Ruin My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book 1)
Ruin My Life
A Nasty Bastards MC Novel
Hayley Faiman
Hayley Faiman Books, LLC
Contents
Also by Hayley Faiman
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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
Ruin My Life
Copyright © 2021 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
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It is the eye of other people that ruin us. If I were blind I would want, neither fine clothes, fine houses or fine furniture.
Benjamin Franklin
Chapter One
LUELLA
It’s a typical day, like any other day. I’m sitting at the dining room table feeding Magnolia. As a one-year-old, she doesn’t eat much, instead she makes a complete mess. A disaster, really, out of her high chair and the entire surrounding area. I find myself sweeping and mopping at least twice a day, sometimes more.
My body jerks when I hear a knock on the back door of the townhouse we’re living in. It’s military housing, but it’s also the nicest place I’ve ever lived. It’s not unusual for someone to knock on the back door. Typically, it’s my neighbor asking to borrow something.
I don’t have many friends here, there’s just something about me that the other women don’t like. Maybe they can just smell my past, the way that I was brought up. Maybe they can sense what a complete cluster my life has been.
Standing, I walk the few steps away from Magnolia in her high chair and tug the door open only to see the mailman, Herb, standing on the back porch. He doesn’t come up to the house often. There’s a mailbox in front of the house.
But there is something different about him today. Something is hiding behind his eyes. His gaze lifts to mine, and his hand trembles as he extends it toward me shakily. There’s a letter there in his grip, but I refuse to touch it, to reach out for it.
I know what it is, or rather what it could be, and I don’t want any part of it.
“I couldn’t just slip it in your box. Wouldn’t do that to you, but also, you gotta sign for it,” he says, his voice low and soft.
Shaking my head, I take a step back, stumbling before I reach out and grab hold of a chair to keep me from falling on my ass. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times before I release them.
“No,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
Herb helps me over to
the chair and practically forces me to sit. I sink down, my ass slamming against the wood hard. He slips a form in front of me with a pen.
Reluctantly, I sign the paper and shove it to the side, never wanting to see it again and never wanting to see him again, either. He catches it before it flutters to the ground. I start to apologize, but my words are frozen in my throat. I don’t think that I’m really sorry.
Then he slides the envelope over. The. Envelope. An envelope with a return address from the United States of America. The rest is blurred by the tears that form in my eyes. I don’t even have to open it.
I already know what it is.
Ripping it open anyway, I take the letter out. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, at least that’s what I tell myself. Just get it over with. Just see the words in black and white on paper. My eyes take in the presidential seal. It’s so formal, and any other day, I would be seriously excited to have a letter from the government.
I’m not today.
Not at all.
To whom it may concern.
To fucking whom it may concern.
We regret to inform you…
I can’t read it word for word. I just can’t. I’ll break down if I do. And Herb is so nice, but he doesn’t need to see all of that. I don’t want him to either. My breakdown needs to be when I’m completely alone.
So, instead, I scan the document. My eyes land on the words Missing in Action.
MIA.
I’ve seen those flags flying before and thought to myself, how sad. They don’t know where those men are, when or if they’ll ever come home.
It’s just so sad.
But never, not in a million years, did I think that it could be me thinking those things about my own husband. Shifting my gaze to the side, I see Magnolia sitting in her chair.
She’s got his dark hair, my blue eyes, and her own little round cheeks. Yet, she’ll never know him. She’ll never see his smile or hear him make some stupid joke filled with sexual innuendo. She’ll never know the way he can make you feel as if you’re the only person in the room.
She’ll never know.
And me?
I’ll never feel his hands on my skin again. I’ll never look into his brown eyes as he fills me and fucks me like only he can, like the only man I’ve ever been with. I’ll never hear him tell me that he loves me. Not ever again.
Herb leaves me alone at some point, and as soon as he does, my tears fall. I’m glad that he’s gone and doesn’t witness my complete breakdown. I really don’t want anyone else to see this. It’s bad enough that Magnolia is watching me like she doesn’t know what to do. As if she might help me, she can’t. Nobody can.
