Tame My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book 2) Read online

  Tame My Life

  A Nasty Bastards MC Novel

  Hayley Faiman

  Hayley Faiman Books, LLC

  Contents

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Stay Connected

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Tame My Life

  Copyright © 2022 by Hayley Faiman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Pink Ink Designs. Cassy Roop. http://www.pinkinkdesigns.com

  Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net

  Proofreading: My Brothers Editor. Rosa Sharon. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at: http://hayleyfaiman.com

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Men of Baseball Series—

  Pitching for Amalie

  Catching Maggie

  Forced Play for Libby

  Sweet Spot for Victoria

  Russian Bratva Series —

  Owned by the Badman

  Seducing the Badman

  Dancing for the Badman

  Living for the Badman

  Tempting the Badman

  Protected by the Badman

  Forever my Badman

  Betrothed to the Badman

  Chosen by the Badman

  Bought by the Badman

  Collared by the Badman

  Notorious Devils MC —

  Rough & Rowdy

  Rough & Raw

  Rough & Rugged

  Rough & Ruthless

  Rough & Ready

  Rough & Rich

  Rough & Real

  Cash Bar Series —

  Laced with Fear

  Chased with Strength

  Flamed with Courage

  Blended with Pain

  Twisted with Chaos

  Mixed with trouble

  SAVAGE BEAST MC —

  UnScrew Me

  UnBreak Me

  UnChain Me

  UnLeash Me

  UnTouch Me

  UnHinge Me

  UnWreck Me

  UnCage Me

  Unfit Hero Series —

  CONVICT

  HERO

  FRAUD

  KILLER

  COWBOY

  Zanetti Famiglia Series —

  Becoming the Boss

  Becoming his Mistress

  Becoming his Possession

  Becoming the Street Boss

  Becoming the Hitman

  Becoming his Wife

  Becoming her Salvation

  Prophecy Sisters Series —

  Bride of the Traitor

  Bride of the Sea

  Bride of the Frontier

  Bride of the Emperor

  Astor Family Series —

  Hypocritically Yours

  Egotistically Yours

  Matrimonially Yours

  Occasionally Yours

  Nasty Bastards MC —

  Ruin My Life

  Tame My Life

  Start My Life

  Dance into My Life

  Shake Up My Life

  Repair My Life

  Sweeten My Life

  Russian Torpedo—

  Stolen by the Sinner

  Bound to the Sinner

  Caught by the Sinner

  F*cked by the Sinner

  Stripped by the Sinner

  Rejecting the Sinner

  Loved by the Sinner

  Offspring Legends—

  Between Flaming Stars

  Esquire Black Duet Series –

  DISCOVERY

  APPEAL

  Forbidden Love Series —

  Personal Foul

  Kinetic Energy

  Standalone Titles

  Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

  Stay Connected

  Website: http://hayleyfaiman.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorhayleyfaiman

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  We write because we believe the human spirit cannot be tamed and should not be trained.

  Nikki Giovanni

  Chapter One

  ALESSIA

  Sleep.

  What is sleep?

  My eyelids feel heavy, yet every single time I close them, visions of being in that room, in that building. Visions of being dragged out of my father’s car and taken right in front of him, while he shook the hands of the men who took me, he shook their hands.

  Nightmares even in daylight plague me the second my eyes close. I’m afraid to blink at this point.

  Unable to even attempt to sleep yet again, I grab the pair of loose sweatpants and oversized hoodie from the floor, pulling them on before I head to the bar. This place, this environment, probably doesn’t help my anxiety, my trauma, or my inability to sleep, but there is nowhere else I can go.

  Nowhere else I’m allowed to go.

  I’m a prisoner here, just as I was there, except here I’m an unseen prisoner. I’m good with that.

  They own me.

  Well… not really own-own.

  My father sold me off to someone else, a totally different group. Then these guys killed those bad dudes, and I’ve just become someone they can’t quite get rid of because I know too much.

  I don’t think they know what to do with me at this point, so they’re just letting me be—as long as I don’t cause problems, that is. And I don’t.

  So, at this point, I’m stuck here in this place until they figure out exactly what to do with me.

