Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

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My first day off in almost two weeks and I’d decided to spend it tracking Savior down. I must be out of my mind to willingly face the source of my greatest rejection. But I knew returning my brother’s leather vest with the Reckless Bastards insignia to his other family would mean a lot to Ammo. Which meant it was, literally, the least I could do.

Afte

r I spent the morning cleaning my apartment, doing a load of laundry and picking up groceries, I jumped in my used blue sedan and made my way to the converted airplane hangar that was their clubhouse. The closer I came to the frosted glass doors, the more anxious I became and with a striking blonde standing sentry at the door, overnight shipping seemed like a better option. Then she turned her head toward the sun and a serene smile tilted her full lips. “Now that’s a smile I’d kill to have,” I told her honestly, startling her.

“You can have the smile, it was as phony as a two-dollar bill.”

Funny. I introduced myself because I wasn’t a caveman and because I wanted to assure her I wasn’t here to snag one of her biker boyfriends. “Mandy.”

“Teddy,” she said. “I’m Teddy and I’m only here because my babysitter made me come.” Her smile was genuine this time, filled with a hint of sarcasm and mischief.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a real conversation like this with another woman, or with anyone really. Despite the sexist views of society that women belonged in the kitchen, professional kitchens were dominated by men. Even on the pastry side, dicks ruled the world. But Teddy was edgy and kind of snarky, a contrast to her classic beauty. “I’m just here to return something to … the club.” No need to mention Savior.

Her eyes flashed with recognition and we spent a few minutes discussing the write-up I’d gotten and asking me about wedding cakes. She wanted something special for a friend, wanted to know if I was up for it.

I nodded and she said, “My bag is inside, but please don’t leave without exchanging contact info.”

I promised, feeling awkward as a tall, gorgeous man with long blond hair exited and took a protective stance behind her. “Nice to meet you,” I told her and steeled my nerves to go inside when Savior came out. “Just the person I came to see.”

“Mandy? What are you doing here?” He looked at me warily, like I was planning to make a scene. Typical man. Give him one night of hot sex and he thinks you’re ready to wear his ring.

“Don’t worry,” I told him as he led me to escape a loud gang of partiers. We found our way down a dark hall to a stark room with a twin bed, a dresser and photos of bikini-clad women on the wall. “I’m not here for a repeat performance. This was in some of the things I put in storage after the funeral. I know Ammo would want you guys to have it.” I handed him the jacket, making sure our fingers didn’t touch at all. That was a temptation I didn’t need or want.

“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.”