Holiday Havoc (Reckless Bastards MC 7)

“Good,” she said and rolled her eyes, “because I’m not offering a tip.” She waited a beat but instead of pouting or begging, she turned and lifted the badass bat wing side door of the SUV and bent over, giving me a long and satisfying glimpse of her heart-shaped ass. She heaved out a suitcase with a loud grunt. With a casual kick, she tilted the box on its wheels and smiled at Vivi. “Anywhere we can have some privacy?”

“Yeah. Our camper is over here because lockdown is still in full effect. You can meet Jag later, for now just follow me.”

Peaches fell in step beside her after she closed the batwing door, and they talked and laughed loudly as they crossed the parking lot toward the camper. She stopped when Maisie shot out the door and stepped in front of them. “Hey cutie, who do you belong to?”

Maisie grinned and pointed my way. “Gunny!”

Peaches looked over her shoulder at me, giving me another long up and down look that she punctuated with a wink. “Lucky girl.”

“I like your hair,” the little girl said as she pointed to the wild curls.

“I like yours too,” she offered, twirling a finger around one of her curly pigtails.

Vivi knelt down in front of Maisie, who hugged her with all her might. “This is my friend Peaches. Peaches meet Maisie, Gunny’s kid sister.”

Peaches held her hand out until Maisie took it. “Nice to meetcha, Maisie.”

My little sister giggled when Peaches shook her hand like she was an adult. “Nice to meetcha too, Peaches. That’s a funny name.”

“It’s because I’m so sweet,” she shot back with a smile that made the little girl laugh even harder.

“You’re funny. Wanna play?”

She looked at me and then back to Maisie. “Maybe later, kiddo. I’ve been driving for a long time and I need a nap.”

“Grown-ups don’t have to take naps,” she accused.

“No, but why wouldn’t you want to curl up in bed in the middle of the day?” With that thought she gave her pigtail a gentle tug and kicked her box back on its wheels. “Don’t forget about our playdate later, okay”

Vivi whispered in Maisie’s ear and sent her running to me while she herded Peaches into her camper just as Jag came out and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I see you met Peaches.”

“Yeah,” I grunted.

“She’s funny,” Maisie said to Jag, arms raised in the universal sign for pick me up.

Jag picked her up and blew a raspberry on her cheek. “Jana’s finally done cooking, who’s hungry?”

“Me!” Maisie clapped her hands excitedly and gestured for me to join her and Jag.

Food. That was music to my fucking ears.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Stitch

“We got breakfast burritos, spicy home fries with Jana’s delicious salsa and a few pastries that Mandy whipped up before work.” I said as I brought in a tray of food.

How in the hell Jana found the energy to cook all this food every day for the past few days, I’d never know. But I was grateful that she had because the kitchenette in the club’s apartment Cross had been living in until about six months ago when he moved in with Moon, was bare. That and I was shit in the kitchen beyond grilled cheese and SpaghettiOs.

Marisol’s brown eyes widened in surprise but that haunted look still lingered there. “I hope no one went through all this trouble on my behalf.” Her voice was soft and quiet, almost timid in a way I’d never heard from her.

“What, like you’re not worth it?” I shook my head, ignoring the sad look in her eyes that was like a kick to the fucking nuts. “Jana has been stressed and to deal, she’s been cooking up a storm for the past couple days. This is what she does when she’s stressed.”

Her lips twitched in a smile, but the old Marisol still hadn’t emerged. Not after spending a few hours with Jana, who got her cleaned and changed after spending over a week with that fucking tiny psychopath. “T

hat’s kind of her. And you. Thanks, Stitch.”

“None necessary, babe. Just dig into this feast before I eat it all and ruin my figure.” That pulled another small smile from her but it was a small flicker compared to the woman I’d met six months ago. I appreciated that Cross had given us his old place during the lockdown because Marisol was too traumatized, too broken right now to mix in with the chaos of the MC. We’d been up here for going on four days, the first two of which were spent mostly in total silence because Marisol refused to speak.

Even now, when she did speak it was so damn soft I could barely hear her. Or worse, it was shaky as though she was on the verge of tears. She still refused to talk to me about what had happened during that week when we were apart but I’d somehow found a reserve of patience for her. I wouldn’t push hard but I would still push.