Deliciously Damaged

by KB Winters

  “You should have told me,” he said, just as my hand landed on the doorknob. His voice was deep and angry, eager like he’d been waiting for a chance to get this off his chest.

  I sighed and whirled on him, now pissed off. Between Savior’s indignation, Krissy’s harassment and my boss Landry’s total asshole-ness, I was losing my grasp on patience.

  “You’ve known me since I was a little girl, Savior. How in the hell was I supposed to know you didn’t recognize me? You never asked for my name so I assumed it was because you knew it.”

  In hindsight, I should have realized that between the Reckless Bitches, his biker swagger and handsome face that he probably fucked plenty of nameless women. “Anyway, that’s why I came here, to give you Ammo’s jacket. Nothing more.”

  “Kutte,” he said, correcting me on the leather jacket.

  “Whatever. Have a nice life.” I yanked the door open and hooked a left until I heard the noise of the group we passed on our way to the room with more privacy.

  “Mandy, wait!”

  I froze and turned, waiting for him to say more. “If you, ah, need anything —”

  “I don’t. I’m fine on my own.” I didn’t need or want the Reckless Bastards’ help in general, or his help specifically.

  “Ammo would want —”

  I cut him off. “Ammo is dead, Savior. Whatever loyalty you had to him, doesn’t extend to me. Goodbye.”

  I soaked in his rugged handsomeness for several long seconds before forcing my gaze and my feet to move away from the tall, imposing figure he cut. Savior was nice to look at and even better in bed but he’d made his feelings about fucking me very clear. The further I got away from him and the clubhouse, the more my heart rate would settle and the calmer I’d feel.

  Knowing what was waiting for me at my shoebox apartment, nothing but mindless entertainment, I decided to take a trip to the cemetery. Visit the only people in the world who had ever truly cared about me. At least they were all together now, and as I sat on the prickly grass in front of the three headstones, I knew they were the reason I’d come back to Vegas. I thought there was nothing for me here, but it turns out everything that mattered to me was right here.

  Which meant I wasn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon, anyway.

  Chapter 2

  Savior

  “Herman Redding’s farm was raided and not by the fucking Feds. He’s our biggest supplier.” Everything about Cross screamed stress and pissed the fuck off. Redding was the biggest supplier for the club’s dispensaries, but thankfully not the only one or we’d be shit out of luck when the supply ran out. “His crops were burned in the middle of the night. The government might be assholes but they wouldn’t do that.”

  He was right about that. I looked around the Church table, with one empty seat for our missing brother Gunnar, at the other members of the club who wore looks that ranged from pissed and ready to fight, to worried we might be in for some major conflict. Not that the Reckless Bastards ever backed down from a fucking fight, but with grass and ass legal, there was no reason to ever get caught up with the fucking law. “It had to be done by another MC. The burns were too clean and efficient, definitely not some shit a tweaker could do.”

  Cross nodded. He was confident in my assessment because fire, bombs, guns – it was all in my wheelhouse. I was an explosives expert in the military, Sergeant at Arms for the club and I liked to fuck shit up. “The lines were clean to make sure not one crop remained so I’m inclined to agree. We need to find out who, though.”

  His gaze scanned each member sitting around the table, letting them know this was serious shit. “We need to up security at our dispensaries, which means security defaults to the brothers who can legally carry. Those of you who can’t, go talk to our other suppliers and see if they need security help. We take in too much cash to lose this income.”

  “Roadkill MC just opened a dispensary, so we should start with them,” I offered, knowing those fuckers had no fucking limits.

  Jag pounded his fist on the table and kicked his chair back to stand up. “I’ll dig into their digital shit, see what pops up.”

  Jag, despite his quiet demeanor, was a badass motherfucker. He could kill a man at a thousand yards or dismantle his life with nothing more than an internet connection.

  “Good,” Cross said and pounded on the table. “Church over.” Most of the brothers made a quick exit but Cross eyed me in that way that said he wanted to talk. Dammit.

  “What’s up?”

  “Was that Mandy I saw in here the other day?”

  I blinked. How in the hell had he recognized her? “Yeah it was.” I knew he expected me to say more but what the fuck else was there to say?

  He glared. “Ammo might be dead but he’s still our brother, which makes her family. We are all she has, Savior. Don’t fuck with her if you don’t mean it.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, well I already told her that and she told me with Ammo gone we could fucking forget about her. Besides,” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood as I patted my chest. “I always mean it at the time.” Which was a dick thing to say, especially given the way shit went down with Mandy.

  If the dark scowl he wore was anything to go by, Cross wasn’t amused. He raked a hand through unruly brown hair and blew out a breath. “Just don’t fuck her, okay?” My face must have given something away because he groaned and smacked the table. Hard. “Seriously? How long has she even been in town?”

  “It was at the funeral. I didn’t know she was Mandy when it happened. I didn’t handle it well, which probably has something to do with why she wants fuck all to do with me. Or the club.”

  Not that I blamed her. I was a prick and she should steer clear of me. Mandy was a girl meant for picket fences and two point five kids, all that regular shit. I wasn’t that guy and never would be.

