Wicked: Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter

by KB Winters

  “No one said this would be easy. Protecting life never is and it shouldn’t be. But these guys, Saint, they didn’t fuck up a bunch of mailboxes. They put an old lady in the hospital. Those fuckers hurt people in our town. In MY goddamn town, man!”

  Holden rarely got pissed, so I knew he was feeling it deep to react so strongly.

  “They can’t get away with it. They won’t.”

  “Of course they won’t, Mah-Dick.”

  He glared at the use of his nickname and that was enough to inject a bit of levity into the night.

  “Just because it’s hard and fucking my head up, doesn’t mean I’m not on board. I am.”

  “Good. Because this is just the beginning, and we all need to keep our focus until they’ve been dealt with. For good.”

  Holden was right and logically, I knew it. Taking the blond asshole was step one. Step two had been to get him to talk, to tell us who ran their little band of criminals and find out why they were targeting Opey. But where the kid lacked sense, he made up for it with heart. So far we hadn’t gotten shit out of him.

  “Then I guess we’d better get back in there and find out who the fuck they are before they find out who we are.”

  When this MC business was done, I needed to go see my girl.

  If she would have me.

  And right now, that was a big fucking if.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hazel

  The sound of the screen door that allowed the bunkhouse doors to remain open when the Texas heat became unbearable interrupted my packing. I rolled my eyes, knowing it was Peaches trying to change my mind. Again.

  “Don’t try to talk me out of this, Peaches.” I went over my speech knowing what a hardass she could be when she wanted her way. “My mind is made up and I’m leaving. For good.”

  No, I wouldn’t say that. She didn’t need to know all my plans. This wasn’t the first place where I packed up and got the fuck out of town without warning, and it wouldn’t be last. It was why I packed light and why I went out of my way not to form connections.

  The harder it was to say goodbye, the more pain I had to carry with me. No fucking thanks.

  When Peaches didn’t respond right away, something inside of me froze, went ice cold, and my hand wrapped around the first hard thing I could find, a jar of moisturizer.

  “Nothing to say?” My voice was shaky but I got the words out.

  But when the figure appeared, it wasn’t Peaches. It was one of the guys from that bar Saint and I went to on our first date. Only date. And it wasn’t even a real date.

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty to say, sweetheart. Not sure you wanna hear any of it though.”

  Long brown stringy hair that was about three days past needing a wash hung around his shoulders and forehead, and he wore a wild look in his red-rimmed eyes. I knew that look well, one of hate and disdain, mixed with a sick desire. And some drugs. I’d seen it for the first time in my second foster home when my thirteen-year-old foster brother walked in on me undressing and couldn’t look away from my skinny nine-year-old body. I saw it again on the face of my fifth foster dad when I turned fifteen.

  I took a step back and the greasy asshole smiled.

  “What I want is to know what the fuck you’re doing in here?”

  A deep laugh rumbled out of him. “I’m looking for your fuckin’ boyfriend. He and his buddies have my brother, and I ain’t leaving here until I get him.”

  The look in his eyes told me the one thing I already knew for certain; any harm that came to me would be a bonus for him.

  I folded my arms. Scared shitless, but trying like hell to look unconcerned, I gave him a careless shrug.

  “Nothing to do with me. I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t know anything about your brother. I don’t even know who he is.”

  “Bullshit,” he spat in my direction. “You’re his bitch, which makes you perfect leverage. He gives me my brother back and his skanky piece of ass gets to live.”

  Fuck. My heart pounded, knowing there was no way out of this without someone getting hurt. It looked like the universe had decided that I would be that someone. I couldn’t let Saint or any of the others come to harm on my account, I wasn’t worth the trade. I scoffed in his face and a smile teased my lips.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, idiot. I’m not even a piece of ass, nothing more than a stupid girl who spent one ill-advised night with her boss.”

  I ignored the pinch in my heart at those words because no matter what Saint or Jessie or anybody said, no matter what my foolish heart believed, it didn’t matter.

