by KB Winters
Copyright © 2019 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Locked - Reckless MC Opey TX Chapter
Copyright and Disclaimer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
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Acknowledgements
About The Author
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 bedraggled 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.”
Wheeler stood and said what we were all thinking. “Are a bunch of petty burglaries really worth our time? Or our wrath?”
The MC had already been through too much shit since its formation, and though Gunnar was confident in our abilities, we had more shit to think about now. It wasn’t just us, just a bunch of beaten and battered vets looking for a place to belong in this fucked up world. No, now it was families as well.
Gunnar smacked his fist against the table, drowning out words of agreement coming from around the room with one angry glare.
“We’re here now. And Opey is our town to protect. It’s our job to keep it safe. Opey has opened up its arms to our MC, our members’ club, The Barn Door, and even the police and Mayor are on our side. We don’t want to fuck that up.”
It seemed a bit melodramatic to me, but Gunnar’s grave expression said he believed it with all his heart.
If he believed it, then I believed him. I raised a finger t
o get his attention. “So we have to find these guys. And then what?”
“We’ll figure that out when the time comes.”
Gunnar was turning out to be an excellent leader, but he wasn’t one for much advanced planning. That didn’t sit right with me. Growing up in Opey and living on a ranch most of my life before joining the military, plans were a way of life around here. You had to plan the pasture for the cattle, the crops you intended to grow for the new season. Whether it was harvesting, canning, vaccinations, and even meals, you thought everything out, so life ran like the perfect machine.
Gunnar’s approach would take some getting used to.
“Problem, Holden?”
Gunnar was in a mood, and I understood. I’d be in a mood, too, if I had to leave the bed of a warm woman to deal with this shit.
“Yeah. This lack of planning shit is why we’re in this trouble now. Let’s say we find a pair of burglars tonight. Are we just taking photos? Grabbing one of them? Both of them? Where are we taking them? Because I gotta tell ya, another middle of the night run with a fuckin’ body in the trunk ain’t my idea of a good night.”
It was a necessary move that last time, burying the dead brother in the desert between Opey and Mexico, but not one I was eager to repeat. Hell, I was a rancher, not a fuckin’ criminal.
Gunnar looked around the room, seeing half a dozen heads nodding in agreement. He waited a beat, then sighed heavily. “Fine. We find them tonight, we grab them. All of ’em.”
“All right!” Wheeler clapped his hands eagerly and smiled around the table. “Saint and Slayer had the magic touch last time, so let’s have them take the first shift. Right?”
“Fine by me,” Slayer added and smacked Saint on the back. “We made a good team, and it’s nice to see the quiet one get fired up.”
Saint flipped him off, drawing laughter from the rest of the room, because when we weren’t running a sex club or dealing with our demons or keeping our little pocket of Texas safe, we were, at heart, a bunch of silly teenage boys. The only difference? Our scars weren’t just on the outside.
“Good,” Gunnar said, his deep growl slicing through the muted conversations and laughter around the room. “Holden will take over for Saint at the club. Dismissed.” He lifted the metal-studded gavel and smacked it right over Lady Mayhem’s face, engraved in the table. Then he issued an order. “Holden. A minute.”
“Oooh, Mah-Dick is in trouble,” Cruz teased, using the nickname I hated, given to me because of all the heat I packed behind my zipper.
I flipped Cruz off and stayed standing while the room emptied until it was just me and Gunnar left. And his perma-scowl. “What’s up?”
“What’s your fucking problem?” Gunnar worked hard to be intimidating, and he could be a scary motherfucker. But I grew up on a ranch and then went straight to the US army, which meant I didn’t scare or intimidate easily.
“My problem is that you want us to risk our lives, but you don’t have a fucking plan, man. Wasn’t the shit last month enough?”
He didn’t look moved at all as he dropped down in his seat at the head of the table. “That’s what we do, Holden. I thought you understood.”
“I do. But you have to keep earning that trust we all give you, man. You can’t go off half-cocked ‘cause you’re pissed off. What if something happens to Saint tonight? What will you tell Hazel? Hell, how will you be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t do all you could to keep your men safe? What if you fucking end up in jail?”
“What do you suggest? That we do nothing? ‘Cause we tried that shit, and it backfired in spectacular fashion,” Gunnar boomed.
“Dammit, Gunnar, you know that’s not what I’m sayin’. What do you hope to gain if we find these assholes tonight because you haven’t even said where they should be taken? Back on the property? Someplace else?” I let out a deep breath and dropped down in my seat. “I’m with you Gunnar, and I support you, but this ain’t your old club. We don’t have that history. Half of us don’t even know what the fuck we’re doing. You have to think and plan like a leader. Whatever happens to any of us will fall on your shoulders. It’s a heavy burden, one I don’t wish on my worst enemy. Never mind a friend.”
He mulled my words over for a few minutes, nodding absently as he collected his thoughts. “You’re right. Shit, you’re right. I need to do better. And I will. Thanks.”
