Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

What.

A.

Teddy.

Bear.

I shot him an irritated look. “Tough break? Do you know how much it’s going to cost to replace that seat? It’s your whole job to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen!” I could hear my voice getting pitchy and hysterical, but I couldn’t reel it in. All the stress of the last two days compounded and it was going to get unleashed on someone.

Dean’s face remained stone cold but he crossed his arms. “My job is to protect this bar and the people inside it and I do a damn good job dealing with you and your kind, who wanna come in here and tear the place up every weekend.”

“Me and my kind?” I repeated, unsure I had heard him right. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I jumped up out of my seat, my fists tightening.

Dean stood up. His six foot plus build hulking over me, forcing me to take a step backwards. “Tank! Come get your girl,” he shouted.

Within seconds, Tank stepped into the room, took one look at Dean’s face and grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me out of the room. It felt a little like the shepherd’s hook dragging a bad performer off the stage right before the rotten tomatoes start to fly.

“What the hell, Allie?” Tank asked once we were back in the main bar area and out of Dean’s earshot. “What did you do? He usually saves that face for the nightmare customers.”

“Oh, you mean me and my kind?”

He looked confused.

I shrugged it off. “Whatever. I just need to get Cherry Bomb home. At least she’s still rideable.”

“Yeah. Let me know when you’re ready to get a new seat. One of the guys here does custom stuff. He’s really good and he would probably give you a good deal.”

I laughed. “Well, unless it costs five dollars and seventy-two cents, it’s going to be out of my price range for awhile.” I had checked my bank account balance that morning and the number was still haunting me.

How had I ended up here?

“I could loan you the money, since it was my fault in the first place. I thought it would be safer in the alley.”

“No, no. Tank, this is one hundred percent not your fault. Thank you, though,” I smiled up at him, doing my best to offer some reassurance. “It’s all good. I’ll figure it out and when I’m ready, I’ll give you a holler.”

“All right. You gonna stick around tonight? We have some band coming in a little later. Should be pretty good.”

I shook my head. “No, I need to get home and sleep off this headache. Tank, seriously, never let me drink as much as I did last night, ever again. I don’t care how much I beg.”

“Deal.” He laughed. “See ya around, then.”

“See ya.” I turned away from the bar and strode out the front doors. Once outside, I took a deep breath and then rounded the corner to get back to Cherry Bomb. I grabbed my helmet and placed it over my head, fixed the straps, and climbed onto the bike, ignoring the way the rough edges where it was cut dug into my ass through my jeans as I rode away.

I rode around town for a while, ignoring the fact that I couldn’t afford to fill up the gas tank, so what was left was all I had for the foreseeable future. But it felt good to be free and the rushing of the wind and the noises of the bike was enough to—mostly— drown out the panic bubbling up inside my mind. I knew it was only prolonging the inevitable. As soon as things got quiet again, I’d likely get buried in an avalanche, but for now, it was good to unplug.

I went downtown and rode along the waterfront for a while and then crossed over and weaved around the one way streets to get me back to the freeway. At one point, I had to turn left, and as I turned the corner and looked ahead, I saw the Brighton Enterprises building up ahead of me.

“Ugh!” I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going. The absolute last thing I needed was for Cooper to find me lurking around his office. But then I remembered that Cooper wouldn’t recognize me even if I was parked next to his fancy ass car at a stoplight. With my leather jacket, riding boots, and helmet on, it was just as good as being invisible to him. I could pull up next to him, rev my engine, and make a complete scene and he would never know. I laughed at the thought before peeling out onto the next street and blazing down the road.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. I pulled Cherry Bomb into the same spot as my car and nestled the bike against the front bumper so it was covered by the carport. The complex charges an extra fee to have a separate spot, and it was out of my budget to have two spaces. Of the two vehicles, I would rather ride my bike everywhere, but the weather doesn’t allow for that and then certain outfits would also be tricky. The idea of trying to get on my bike in one of my pencil skits was slightly comical. So for now, I needed the junky used car I bought back in high school. Although now that I was unemployed, it might come down to having to sell Cherry Bomb to get by. I glanced over and knew that there was no way I could ever go through with it, and now with the giant carving in the seat, it would be virtually impossible to find a buyer.

I finished locking the bike to the carport post and then headed back to my apartment, gingerly jogging up the stairs. When I reached the front door I was panting for breath and mentally reminded myself that I now had all the time in the world to hit the gym.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. I had grabbed the mail before heading upstairs, and started to sift through it as I stepped into the kitchen. One of them didn’t have a stamp and just had my name and address printed on the front. I dumped the other letters on the counter and opened that one first.

Allison Rand,

This letter is to inform you that if all back months of rent are not paid in full by April 24th, we will be forced to start the eviction process