  “Bullshit. You said—”

  I cut him off quickly. “Fucker. I know what I said. I told your grabby little brother the same thing I tell every motherfuckin’ asshole who thinks he can get a fuckin’ piece from me.”

  That little shit just hadn’t taken it as well as most men did.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  To punctuate his words, he produced a gun and aimed it right at my chest. I wanted to throw up. A wobbly but undoubtedly evil grin spread across his face, as greasy as his hair.

  “But if you’re telling the truth then I guess you’re gonna die for nothing.”

  This was not what I signed up for. I had to get out of here if I wanted to live. I smiled because I was too afraid to do anything else. My heart thumped, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. Fuck this shit.

  “What the fuck is so funny?” His fear and his anger were palpable. And irrational, so I continued to smile. “Answer me, bitch.”

  Ah, bitch. The name men go to when they’re not clever enough to come up with something better.

  “What’s funny? You are. Coming in here alone like some kind of captain save-a-ho. You think killing me is going to do anything but rain down a never-ending shit storm on top of you and whoever you’re working for? They’ll kill you and your baby brother twice just for the shit you caused. And that’s if your precious little brother even made it through the night.”

  Just then Jessie’s words came back to me. One of these days that smart ass mouth of yours is going to get you into deep shit. I guessed this was one of those days, and the shit was of the deepest variety.

  Maybe my words struck a chord because the fucker lunged at me, and I chucked the jar of moisturizer I’d gotten on sale at a drug store somewhere outside of Austin straight at his thick fucking skull.

  “You bitch! I’ll kill you,” he said as it bounced off his forehead.

  “I think we’ve already established that,” I told him and took a step or two back. Just far enough to bend down and pull my switchblade from my boot. A girl never could be too careful and being a girl in the foster care system had made me very careful. And wary of men.

  “You. Can’t. Win.” His breaths sawed in and out of his body and the hand not holding the gun rested over his right eye where the jar had split his skin.

  We were both exhausted and unwilling to back down, me because to do so meant certain death. Maybe worse. Him because he thought I was the path to his brother and deep down he knew I wasn’t.

  “Neither can you. The way I figure it, we’re both as good as dead. The only question is which of us will meet our maker first.”

  A wicked smile spread across his sweaty face, and he scraped a forearm over his forehead, still working hard to catch his breath.

  “Killing you first will give me the element of surprise.”

  Then he lunged at me, and I took two big steps to the side, changing my grip on the blade in my hand so when he came at me again, the blade slid into his skin like a hot knife through butter.

  “Fucking bitch, you stabbed me!”

  Throughout my life I hadn’t had many chances to use the knife because most men were smart enough to leave me alone. And those not smart enough valued their dicks more than their pride and the threat of violence was enough. Not for this asshole, though. He wanted me to make him hurt so he had an excuse to make me hurt. Oh well, let’s see wha
t you got asshole.

  “No, this is a stab,” I grunted and jabbed the knife deep into his side again before I twisted it and yanked it out. “Piece of shit!”

  As unladylike as it was, I spit at that motherfucker as he fell and turned to leave, forgetting my bag.

  “Not so fast you rotten cunt.”

  He hissed his words as one bloody hand wrapped around my ankle and sent me flying face first to the ground. He laughed, but I showed him, turning to introduce the bottom of my boot to his ugly fucking face.

  “The only rotten cunt is the one you crawled out of!”

  I tried to stand but he was stronger. I was more determined, pulling my body along with his toward the screen door. Toward help and if not help, escape.

  Every step forward took the effort of ten steps and when the door was in sight, the weight grew heavier as he crawled up my body, slowing me down. When his body covered mine, his hot breath fanned against my neck and my ear.

  “Where is my brother?”

  “Hopefully burning in the same trash pit as the rest of your family tree.”

  Holy shit, Jessie was right. My mouth was going to get me killed. I struggled against his weight, but I stopped as soon as his cock started to harden against my ass.

