Wrecked & Reclaimed (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter Book 5)

by Bink Cummings

  Wrecked & Reclaimed

  Bink Cummings

  WRECKED & RECLAIMED

  Bink Cummings

  Copyright © 2018/2019 by: Bink Cummings

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Proofreader/Editor: Mary Bevinger, Heather Hendrickson.

  Beta Readers: Sheri Klotzer & Kali McQuillen

  Cover Artist: Bink Cummings

  Photo by: WANDER AGUILAR

  Model: Shane Mac

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the Author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  AUTHOR LETTER

  SOCIAL MEDIA

  SAMPLE CHAPTER OF MC CHRONICLES : VOL 1

  BLURB

  Must read: Wrecked & Restless first.

  Last book of the Wrecked Duet.

  Once upon a time, my heart was broken. Wrecked beyond repair.

  Then I met him, a man who wasn’t like anyone before.

  Who didn’t see the world like others saw it.

  He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with me. The girl nobody wanted. A soul destined to save others, when she couldn’t save herself.

  I didn’t believe him when he said I was his.

  But darkness belongs with darkness.

  And love doesn’t always equal pain.

  Maybe fairytales do exist for women like me.

  A prince to hold bloodstained hands.

  Happiness to be found among the wreckage.

  Warning: Contains adult sexual content, graphic violence, and dark emotional scenarios that may trigger some readers. Proceed with caution. You have been warned.

  Chapter One

  “Babe.” Kade vies for my attention. After his little declaration at the house, I have nothing to say. We’ve got work to do.

  Walking along the edge of the woods, twigs snap underfoot as Kade and I get as far away from Kat and Ryker as possible. They’re parked deep inside these woods, hiding from a Caddy that was tailing them on our way to Texas. Of course, the trip couldn’t have gone smoothly. Nothing ever does. I spotted the nondescript vehicle a while ago, and it didn’t take long to notice its stalking behavior. To be certain, I hung back on my motorcycle, allowing the car to do what it wanted, and called in the plates to Gunz, who verified they were shady as fuck. That’s when I instructed Ryker to get the hell outta dodge and here we are. I know the Caddy didn’t give up its pursuit; a dog with a bone rarely does. That’s why I have to get rid of these assholes once and for all. If not, they’ll call for backup and we’ll be swarming with tails, or worse.

  “What’s the plan?” Kade asks my back as I trek ahead of him toward the fence line of a farm just up the bend. I’m wearing my signature black garb, strapped to the nines with weapons courtesy of the Sacred Sinners. I ignore him. There’s nothing to say, not when he’ll just get in the way. The faster we get some distance between the Suburban and us, the better for Kat. The Caddy will no doubt, be casing the area hoping to catch a break. If this club is like Big says they are, there might be a bounty on Katrina’s head. The daughter of Michael Remington is worth a pretty penny and everybody knows it. Guess it’s a good thing Big hired me, isn’t it? Nobody will get a chance to lay another finger on her when I’m around. Not unless they wanna meet their maker.

  “Rosie,” Kade growls, catching up. He grabs my elbow to bring me to a stop and turns me to face him. I allow it; only because I don’t have time to fight him when I’ve got bigger fish to fry than some hot biker boy who’s been ogling my ass for the last ten minutes.

  Arms crossed, I arch an irritated brow. “Yes?” My foot bounces, itching to keep moving. The farm’s fence is the perfect spot to take cover. Kade can duck behind the thick slats and overgrown shrubbery that lines the property while I do what needs to be done. If I knew it wouldn’t have been a problem, I would’ve left him behind with the truck and his family. Then again, him watching firsthand what I can handle is good for us both. Maybe that’ll get his asshole brother off my back.

  Kade releases me and stuffs his hands into his front jean pockets. “What are we doin’?” His thick Texan accent makes an appearance in full force. I try hard not to notice how attractive it really is… or his face, his throat, those intense eyes—the whole package.

  I look to the ground before I’m caught staring. “I’m taking care of our little stalker problem.”

  “How?”

  Rolling my eyes, I spin back around and speed walk to our destination. “Just come on.” I wave him forth, not wanting him out in the open when the Caddy drives down this country road.

  Long legs eating up the distance, Kade joins me. As we reach the corner of the fence line, I point to the overgrown farm. It’s abandoned, that much is certain. There’s a brick two-story up a long, gravel drive. The grass here hasn’t been mowed in ages, and the pasture is full of old junker cars where cattle or horses used to roam. Beside the house is a white, half-collapsed barn, surrounded in the same weather-worn fence.

  “You’re gonna hide here,” I explain.

  “Hide from what?” He leans against a post, watching me closely.

  “While I wait for the Caddy.” Please don’t fight me on this.

  Kade shakes his head vehemently, those baby blues blazing hellfire. “Uh. Hell no, you’re not.”

