Mayhem Madness: Reckless Bastards MC Series Books 1-7

by KB Winters

  “You’re plenty likable,” I told him as I worked hard to tamp down the desire that welled up at that smile. “Until you open your mouth.” He really was entirely too good looking with his tall frame and wide shoulders, thick brown hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial and eyes so blue they could rival the ocean. He was as handsome as he was dangerous, but it was the latter I needed to remember.

  “There may be some truth to that,” he admitted sheepishly. “What’s that smell?”

  “Sage and lavender. To get rid of the bad energy in this place.” I knew he would think it was some type of voodoo or hocus pocus, or whatever other phrase people used to describe things they couldn’t understand.

  “Smells good. Kind of like pot.”

  I scoffed. “Now you sound like Dodds.”

  “That guy’s a fucking dick.”

  “Agreed.” I looked around the shop one final time and sighed. Everything looked normal and in time, I was sure it would feel normal as well. Hopefully. “Thank you for stopping by Cross but the apology wasn’t necessary.”

  “It was. I don’t dislike you, Moon.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, the same way Beau did when he wanted to ask for something he knew he couldn’t have.

  “It’s okay if you do.” It took me a long time to become comfortable with that but being me felt better than being accepted for being someone else.

  “I don’t. Can I walk you home?”

  I smirked but nodded at the gesture. It was nice and kind of old school. I liked it. “Sure. But, I live right here.” I gestured to the side of the building. I locked up and Cross fell into step beside me. Quietly. “How are you doing, Cross?”

  “Fine,” he said quickly.

  “Okay. But how are you really?” I stopped and put a hand to his chest. “Humor me.”

  Those blue eyes stared at me for a long time but there was no hate or malice or even mild dislike in them. There was bone deep fatigue, concern and a fear in them I was sure he’d rather die than let me see. He started walking and I figured the conversation was over and fell in step beside him. “I’m tired as hell, Moon.”

  I felt myself softening towards his honesty. “That wasn’t so hard was it? Are you having trouble sleeping?”

  “No trouble because I just gave up trying to sleep.” His words were harsh and sardonic.

  My heart went out to him. I didn’t know much about the Reckless Bastards but I knew they were a motorcycle club and I knew they had plenty of business interests around town. I also knew the cops thought they were criminals and that bad luck seemed to follow them. “Doesn’t your club own a few dispensaries, because I’m pretty sure pot is a good sleep aid.”

  Thick chocolate brows arched. “You toke up, Moon?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Not anymore. When I partake, it’s strictly edibles because of Beau’s asthma. In fact, do you have some time right now?”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  We stood in front of my house and I climbed the steps. “Therapy and you won’t even have to talk about your feelings.” He grinned and climbed the steps, shaking his head.

  “How can I pass up an offer like that?”

  ***

  What on earth possessed me to invite Cross into my home? The man was hurting and he clearly couldn’t express any vulnerability to his club, or probably anyone else. If I could help him, I would. But I refused to get involved. “Come on in and take off your shoes and that vest.”

  “Is that necessary?”

  I turned to face him, hands on my hips the way I did when Beau decided to question my decisions. “Yes.”

  And that was all it took to get him to oblige. He kicked off his heavy duty boots and hung the leather vest with the Reckless Bastards insignia on one of the hooks beside the door. “Happy?”

  “No. Satisfied. Now come and have a seat.” The squeak of his much heavier frame easing into the cushion sounded as I went to retrieve what I needed to help him.

  “I made these,” I told him and stopped when I returned and saw him stretched out on the sofa with his eyes half closed. He looked peaceful and I didn’t want to rouse him.

  “I’m not asleep. Yet,” he said and sat up. “What the hell kind of air freshener do you use?” He sounded grumpy about it and that made me laugh.

  “It varies from week to week. Different scents that instill calm and relaxation. Too much stress can be bad for Beau.”

  He smiled. “Where is he?”

  “Hanging out with Rocky. I don’t know if it’s her red hair or that slight hint of southern twang I hear in her voice, but Beau is absolutely taken with her.”

  “He’s a cool kid. Very, ah, adult.”

  I laughed and set down the two containers. “He’s mature for his age, I know.”

  “I like it. I’m not really the baby talk kind of guy,” he said gruffly, seeming uncomfortable as I sat on the coffee table directly in front of him.

  “No kidding. It would probably freak him out if you did.” I’d never treated Beau like a baby because he was too smart for me to get away with it and because I couldn’t afford to baby him during his early years. But when his asthma got out of control I did worse than baby him, I became a mother hen. “I have hemp oil and CBD cream. I made them both and I’m going to combine them. All you have to do is relax.”

  Cross looked skeptical but he nodded and I took one of his big hands into both of mine and began massaging his hand and wrist. It took a few minutes, but as soon as he stopped resisting me, Cross began to relax. The weight of his big body sank deeper into the sofa just as I knew it would. Every inch of him was rock hard and not just his muscles, but the knots of tension. “Damn that feels good.”

  I smiled and switched to his other hand, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction when his arm remained limp. His hands were big and calloused, like he worked with his hands, which made me curious. “What exactly do you do?”