  Without a word he straightened up and sent an elbow crashing into my side. I bit back the scream as pain flowed through me.

  “Where is he?” He demanded, flipping me over like I weighed nothing, glaring down at me like he would have no problem taking what he wanted before he took my life.

  “Fuck. You.” I spit out at him.

  One fist dropped down on my stomach and then another and another until all I could do was cover what I could for protection.

  “Tell me you fucking bitch, where is my brother?”

  “Fuck.” The word came out on a choked cough from all the punches, but I was as stubborn as this motherfucker. “You.”

  He hit me again and again, using his weight to keep me pinned to the floor, my hands stuck between my legs and his knees.

  “You’re gonna tell me and then I’m gonna kill you.”

  When he bitch slapped me, I spit blood up at him just to piss him off. But what he didn’t know was that I still had my blade, and I flipped it using my fingertips until I had the handle between my thumb and forefinger, pushing it slowly into the back of his thigh. “Eat. Shit. Motherfucker.”

  “You fucking slut!”

  The butt of the gun came crashing down on my cheek and a second later I felt warmth ooze down my face even as my hands reached up and scratched at his face and eyes. But the gun hurt like a son of a bitch, and my vision flickered like a TV on the fritz. I knew I was going to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Saint

  “Some fuckin’ guy just hired us. Me, my brother Stan, and his friend Shawn. Said to stir up shit on some hole in the wall town called Opey down in Texas. That’s what we did.”

  He spat out the words, heaving breaths in and out through a likely broken nose.

  “We came here and kicked up shit just like he wanted, but that old lady fell on her own. We didn’t have anything to do with that. She shouldn’t have tried to be a fucking cowboy and stayed in her fucking room.”

  Oh blondie was mad, downright pissed after nearly twenty-four hours of getting his ass beat between interrogations.

  Slayer stood in front of him, an imposing figure beside the young blond. He backhanded the kid. Hard.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have broken into her shit. Asshole.” He hit him again out of pure anger, and the chair slid back a few inches.

  The sound of a phone ringing pierced the mostly dark, silent room. Everyone froze. Even the kid.

  “Yeah?” Gunnar’s gruff voice sounded, and I didn’t know how I knew but my gut tensed as we waited to hear the news.

  “Fuck.” He ended the call and let his blue gaze fall on each of us for just a moment before he started to explain and issue orders.

  “There’s a breach on the property. Probably pretty boy’s crew. We need to get to the main house and bunkhouse ASAP. Cruz, stay with the kid.”

  “Got it, Boss.” Cruz gave a salute, and we took off running to the waiting four wheelers just outside the short, squat building.

  “Are we really a MC if we’re get around on ATVs?”

  Wheeler flashed a wide, almost pretty smile and took off ahead of everyone. Crazy fucker.

  No one bothered to answer but as the vehicles cut across the land, I could tell his words added just the right amount of lightheartedness this situation called for. My thoughts, inevitably, drifted towards Hazel and the casual words I’d given her before leaving on MC business. I didn’t want those words to be the last I ever said to her, those lukewarm emotions I let her believe was all I felt for her. I care for you. Those words seemed so fucking inappropriate now, when she was possibly facing down a very pissed off criminal.

  When this was all over, I would take her for a long drive and tell her everything. I would tell her the truth about the men in my unit, the truth about the depth of my feelings for her, which only became apparent now. When I could lose her.

  All the vehicles came to a stop in the space between the bunkhouse and the main house. My feet itched to head straight for Hazel. Gunnar saw me and nodded.

  “Go. Slayer and Holden go with him. Wheeler, you’re with me.”

  “What about me, Boss?” Ford stood by an ATV, his baby face scrunched in confusion, but the kid was eager to help.

  Gunnar looked like he hadn’t realized the kid was there.

  “Come with me. We gotta find Peaches and Maisie first.”

  Before he was finished with his sentence, Gunnar was on the move, eating up the distance between him and his family, climbing the steps three at a time.

