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

by Bink Cummings

  Me: I can’t go back there.

  That’s where the dark prince lives. No thanks. I’ll pass.

  “Embrace life. Find someone to love you as much as I do.” Not now Johnny, I don’t have time for your interference.

  Gunz: Big says you have to.

  I massage the bridge of my nose, head still shaking.

  Of course, Big does. He thinks he rules the world.

  Me: Tell Prez he can suck my dick.

  I snicker a smidge at my vulgarity and press send.

  Gunz: He says no thanks.

  Big won’t let this go. I know him. This isn’t a favor, it’s a subtle order. If sledgehammers were subtle. Tired of fighting everything, I decide to find out more. So I can make a well-informed decision. Seeing Kat again doesn’t sound awful. Beats shacking up in a shitbox hotel. Checking in on Rox and Scarlett doesn’t sound dreadful either. I did leave them without a goodbye. Not my finest move. Never had to say goodbye to anyone before. Not like that.

  Me: When?

  Gunz: In the next week.

  Me: Don’t forget he owes me.

  Gunz: He’s prepared to pay in full.

  Whatever that means. Cryptic much?

  I scoot up on the bed, legs crossing. Elbow perched on the inside of my thigh, I prop a cheek on my fist and use my free hand to text.

  Me: I drop them, then I’m gone. No overnight kumbaya shit.

  Gunz: Fair enough.

  Me: I’m serious.

  I’m in. I’m out. No muss, no fuss. Big has a habit of meddling in places where his nose doesn’t belong. This would be one of those. Don’t think for one second this delivery request doesn’t have an underlying agenda. I’m not an idiot. He’s up to something. Why else would he ask me when there’s fifty other people he could have do it? Hell, he could mail the results. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.

  Gunz: We’re aware.

  Me: Then I want to hunt.

  Getting back into the game is the answer to all of life’s mysteries. Maybe a little bloodshed will help this… mind fuck.

  Gunz: Good. You’re gonna love the tasty bits I dug up for ya.

  Now he’s talking my language. For the second time in less than ten minutes, I smile. This one’s more genuine. A small shiver passes over me, a dash of excitement brewing beneath the surface.

  Me: Sounds promising. I’ll do the drop.

  Gunz: Thanks.

  Me: Who’s that from, you or Big?

  Gunz: Who do ya think?

  Me: You’re welcome, Gunz. Remind me to buy Big a colossal eighteen-inch dildo for Christmas, so he can go fuck himself.

  Gunz: Lmfao. Have I told you how much I love you?

  I half-chuckle not really feelin’ it.

  If only I could’ve seen Big’s face when his sergeant at arms reads him the message, then I might’ve laughed. Priceless. I can picture it now… Him calling me a hundred different names that would make any truck driver proud. There’s pacing and substantial growling. Basically, a temper tantrum thrown by a six-foot-six, fifty-year-old biker. As I said, priceless. All he had to do was thank me. That implied shit is annoying. And I’m dead serious about the dildo. I’m sick of his man-period.

  Yawning, I toss the phone to the opposite side of the bed and lay down, head resting on a hard stack of pillows. The ceiling has that ugly popcorn texture. I untuck my towel and toss it open, exposing my bareness to the cool hotel air. Across my abdomen I trace the scar. It’s faded over the years, much like the one on my head, but this one connects me to my family somehow. Perhaps it’s because I carried Sebastian in the same spot.

  “Color dis garaff, mommy.” My little one pushes his coloring book across the table and rolls a blue crayon my way. “I coloring dis doggy.” He smiles wide, showing all those pretty baby teeth.

  Words form on my tongue, wanting to reply to him in real time. So, I do, in my own way. “Miss you both. Hope you’re coloring pictures and eating chocolate ice cream in Heaven, sweet boy.”

  Too spent to cry, I drift into a slumber and the first face I see isn’t that of Johnny… it’s of him. He’s come for me… my dark prince is back, and his baby blues are chaining me to his soul. “You’re mine.”

  I know.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rosie

  I’m here. She’s here. We’re both seated in Ryker’s cabin. There’s a letter burning a hole through my pocket with the results of his maybe son’s paternity. I picked it up from Bongo’s before I rode over.

