Mayhem Madness: Reckless Bastards MC Series Books 1-7

by KB Winters

  “You still look hot, but I think you’re right. At least fifty women will be wearing something like this. Just, maybe hunch your shoulders a little.”

  “I look ridiculous but once you do my makeup I’ll totally look the part.” I hoped. I bought a legitimate ticket under an alias just so I could be there when that motherfucker saw everything he worked for fall apart. Not in front of the world, because despite what Jag thought of me, I would never do that to teenage girls. Not even ones who went after married dudes. No, this would be a controlled explosion. One that would only detonate in front of the people who mattered most to him. Who held his career in their hands and wouldn’t hesitate to crush him before he brought the whole party down.

  Rocky painted some pink gloss on my lips as a nice finishing touch. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

  I nodded. “I don’t want to—I have to. Thank you so much for this, Rocky. And remember, ninety minutes and then you can tell Jag.” I pulled her in for a hug and rubbed her belly for good luck before leaving.

  I walked a few blocks and grabbed a taxi to the resort. There was still plenty of time before the fundraiser started and I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. I needed to blend in.

  After exchanging a few hundred bucks in chips, I hit the blackjack table, winning and losing at equal parts in an effort not to draw attention. I hit a few more tables and some slot machines before it was time for me to follow the herd to the ballroom for the high-priced, fund-raiser lunch.

  Table nine was where they placed Amanda Schwartz, so I made my way there and looked around at my tablemates. I guessed mid-level political types happy to rub elbows with the party elite. I took a seat and sipped water from a crystal glass, smiling politely at the silver hairs and good ol’ boys hoping to get ahead this weekend.

  The chicken was dry, and the green beans were undercooked, but the one glass of champagne I had was nice and cold. Just how I liked it. And by the time Blaise hit the stage, my hands trembled. Tingled, even. It started up my leg as he began his bullshit spiel about his family and his plans for the people of Florida and his party.

  “We could all learn something from the great Americans who traveled west and turned this great state into what it is today!” The applause was thunderous, the crowd eating his bullshit faster than he could shovel it across the stage.

  I bit the inside of my jaw to keep from groaning as he brought his pretty, underweight blue blood wife on stage along with his three adorable children. Then his chief of staff and his junior press secretary, smiling and glad-handing them, before he brought Sabrina, his girlfriend, on stage.

  And that was my cue.

  Sabrina walked across the stage in her cotton candy pink Chanel suit, and that’s when the twenty foot screen behind them faded from Blaise’s good looks and charming smile to the first photo. Blaise with Missy Keane, the family’s sixteen-year-old babysitter canoodling in the back seat of his silver Aston Martin. Next was Shannon Bell, the fifteen-year-old chef’s apprentice in her chef coat and a denim micro mini, Blaise’s hand between her legs and his lips on her throat.

  Photo after photo went up of Blaise’s different underaged indiscretions but I saved the best part for last. Indigo Prescott’s face came up first, her blonde hair cut in damn near the same style as his wife’s and her smiling face young and vibrant. Next was the photo of Tricia Patterson, looking way too young and grubby in a halter top and denim cutoffs and beside her the same image on a Missing Person poster.

  The gasps from the crowd were deafening and Blaise was still oblivious. It was fucking glorious. The outraged cries grew louder and the disappointed groans from the men were probably because he’d gotten caught. Or worse, gotten caught on camera. I stood with a satisfied smile as several journalists scribbled furiously on notepads and iPads while a few discreetly captured the images playing on a loop on the screen.

  I slipped out of the ballroom feeling just a smidge lighter as I dodged gamblers and revelers on my way out of this oxygen-deprived place. My eyes were peeled for trouble, because no doubt Blaise had decided to use his muscle as a precaution. I hadn’t spotted them yet, but I could feel eyes on me.

  Fucking paranoia was a bitch. “Excuse me, are you Genevieve Montgomery?” The guy could fill up a barn door nicely.

  “No.” I took a step around him and kept walking.

  “I think you are,” he said as he walked beside me, reeking of government work.