  I should be grateful, thankful even, that they don’t demand things from me… yet, anyway. I’m under no illusions that this is some safe haven. This is a typical sex, drugs, rock and roll environment. And what’s that old saying, ass, grass, or cash, nobody rides for free? My days are numbered. I already know that.

  Completely and totally numbered.

  Looking around the bar, I frown. It’s an odd night. It’s quiet, which is not the norm for this place. Usually, it’s loud, wild, and out of control. My eyes scan the room, and I notice that not only is it quiet, it’s also empty… well, empty-ish.

  There is a man sitting at the end of the bar. He’s somewhat of a fixture here. I don’t ask any questions, don’t typically talk to anyone, but I do know that his name is Happy. He doesn’t seem very happy though. He seems the exact opposite of happy. I wonder if that’s how he got the name, like, is it some kind of joke?

  “They’re all gone for the night. Shit to do, somethin’,” Happy announces.

  Looking over to him, I glance back to the kitchen. I’m not hungry. I shouldn’t even think about getting any food, but I’m bored, and I know I can’t sleep. I’m not sure what else I could do other than eat.

  “Grab me a bottle, babe,” Happy calls out.

  “A bottle?” I ask with a raspy voice.

  My first words spoken in probably a week. Nobody here even recognizes my existence, and while that should probably bother me, it really doesn’t. I mean, I know my time of being inconspicuous is coming to an end, but it’s been really nice being invisible for a while.

  “Jack,” he growls. “Second shelf.”

  I watch as he lifts his hand and points his finger to the middle of the shelf that’s behind the bar. There are bottles and bottles of the same liquor lined up. All Jack Daniels whiskey, one right after another, stacked at least three bottles deep and ten bottles in length on the shelf.

  Boy, so these guys really like their whiskey.

  Shuffling my feet, I make my way behind the bar and reach for a bottle. Setting it down in front of him, I start to release my hand from the neck when I feel his fingers curl around me. I suck in a sharp breath, holding it when he doesn’t release his hold on me.

  “Look at me,
” he demands.

  Lifting my eyes, I reluctantly look at him. His gaze finds mine, and he holds it there. I press my lips together, unsure of what to say as we just stare at one another.

  “You gotta talk,” he states, his voice gruff and almost scary.

  “Who would care enough to listen?” I ask.

  His lips curve up into a grin, and that’s when I really take him in. He’s much older, probably in his seventies, but he’s still handsome beneath his weathered eyes, scruffy face, and unkempt clothes. But beyond all of that, he’s in pain.

  “Only me in here right now, so guess I’ll listen to ya.”

  “Will you let me listen to you, too?” I ask.

  His lips press into a straight line, and his eyes narrow for a brief moment, then they soften, and he nods his head.

  “I’ll talk, but before I do, I’ll listen.”

  Something fills me. Something warm. Something good and the feeling is so foreign that I wonder if my body will reject it, but it doesn’t. Instead, it fills me and stays there while I talk to this unhappy man named Happy.

  Then, I talk some more.

  And I don’t stop talking until the room begins to fill with weary bikers. Only then do I stop. Only then do I feel an intense stare consume me, which makes it impossible to continue speaking at all. Only then. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, but it’s not a creepy thing. It’s more like an awareness thing.

  SCUBA

  There is something ugly brewing. I can feel it in my bones. First, all that shit with Bowie getting kidnapped by some dumbass fucking mercenaries that the dumber David Simpson hired. Using his own fucking daughter as payment. That wasn’t all just fucking happenstance. There is more to all of this.

  Now, the building that Simpson was all fucking pissed about that he lost, to begin with, is gone. Completely fucking torched.

  Something goddamn stinks.

  Then there’s Simpson’s daughter. I don’t know why Bowie even took her. Why he brought her ass here. He should have left her there. It’s not like we can even do anything with her. She’s goddamn useless. She’s like something you put high on a shelf because it’s priceless. She’s gorgeous to look at but fucking useless.

  Walking into the clubhouse, I’m goddamn beat. We were finally given permission to deal with the rubble of the fire. It’s determined that it was not arson. Which I call goddamn bullshit on. I think it was the LA Mafia or some shit, and they paid off the fire inspector. Paid off someone anyway.