  Ryker isn’t here, though. He’s at the clubhouse days after he was released from the hospital. Sitting in her chair, Kat’s been filling in the finer details I missed. Including the Walker situation. That’s what she named the baby. He lives with her and her girls. Bear made it so, the day I left.

  The poor woman has barely taken a breath since I sat down. It all keeps pouring out of her like she’s desperate for some one-on-one lady time. Truth be told, I don’t hate it. I missed her, and that’s… abnormal.

  “They’re having a party at the clubhouse tonight; did you know that? He left to go party. Leaving me here to wonder what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with.”

  “You really think he’d cheat after all this?”

  Kat tosses her hands up, exasperated. “Maybe. How should I know? He didn’t tell me about this soiree. I had to hear it from Dad.”

  I can’t believe I’m about to say this, it goes against my ethics. “He loves you.” A friend answer, I know. He might dip his stick where it doesn’t belong, but she shouldn’t worry about that. The woman is a million months pregnant and a full-time mother, stressing over her baby daddy makes things harder on her. I gotta go to the clubhouse after this anyhow, to deliver the paper. When I do, I’ll make sure he’s behaving. If not, I’ll handle him myself. Kat will be none the wiser.

  She waves off the notion and changes the subject altogether. “So, what’s up with you?”

  Ankle resting on my knee, hands clasped in my lap, looking every bit relaxed, I issue a nonchalant shrug. “Not much. Stuff.”

  “Stuff. Right.” Katrina doesn’t sound convinced as she tucks a flyaway behind her ear. Those eyes reveal her emotions much like the enchanted pool of water in Harry Potter. If I hadn’t spent years reading people, I wouldn’t see the signs. She’s worried about me, per usual.

  Not wanting things to get awkward, I’m straight and to the point. “Wouldn’t this be better, Kat, if you kept talking? You know I don’t like to… share.”

  She wrings her hands in front of her and shifts on the chair. “I thought… maybe…” There’s a brief pause as Kat chews her bottom lip, contemplating. “No. No. That’s fine. Dickcheese and I made up after our fight.” Now that has the tiniest smile tugging at the edge of her mouth.

  “Did he? How’d that go?”

  The smile widens. “He groveled. It’s hard to stay mad at him. He’s easy to love.”

  Lips pursed, I bob my head along with her statement as if I agree, when I’m not sure I do… or don’t. Eh, I’m not sure of much. Though, being out of the hotel has cleared the cobwebs from my head. The world’s less foggy. A long and vigorous Ducati ride will do that for ya.

  “The baby—Walker, is doing good?” As you can see, small talk is still not my forte.

  That pretty face marred by a scar lights up brighter than the Fourth of July. “He’s amazing. I can’t believe I could love a little person so much that didn’t come from my own belly.” Thoughtfully, Kat lays a palm on said bump. “Do you want me to go get him for you to hold? He wouldn’t mind. He’s an excellent sleeper. Loves sucking his fingers.”

  I’m in no frame of mind to hold an infant. Not after the recent episodes with Sebastian and Johnny. It’s best I keep my distance.

  “No. It’s fine. Let him rest. I’m sure I can see him another time,” I cajole.

  Kat scratches her pale eyebrow. “I can’t believe you cut him from Vanessa’s womb.”

  That makes two of us.


  “Me, either.”

  “What was it like?” The raw curiosity in her voice gives me pause. Under different circumstances I wouldn’t consider talking about this. But Kat, is Kat.

  Regarding her movements for any distinct tells, I ask. “Do you really want to know?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  This is true. If she wants to know how the baby came into this world, who am I to rob her of that?

  Sparing few details, I tell the tale of the wreck, climbing into the backseat, and cutting Walker from his mother’s dying body. Riveted by the story, Kat listens intently until my very last word and thumb sweeps a few stray tears from her cheeks.

  A statically charged silence descends as my words soak into the atmosphere. They’re heavy and freeing, all at the same time.

