. Saint didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to.

  “With you in a biker gang and me bartending at a sex club? That doesn’t sound like the life I envisioned for myself.”

  He shrugged and flashed a playful, handsome smile.

  “It’ll be non-traditional, that’s for sure. I just didn’t peg you for a t
raditionalist. And it’s a motorcycle club, not a gang.”

  His playful smile only grew and I felt my resolve weakening.

  “Is your club as secretive as a gang? Not that I’m considering this, I just want the details.” His lips twitched at the lie we both knew those words to be.

  “There will be things I can’t tell you, yeah. But I will always make sure you’re safe. Protected. All of us will, Hazel. That’s the deal. And we’ll make a fuck ton of money.”

  I wanted to believe him, but there was too much evidence to the contrary. “What happened to the guy who attacked me?”

  “Dead. Slayer put a bullet in him when I couldn’t. Gunnar was pissed, but it’s done.”

  A fact that still tortured him, despite all the head shrinking Mitch had apparently done. At least pissing the boss off still got a smile out of him.

  My head began to nod absently. “What about the guy you went after, what happened to him?”

  Saint sighed. “He’s not dead, I know that much. Gunnar let him go with a message,” he said, hesitation making his voice quiver.

  “You think it’s a bad idea?”

  He nodded. “I think it’s gonna come back to bite us all in the ass before we kill it.”

  Honesty. Even when I didn’t want the gory details, it was always more refreshing than a pretty little lie.

  “What did you do with the body?”

  His lips twitched, and his brows rose. “You really want to know?”

  Some things were best kept secret so I shook my head and grinned. “No. But, thank you for answering.”

  “So what do you say? Stay?” he pleaded.

  “I’m not sure, but for you, Saint, I might be willing to try the biggest kink of all.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked, a cheesy grin on his face.

  “Normal.” It was something I wished for as a kid and teenager in foster care, but as an adult I knew the dirty little secret.

  Normal was overrated. Normal was miserable because people spent all of their time just trying to be normal.

  Saint’s face lit up with happiness, his dark features no longer brooding just darkly handsome as he gathered me in his arms and kissed me until I was breathless and clawing at his clothes, desperate to get him naked.

  “Normal is boring, babe. Come back to the bunkhouse with me, and I’ll build us our very own place.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my jaw. “With our very own playroom.”

  My eyes closed at the promise in his tone. God I wanted that kind of normal. My kind of normal, where I wouldn’t constantly have to justify my issues, or explain them. Apologize for them.

  “Are you sure, Saint? I mean, I know you only asked me out bec—”

  He cut me off. “I asked you out when I did because it gave me the perfect excuse to ask you out. But that’s all it was. An excuse. Do you need me to show you?”

  Saint ground his hips against me, sensual intent burning deep in his eyes.

  “Yes, please.” It came out on a low moan, and before I registered what he was doing, Saint took his sweet ass time undressing me. Stripping me of every stitch of clothing I wore until I trembled with desire and shook in his arms.

  “But first,” he said with a sly smile and sat down on the bed, patting his lap. “We need to punish you for running off before we could talk.”

  “Punish?” I meant to sound outraged but the words came out on a breathy moan because the idea of Saint doling out a little punishment had my panties good and wet. Soaked, in fact.

  He nodded. Slowly. Licking his lips like I was the perfect snack. “A spanking is in order, I believe.”

  Fuck. Yes. Please. “Make it good, in that case.”

  “I plan to. And then I’m gonna fuck you hard and fast. Then slow and sweet. Kinky as hell and then so fucking tender it’ll bring tears to your eyes. I’ll make you come so hard you’ll come again. And again. I’ll keep making you come until you tell me you love me too, Hazel. Because I know that you do.”

  He was right. I could deny it all I wanted to, but love was the only fucking thing that made sense. Why everything felt so different with him, even sex. Especially sex. Why I was so drawn to him unlike any other man I’d ever met. Why I was ready to leave town and a good paying job just to get away from him. But love was scary shit and I was, let’s face it, a big ol’ scaredy cat.

  “And then?”

  A slow grin that matched my own spread across his gorgeous face. “And then I’ll tell you that I love you too before I make you come. Again.”

  I trembled at his words, at the way his lips skidded down my overheated skin, at the feelings that welled up in my chest with every sweep of his hand, every glide of his tongue. But what Saint proposed, a twisted kind of forever with someone as fucked up as me? Well, how in the fuck did I say no to that kind of happy ending?