  “I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

  He took two steps forward and stood in front of me and I had no problem going around him. “Agent Ryan, FBI Las Vegas office.”

  “Congratulations.” The guy was a bit on edge for a Fed and immediately I was on alert, sliding my hand into my clutch purse.

  “I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

  “Nothing to say and if you have something to say, you should do it with my attorney.” He shocked me by grabbing my arm and yanking me against him. I screamed my ass off, hoping to draw the attention of any of the people standing around gawking.

  “Shut the fuck up!” He pressed his hand over my mouth and nose and I stomped his foot with my nude stiletto. Agent Ryan wasn’t fazed, and he dragged me away outside toward his car I was sure, which I knew meant certain death for me. I couldn’t be sure if he was working for Blaise or Rizzoli and in the moment, it didn’t matter.

  And I wouldn’t fucking stop trying to get away because the more progress he made, the more certain my death would be. I bit his hand. Hard.

  “Asshole!” I said as soon as my mouth was free.

  “Bitch!” he answered, smacking me with his left hand so it didn’t hurt as much as it could have. Also, it gave me the chance to get away. I pumped my legs hard out on the street shouting, “Agent Ryan, Las Vegas field office. Supervising Agent Robert Stevens! Address 10975 Beacham Drive. Henderson!”

  But he cut me off again with his big fucking hand. I sent my head swinging back right into his nose.

  “You’ll pay for that bitch!”

  I didn’t realize I’d run right in the direction of his car. Fuck.

  He got the door open and shoved me into the front seat in one practiced move and when I slid to the other side in a desperate escape attempt, he was there with a hard fist aimed right at my eye.

  This wasn’t going to end well.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jag

  “Jag, we have a big fucking problem, man.” Lasso’s deep voice and southern twang sent a chill down my spine.

  “What?” I stood in the doorway of the ballroom where Rocky promised me Vivi would be as she took down Blaise. The good news was that Blaise and his family were hurrying off the stage while his security and the event coordinators ran helter skelter trying to stop the images on the screen. I could tell they didn’t even know where they were coming from. That was my girl. But where was she?

  “She’s not here,” Lasso said.

  Rocky had promised she would be in the ballroom, which meant I just missed her.

  “Max has eyes on Vivi with some brown-haired dude who looks like a cop.”

  “Max? What the hell is he doing here?”

  Lasso grinned. “You didn’t think we’d let you come alone, did you?” I had actually, but I was grateful that it wasn’t just me and Lasso.

  “Shit.” Lasso had his phone glued to his ear. “He’s got her in a car. Black Nissan, Nevada plates.”

  My heart stopped but my feet were already moving toward the door. To Vivi. “Shit, we need to move fast. Who knows where he took her? Or why?”

  It was the whys that were driving me fucking crazy. If that dude was working for Rizzoli, then he’d hand Vivi over to that asshole and let him act out every sick fantasy he’d ever had.

  “Fuck! If I’d just been there with her.”

  “Jag, man come on. Worry about that shit later. Right now we need to get your girl.” Lasso clapped me on the back and we hauled ass to our bikes, Lasso still on the phone with M
ax who was close behind the car.

  My phone rang but I was already speeding up Las Vegas Boulevard, so I tapped the headset in my helmet. “Yeah?” It was Vivi’s voice and a man’s. The man was angry.

  “What the fuck do you care about a bunch of bikers? They’re scum.” His voice was dark and angry.

  Vivi laughed. “You’re working with Rizzoli who’s the scummiest of all of them.” He made a strangled noise that pulled another laugh from Vivi. “Yeah Agent Ryan, you’re not the only asshole who can dig. No matter what you do to me, you’re in deep shit.”

  He laughed. “You’re full of shit, little girl. If you had anything on me, you would’ve known who I was.”

  “I did know. I just didn’t realize you were crazy enough to kidnap me in public. It’s a good thing I found those not-so-secret emails with Rizzoli about trying to start a gang war. And those payments for trafficking those poor young girls. And you know who appreciated it most of all? Agent Hewitt.”