  Drawing in a lungful of air, her chest and shoulders rise together. For the count of three Kat holds it, then releases an audible exhale through rounded lips. “Wow. That was intense.” Her pointer finger pushes the brim of her glasses back where they belong.

  “It was,” I agree, hoping like hell I didn’t make a poor choice in telling her the truth.

  Head tilting to the side, Kat scrutinizes me from her chair like a math problem she can’t solve. “What’s it like to kill people?”

  Oookay. That’s unexpected.

  “Are we really doing this?” I test.

  “Rosie, you murdered a dozen men in my backyard. I think I have a right to ask.”

  Massaging the wound healing on my shoulder, the one I stapled shut that very night, I groan inwardly, not sure if I should indulge her curiosity or not. Kat’s a grown adult, but there are some things better left to the imagination. “Have you ever asked Kade the same question? He is your best friend.”

  A distinguishable are-you-kidding-me look is directed this way. “Do you think he’d tell me the truth if I asked? Or would he spare me, because he thinks I’m incapable of processing such gore without getting nightmares?”

  “Probably the last one.”

  Those eyes roll to the high heavens. “Exactly. That’s why I haven’t asked him. He does a good job at pretending he’s this normal, sweet guy.”

  “But you know he’s not.”

  Katrina shakes her head, causing the messy bun on top to flop to one side. “I’m not an idiot. I know he isn’t. Nobody uses blades as a crutch unless there’s something underlying there. But, like always, he wants to protect everyone from those truths. As if he thinks we can’t see them. As if we won’t accept him if we knew.”

  Gotta hand it to her, Katrina’s one smart cookie.

  “You don’t think it’s fair to shield the people you love?” I ask.

  “To an extent, I do. With Kade, my gut knows there’s something off. It always has. Am I wrong?”

  “No.” There’s no use in lying.

  “There is a darkness there, then? I’m not imagining it?”

  Sweat gathers on my palms, I wipe them on top of my thighs. Talking about Kade does this. My pulse has already accelerated.

  “You’re not,” I concede.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  “Know what?” I play dumb.

  “About him.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “He told you, didn’t he?”

  “Told me what?”

  “About him.”

  When I don’t respond, she knows it’s true. That I know, know. That he confided in me. That I hold the key to many of Kade’s hidden secrets. It shouldn’t feel this good that I get a piece of him nobody else has, but it does. There’s a flutter behind my breastbone. A fleeting ball of warmth.

  “Is it bad? Don’t worry, I don’t want you to tell me anything. That’s a break of confidence. But it is bad, isn’t it?”

  I nod slowly. “It is.”

  “Is he gonna be okay?”

  “No.” As harsh as that sounds, it’s the truth and she doesn’t want coddled. Katrina’s stronger than people give her credit for.

  Kat’s bottom lip wobbles as I just ripped her heart to shreds. “C-can I help him?”

  “No. Not any more than you already do. He loves you and your girls so much. That’s enough. I promise.” They’re his world.

  She swipes away another bout of fresh tears. “He’s in love with you. You know that, right? That’s why he… told you.”

  “I know.” Lord, do I know.

  “Do you love him?”

  She shouldn’t be asking me this.

  Looking away, hating that I have to answer her, a knot of uncertainty twists and turns in my throat. “I… I don’t know how I feel.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “He is,” I agree on a hoarse whisper.

  Uncomfortable, I clear my throat and shove the conversation into safer territories. Knowing Kat the way I do, I ask about her daughters and how they like school. The wetness dries from her face as she takes the topic change in stride. For the next however long, I listen to stories of Roxie and Scarlett. They’re not something I’d usually stick around to hear. But I do, because I respect Katrina and love her in my own way. She doesn’t know that when she brags about Roxie’s math skills or Scarlett’s love of art, that another piece of me turns to dust. Once upon a time, I was a mother and a wife. Once upon a time, I never had a sweet friend like her. Once upon a time, there wasn’t a dark prince in love with me.

  Once upon a time, I was different.

  Today, I have more… I am more.