  I didn’t. “Then let’s get back to Hardtail so you can show me just how much I love you, Saint.”

  We made it in ten minutes flat and by minute twelve I was hot, slick and wrapped around his cock like I was meant to be there.

  By the third hour and countless orgasms, I was pretty sure that all the shit in my life had led me to Hardtail Ranch, to The Barn Door and the Reckless Bastards.

  To Saint.

  He was mine. My forever. My reward.

  Mine.

  And I wasn’t letting him go.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  * * * *

  ~ T H E ~ E N D ~

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  Copyright © 2019 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Chapter One

  Holden

  Not this shit again.

  That was the main thought running through my mind as the Reckless Bastards gathered inside the Sin Room for another MC church. Another robbery in Opey? We just kicked the ass of those last motherfuckers who tore up the town. I signed on here as a rancher, not a goddamn crime buster.

  And why the hell did they call it church? I didn’t see any crosses in here. So, it didn’t take a damn genius to figure out what had Gunnar’s blood pressure on the rise. A slow stroll through Opey proper and you’d figure it out. Hell, a stop for coffee, screws, or an ice-cold beer would get you all the information you needed about the crime spree in town.

  Another goddamn crime spree.

  At least the latest attack on good citizens of our town hadn’t involved any violence. Yet.

  Which brought us to the reason for the current church meeting. What the fuck were we going to do about it this time?

  Gunnar strode to the head of the table and sent his dark scowl around the room.

  “Is everyone present and accounted for?”

  I felt sorry for any Reckless Bastard who might’ve decided to skip this early morning meeting.

  “Everyone’s here,” Wheeler, the club’s VP said with a sleepy groan. “Church called to order,” he mumbled, eyes barely open, probably from a late night with some hot chick.

  Gunnar nodded, his gaze settled on each and every one of us just to make sure he had our undivided attention. He did.

  “This shit has got to stop,” he said. “Some fuckers thinking Opey’s their own personal ATM and they can come in here for a withdrawal any time they want.”

  “Fuck,” Cruz said. “Who is this time?”

  “B&B,” was all Gunnar said. It was all he needed to say. A chorus of curses went up so loud an outsider might have mistaken our meeting for an actual church service.

  “Not our twins,” Saint snort-laughed.

  The beloved but raunchy aging twin sisters ran a bed and breakfast in town. Not to be confused with the young, bitter, tight-ass twins belonging to Martha, our cook, housekeeper, and overall mother superior of our bedraggle
d troop of misfits. How those two witches came from that woman was one of the great mysteries of the universe. However, our favorite twins, the Monroe sisters, were our concern this morning.

  “What are going to do about it?” Saint asked, still wired from last night’s shift at the bar.

  “Probably shouldn’t have left blondie alive,” Cruz added with more than a little bit of annoyance. He’d been the one tasked with watching the kid Slayer and Saint brought back from the bar downtown. Slayer actually took out his brother, but Gunnar decided to let the fuckwad go free to send word that Opey belonged to us. Was protected by the Reckless Bastards.

  “Probably not, but the shit is done, and we have a different problem now,” he shot back, rightly pissed off and knowing Cruz was right. “Nobody’s been hurt. Yet. But we all know that shit is just a matter of time.”

  “You sure this time it’s a different problem?” asked Cruz, close to belligerent right now. “Not the same assholes back for another round?”

  A quick look around the room proved more of the club was with him than not.

  I stood slowly, unfolding my big body from the large table that somehow was still too fucking small for me. I stared at Gunnar.

  “We can’t know for sure if this is new shit or the same shit,” I told him. I agreed with Cruz. We should have offed that blond motherfucker when we had the chance. But as the Prez, it was Gunnar’s call to make, which meant he was right, we’d have to deal with the most pressing problem. Who broke into the Monroe’s?

  Gunnar answered. “Until we have proof it’s related to the old shit and the same club is behind it, I say we treat it like new shit.”

  Saint groaned, and Slayer joined in. “Does this mean more late nights driving around Opey keeping an eye out for bad guys?”

  The room erupted in nervous laughter at the prospect of cruising around the world’s most boring small town late at night. You couldn’t find a burger or even a half-decent cup of coffee past midnight.

  Unless you went to our club, The Barn Door, available by invitation and membership only.

  Gunnar nodded and raked a hand over his short crop of hair. “Yeah. It does. We need to catch these fuckers, at least one, if for no other reason than to identify them. Once we know where the threat is coming from, we’ll be ready to end it.”