Mayhem Madness: Reckless Bastards MC Series Books 1-7

by KB Winters

  “Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it. It takes place next weekend and then I can wash my hands of that woman forever. Makes me wish I’d charged more.”

  “Have you considered offering packages? Say one of those high rollers decides to marry his good luck charm but they want it done right. For let’s say fifteen grand you’ll whip it up in twelve hours, complete with mini bites and champagne.” I was desperate, sue me.

  “Maybe. I have too much business right now to consider anything else. How about you, how’s work?”

  “It’s work. Steady as ever. I’m picking up a new client, a green collective.” I didn’t care what it was, they were new business owners and their books were atrocious which meant a lot of long hours creating and staring at spreadsheets. It was just what I needed right now. “Want to come to class with me tonight?”

  “Afraid you’ll run into Hot Rod?”

  “No. Okay, yes. Maybe a little.”

  “No, I have a party to attend. I got an invite to this MTV party filming in that new nightclub in the Wynn so I’m going to network. Or whatever.” She rolled her eyes and stood, taking her plate to the sink. “Thanks for feeding me though babe. You always have the best food. I think you missed your calling in the kitchen.”

  “I wanted to be a chef, actually.”

  She froze in the middle of the kitchen and turned to me, looking more shocked than I’d ever seen the unflappable Theodora Quinton. “Really? How did I not know this?”

  “Because I don’t talk about it. Ever. I went and cooked for an executive chef in Chicago because he was Michelin rated and I hadn’t yet realized what a hindrance my scar would be. I was already there for school so that was also a factor. Anyway, I cooked and he loved it, then offered me a job as a dishwasher. I took it, thinking I had to work my way up like everyone else. Then one day he told me the truth. I was a talented chef and I could go far, but not if I scared the customers.”

  “That motherfucker!”

  “Thanks. That was my sentiment too, at first. But Franco didn’t say anything that wasn’t true and I knew that, but I was young. I cooked a great meal and went out to get my praise. They were polite but they were horrified. Disgusted and uncomfortable. I thanked him for his honesty, finished my shift and changed my major to accounting.” No one gave a shit what you looked like if you kept their finances in order.

  “I swear Jana, I want to just firebomb the people in your past.”

  I had to smile at Teddy’s vehemence. “Thanks, but it wouldn’t do any good.”

  “Well fuck them anyway, you’re incredible.” She got moving then, leaving her dishes in the sink before she wrapped me in a hug and breezed out the door, always in a rush.

  I cleaned up and changed, leaving with just enough time to make it to the art store before class began. “Hello, Jana. I wondered if you’d come tonight.”

  I grinned evenly at Moon. “This week was busy and I really needed to paint,” I told her and she gave me a commiserating smile. My usual spot was open so I quickly took it and began to set up the supplies how I liked them.

  “Jana, I’d like to speak with you a moment,” Moon said nervously, wringing her hands on the crushed velvet dress that fell to the floor.

  “Sure, Moon. What’s up?”

  “I’m doing a showcase of amateur artists and I would love to feature some of your oils and sketches. You have a good eye.”

  I sighed, a war brewing within me. I would love to show off my art, but just like chefs, people always wanted to meet the artist. “I would love to help you out Moon, but I can’t.” At her confused look I explained and she looked horrified.

  “No, that can’t be. You’re beautiful. That old thing is hardly noticeable, no matter how much you think otherwise.” She waved her hand like it was inconsequential. A jagged six and a half inch scar was inconsequential. “Just think about it. Please.”

  “Sure, Moon. I’ll think about it.”

  “Oh good.” With the same kind smile that was her trademark, she glided away and got class underway. Tonight, there were two separate hen parties, one for a twenty-something and the other for a late in life love affair. The women chatted happily, giggling and drinking, oblivious to my own turmoil that had nothing to do with Max’s absence.

  No, tonight’s subject was self-portraits. My absolute favorite.