  He opened one eye and stared at me. “Seriously?”

  I nodded, adding more pressure to his palm and pulling a groan from him. “Yes, seriously. If you don’t want to answer, don’t.” I never understood why people were so secretive, especially in this digital age. With a credit card and a wi-fi connection I could have his life story in under an hour.

  “I’m the President of the Reckless Bastards which basically puts me as CEO of our business interests.”

  “Interesting.” I’d never thought about the club like an actual, official organization or corporation but it made sense. The truth was I didn’t think all that much about the club because I didn’t want to know. But I wanted to know about Cross.

  “Yeah? Why?”

  I shrugged and stood in front of him, noticing the way he made a gentlemen’s effort to avoid looking at my chest. I urged him to stretch out again and stood behind him so I could get to work, my hands on the side of his head.

  “Because I never thought of it like that. Jana’s mentioned casually about the dispensaries, the gun shop and even a brothel or two but I guess I just assumed…actually I don’t think I assumed anything. It’s pretty cool that you’re a CEO.”

  I’d started working on a pressure point.

  He grinned. “These days it doesn’t feel all that cool,” he said honestly and I knew he was feeling relaxed. “Oh, shit, Moon.”

  The sound that came from the back of his throat was downright sensual, like the sound a man makes when he first slides into a moan. Satisfied but hungry for more. And all I was doing was massaging his temples. His hands floated back like a baby’s, fingertips brushing the sides of my arms as if I wasn’t already too aware of him.

  “Holy shit.” His hands gripped my wrists as my fingertips lightly pressed into his head.

  I ignored his touch and the heat it sent through me and kept going because Cross needed this. He would never admit it, at least not to me, but he didn’t have to. “Relax, Cross.”

  “I am.”

  “Relax completely.
Hands too, down at your sides. It’s more effective, trust me.” Not that he owed me trust but since I had his head in my hands, he didn’t have a choice.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Relax.” He finally did and I was able to focus, sliding my fingers down the back of his head to his shoulders which were as hard as granite. The man carried his stress everywhere and there was a lot of it.

  “Moon,” he groaned again and I felt my nipples harden and I just hoped he couldn’t see the effect that deep, gravelly voice was having on me. “Fuck.”

  I gave him at least five solid minutes on each of his shoulders until every lump and knot was gone. He was practically boneless when I stepped back with a satisfied smile. “Better?”

  “Hell yeah. Thank you, Moon.”

  “I’m just glad I could help.” I wasn’t expecting anything from Cross, but the fact that I could help another hurting soul, even temporarily, meant something to me.

  “Where’d you learn all this anyway? Massage expert? Medical professional? What’s next? Ninja?”

  A laugh spilled out of me at his words. “Ninja? I wish. Despite the graceful woman you see before you, I am the exact opposite of a ninja.”

  “But?” He looked up at me, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

  “I used to be an EMT when I lived on the east coast and then later I got into alternative and holistic medicine.”

  “Because of Beau?”

  He was perceptive. “I already had an interest, but it kind of went into overdrive after his asthma worsened.”

  “Nothing wrong with protecting your kid. It’s your job.” He said it with such conviction I knew there was a story there but now wasn’t the time.

  “Agreed.” I stepped around to put some distance between us, until the intimate little bubble we’d found ourselves in quietly burst. “I have some things I need to take care of,” I told him and pushed at his shoulders when he tried to stand. “But you should take fifteen or twenty minutes to lie there and relax. And then you can leave and ruin all of my hard work with your stressful life.”

  He smiled a half-smile, looking so handsome I had to look away. “Thanks Moon.”

  “I’m glad I could help. Take care of yourself, Cross.” Even though we weren’t actually friends and barely even acquaintances despite how many times we’d crossed paths over the past few years, I really hoped he’d take care of himself.

  Chapter Seven

  Cross

  Spending time with Moon had been unexpected but nice. I thought I’d just stop by her shop and offer up an apology, which she would give me a hard time about, and then be on my way. But Moon wasn’t just some flighty hippie chick, she was a good woman with a good heart. Even though I’d seen the heat in her eyes more than once in the hour I’d spent with her, she’d never made a move or even flirted with me.

  Hell, I was pretty sure a few times she was treating me like her kid and instead of pissing me off, it amused me. Fucking amused me, which I didn’t even think was possible anymore.

  I left her place feeling more relaxed than I had in a long damn time. As I rode back to the clubhouse, I thought about how I’d never been more grateful for someone to touch me. The pain in my neck and shoulders was gone. My head felt clear, I was focused.

  Her hands were fucking magic. I hadn’t felt this good in years. Well, since Lauren, anyway.

  When I pulled up to the clubhouse there was a white fucking station wagon with a Mayhem city logo on the front door.

  What the fuck were the fucking paper pushers doing here now?

  Since the clubhouse was not a public place I knew exactly where they were. The shooting range. My motorcycle boots were the only sound aside from the blood rushing through my head as I came closer and closer to our pride and joy. We sank a lot of money into RB Gun Range but we’d more than made it back over the years because despite the crazies, Americans loved us some guns.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  A short round man with curly black hair turned to me, brown eyes flashing fear before he remembered who the fuck he was. “City Inspector,” he said and flashed a badge too fast for me to see. “We have a few issues here, Mr. Wylie.”

