Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

As we danced, I started to become disenchanted; the alcohol-induced spell was broken. My dance partner didn’t smell right, he wasn’t tall enough, broad enough, and his eyes weren’t brown.

Fuck. I shook my head, silently ripping myself a new one for bringing Cooper into my night. This was supposed to be my night, not his.

I broke away from the dance floor, ignored Jett’s protests, and made my way back towards the bar, desperately in need of a fresh drink. I was halfway across the floor when I felt a hand grab my arm, a little too rough, and I spun around, ready to tell him to back the hell off. When my eyes followed the length of the arm up, I found myself staring at Marx, my sleaze ball ex-boyfriend.

“Well, well, look what we have here,” he drawled at me, a menacing smile spreading across his face. “I thought I made it clear that this was my spot and that if you didn’t want to see me, you would stay away.”

I tried to pull my arm back but he held firm. Where the hell is Hannah? I wanted to look around for help, but couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face, a shiver of fear creeping up my spine.

“Let go of me,” I snarled. “You don’t own this town, the bar, and you sure as fuck don’t own me, so let me go.”

His smile only grew, his teeth bared. His grip tightened and he pulled me so hard that I was forced to step forward, closer to him. He leaned over and pressed his lips to my ear. “I could own you for tonight. What do you think? Old time’s sake.”

I reared back and pulled my arm again. This time, his grip was looser and I was able to get free. “Fuck off.”

Marx took another step towards me but Tank stepped in from the side and blocked his path. Tank was somewhat of a big brother to me. We had actually known each other since high school. He had moved to the city before me and showed me around town when I got here. He knew all about Marx and his shit. In the aftermath of the breakup, I had spent a lot of time bitching to him while trying to drink away the memories from the past.

“Listen, fucker, you got two choices—leave on your own or I will make you leave. You know you’re not welcome here. We’ve already had this conversation,” Tank said. “You remember what happened last time?”

Marx’s smile dropped off but he gave me one last glare before signaling to his crew and leaving. I didn’t know what Tank was referring to, but I was too relieved to care.

“You okay?” he asked, watching as I rubbed my thumb over the red spot on my arm where Marx had been pinching into my skin.

I nodded. “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” he said. He draped an arm across my shoulders and steered me back to the bar.

I had a fresh beer and was sitting on a bar stool, keeping to myself, looking around the room for Hannah. Eventually, she resurfaced and ran over to tell me about the hottie she had been making out with in the bathroom. I laughed and rolled my eyes at her and decided to wait to tell her about my altercation with Marx, not wanting to ruin her night now that she finally seemed in the right mood for a party.

Hannah had one more drink with me and then her new guy came over to see about leaving with her. Sure enough, it was Jett, the guy I had been dirty dancing with not twenty minutes ago.

Of course.

“Do you mind if I dip out early?” Hannah asked, her fingers looped in Jett’s waistband.

I looked to Tank and he gave me a nod, silently confirming that Jett was okay. I gave my blessing to the happy couple and they left.

It was almost midnight and it seemed that everyone had pretty much moved on with only a few stragglers left behind playing pool. Steelrods wasn’t an all-night kind of thing. It was usually a meet-up spot to hit up before going to the real party. I stayed behind, partly because I didn’t want to go home and be alone with my thoughts, and partly because after my run in with Marx, I was a little shaky.

“What was all that, earlier? With you know…” my voice trailed off.

Tank looked down and wiped up an invisible puddle on the counter. “I didn’t want to tell you, but he came by here a few weeks ago, asking for you. I told him he wasn’t welcome here. He didn’t want to listen, so I had to make him see things my way.”

The implication was clear so I didn’t ask more questions, I took another sip. “Thanks, Tank.”

He grunted and went back to his cleaning.

One more turned into three more, and by the time Tank walked me outside, I was more than a little smashed. Tank called me a cab and promised to take care of my bike, Cherry Bomb, until I could come get it the next day. I hated to leave her behind, but I knew Tank lived close by so it should be fine.

Sam ran up to greet me as soon as I wobbled into the apartment. I leaned over to pet him, lost my balance, and crashed into a pile on the floor.

I lay on the floor for a while, my hand resting on Sam’s head as he snuggled up next to me.

“Why can’t cats be more like men,” I asked Sam, my words slurring slightly together. An idea bubble popped into my head and I reached over and felt along the cool laminate flooring until my fingertips grazed the edge of my purse. It had dumped out when I fell, so I kept searching

for my phone.

My fingers flew over the screen, while my eyes watched as if in slow motion. Not fully comprehending what I was doing. I put it on speaker phone and lay the phone next to my head and waited, closing my eyes and listening to it ring on the other line.