  It was Friday and I had a bottle of vodka chilling in the freezer and long neglected Netflix account to look forward to when I got home. It would be the perfect end to a long, emotional week.

  Next week had to be better.

  ***

  The good thing about having my own business was that I could choose my weekend. It turns out that vodka and Netflix hadn’t been a suitable enough distraction and I spent the rest of the night going over the books for my latest client. Mr. Cross had warned me that the books were in complete disarray and it turned out that two martinis had been the perfect fuel to organize everything into stacks. Once that had happened, the rest of the weekend had kind of snowballed into hours upon hours of updating eighteen months of nonexistent recordkeeping.

  I’d been hesitant to take them on as clients because of the gray area of legality, but helping small businesses get their books in order and helping them save money to achieve their dreams was a rush unlike any I’d ever known. I used to believe there were people out there who got pleasure out of helping other people, but years of foster care had cured me of that foolish notion. At least until I took on my first small business. Mr. and Mrs. Chen had created a funky Asian fusion restaurant but they’d had a difficult time getting the right clientele in the door. I freed up some of their cash for marketing and now they had one of the most popular eateries in Chicago.

  I had that feeling all weekend, which was probably why I worked straight through, only stopping for meals and sleep. I knew how pathetic it was that I used work to get out of living the rest of my life, but helping this company wouldn’t hurt me. I felt a brief sense of euphoria at helping but then it was business as usual.

  Unlike men, who tended to leave their mark when they left.

  So, I decided when I woke up at seven on Tuesday morning that I’d take the day off, which meant lounging around in my pajamas while I cooked up a southwest omelet topped with my delicious jalapeno pineapple salsa. And I plopped down on the sofa, put my feet up and watched the news as I ate. I was feeling proud of myself, not sparing a thought for Max all morning until the pretty brunette anchorwoman forced him to the forefront of my mind.

  “In local news today, Tate Ellison, convicted six years ago of killing a man in cold blood, has been released. For months, a team of law students and their professor have been working to prove Ellison’s innocence, which he’d always proclaimed.”

  I sat there, completely fucking stunned as she went on. Max’s brother, because they had the same stunning gray eyes, had been exonerated. After a series of hearings that amounted to a new trial with the admission of new evidence, he’d been freed. The footage was live, a younger, blonder version of Max strolled out of a municipal building with a wide grin that radiated happiness. He was tall and broad shouldered like his brother, thickly muscled arms draped over an older man and younger woman dressed like lawyers. My hand automatically shot out to my phone, but I froze. I couldn’t call Max. We weren’t friends. We were less than friends.

  But this was about his family. A brother who might like family while he readjusted to freedom. It might’ve been a piss poor justification, but it was also the right thing to do. I dialed and the phone picked up on the second ring.

  “Hello?” Max’s voice was thick like he’d been asleep and then I heard a woman’s laugh and my body crumbled into the sofa. “Hello?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut with a quick reminder that this was real life and Max had always been too good to be true. Sucking in a deep breath helped, but not enough. “I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but I just saw on the news that your brother was exonerated and he’s out of prison.” I deliv
ered the information calmly and hung up quickly, biting the inside of my jaw to keep from crying.

  I had no right to these tears. It was foolish to cry over what amounted to a one night stand. I knew my emotions were tangled up because I’d never had sex before so I let a few tears fall and banished the rest. I’d done a good deed and that was behind me. I had a whole day to myself and I planned to enjoy it.

  After a quick workout in the basement, I cleaned up a bit and showered, then made a shopping list. If I had a list, something to focus on as I pushed the cart up and down the aisles, I wouldn’t have to focus on the other shoppers. I wouldn’t see them look at me and recoil or their children point and stare, and I wouldn’t have to pretend I didn’t notice or that it didn’t hurt. Besides, my list kept me organized. It guaranteed I had all the ingredients I needed and wouldn’t have to make another trip too soon.