  My feet pounded the dirt and gravel mixture until I yanked the screen door hard enough to pull it off the hinges. I ran inside like the devil was on my heels, going to the right side where Hazel kept her things and hoping like hell she was there with Gunnar’s girls or, worse, had left my sorry ass hours ago. As long as she was safe, things would be…shit. She wasn’t safe.

  Too late, the details in the room hit me. The room was fucked up, evidence of a violent struggle everywhere but nothing hit me more than the sight I took in now. One of blondie’s men straddling Hazel’s hips as his fists rained down on top of her. I stood there, frozen. Unable to do a goddamn thing to save her, to help her. Nothing except look on like a frightened little cub waiting for his nuts to drop.

  “What the—?” Slayer slammed into my back and pushed me aside, taking in the room in half the time I did. Only Slayer was a man of action and pulled out his weapon.

  “Watch out for Hazel.”

  The words came out barely above a whisper, and I wasn’t even sure if he heard me over the commotion, but Slayer took aim and the sound of a gunshot tore through the air followed by the grunt and thump of that asshole falling over. Onto Hazel.

  My heart skidded to a complete stop as silence swirled around us. One shot. Followed by…nothing. There were no tearful screams from Hazel, no signs of relief at how close she’d come to dying, which left just one terrible, unthinkable conclusion.

  Hazel wasn’t relieved because she was the way she always was in my dreams. Dead.

  “She’s fine,” Holden grunted as he tore the dark-haired man off Hazel, giving me a clear glimpse of Hazel for the first time.

  She wasn’t fine. The first thing I saw was her eye, swollen and purple, almost totally closed. But Holden was right. The closer I looked, I could see signs of life. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the color in her cheeks despite being unconscious.

  Blood rushed through my head, pounding, as memories took over. Memories of the worst fucking day of my life when I lost my men. Blood soaked hands, familiar faces choking on lasts breaths, and dying smiles meant to soothe the living me. Except Hazel wasn’t smiling or choking, she wasn’t doing anything because she was out of it. Completely fuc
king unconscious. But Holden signaled he’d found her pulse.

  “Thank fuck. We need an ambulance,” I shouted to no one in particular as two pairs of strong hands lifted me up and pulled me away from Hazel.

  “Come on, man.”

  Holden’s deep southern drawl was soothing but nothing could help me, not with Hazel lying on the floor lifeless. Okay, not lifeless but my crazy heart and my fucked up mind didn’t know the difference.

  “No! She needs some help. Get her some fucking help!”

  “We are,” Holden whispered. “Doc is on her way. She’ll check out Hazel and get her all fixed up. In the meantime, you need to calm down and get cleaned up.”

  “I don’t give a shit what I look like.” Slayer backhanded me and the fucker didn’t even look apologetic. “Hey, what the fuck man?”

  “You were spiraling. Clean yourself up because the last thing she needs to see when she wakes up is you, covered in blood and looking like a goddamn maniac.”

  He was right. I didn’t like it, not at all, but Slayer was right. Resigned, I let them lead me away but my eyes never left Hazel, not until I could no longer see her. Only then did I let my body, my mind and my heart succumb to the memories.

  Chapter Thirty

  Hazel

  “Good. You’re finally awake.”

  A pretty brunette was looking down at me with a gentle smile and kind eyes.

  “Where am I?”

  “In the bedroom of the house. Glad you’re talking. You had everyone worried.”

  I arched a brow. “Including you?” Whose house?

  Her laugh was as pretty and feminine as she was. I wondered if she was one of those women who were always perfectly put together and wore a smile whether she meant it or not.

  “Nah, I’m a doctor so I knew you’d be fine. Everyone else, though, wasn’t so sure.”

  She struck her hand out so it was inches from mine. “Dr. Annabelle Keyes at your service, but you can call me Annabelle.”

  I accepted her hand and gave it a shake, wincing as pain tore through my midsection and my head.