Wicked: Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter

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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  Roc Hard

  I never thought I’d fall for the billionaire, but his cool-blue eyes and sexy swagger drew me to him like a moth to a flame. Okay, inferno.

  He was my first and so far, had been my last—my only.

  Once I found out I’d been played, I high tailed it out of there and moved as far away as I could. He didn’t need to know. I didn’t need him, or his money.

  Jerk.

  Not only did he take my virginity, break my heart and stomp all over it, he gave me a baby as well.

  How could I be so stupid?

  And why the hell did he just walk into my office and tell me he now owns the posh resort I work at?

  I fell for the billionaire once—this time will be different.

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  Acknowledgments

  Thank you so much for making my books a success! I appreciate all of you! Come chat with us in our FB Group, Bitches, Babes and Bad Decisions! We’d love to hear from you!

  Thanks to all of my beta readers, street teamers, ARC readers and Facebook fans. Y’all are THE BEST!

  And a huge very special thanks to Jessie! I’m such a *hot mess, but without your keen sense of organization and skills, I’d be a burny fiery inferno of hot mess!! Thank you!

  And a very special thanks to my editors (who sometimes have to work all through the night! *See HOT MESS above!) Thank you for making my words make sense.

  Copyright © 2019 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  About The Author

  KB Winters is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author of steamy hot books about Bikers, Billionaires, Bad Boys and Badass Military Men. Just the way you like them. She has an addiction to caffeine, tattoos and hard-bodied alpha males. The men in her books are very sexy, protective and sometimes bossy, her ladies are...well...bossier!