  Cross’s eyes darkened damn near to black. “That’s too bad, Savior. She is under our protection whether she wants it or not. Whether she asks for it or not. Always.”

  He was right. That’s how we rolled. Except for expelled brothers, Reckless Bastards protected their own. I nodded at my Prez to let him know I heard him loud and clear. “I’ll make it right.” Or I would try. Mandy was different now, hard with sharp edges. Distant. Except for those few hours in bed, she didn’t reveal much emotion or any other clues to her feelings. Even angry, she was as blank as stone.

  “See that you do,” he said and left Church.

  I followed him a few minutes later, making sure the door was locked tight. Church was our sacred club space where we discussed business on all sides of the law. The room couldn’t be hacked, bugged or breached in anyway. Even the door was reinforced because we protected our shit.

  I needed to clear my head though, so I took long strides through the clubhouse, ignoring two of the Reckless Bitches eager to get my attention. The best way to clear my head was to fuck some shit up, so I crossed the parking lot and headed for the gun range where I found Max grumbling about wedding shit. He and Jana, his ball and chain, had a double header coming up. They had a bun in the oven and were getting hitched soon. “Hey man, quit your bitching. I need the biggest gun we have to shoot some shit up!”

  Max looked up with a wide grin. “Fuck yeah!” He got down a few of the ones we kept for times just like this. Max and I laughed like kids, whooping it up as we wrecked the paper targets and turned our attention to the outdoor targets fixed on hay bales. “Good idea, man. This wedding shit is stressing me out.”

  “Yeah, life is stressing me out,” I grunted and squeezed the trigger before he could ask any damn questions about it. So we shot and then shot some more, going through a few boxes of ammo before we tired ourselves out.

  When we were done Max found his opening. “Want to talk about it?”

  I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Fuck no! Hell, I don’t know. I don’t wanna talk about this shit.”

  He barked out a loud laugh. “Spoken like a man with no woman to pull hi
s feelings out of him, whether he wants to talk about it or not.”

  Shaking his head, Max looked like a man who loved every minute of talking about his feelings with his curvy little bride to be. “So, who’s the girl?”

  I let out a loud grunt as I took apart the rifle and cleaned it. “Doesn’t matter. I was an asshole after we had sex and she’s pissed. Wants nothing at all to do with me.”

  The bastard clapped me on the back. “You mean that famous Savior charm can’t make her forget?”

  “Shit, she might try to filet my nuts if I even try,” I sighed and put the gun away. “But she’s Ammo’s sister so I have to at least apologize or deal with fucking Cross.”

  Max hadn’t known Ammo all that well, because he’d been recalled to the Army and wasn’t around all that much.

  “Shit, bro. That’s rough.”

  “Tell me about it.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I need to clear my head so I’ll stick around here. Go convince your woman to take care of all the wedding shit.”

  “All right. Thanks you crazy bastard,” he said, waving as he walked away.

  “Hey asshole, that’s Reckless Bastard to you!” I laughed, feeling a little better than I did before I unleashed hundreds of bullets on that paper target.

  Progress.

  ***

  I gave Mandy the weekend to calm down before I decided to approach her and offer up an apology she might actually listen to. Hopefully. My first stop was the restaurant where she worked. Knead was an elegant, great-looking place that specialized in pastries and other sweet treats. The perky hostess told me she’d already left for the day. I had no idea where she lived since she’d already sold the house she and Ammo had lived in for most of their lives.

  I crossed the parking lot back to my bike when I spotted Mandy and two rough looking dudes walking after her a little faster than I liked. I turned and started in her direction, picking up speed when one of the guys started talking to her.

  “We’re trying to be nice about this, Mandy. What a sweet name that is,” he said, licking his lips and reaching for her, laughing when she smacked his hand away.

  “You’ll never know.”

  I smiled, proud of how she handled herself even though I couldn’t hear most of what was being said. I could see it, though and the conversation was heated. Tense.

  Both guys moved in closer, trying to intimidate Mandy and failing. She was tough, but guys like that got off on fear and they would do anything to make sure she was afraid. One of them, the shorter one, pulled back his hand to strike her. “Just agree to this one little job and we’ll leave you alone.”

  I had the element of surprise as I grabbed the asshole’s wrist. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” My voice was a low, menacing growl as the asshole turned and grinned.

  “This has nothing to do with you, fucker. Step away.”

  Even Mandy glared at me. “It doesn’t,” she confirmed coldly but I didn’t move. And I wouldn’t until they were gone, and she was safe.

  The taller one took a step closer and leaned forward until he and Mandy were eye to eye. “Next time we see you, we won’t be so nice about it. And we won’t be asking.”

  I had no clue what the fuck they were talking about and I knew Mandy wouldn’t let on, so I waited. Ready to have her back because I knew she’d never ask for help. Hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, I noticed she had a large key poking between her middle and forefingers.

  “And next time I see you, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later. So run along boys.”

  She made a shooing motion, watching them until they were far enough away she could turn without danger.

  I was right behind her, ready to talk. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what that was about?”

  “Nope, I don’t. And I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “No one said otherwise,” I told her, working hard to tamp down my frustration at how pigheaded she was being. “When the hell did you become so stubborn?”