  “I need to see that ID.”

  He stared with a smirk on his face until he realized I wasn’t joking. “You don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be.”

  “By asking you to identify yourself? Funny, I thought that was the law.” He handed me the badge and I stared at it for a long time, snapping an image with my phone before handing it back. “What problems have you found, Stuart?”

  He swallowed. “There’s no clear indicator where your bullets are being deposited once discharged.”

  More fucking bullshit. “Are you with the EPA or the City?”

  Stuart swallowed again and removed a kerchief from his pocket. “The City as my identification states.”

  “And the City has been authorized to enforce federal regulations? Hang on so I can get my lawyer on the phone.” These guys were full of shit, once again, and I was damned tired of it.

  I stared him down as I waited for my call to go through.

  “Cross, what can I do for you?” Tanya was a boisterous blonde from Georgia, but she was a damn good lawyer who didn’t take shit and had no problem working for an MC.

  I gave her a quick rundown of Stuart’s claims. “What should I do?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t kick his sniveling fucking face in or you’ll have trouble. Just take the paperwork and make sure it’s dated and signed. Make sure everything is laid out and easy to understand. When that shithead leaves, send it to me and I’ll take care of it.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Tanya.”

  “It’s why y’all pay me the big bucks.” She laughed and ended the call before I could.

  I slid the phone back into my back pocket and stared at Stuart, fighting the urge to ignore Tanya’s warning and pummel his face. That thought just pissed me off because it reminded me of Moon’s words before I drifted off on her sofa. And then you can leave and ruin all of my hard work with your stressful life. “Well?”

  “There is another matter. The guns, do you have proof they were purchased legally?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  He shook his head while wiping more sweat from his forehead and his brow. “I assure you I am not.”

  “Right. Then show me what law says I have to.”

  “Look, there’s no reason to—”

  “Show me the goddamn paperwork or get the fuck off my property, Stuart.”

  With quick moves, Stuart scribbled on a sheet of paper and handed it to me. “You have fourteen business days to answer our requests or fines will incur.”

  “You done?” He opened his mouth to say more but my patience was done. “Get the fuck out.” I didn’t raise my voice because I didn’t need to, Stuart got the message and got out of my sight real fucking fast.

  Even with him gone, my anger and frustration hadn’t subsided. Despite all of Moon’s work to calm me down, which had worked dammit, I was all riled up again. My mind raced to connect the dots. I knew all the bullshit the Bastards were going through with the city was connected even if I didn’t know how. Or why they’d targeted the Reckless Bastards. But I knew who would and I called him as I headed back to my bike.

  “What’s up, Cross?”

  “Jag, can you do a deep dive to see who we pissed off in city government? I can’t figure out all the pieces yet, but a city inspector was just at the gun range.”

  He whistled. “Two weeks ago it was Bungalow Three.”

  “And I’m sure more will come. Can you do it?”

  “Sure. Not like I got shit else to do. I’ll let you know when I have something.” And then the call was over, making me question my leadership skills again.

  I couldn’t think of any of that, not right now, when I was so damn desperate to reclaim the calm I felt before I got back to the clubhouse. How could th
e one place that mattered to me the most, be the biggest source of my stress?

  That was another question I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer, not now. I needed something else to focus on and as I passed one of the three titty bars in Mayhem, I found the perfect fucking thing. A yellow and black Camaro that someone who didn’t know cars would mistake for a Mustang, and it was sticking out like a sore thumb. “Perfect.”

  I wouldn’t do anything tonight. Probably. But I did wander into the club like I owned it. Not that anybody noticed, which was fine with me.

  My goal was to follow Vigo, let him know that I had my eye on him. If White Boy Craig was happy to look like a punk ass bitch and let this snitch live, he didn’t deserve the respect of me not killing this fuckwad as soon as I got the chance. Not tonight, I had to remind myself at least a dozen times as I watched him sitting right up front and making lewd comments to the dancers. Cheap fucker tossed out dollar bills and then got angry when the girls found bigger pockets to dance for.

  “All that money you got for selling out your club and you’re handing out singles? Pathetic.”

  He froze, and his face went pale as I stood beside him. Too close. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

  I smiled. “Right now? Nothing. But soon, Vigo. That’s a fucking promise.” I left a bullet, a hollow point, on the table in front of him and walked away. Let that asshole stew over that. It didn’t take long for him to get spooked. About ten minutes later he slid into that yellow eyesore and hit the road with me right on his ass.

  He stopped at a whorehouse—not one of ours—but it took him fifteen minutes before he was walking out again with a satisfied smirk on his face. Because it took a real man to please a woman being paid to fuck you, right? I followed Vigo all night. Everywhere he went I was like his fucking shadow. He stopped at a biker bar and I was there at the other end of the bar watching.

  Then a rundown apartment building where he was greeted by a woman with chunky red and blonde highlights. He went inside with the woman and did who knew what, but the lights stayed on for a few hours before all signs indicated they were in for the night.