  So, I’ll sit, and I’ll listen, and do my best to push my despair to the side for a woman who brings light to so many— because she deserves that… and maybe I do, too, a little.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kade

  Raiding one of my club brother’s closets for an outfit that’ll fit the kid I’ve saddled myself with, I grab a pair of gray sweats and a well-worn t-shirt from the clean laundry basket. Standing behind me, holding his teeny weenie is Stuart aka Mouse aka my newest responsibility.

  I toss both pieces of fabric at Mouse’s gangly body, and he scrambles to catch them before they hit the ground.

  “T-thank you,” he stutters nervously, like he’s done since the moment we entered his cell an hour ago.

  Pops declared that tonight be the night Ryker took care of business at the clubhouse. When he was laid up in the hospital, Pops found and imprisoned the men responsible for running him off the road and shootin’ him full of bullet holes. They were kept in our basement. The first smeared shit all over his walls, so instead of entering that sicko’s cell, Ryker grazed him with a couple bullets. Death by sepsis is fuckin’ painful. The second, well, let’s just say I got to let the beast loose. He had a jolly old time fucking that motherfucker up. We hoisted him up in my fun room and I got to use my special toys to cut flesh from bone, while whistling the tune from the Andy Griffith Show. Then came… Mouse. The small, strawberry blond, barely legal boy with freckles, who doesn’t possess a mean bone in his body. I took pity on him, even if I shouldn’t have. Bringing a rival club member into the Sacred Sinners’ inner sanctum won’t go over well with certain brothers. They’re gonna think he’s a spy. It’s not safe for him, even under my protection.

  Funny thing is, Ryker thinks I turned over this new leaf and brought the boy under my wing thanks to Kat and the goodie-two-shoes influence she has over me. But this has nothing to do with my best friend and everything to do with my mother and Rosie. Not that I could tell him that.

  Dammit. Why do I gotta go thinkin’ about that betty?

  I miss the hell outta her.

  Taking a seat on the edge of Croy’s twin bed, I massage the bridge of my nose as Mouse fumbles his way through dressing.

  Poor kid’s had a shit life. At twelve, his mom leaves him with his shitty brother, who was part of a shitty club. Was, as in we killed that sorry sonofabitch. They forced him to steal for them when he was younger. Much younger than his current nineteen.

  Arms wrapped around his middle, shirt
hanging off an emaciated shoulder, Mouse slowly turns to face me.

  “I’m dressed. What now?” He shifts from foot to foot.

  Cupping both hands over my knees, I jerk a nod toward the door. “I got a room across from mine you can stay in. I’ve got other plans for you tomorrow. Until then, I’ll station someone outside the room to keep you safe. What do ya want to eat?”

  Mouse scratches at his elbow, looking anywhere but me. “I’m fine.”

  He doesn’t look fine. He looks like a breeze could blow through and knock his puny ass over.

  “You’re not allergic to anything, are ya?”

  There’s the slightest shake of his head. The kid clears his throat and the fidgeting worsens. Both elbows get attention from his dirt-caked nails. I plan on getting him a shower soon. But I couldn’t have him running around the clubhouse buck naked. They’d taken his clothes along with his dignity when they locked him in our basement for well over a week.

  “S-so… w-w-hat’s gonna h-happen now?” He chews on that bottom lip, eyes focused on those bare feet. I’ll get him a pair of socks once he’s able to wash. Don’t want to soil a fresh pair of socks with grimy toes.

  “Just what I said.” I’m calm, patient, knowing he can’t handle my sharp dickhead tone.

  “I… don’t think I should be a prospect,” Mouse states with more conviction than I expect. Good for him. It’s nice he’s advocating for himself. Proves he’s smart. You can’t change a fucked up childhood. That much I know. But you can change whether you continue down the unhealthy path you’re on by doing something about it.

  “I know.” I agree with him. He shouldn’t be a prospect. He’s not Sacred Sinner material. For a minute, I thought he was… maybe. Now I’ve got different plans.

  “T-then… what?” Mouse shuffles away, as if he’s afraid I’m gonna blow a gasket. Again, he’s smart, looking out for number one in this unique situation. He don’t know me from Adam. For all he knows, I’m a scumbag wanting to rape his scrawny ass. People have lied for less. Caution is good. I respect that.