  She pulled open the door and tossed her bag over to the passenger seat before turning to me. “What is it that you wanted, Savior?”

  “I was hoping we could talk. Actually, I want to talk to you, Mandy. I owe you an apology.”

  “No you don’t, and I don’t want one. See you around, dude,” she said in a tone that indicated she hoped she wouldn’t ever see me again. Even still, I jogged back to my bike and followed her home from a safe distance, just to make sure she didn’t have any other visitors or unwelcome guests. At least that was what I told myself. I refused to believe it had to do with the memories of our night together that I couldn’t shake.

  Not that my reasons mattered when Mandy couldn’t even stand to be around me for more than a few minutes. I couldn’t go there. Hell, I wouldn’t. Not again.

  But what I could do, was keep an eye out for her. Keep her safe because we all owed Ammo—and her—that much.

  Chapter 3

  Mandy

  “Those egg whites are not stiff enough!” Landry, the executive pastry chef at Knead, barked at me without regard to how his love of raw onions offended my senses. And my eyes. “And don’t think for one second I’ll take it easy on you because you’re a girl,” he sniveled. He was such a fucking weasel, never mind a misogynist, and if given the chance to do so without going to prison, I’d punch him in the throat. With a mallet.

  “First of all, I am a woman chef—not a girl. And I’ve never asked you to take it easy on me.” I flipped the bowl over, confident in my skills. “If these egg whites get any stiffer we’ll use them to stack bricks outside.” They were perfect and that wasn’t ego, it was experience. I’d done it enough times to know the difference.

  “Yeah, well, you make sure you keep it that way.” Whatever the fuck that meant. He walked away, griping under his breath loud enough for the whole kitchen to hear.

  I hated his guts, more than even my most difficult instructor in culinary school. The man’s ego was based on two years of rave reviews plus a few prestigious awards, which he’d earned. Twenty years ago. He refused to change with the times, instead hiring talented chefs and taking credit for their work. Until they realized what a prick he was and quit. I had a feeling I would be just another pastry chef who “used to work for Landry.” If I didn’t kill him first.

  We’d gotten along fine at first. Then the write up in Vegas Magazine happened and well, his ego still hadn’t recovered. It wasn’t my problem and I refused to let him get a rise out of me. As long as he knew I expected to be treated with respect, he could be a blowhard. I was used to it.

  “We do not allow visitors at work, Mandy!” he barked across the entire kitchen, startling everyone as their eyes turned to me.

  “Is this restaurant not inside of a hotel and casino?”

  Because members of the press often showed up to speak with the chefs and Landry had no problem as long as they pretended to admire him.

  “You have a visitor,” he sniffed, glaring at me like that was supposed to frighten me. “Did you tell them that you don’t allow visitors?”

  I knew I was pushing it, but honestly, I was beyond caring. Moving back to this god-forsaken place had proven to be a huge mistake for a few reasons. At his glare, I shrugged.

  “Guess not.”

  I took a few minutes to get the piping perfect on the custard that would be part of the prix fixe menu before wiping my hands and leaving the kitchen. Since I had no friends or family to speak of, I could only imagine who the visitor could be. I wasn’t at all surprised to find Krissy leaning against the skinny wooden podium, popping her gum.

  “What do you want?”

  She flashed a fake grin and sauntered outside, leaving me to follow.

  “Is that how you greet an old friend?”

  “Friends? Is that what we were?” My memory recalled it differently but now wasn’t the time.

  “I’d like to think so.” She shrugged as she lit a Newport 100, he
r favorite brand of cigarettes. “But maybe now that you’ve got a big fancy life, you forgot.”

  “I didn’t forget anything. I remember all of it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going back. I’m not.”

  “Just one job, Mandy. This one tournament. Blackjack. It’s a quarter of a mil to the winner. Imagine what we could do with that kind of money!” She practically salivated at the thought of the cash that she would, no doubt, spend in just a few months. “Can’t you just do this for me?”

  That yanked a bitter laugh from somewhere deep inside me. “No. I did that to survive, Krissy. I’m not taking that kind of risk again.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed and I knew things were about to get ugly. Krissy was, at heart, a used car salesman. When false flattery and fake promises didn’t work, she turned cutthroat. “I don’t remember you being such a bitch.”

  “Yeah, well, I was a vulnerable kid back then, and I bought what you were selling a lot easier when I didn’t know any better.” She could try to deny all she wanted, but I knew the truth.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “When you needed me, I was there for you.”

  I laughed again, but this time it wasn’t bitter and it definitely wasn’t amused. It was anger. Rage. “There for me? I asked you to help me get a fake I.D. and somehow you ended up taking a cut of all the winnings when I took all the risk. Sorry, but I’m not so stupid anymore.”

  Arms crossed, she placed the filter between thin, heavily wrinkled lips from too much sun and too much cigarette smoke, pulling hard until that hit of nicotine soothed her frayed edges. “I could make life very difficult for you in this city, Mandy.”

  “And I can make it just as difficult for you, Krissy. Why do you need the money so bad? You owe someone you can’t pay?”