  There was a smack or maybe it was a punch, but if it was a punch I would fucking put him in the ground. Vivi’s grunt hit me right in the gut but my girl, she was too tough to cry.

  “Bitch,” the Fed muttered under his breath.

  “I’ve been called worse but I’m sure that’s what the boys in Cell Block C will call you when they pass you around, filling your tight little asshole with hot sticky come.”

  I could hear the tremor of fear in her voice, so I knew the asshole Fed could too.

  “Keep talking, bitch, and you’ll end up just another body in the desert.” He sounded serious and I hoped Vivi heeded his warning.

  But of course she didn’t as she continued to give him shit. “Either way, you’re going down. Sure, you got me by showing up here at the casino, but the damage has been done. My guess is that right now your entire field office is searching for you. Probably already tracking this monstrosity.”

  Damn, she was taunting that unstable asshole. Didn’t she realize he wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate?

  “You’re bluffing,” he accused.

  “It doesn’t matter to me. I have contingency plan upon contingency plan. Do you?”

  Vivi let out a grunt as that fucker landed another blow but it slowly morphed into a laugh. “Did you know your wife, Camille, is fucking the professor that lives two doors down from you? Probably you suspected, but did you know that she’s been fucking him since before little Adam was born?”

  Stitch zoomed past us in the SUV with a wave, speeding so fast that we lost sight of him quickly. I nodded to Lasso and we sped up too, pushing the next half-mile until the Nissan came into view. And like the good fucking soldier he was, Stitch was in place ready to ram them off the road. He straddled both lanes while Vivi had Agent Ryan distracted. Stitch pitted the car, making it spin and kick up dirt until it came to a stop at a weird angle, nose first into the ravine.

  Two gun shots sounded, and my heart stopped just as I dropped the kickstand on the bike and rushed to get Vivi. I was either going to rescue her or murder a federal agent. Either way, that motherfucker was dead. My feet moved faster than they had since I was a scrawny assed-kid running away from bullies, pulling her from the car and frantically checking her for injuries.

  “Christ, Vivi. Say something.” She had a large gash on her forehead and her pulse was racing so I knew she was fine. “Dammit, Vivi!”

  “Quit your bellyaching Jeremiah, I’ve got a massive fucking headache. You ever been hit with a gun?”

  “Yeah. Hurts like a motherfucker, don’t it?”

  “Even worse.” She smiled and only winced a little when I cupped her face to make sure she was all right.

  “Nice wig. Maybe you can keep it?” It was inappropriate and the wrong timing, but it made her smile brighter and she opened her eyes.

  “Blue?”

  “I’m undercover.”

  I smirked at her words and helped her stand. “You scared the hell out of me.” Vivi sagged against me, proof of just how much this whole day had affected her.

  “Watch out, Jag!” I turned at the sound of Lasso’s voice, and sure enough, Ryan had his sights set on me or Vivi. Maybe both of us. His gun was already pointed at us, finger dancing with the trigger. I didn’t have enough time to get to my gun before he shot but Vivi didn’t think twice about pulling her blade and aiming it at Agent Ryan.

  The knife sliced the air with a wicked zinging sound and landed in his gut.

  “Cunt!” he barked, then grinned, lifting the gun again but not before shots rang out. Two of them, hitting him right in the chest, sending that asshole to hell where he belonged.

  With a gasp, Vivi turned and a small smile lit her face. “Agent Hewitt, I presume?”

  He nodded and walked closer to us. I pulled Vivi closer and slightly behind me. “I am. Nice to meet you Vivi and I’m sorry it took so long but bureaucracy can be a real bitch.”

  “Thanks for the assist back there.” She began to sag against me even more as shock set in and the adrenaline began to wear off. Realizing her display of vulnerability, she stood straight. Shoulders squared.

  “It’s me who owes you a thanks. That guy would’ve gotten me killed and probably a bunch of your friends, too.”

  She nodded, skin looking paler by the second. When the EMS arrived and rushed to her, Vivi tried to brush them off. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Vivi, let him check you out. Please.”

