Psycho (The Reckless Order MC #5)

1. Psycho

Chapter one

Psycho

Cool air brushed the back of my neck as I ducked under the hood of the minivan. Autumn had swept through town in a cascade of red, orange, and gold. Jack-o’-lanterns grinned from porches and windows. The crisp scent of impending snowfall lingered on the wind that gusted down from the mountain tops.

But the changing seasons didn’t slow the steady stream of clients filing in and out of Steele Repair Auto Shop all morning.

I liked the work, staying busy. I could lose myself in a machine for hours, piecing it together like a puzzle—gears and pistons, hydraulics and valves.

And it was a welcome distraction from the insomnia that plagued me. For three nights straight, I hadn’t slept a wink. Flashbacks kept me wide awake, ruminating in circles. Sleeping pills were useless—they just made me groggy on top of the agitation that I already experienced.

My vision blurred. A tremor seized my hands, and I curled my fingers into fists.

Too much caffeine again. Pumping it into my system so I wasn’t catatonic during my shift at the garage.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting to regain focus.

“Uncle Psycho!”

I froze, listening. When I reached this level of sleep deprivation, it wasn’t unusual to start hallucinating weird shit that wasn’t even real.

Scrubbing the back of my neck, I returned my attention to the engine in front of me. The metal was solid beneath my palms, grounding me in the present moment.

When I was a kid, I watched my old man lose his mind to schizophrenia and alcoholism—a potent combination further aggravated by the stress of having a small child. He refused to get the help he needed, too wrapped up in his pride to bother with medication or treatment.

Then my mother ran away with another man.

And something in my father just…snapped.

His paranoia went off the deep end. His drinking made everything worse. Eventually, Child Protective Services took me away, placing me in the foster care system. And I never saw my father again.

But I lived the rest of my life with the fear lurking in the back of my mind…what if I turned out to be just like him one day?

“Uncle Psycho!”

I startled and banged my head against the hood of the van. Those voices were definitely real, I was sure of it now. Rubbing my throbbing skull, I carefully eased away from the car and glanced up.

Parked at the garage’s curb was Bruiser with The Reckless Order’s cage—a battered black utility van. She wasn’t pretty, but she was functional, reliable, and she got us where we needed to go.

Hades emerged from the passenger side and hauled the sliding door open. His kids tumbled out in a whirlwind of energy, making a beeline straight for me.

Mia was ten years old, and she looked like her mama, Jenny, with the same bright hazel eyes, chocolate brown hair, and a kind heart.

Casey was five years old, a carbon copy of his daddy, Hades, with tightly coiled jet black curls, and a firecracker attitude that would probably get him in trouble one day.

“Hey, little monsters,” I said, as they bounced around me like jumping beans.

“Do you have any candy for us, Uncle Psycho?” Casey asked, clinging to my leg.

“Uncle Bruiser said that carrot sticks taste better than candy,” Mia said. “But I don’t think he’s telling the truth.”

I snorted a laugh.

“You’re right. Uncle Bruiser is a rotten liar. Maybe we should teach him a lesson. What do you think?”

Mia and Casey snickered, their eyes glittering with mischief.

My heart squeezed to see these kids so happy, loved, and protected. Thank God their childhood was nothing like mine.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Crouching down to their level, I pulled a dirty rag from my back pocket.

Then I scrubbed at their little fingers until they were covered with black grease.

“Go play tag with Uncle Bruiser. For every handprint you leave on him, I’ll buy you a big, fat gumball from the gumball machine in the garage’s front office. How does that sound?”

Mia and Casey whooped with delight and ran off.

A moment later, Bruiser gave a shout of indignation.

When we needed an Enforcer for The Reckless Order, it was a no-brainer and the easiest unanimous decision we ever made to vote Bruiser into the position.

With his history as a former Navy SEAL, he was a machine of brute strength and tactical intelligence.

Pissing him off was a bad idea and no one made that mistake twice.

But he would lay down his life to protect his club and the people he cared about.

And he was the biggest pushover when it came to kids.

Bruiser dodged left and right as Mia and Casey chased him, their grubby little mitts reaching out. He caught Casey by the scruff of his shirt, lifting him off the ground until Casey’s legs were swinging. Then he placed a massive paw on top of Mia’s head, holding her at bay.

“You bastard,” he bellowed at me. “This was your idea.”

I cackled and waved.

Bruiser and I butted heads every now and then, pestering the shit out of each other.

But when I was a young Prospect in need of a sponsor, he put his neck on the line to vouch for me.

He might be an insensitive ass most of the time, but I owed my cut and my patches to his support.

I wouldn’t be a member of The Reckless Order without his help.

Hades shook his head as he joined me.

“I hope you enjoy looking over your shoulder, because he’s going to kick your ass for that.”

I shrugged.

“Worth it. Those kids are having the time of their lives.”

Hades nodded, watching Mia and Casey with pride in his eyes. A bittersweet pang twisted in my chest. My father never looked at me like that. I hoped those kids realized how lucky they were.

