Crazy B!tch (Biker Bitches 5)

His normally good-natured expression vanished at her first hit, turning into the ugly she had seen from Joker when she had broken up with him.

The malice Sam held in his fists that punched her in her face and ribs showed he had been biding his time before showing his true colors. Thankfully, she had been in several fights and was able to fight him off. When his hands went around her throat, she quit playing nice and used her nails to scratch his eyes out.

“You fucking bitch!” Sam shot up from trying to pin her to the back seat. She used the opportunity to lean against the door and kick him in the stomach.

“Get out of my car, or I’m calling the cops!” Reaching for the speaker, she threatened, “I’m going to brain you if you don’t get the fuck out.”

Sam fumbled for the door handle. When he finally found it, he practically fell out of the car.

Rising up, she slammed the car door shut and locked both doors on that side of the vehicle. With one move, she threw the speaker out the window on her side and locked that door before jumping over the console into the front seat.

Sam hit the window, nearly shattering the glass. “Take me home!”

“You can walk, asshole!” she screamed back at him.

Turning the key, she threw the car into gear and left his ass yelling at her as she drove off.

“Fucking douchebag! The brothers are going to beat his sorry ass to death when I tell them what happ—”

Crazy Bitch cut off her own rant. There was no way she was going to tell them that slimy bastard had been able to get a hand on her and almost roofied her after she had told everyone in the club she was done with bikers. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit she had been that stupid to be taken in by that little wimp.

She kept her head down as she walked from the parking lot to her apartment. Fortunately, no one was around, so she made it inside without being seen.

Locking the door behind her, she went into the bathroom and got a good look at her face.

“Son of a bitch!” she snarled, gingerly touching the beginning of a black eye, remembering when his elbow had struck her.

Going to her kitchen, she opened the freezer and took out a plastic bag of frozen fish sticks. She held it to her swelling eye as she made her way to her bedroom, hoping the swelling would be gone by Monday so she could hide it with makeup.

Crazy Bitch spent the rest of the weekend holed up in her apartment. By Sunday afternoon, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her black eye.

Picking up her phone, she made the call she had been hoping she wouldn’t have to make.

“Yo,” Sex Piston answered after a couple of rings.

“How was the camping trip?”

“How in the fuck do you think it went? I’ve already told Stud that shit isn’t going to happen again. If I wanted to spend a weekend in a trailer for fun, I could spend it in town where I can at least order pizza. How did your date with Sam go?”

“Okay. I’ve decided not to see him anymore.”

“That mean you’re going to give Calder a go?”

“No, it means I’m going to take a cruise when I can afford it. Listen, I ate Taco Hut, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to work for a couple of days. You mind if I reschedule my appointments until the end of the week?”

“Why in the fuck you eat there? You hate that place.”

“I was craving a taco. Believe me; I’ve already been blaming myself.”

“Next time, make them yourself.”

“I will. So, you don’t mind?”

“Nope, they’re your appointments, your money.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Wednesday if I feel better.”

“If you need anything, let me know,” Sex Piston offered. “I can get Fat Louise or T.A. to get it for you,” she joked.

“I’m good. Bye.” Crazy Bitch disconnected the call then tossed her cell phone onto the couch next to her.

She mentally calculated how much she would lose from taking the days off. The appointments could be rescheduled, but she wouldn’t be able to accept other appointments for the rest of the week. She came to the conclusion that men always cost her money, whether they drove a bike or a car.

Reaching for her cell phone again, she went to her banking app, using her thumbprint when it asked for her identification. She stared dismally at her account balance. Her rent was due today, and she was five dollars short, the five dollars she had spent on Sam’s popcorn and drink. She had practically paid for herself to be almost roofied.

She sank back down onto the couch dispiritedly, tossing her phone back down. “Doesn’t that say it all?”