  My first stop was a gourmet shop that required a trip into Vegas proper for the soft, fancy cheeses that I loved along with wines that the big stores didn’t carry. The place was all dark wood and cool glass cases, filled with cheese and cured meats, jams and chutneys. The place was small and the man who owned the place was always kind, so I kept coming back. I always spent too much money in there, but on the upside, it forced me to buy more fresh veggies to combat all that cheese. I wasn’t overly concerned with my figure, but I knew I needed to be healthy because there was no one to take care of me.

  The next stop required several deep, cleansing and fortifying breaths before I could even get out of my car. The supermarket was forty rows of everything consumable which meant at any given time there were dozens of people milling about inside. But I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore and I took another deep breath and stepped out into the sunny day. I grabbed a cart, pulled out my phone and kept my head down while I filled my cart with everything I would need this week.

  Other than dodging a few guys who thought they were interested, the trip had been a success. But there were a group of young guys standing right outside the automatic sliding doors, smoking cigarettes and laughing loudly. I peeped their leather vests and I knew they were bikers. Other than television and the little Max had told me, I didn’t know much about them, but I knew men. They were trouble.

  I put my head down and fingered my hair over my shoulders to shield my face, and pushed the cart through the doors, moving quickly through the clouds of cigarette smoke.

  “Hey baby!” They all laughed because this was apparently the best joke they had to offer.

  “And look at that ass, so round and juicy,” another called out but I didn’t stop or turn, I pushed the cart with one hand and dug for my keyring with the other.

  “I said, hey,” a voice called but it was much closer to me and my heart picked up as my fight or flight instinct kicked in.

  My left hand wrapped around the keychain and yanked it out just as a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned and pushed my right hand out and up, striking him in the throat. “No!” My heart was racing too fast to process anything other than safety and I turned, pushing my cart at a jog to get to my car.

  “Crazy fucking bitch!” I grabbed both bags and shoved them in the back seat, not caring that both tipped over as I slammed the door. “You’re not worth the trouble, ugly bitch!”

  I whirled around, keys in my hand with my fingers wrapped around the miniature bottle of pepper spray. “I didn’t ask for the trouble of your unwanted attention, asshole!” I yanked open my door as more footsteps fell behind me in quick succession, voices began to shout. I blocked it all out and slid into my car.

  A hand grabbed my arm and called out to me. “Jana.”

  Max. “Leave me alone,” I shouted, staring up at him and wishing I hadn’t looked up. “Please,” I damn near cried as I started the engine.

  “Jana,” he said, my name an anguished cry on his lips, but I couldn’t let myself be moved. As soon as his hand went slack on the door, I grabbed the handle, pulled it closed and raced out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

  I raced home where I planned to stay for the next week. Or forever if I could find a place that delivered groceries.

  Chapter 9

  Max

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I wanted to wrap my hands around this fucking prospect’s neck and squeeze. Not only had that motherfucker manhandled Jana, but he’d terrified and insulted her. “Do you get off on touching women without their permission? That shit is for little boys. Are you a little boy?”

  “Fuck no,” he spat out but I saw the fear flash in his eyes. He knew I wasn’t a man to be fucked with. “She wasn’t worth it anyway, ugly bitch.”

  This time I did pop him in his fucking mouth. “Like I thought, a little fucking boy. If you can’t handle rejection maybe you should stick with the Bitches. And that ‘ugly bitch’ as you called her, is mine. Watch yourself, motherfucker.” My chest heaved, as angry fire swept through my veins. Seeing him touch her like that had unleashed something in me, something dark and angry.

  “How the fuck should I know that?” He whined. Whined like the little fucking girl he was.

  “That’s the point, asshole. Don’t go putting your hands on people without asking. Maybe we ought to hand you over to the Pink Ladies for a while,” I laughed, referencing another club filled with men who didn’t turn away sex based on gender. They rode and sold drugs, but they kept their business out of Mayhem so we let them live.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean,” he said, getting up in my face like he wasn’t just a prospect.

