Deliciously Damaged by KB Winters

Author:KB Winters [Winters, KB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mc romance, Bikers, outlaws, Vegas
Publisher: Bookboyfriends Publishing LLC
Published: 2018-05-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

I took a shower to get rid of any trace of Cooper’s smell on my skin, and then left to go back to Steelrods and get Cherry Bomb. It was dark outside and I got a weird déjà vu feeling as I stepped outside. I stood on the front steps, taking an extra moment to breathe in the fresh air. My head was still pounding but the pain was becoming duller. I knew I could go to the bar, get a couple more drinks and be feeling much better, but for some reason, the idea just seemed to be too much. I just wanted to get my bike, maybe go for a little ride to clear my head, and then go back home and climb back into bed.

Steelrods was only about a mile away from my apartment. I normally rode Cherry Bomb because it gave me an excuse to go for a ride, plus a lot of times, there were other bikers there and everyone would go off for a ride together at night. I thought about calling a cab to come get me but in the end, decided to walk. The side streets were quiet. The only thing I could hear was the clicking of my boot heels as I walked along. I desperately wished I had brought my headphones with me, because my mind was chattering away. No matter how much I tried to hold it back, I couldn’t stop thinking about Cooper and the whole weird conversation.

When I finally arrived at Steelrods, the only conclusion I had come to was that there were too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

The bar was open, but I didn’t linger. I went around to the side, where I knew Tank would have stashed my bike the night before. There was a light fixture on the side by the door that led to the kitchen. As I got nearer, I could tell something wasn’t right. I glanced behind me but the alley was empty. Cherry Bomb was parked by the back dumpster but it wasn’t until I got closer that I could see what was wrong.

“What the…” I bent down to investigate and saw the word “whore” had been carved into the leather of my seat.

I backed away from the bike and covered my mouth to stifle my sobbing. I pressed my eyes closed and leaned against the wall of the bar. I didn’t even have to wonder—I knew who had done it. Marx. The look in his eyes as he had glared back at me when he left last night was a warning, not a parting shot. I wiped my cheeks and took one last look at the damage before I turned the corner and went back inside to find Tank.

“Holy shit. I’m sorry Allie,” Tank said as we stood over the bike.

“It’s not your fault.” I placed a hand on his arm.

“I’d bet anything that Marx did this,” he said, looking my way.

I nodded. “I know. Are

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