  Nobody wants to believe it’s true, probably because if that’s the case, then Luella is in their sights and in trouble, along with her baby, Magnolia. As the president of the club’s daughter and granddaughter, that would not be good.

  All of which would suck fucking ass. But if we don’t stay on top of this shit, they’re going to goddamn blindside us. And that is something that nobody truly wants—ever.

  It’s really starting to piss me off that none of this shit is being taken seriously with the LA Mafia. For whatever reason, they’re in goddamn denial that this is happening. They think that because Bowie killed the fucks who kidnapped him, killed Luella’s ex, this all goes away? It fucking doesn’t.

  Yeah, we live far away from Cali, but their reach doesn’t end at the California border. Anyone who thinks that is a fool. I have no fucking doubt that they have international reach.

  Ironfist clears his throat next to me. I lift my head just in time to see Simpson’s daughter leaning across the bar, ass in the air, smiling at Happy.

  What the fuck?

  The bitch usually stays locked away, hugging the walls as if she wishes they would swallow her up. For weeks, and the second we’re gone, she’s behind the bar and chatting it up with fucking Happy? Happy?

  He’s old enough to be her fuckin’ grandfather.

  “You gonna do somethin’ about that?” Ironfist asks.

  I grunt, not taking my eyes off of her. “What am I supposed to do?” I ask on a growl.

  Inside, I’m fucking screaming, wanting nothing more than to walk behind that bar, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, jerk her toward me and claim her in front of everyone in this goddamn clubhouse.

  In reality, I’ll probably never know what she tastes like. Hell, I don’t even know her first fucking name.

  “Nothin’ to do,” I state before I turn away from him and head over to the two new clubwhores that just joined us a couple weeks ago.

  I’m going to take out my frustration on their bodies, and they’re going to fucking love every second of it.

  “Ladies,” I announce as I approach them.

  I can see Simpson’s daughter out of the corner of my eye. She’s paying close attention to me, to us. Her gaze focused on me, and inwardly I smirk. I can’t deny that I fucking love that. I want her to be jealous. To show anything at all remotely close to an emotion toward me. Because I sure as shit feel something for her… deep in my dick.

  “Scuba,” the whores purr simultaneously.

  “Wanna fuck me tonight?” I ask loud enough for Simpson’s daughter to hear. It’s really fucking annoying that I don’t know her first name.

  She turns her head away from me, showing me the back of her deep-red hair. Good. Maybe she’ll just fucking disappear from here, finally putting me out of my misery. She needs to just go the fuck away.

  I don’t know her fucking damage, why she stares and never says anything. Why she watches but never gives me a fucking inch. I’d take a goddamn mile. All she has to do is show me fucking something.

  “Yes,” the girls say simultaneously.

  Shifting my attention back to them, I give them a grin. “Better get fucking started then.”

  Without hesitation, they drop to their knees, and before I realize what’s happening, my cock is out, and they’re licking it, one on each side, their eyes looking up at me, their legs spread as they warm each other up.

  Fuck me, but life is good.

  Even if I imagine someone else licking my cock.

  Chapter Two

  ALESSIA

  There is a moment where he stares at me, watches me, and I think that maybe, just maybe, there could be something someday. I know that his name is Scuba. I know that he lives here. He watches me and the way he makes me feel… I want more from him.

  But then he asks those women if they want to fuck, and I know, once again, that there can’t be anything.

  It’s not that I think he needs to be celibate. I wouldn’t ever ask that of anyone, but it would be nice if he didn’t ask them right in front of me after he’s stared at me in a way where I know he wants some part of me.

  But he doesn’t want enough of me. The parts he does, I could give to him, others have taken, but I would give it to him. It wouldn’t mean anything, though, and in the end, it would cause more internal damage than I would be willing to allow.

  So, I keep my distance. I stay away. I stay invisible, at least to everyone except him. For whatever reason, he sees me. Scuba sees more of me than I want anyone to see—ever. I can’t shield myself, though, not from him. I’m not strong enough.

  “You gotta give up the past, babe,” Happy says, his voice cutting deep into my lost thoughts.