  She nodded and followed behind the paramedic. “I will but only because I’m feeling a little woozy,” she said, her voice breathless.

  I followed, not liking how unsteady her legs were and the way her words began to drag. “Wait!” I ordered.

  She turned with a smile. “You gonna carry me, Jag?”

  “Damn straight.” My feet began to move as a shot rang out and everyone ducked. Everyone but Vivi, who looked at me in shock.

  “Jeremiah, I think—” she looked down at her shoulder and the growing red circle and then back to me. “Damn.” Then she collapsed right before my eyes.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Vivi, even as shots flew out all around us. A crash sounded in the distance and more shots sounded but my concern was her.

  “You have to move,” the EMS said as he shoved me aside, ripping Vivi’s jacket to get to the wound in her left shoulder.

  They stopped the flow of blood and got Vivi on a gurney and into the ambulance. I sat beside her in the back, looking at the smoking red pickup truck smashed against a guardrail as we sped past on our way to the hospital.

  Good fucking riddance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Vivi

  “Do you know who shot me?” I asked the question at the same time Jag asked one of his own. Sort of.

  “I want you to stay, Vivi. Here in Vegas. You and me. Together.”

  Jag flashed that gorgeous irresistible smile and my heart leapt and twerked with happiness even though I knew it couldn’t last.

  “Say something,” he urged from across the black and white checkered tablecloth of one of our favorite greasy spoon diners near Jag’s house.

  I didn’t know what to say because telling him the truth would break his heart, but I couldn’t lie. Not to Jag. “I know, and I want that too.”

  He frowned and sat back in his chair, his gaze searing a hole right through me. “Why does it sound like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

  My smile was bittersweet. “Because you’re a smart man.” I didn’t want to tell him this, not today. Not ever but I’d put it off for the past three days while I was in the hospital and now, well now I was out of time. “I do want to stay Jag, but I can’t.”

  “Is it because of the guys? If so, I’ll talk to them and we can quash this shit, Vivi.” Anguish filled his brown eyes and my heart split right down the middle.

  “No Jag. I don’t give a shit about them, I give a shit about you.” I placed my right hand on top of his because my left one was still in a sling thanks to the bullet that went straight through my shoulder. �
�This is killing me, Jag. I need you to know that and I don’t say it lightly.”

  “I know.” And his slight smile told me he did.

  “Bob stopped by while I was in the hospital,” I admitted.

  “Shit. She’s still alive?”

  “I know, right? But yeah, she’s a little battered but fine.” Bob was strong and a seasoned CIA agent. Very little left her shaken. “But I’m not.”

  “What’s that mean?” He held my hand between his, thumb stroking the pulse racing on my wrist.

  “It means that I can’t stay here. Not now and not for a while.”

  I couldn’t believe my eyes were burning with unshed tears, but they were. It was a strange sensation, one that felt so out of place and totally fucking out of character for me that I didn’t recognize what it was at first. Tears. I was crying. Over Jag.

  “I broke a lot of laws Jag. A lot.”

  “You did it to stay alive because Slauson dropped the fucking ball!” He was upset, and I didn’t blame him. But…

  “That doesn’t change anything, Jag. You know the shady shit the government can do when they want something.” And they wanted me.

  “You’re not telling me something. Dammit, Vivi. What’s going on? Do you not want this?”

  “Don’t be a crazy fucker. Of course, I do. I came here to find Jeremiah and to see if he was still the nicest boy I’d ever met and could help me. Instead I found you. Jag. Big and strong, but still the nicest person I’ve ever known. You went against your club, your brothers for me and no one has ever cared that much for me. Ever.”

  “I’d do it all over again just to keep you safe.”

  I believed him. “Good because that’s exactly why you’re not going to make this harder, Jag. You and the Reckless Bastards, you broke a lot of laws, too.”

  He froze, and I could see the tension fill his body. It was finally sinking in, now that the danger was behind us, just how much shit we’d done in the name of survival.