  Men and their fucking egos. Enough. I’m sick of it already. Between Big, Kade, and Ryker, I have zero patience for this. I don’t have time for coddling.

  Shrugging off my hoodie, I relieve myself of most weapons. The cool air bites my arms as I expose them to the morning frost. Thankfully, it isn’t snowing here. I set my belongings next to an overgrown bush, hiding them from plain sight. “Yeah. I am. Kat is my responsibility. Now, over the fence you go.” I kick the bottom slat with the toe of my boot to get my point across. “Stay out of sight. If I need you, trust me, you’ll be able to tell.”

  Kade doesn’t budge. “No fuckin’ way.” He stands up straighter, widening his stance as if that will somehow change my mind.

  “Listen.” I two finger point at him like an errant child. “I’m in charge. You are not. Now pull up your big girl panties and let me work.”

  His nostrils flare in annoyance. “What do ya think you’re gonna do? They’ll kidnap you.”

  Pfft. Whatever.

  “They can try.�
�

  “I’m serious, Rosie. I’ve seen firsthand what kinda men these are. Let me handle this.”

  “No.” See, I knew I should’ve made him stay with Kat and Ryker. Then I wouldn’t be standing here wasting time discussing things that don’t need discussed. I don’t work well with others. He needs to shut his hot boy mouth before I punch him in that pretty face.

  “Woman,” he grits, pulling a knife from his pocket and flipping open the blade with his thumb. For half a breath I expect him to use it to intimidate me. But he doesn’t. Kade twitches, fingers trembling as he pushes his jacket and shirt up his forearm, exposing taut, tattooed flesh. A relieved groan imparts Kade’s lips as he places the blade to skin. Head dropping back, his body realigns itself, and the trembling ceases. Okay, so he has a personal relationship with knives. A different kind of relationship with them than I do. That’s interesting. Too bad I don’t care enough to ask or give a fuck at all, for that matter. He can rub that blade up and down his forearm all he wants. I don’t care. Nope. It doesn’t look hot. It’s…

  I spin away from the sight, gut tightening in unpleasant ways.

  Hefting my boobs up, to make them perky, I square my shoulders and turn to cross the cracked, asphalt road to get some distance from Kade and his knife.

  “Stay!” I order him like a dog and stride away, ready to put on a show for the Caddy as soon as it appears. “Get behind the goddamn fence!” I add, once I’ve selected the right position along the roadside to be spotted.

  I tear off my beanie and toss it onto the ground at my feet. To portray the part of damsel in distress, I finger my hair to give it a messy sex-kitten appearance. Further adding to the disguise, I grip the collar of my black t-shirt and tear it down the center, exposing what I can of the bra underneath. It’s black cotton, nothing to write home about. If I had known I was gonna play a naïve temptress to sick fucks today, I would’ve gone for lace, something I don’t even own. The final addition to my costume is a bit of dirt from the ground that I dust on my forearms and cheeks. The less suspicious I appear, the more likely they are to stop and offer me help. Not that I’m gonna give them a choice.

  Kade does as he’s told and climbs over the fence to hide. I ignore his distant glare, not letting it get to me. He can lick his wounds all he wants. It doesn’t change the fact that this is my gig. Not his. He can shut up and wait. I’ve got business to attend to.

  Twenty minutes tick by at a snail’s pace, and nobody travels down this backwoods road. By thirty, I’m ready to call it a day. Just as I twist to address H.B.B., a black car turns in our direction, gaining speed as it notices me. To get their attention, I wave my hands in the air and jump up and down.

  Yep, it sure as shit is the car that followed us before. Damn, it pays to be smart.

  The car stops along the shoulder and the passenger rolls down his tinted window. Faking I’m out of breath and exhausted, I stumble to greet them and catch myself on the window ledge.

  “You out here alone?” the leather-faced creep from the passenger seat asks as his friend toys with his cell phone behind the wheel.

  “Yes,” I wheeze, leaning against the car for support, twisting just enough to reach into the back of my pants and extract a couple choice weapons. I stick my neck into the car, exposing what cleavage I have by resting it against the window jamb. Desperate, I know. It’s not like I had time to plan this. I’m improvising.

  Dipshit passenger licks his lips and leans in to smell my neck. I pretend he isn’t a creep and let him get closer. He’ll be dead soon enough.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His pungent nicotine breath bathes my collarbone as the driver hacks an old man cough, and takes a swig of whatever soda he has in the console.

  “You’s gettin’ in or what?” the tattooed driver asks in a thick New Yorker accent. There’s a gun tucked between his thighs and a toothpick between those chapped lips.

  “Can you drive me into town?” I bat my eyelashes, playing the dumb blonde card to a T.

  Toothpick Man nods as if he’s listening, when I know he’s not. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He caresses the steering wheel, looking straight ahead as if searching for something—probably the Suburban.

