Damaged and the Outlaw (Damaged #4)

While Cecee and I were real fighters, most girls did what Axel suggested. They yanked hair and gave nip slips, so the crowd got a show. When I fought those girls, I played along. No way would I bash in the face of a girl who wouldn’t fight back.

I invited Lark to watch me fight on a night I knew would be lame. She hated me fighting. The bruises freaked her out and she cried when I came home with a black eye. Of course, she had all those hormones filling her tiny body as she fostered not one life, but two.

Twins!

Feeling dizzy to the point of becoming bedridden, Lark and Aaron had visited the doctor early. I tagged along, already accustomed to being the third wheel. An ultrasound up Lark’s hoohaw later, I learned I would be an aunt twice over. I decided right then to move out of their small Craftsman house.

Taking up the offer to stay at Cooper’s old apartment at the Johansson place, I left a crying Lark behind. She cried less upon realizing I would still be at her house every day. I think this fact made Aaron cry though.

Lark avoided my fight nights now. She just didn’t have the energy to deal with the crowds and seeing her big sister get bloodied. Tonight, I looked forward to bloodying someone else.

“Excuse me?” a quiet voice asked behind.

Spinning around, I came face-to-face with my opponent. Tiny like Lark, but curvier, she was decked out with teased hair and too much makeup. Looking like a hooker, she appeared around thirty, but was likely in her late teens.

“What?”

“I’m Lise and I’m fighting you tonight.”

“Come to beg me not to make you bleed?” I growled, feeling grumpy in a way only a smoke would satisfy.

“Yes, please,” Lise squeaked. “See, I have pictures scheduled tomorrow with my family and I really don’t want to look all messed up.”

“How is that my problem?”

I was very proud of my bitchiness. In fact, Bailey and I had bitch contests and she was the only chick who ever came close to defeating me. I adored my cranky attitude. Even more than my C-cup boobs, great hair, and ability to eat an hour after barfing, my bad attitude was my favorite quality. “No mercy” was printed on more than one of my shirts. I hated pity and would crush anyone except Lark. My only weakness?

Crying.

Lise’s over made-up eyes moistened and I knew she would be bawling in less than a minute. Her sobs would be loud and gross and snot would get everywhere. So I showed mercy, mainly for my ears, by stopping her from crying.

“We’ll just make a show of it,” I said and Lise hiccupped. “Little cat fight stuff. No bruises or anything to ruin your pictures, okay?”

Lise nodded wildly. “Thank you so much. You’re amazing and I totally owe you.”

“Whatever. I just don’t want to ruin your day with the family and all that,” I said, ducking her attempt at a hug. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Lise looked up at me and smiled like I was amazing. I smiled back at her and realized the nice route had its benefits. I even felt a little surge of pride in showing kindness to someone. Look at me! Turning over a new leaf like Bailey. I might even let Lark and Tawny train me to be a good person. Why not?

Twenty minutes in our fake fight, little Lise bit into my hand like a starving zombie. How the hell she went from playfully tugging my hair to eating me, I wasn’t sure. I know it ended when I punched her in the face. The crowd roared when Lise went sprawling. I looked up at them and frowned because my fucking hand hurt.

Storming out of the cage, I doused the wound with peroxide, wrapped my hand, shoved a few pieces of Nicorette into my mouth, and decided I needed a stiff drink. Having given sugar, spice, and everything nice a try, I admitted I wasn’t a fan. Mercy was for suckers.





Chapter Two - Vaughn


Funny how life could change in a split second. One moment, I had a solid life with as close to a family as I’d ever managed. The next moment, a temper tantrum caused me to ruin the known and forced me to embrace an indifferent world.

What I found in Ellsberg was better than indifference, but I wasn’t truly part of the Reapers Motorcycle Club. I was an outlaw they allowed in their territory. Of course, I’d made friends in this small town and I’d take a bullet for many of them.

Despite a sense of friendship, a man with a bounty on his head couldn’t afford to trust anyone. One of those friendly fucks in my club might need extra cash for a house payment or a vacation to Dollywood with the kids. My life was shit when money could be made.

Fear forced people to pretend I belonged. I was as good at scaring people as Judd. We were killers and a knock from us in the middle of the night usually meant someone wasn’t seeing their kids in the morning. That was my life now. It had been my life before I made the split-second decision to ruin everything I had in Tucson. Didn’t matter where I lived, my job was spilling blood.