  “It means, maybe if we let someone bigger than you touch you against your will, you might fucking understand what you did wrong.” I was heated and ready to fight. It wasn’t all on the prospect but he was here and I didn’t give a fuck.

  “Max, man, chill the fuck out.” Savior got in my face. “What the hell is going on?”

  “What’s going on is maybe we need to rethink who let into this club,” I told him with a pointed look at the now fearful prospect. I gave Savior a quick recap of what had gone down. “That shit ain’t right, man. Even if it wasn’t Jana, you don’t grab a woman who doesn’t show interest. Or do we now?”

  Savior’s nostrils flared in anger at my intended dig at the Reckless Bastards. “He’s a brother, we’ll talk to him.”

  “He’s not a brother yet, and she is the reason I’ve gotten any sleep over the past couple weeks.” Jana was also the reason I hadn’t slept at all this past week but that wasn’t the point. “Look Savior, I get what you’re saying man, I do. But what happens if she goes to the cops? What that fucker did was assault. That would be the perfect excuse for Sheriff Woodley to come toss the compound.”

  I could see the gears turning in Savior’s head because he knew I was right. “Fine, I’ll have Cross talk to him and make him understand how Reckless Bastards are expected to act.”

  That was as good as it would get, I suppose. “You guys got everything under control for the party?” As soon as I got the call from Jana this morning, I spread the word and the guys had begun preparing for a welcome home party for Tate. So far, I hadn’t heard from him and that pissed me off, but all I could do was wait. And assume that eventually he would call me or come to the clubhouse.

  Until then, I needed to see Jana. Talk to her. It might help if I started with an apology. Even as I started up my bike, I knew an apology wouldn’t be enough. The way she looked at me, like I was no better than the asshole who manhandled her, had gutted me. I knew I hadn’t handled things well, but I only felt like a piece of shit when she looked at me like I was one. She might not even open the door for me, but as I turned on her block I knew I had to find a way.

  I walked slowly up her driveway and knocked on the door. While I waited for an answer, I scanned the neighborhood. They were all family homes but given the lack of bicycles and toys on the lawns and sidewalks, I figured this must be a block for young professionals. Jana would’ve done her best to stay away from inquisitive children with no fi
lter.

  The door opened and a wary expression crossed her brown eyes. “What do you want?” She didn’t even open the door all the way. Apparently I only warranted a small slice of open door.

  “I was hoping we could talk, Jana.”

  She shook her head. “Well we can’t. Please leave and don’t come back.” She pushed the door closed and I slammed my palm against the door to keep it open and she gasped, brown eyes widened with fear. “What the hell?”

  “Five minutes. Give me five minutes and then I’ll go.”

  She took a step back. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said and took another step back. She walked through the living and into the kitchen, giving me a long look at her delectable heart-shaped ass and shapely toned legs in that soft looking dress she wore. “Speak.” Jana stayed on the other side of the island counter, glaring at me like I might attack her at any moment.

  “I was an asshole.”

  “No arguments here.”

  I grinned but there was no amusement on her face. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. It’s just that-,”

  “Nope,” she shook her head furiously and fisted her hands on her hips. “You were right. I am not your mother. In fact, we’re not anything other than a memory. Don’t worry yourself about it, Max.”

  “I know damn well you’re not my mother, Jana. That doesn’t mean I should’ve said that bullshit to you. And I am sorry, I was just worried and I’m not real good at showing those kinds of emotions.” I felt like a fucking asshole sitting here talking about my feelings while she kept a whole damn island between us, but I needed her to know. “It wasn’t about you. It was about me, and that’s not a line.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to block the onslaught of words. “Fine Max, I accept your apology. Happy?”

  “No. I’ve missed you.”

  She scoffed. “You’re horny again, which is strange because you were with a woman when I called about your brother.”