I flashed a slow grin, the one Wheeler called my Cowboy Smile and stood again. “Does this mean you’ll find someone else to replace Saint?”
I didn’t have a problem with The Barn Door, but the club wasn’t my scene, and I didn’t like being there.
“Nah. Watching your big ass cowboy body move through the crowds like they’re contagious and search for a way to turn down all those horny bitches is way too amusing. On the plus side, we’ll be working together tonight.”
He stood and clapped me on the back like that was a good thing.
“Great, so I’ll be covering the whole damn place while you steal off with Peaches for an hour or two?”
“Nah, I know how much you hate working The Barn Door, so I’ll just make it an hour.”
“Gee, how generous of you, Boss.”
Gunnar barked out a laugh. He made his way to the door, and I followed. “Hey, we’re trying to make a baby, and it takes plenty of practice.”
My laugh trailed behind Gunnar as he climbed the stairs to the top level of the club. “If you need that much practice, you’re doin’ it wrong. I got some pointers if you want.”
Gunnar laughed again as he locked up the doors, turning to smile up at the sun-streaked sky. “My woman has no complaints.”
“That you’ve heard,” I mumbled, making him laugh as we hopped on the last available four-wheelers and headed to our separate quarters. I had a few hours to myself to handle chores on the ranch before my shift later, which meant I had time for a few fortifying beers before I clocked in.
Chapter Two
Aspen
Date night. It was something every woman looked forward to, especially when their date was a gorgeous blond who drove a BMW the same color blue as her eyes. At least that was how I used to feel about Ken. We’d been dating for about a year now, but lately, things like getting ready for date night felt more dutiful than fun.
Tonight, for example, I’d be more than happy to Netflix and Chill. What the hell was so wrong with having a night in once in a while, anyway? Sometimes a girl just needed to put on sexy lingerie under a pair of yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, just in case there was more chill than Netflix going on.
But Ken had other plans.
The Barn Door. Though we were in the heart of Texas, complete with cowboys, saloons, and people who tipped their hats at me and called me ma’am, this was no line dancing bar. Nope, it was a sex club.
My boyfriend wanted to take me to a sex club instead of staying home for guaranteed good-time sex. If that wasn’t a sign that something was wrong in our relationship, then I didn’t know what was.
But with that thought lingering in the back of my head, I dressed carefully for our date. If our problems were sex-related, then the right outfit and a little bit of public fun would turn things right around. I hoped so, anyway. Which is why I opted for the tiniest pair of lace, high-cut red panties I could find. They showed off an ass that was the result of regular Pilates and kickboxing. The matching bra made my tits look big and high and perky, just the way Ken liked them. Now the question was, did I wear something sexy but demure on the outside or just go all out sex kitten?
In the end, I chose a black lace peekaboo dress that showed more skin than it covered because I didn’t want to hear Ken bitching about me dressing like a school teacher. Last I checked, teachers didn’t wear lace dresses, but he was the expert.
“Babe?” The front door of our apartment opened a second before Ken’s voice sounded, calling out to me like I was his little housewife.
As if.
“In here!”
; I loved Ken, at least I was pretty sure I did, but we were definitely going through a rut. A big fucking rut about as wide and as deep as the great state of Texas. Maybe this Barn Door place would help. Not that it mattered because there was no fucking way on God’s green earth I was letting him go to that place alone. He’d get lost in the sea of pussy and might not emerge for days.
Maybe weeks.
He walked into the bedroom, and his gaze immediately lasered in on my tits, which were almost complete cleavage thanks to the push-up bra.
“Damn Aspen, you look hot as fuck. How about a quick BJ before we head out?”
Wasn’t that just fuckin’ romantic?
“How about a quick sixty-nine instead?”
We were going to a sex club after all, and maybe that was what we needed, to be primed and horny when we got there. If nothing else, I’d be relaxed, but that wouldn’t happen because Ken had one fatal flaw. He had an aversion to oral sex, giving it, not receiving. Clearly.
“Ah, babe.” He rubbed the back of his hand, a tell when he was lying, and flashed his most charming grin, the one that had reeled me right in that night at The Dirty Spur. “But you’re all dressed and ready to go.”
“But you’re okay with messing up my makeup which took me longer to put on than the whole damn outfit?”
Now it was my turn to smile my best Miss Texas bless-your-poor-stupid-heart smile in his direction, licking my lips just in case he forgot that he was lucky to have me.
“I guess not.” His shoulders slumped as he pushed off the wall, the posture of a spoiled child being told no. “You ready to go?”
Hell, no, I wasn’t ready, but it was too late to back out. “Yep. Let’s go,” my tone more upbeat than I felt. But what good would it do me to get all sullen at the start of our big night out?
We drove over in silence. We didn’t even play music. Well, not on the radio. Ken’s fingers, however, tapped a quick two-step on the steering wheel nonstop. For miles.
“Ken, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, babe? Everything’s fine.” He shot me a distracted smile. It worried me, but I was more relieved that his late nights without me weren’t because of another woman.
