Mayhem Madness: Reckless Bastards MC Series Books 1-7

by KB Winters

  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 his 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, her 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?”

  That quick flash of fear told me I was right. “If you or your friends think you can threaten me, you all better think again. I don’t scare so easily, so think long and hard about your next move.”

  She stomped her foot like a five-year-old. “But this tourney is easy money. You’ll definitely place. Third place is fifty grand.”

  “No.” It was that simple. I had plenty of reasons that I didn’t want to do it, but none of them mattered. I wouldn’t step foot inside a casino to count cards unless the only other option was starvation, and that would never happen because any greasy spoon or chain restaurant in this city would be happy to have me.

  “If you don’t do this, there will be trouble. It’s not a threat,” she said, suddenly sounding terrified. “It’s a guarantee.”

  I took a step closer and glared at her. “Then you should have thought about that shit before you shot off your mouth to those thugs. Whatever you think you can do to make me do this, just know that I can do worse. And I will.”

  She looked worried, but I knew this wasn’t over. Krissy owed someone a lot of money and my guess was those thugs who accosted me the other day in the parking lot were part of that someone’s organization.

  They would be back, of that much I was certain.

  What they didn’t know was that I would be ready.

  Chapter 4

  Savior

  “What are you doing here, man?”

  Lasso’s smile was wide and friendly when I stepped into GET INK’D, his arms draped over two hot sorority girls.

  “Too many Bitches at the clubhouse, a man can’t even get a fucking drink in peace.”

  There were nearly a dozen lounging around in their tightest, lowest cut outfits to attract attention. The Reckless Bitches served their purpose but sometimes a man just needed to be.

  “What’s up around here?”

  His smile spread even wider if that was possible. “I’m going to give Katie and Becca tattoos. On their hipbones.” He emphasized the words, flashing me his best horndog grin over their heads. The man had as much charm as the state he came from, and the chicks ate that shit up. The sorority girls looked up at him like he couldn’t possibly be real. Too bad they’d be disappointed that he was only there for a few nights.

  “You here for ink?”

  “Nope, just here.” I was bored, restless and in search of something to do. Lasso disappeared with the sorority girls and I found Jag bent over a big ass biker who had ‘weekend warrior’ written all over him. He was big and bald, and had no visible tats, like someone who had a nine to five to go to every week. They were easy to spot, but they were good people, and most importantly, they kept guys like us, the real deal, flush with business. They came to us for tats, grass, ass and guns.

  “Hey Jag.”

  “Sup, Savior,” he said without looking up. His concentration had always been one of his most admirable traits. “Golden Boy is in with a customer, but she’s decent.”

  I nodded at the biker doing his best to look cool as I walked by. “Thanks man.” I hoped Golden Boy was able to get away for a few hours, maybe go for a ride to clear the fucking cobwebs from my head. I knocked and waited, feeling agitated and impatient.

  “Come in,” his gruff voice called, but it was less gruff now that he’d gone and fallen in love with a former model with a sharp tongue and long legs.

  I pushed the door open and the smile on my face died when I spotted Mandy sitting in his chair.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I ignored the sharp look Golden Boy sent me, waiting for Mandy to answer.

  She stared up at me, her expression blank and emotionless.

  “I would think that’s obvious.” She turned back to him, dismissing me. “Privacy would be nice,” she said tersely.

  Golden Boy flashed an apologetic grin at me and pushed the door closed in my face.

  “Dammit!” I smacked the door, letting my anger get the better of me. Why the fuck was I so angry, anyway? Mandy was just my friend’s little sister and a chick I fucked. Once. I couldn’t let her get to me like this. Shit, I refused to. But I knew what was bothering me. Her anger and refusal to talk to me, combined with Cross’s words. She’s like family. Under our protection. Both of those things were true no matter how either of us felt about it, which made this the perfect chance to make her listen to my apology.

  Twenty minutes later, Golden Boy and Mandy exited the room, all smiles and laughter.

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, Tate. But you can let Teddy know I did get the details. And not to worry that she didn’t hire me to do the cake. No way I could have transported a five-tier beauty down to San Diego.”

  “Yeah, well she felt bad after promising you the gig,” Tate said, flashing a warm smile that spoke of familiarity.

  “Listen, we’re good. She’s gonna love the pastry chef I recommended.”

  She rolled her eyes affectionately, like they had some kind of friendship I didn’t know about.

  “As long as you show up,” he warned,

  “I’ll do what I can, but my boss hates me so I can’t guarantee he’ll give me the time off. I need a tube of that ointment,” she pointed to the aftercare ointment on the shelf behind him, paid and waved him off like they were old friends. “Catch you later, Tate.” She walked right past me, exiting the shop without a glance, or even the fucking evil eye, aimed at me.

  I
stood, feeling wound up. Anxious. Hell, I didn’t know, but I knew the source and I followed her out of the shop and caught up with her halfway up the block.

  “You’re avoiding me.”

  She didn’t answer and I took another step closer.

  “And now you’re ignoring me.”

  She sighed, frustrated and barely hanging on to her rage.

  “You are not a part of my life, Savior. I don’t need to avoid or ignore you because we’re nothing to each other. Two people who once fucked, that’s it. There’s no reason to pretend it was anything else, which means I don’t need you checking up on me.”

  “I’ve known you since you were a little girl, Mandy. That’s more than two people who once fucked,” I told her, throwing her words back at her.

  “No. You knew me, back when I was a kid. A lot of time and a lot of life has happened since then. You don’t know shit about me or my life.”

  The way she said it told me there was shit in her life. I asked myself, should I have known about it? I’d promised Ammo that me and the club would look after her when we could. My last tour with Ammo was my last tour before I left the Army, but I’d come home and gotten caught up in the club. “So, tell me.”

  She laughed and it was filled with bitterness and anger. “I don’t think so.”

  I leaned on her car, staring across the hood. “So, this is how it’s gonna be? You pretending we don’t know each other.”

  She shrugged. “It won’t be hard because we don’t know each other. Just forget we used to know each other, all right?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Try harder.” She yanked her door open and jumped inside, rolling her eyes.