  “Of course, baby,” the passenger douche supplies, then drags a grubby finger down my cheek, smiling wide, teeth a canary yellow. There might not be a gun in his lap, but there is something rigid running down the inseam of those jeans. Pervert.

  I rotate to face him head on. “Thanks so much.” My voice hikes a dozen octaves, ever the dimwitted cheerleader.

  Mr. Pervy licks his lips again, eyeing my miniature swells.

  You’d better kiss my ass for this later, Big. You fucking owe me.

  I exhale, pasting on a fake smile.

  On the next inhalation, I center my chi and strike.

  In a single fluid motion, the hand behind my back frees my desired weapons one right after the next. With the flick of my wrist, a throwing star buries into the driver’s neck half a second before I sink a four-inch blade in lip licker’s throat. On impulse, the driver pulls his gun and tries to aim it at me. Good luck with that. The attempt is wasted when the pain receptors in his brain fire in tandem, and he drops the weapon onto the floorboard. To get this over with, before somebody comes along, I remove my knife from the passenger’s neck and reinsert the blade into his paunchy stomach. Blood waterfalls from the wound, washing the right side of his body in red, staining his shirt. Mr. Pervy’s eyes tip back into his skull as his body begins to twitch, a gurgled wheeze exiting his soul.

  Bent forward, the driver searches frantically for his gun on the floor, face paling. I pull the blade from the passenger’s gut, then sprint around the hood. Not worried in the slightest, I yank the driver’s door open. One practiced move and I’ve got the small dagger from my boot wrapped in a fist as I stab it into the side of his abdomen, once, twice, three times. Blood surges up the driver’s throat, painting his lips rouge. Losing consciousness, his forehead hits the horn, setting it off as crimson tinged saliva dribbles across the Caddy’s emblem.

  “Are you kidding me?” I hiss, shoving his bald head to the side, folding him over the center console. His eyes are closed as he moans, hands grasping his middle. My ninja star falls free, landing next to the deceased passenger’s feet.

  Come on, dude, die already.

  To help him along, I pull the dagger from his belly and hack a dozen holes into his shoulders and neck. That does the trick. Death darkens his doorstep within seconds. I step back, eyeing the road left and right, checking to see if anyone’s coming. They’re not.

  Sun bathes the dead driver in the early morning light as I leave his door wide open, standing in the middle of the street, blood coating my hands, dripping off my fingertips onto the asphalt below. I knew I should’ve brought an extra pair of gloves. This is gonna be a pain to clean up.

  Not letting the shit show affect me, I tip my head back. Rays of sunshine cast a glow across my sweaty face. A rush of cool air ruffles my hair, sticking pieces to my forehead.

  “Kade!” I holler skyward.

  “You good?!”

  “If you wanna help, I need it now!”

  Rotating my shoulders round and round to loosen the tension, I clench and unclench both fists at my sides, lick my dry lips, and sigh before sending a silent prayer to God. To thank Him for this day, for this opportunity, His strength and guiding light.

  Kade’s boot heels thunder across the pavement just as I finish paying respects to the Almighty above.

  He peeks inside the car and whistles appreciatively. “It’s a bloodbath in there.”

  I shrug, coming to stand beside him. “I know. The driver didn’t wanna die. Gut and neck wounds can get pretty gory.”

  “I know.”

  I’m sure he does.

  “Can you put the driver in the backseat, so we can dump the car in the woods?”

  He peers down at my red hands. “You’re not wearin’ any gloves. Your fingerprints
are already all over this vehicle. What were you thinkin’?” he admonishes.

  Glaring at the jerk through eye slits, I put him in his place. “I was thinking I only have one pair of gloves and I gotta ride another million hours to Texas.” He acts as if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Newsflash, pretty boy, I do.

  “We could’ve gotten ya another pair.”

  “It’s fine.” I brush him off.

  “We can’t burn the car. People will see.”

  Duh. That wasn’t the plan anyhow.

  “I know that. That’s why we’ll leave the windows down in the car to let nature take its course. There are plenty of predators in the woods who would appreciate the meal.”

  Grumbling his discontent, Kade bends in half, inserting his upper body into the car. “What if that doesn’t work, huh? You’re sloppy.” He locates my bloodied weapons and tosses them at my feet. Not wanting any more gore outside the vehicle, I pick them up to wash later.

  “I’m never sloppy.” If he doesn’t rein in his judgment, I’m gonna kick him in the ass and send him sprawling into the Caddy on top of the driver. Don’t think Kade wants those jeans stained with blood. It’s a bitch to wash out.

  Withdrawing from the bowels of the vehicle, Mr. Judgey hooks his forearms under the dead man’s armpits and drags him from the seat with little effort. I open the back door and he deposits the lifeless body inside with no respect for the corpse. “They might have a tracker on the car,” he says as I slam the door shut, mindful of the dead guy’s feet.