I cleared my throat, pushing down memories of the past.

“So, I’m almost done fixing up Jenny’s van,” I said. “Her radiator was leaking like a sieve. And…I found this on the front seat.”

I held up a napkin scrawled with writing in black marker, turning it toward Hades. He frowned and grabbed it.

“Some fucker gave my Jenny his name and number?”

“You had to know she wasn’t going to stay single forever,” I pointed out.

Hades crumpled the napkin and flicked a scathing glance in my direction. He shoved it in the pocket of his cut with a growl.

Despite signing divorce papers over seven years ago, Hades couldn’t accept the separation. He didn’t even look at other women, let alone start dating again, because he still called his ex-wife my Jenny.

Their relationship gave me fucking whiplash—hot and cold, up and down, fighting like cats and dogs, then making out like teenagers.

“She didn’t tell me about this,” Hades grumbled.

“Probably because you’d make the son of a bitch mysteriously disappear,” I countered. “A decade later, his bones would be discovered, scattered across the mountainside as coyote chew toys.”

He huffed.

“If that’s what it takes to protect my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” I reminded him.

Hades waved me off, dismissing the correction.

“You wouldn’t understand what I have with my Jenny. The last woman you dated, she mentioned marriage once, and you ran for the goddamn hills.”

I shook my head, turning to the tools on my workbench.

“Hell will freeze over before I ever get married.”

“Obviously.”

“Just the thought of it makes me claustrophobic,” I added.

“I can tell,” Hades said with a smirk.

But when I ducked under the minivan’s hood to get back to work, I paused and scrubbed away the grease on my palm to find the small scar there, faded to a silvery shine with age.

Don’t make a promise you have no intention of keeping, Arrow. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. You’re not allowed to break my heart, just like everyone else did.

I closed my eyes at the echo of those words.

Roberta “Bobbie” McGrath was my first crush, my first kiss, my first everything. She kept me sane in the foster care system. We were just two fucked up kids who were too damaged to get adopted.

So, we made a pact. We swore that if no one wanted us by the time we were thirty, we would marry each other. And it wasn’t some cutesy pinkie promise either. We sealed that shit in blood.

I had no idea where Bobbie was these days, and my thirtieth birthday passed a few years ago now.

But I still kept my promise to her. I had no intention—and no desire—to marry anyone else.

Just her. Only her.

My phone rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. For the second time, I startled, bumping my head on the minivan’s hood.

“Motherfu—” I broke off, rubbing my head.

When I straightened up, I caught Hades pressing his lips together, trying to hide his amusement and failing miserably.

“Shut up,” I muttered.

“I didn’t say anything,” Hades protested.

“No, you’re just laughing your ass off,” I said, digging my phone out of my pocket. “What do you want?” I barked.

“Whoa,” came Pretty Boy’s reply over the phone. “Sounds like someone is in a bitchy mood.”

I sighed and my shoulders sagged.

“Sorry, Prez. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Well, I’m not going to make that bitchy mood any better. I’ve got bad news.”

I grimaced and leaned back against the minivan, bracing myself.

“I’m listening. What kind of shitshow are we looking at?”

“Moses ‘Cyclone’ Huxley, Road Captain of The Filthy Rebels MC. Do you remember him?”

I breathed a faint laugh.

“How could I forget? He stuck a knife between my ribs and put me in the ER, losing blood like a leaky faucet.”

The tension between The Reckless Order and The Filthy Rebels had been simmering to a boiling point well before I came along. A few years ago, they tried to steal our territory, and we barely managed to hold them off.

As a brand new Prospect, with my patches freshly stitched onto my cut, I crossed paths with Huxley at a Fourth of July biker rally. It was supposed to be neutral territory. Everyone was welcome, regardless of feuds, turf wars, and old grudges. No fighting allowed—just booze, bikes, and good food.

Huxley didn’t get that memo. He was a drunk bully who wanted a fight. And I was a scrawny twenty-something newbie, who looked like an easy target in comparison.

He accused me of putting my hands on his Old Lady. Which wasn’t true, since I never went anywhere near her.

But the damage was done. Messing around with a biker’s woman was a serious claim, and no one took it lightly.

Before I had a chance to defend myself, Huxley had me pinned to the dirt, trying to puncture my lung with that damn knife.

He ended up in prison, charged with attempted manslaughter.

“Why are you bringing up that asshole’s name, Prez?” I asked, my gut sinking with dread.

Pretty Boy gave an apologetic pause.

“He broke out of jail last night.”

I closed my eyes with a groan.

“And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that revenge will be at the top of his list.”

“Exactly. You’ve got a target on your back, my friend.”

I balled up my rag and tossed it on my workbench. This was not what I wanted to hear after three days of no sleep. With Huxley on the loose, I wouldn’t be resting easy any time soon.

“It looks like The Filthy Rebels will be darkening our doorstep again,” Pretty Boy added. “And this time, they’re coming after you.”

The breath punched out of me.

Shit.