I’ve cried plenty since he left, every single night, but never in front of her and never this hard. She must be able to feel my pain because she starts to whimper in her high chair. Lifting my hand to my face, I wipe the tears away and give her a shaky, fake smile.
Crying does neither of us any good.
Inhaling a deep breath, I shake my head and continue to force my smile. Looking around, I decide that we will get through this. I may be nineteen, have a baby, and my husband is gone, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not capable.
I’m capable.
I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen years old. Married since I was eighteen and a mother immediately after that. I know how to survive.
Then I look over at Magnolia, and a piece of my heart breaks. I may know how to survive, but she shouldn’t have to. She should have a real family, a real life. She should have what I never did, but she won’t. She’ll never have a father, just like me.
We’re doomed.
BOWIE
Walking into the garage, I look around and cringe. We’re all a fucking sight, every single one of us. Last night we tied one on, and it wasn’t like a normal fucking party; it was legit. Booze, bitches, smoke, the whole goddamn thing.
Now, we’re all paying the price because someone has to be down here at nine every goddamn day, and a few other guys have to actually work on the cars, too. It’s goddamn misery, and the party should have been on a Saturday night. That way we could all nurse our hangovers the right way… by getting drunk again.
Lowering my head, I rest my forehead against the cool tabletop. Inhaling a deep breath, I let out a groan. Thank fuck it’s quiet up here today. I know soon the phone will ring, and my headache will go into overdrive.
There is a long moment of silence, and I’m glad for it. My head feels fat from the booze and smoke I consumed last night, all night, well into this morning. I haven’t even fucking slept. Not that sleep would help me at this point, I need a little hair of the dog.
My nose wrinkles as I smell something foul. Sex mixed with BO, some bad breath, then there’s the smoke, and leather, a bit of engine grease, too. It’s then that I realize it’s me that smells so fucking bad.
I didn’t even shower.
Jesus Christ, I hope nobody actually comes inside today.
Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck, but it’s my turn to work the front counter, and Prez wants us respectable when we deal with customers. What he doesn’t want is someone who looks and smells like… well… me.
I’m able to stay where I am, head down, inhaling and exhaling calming breaths in an attempt to curb my hangover for a while. When the front door opens, the bell above it dings, and I let out a groan as I lift my head.
Expecting to see a customer in front of me, I am surprised to come face-to-face with Prez. Inwardly, I groan again but keep it to myself this time. He chuckles, then takes a couple of steps toward me and slams something down next to my hand.
My entire body jumps, and I look down at the bottle of Gatorade. I could kiss him, seriously fucking kiss him. Shifting my gaze up to him, I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He laughs a little harder, obviously understanding where I’m coming from.
“You think I wasn’t there last night? I don’t miss the good parties, boy. It’s going to be rough for all of us,” he says, then slams his other hand down. “Take that with it.”
Without another word, he walks past me, skirting the counter, then goes to the garage, and I hear him call out to the rest of the brothers back there. The Gatorade and pills help my head, but nothing can help the fact that today is my day to work the front counter. I fucking hate this shit.
If it wasn’t so important to have someone up here who knew what they were doing, we’d have a prospect do this shit. But it’s important, especially to Prez, and since he’s the boss, this is what we do every day. A brother is up here running shit.
The phone rings, and that’s when the work truly begins. There is no lull in the day, and I even have to put a call in for lunch to be delivered from the restaurant down the street. It’s a good thing, too, because, by lunch, I need to feed my fucking hangover, or I’m going to have bigger problems.
Once I choke down the greasy burgers, fries, and Coke with Red Bull, I am able to focus on customers, calls, and administration bullshit. The day goes by quickly. As five rolls around, I’m now fully awake and ready to party again.
“Brother,” Riff calls out.
Turning my head, I look over at him. He’s got a grin on his face, covered in grease from working on the ‘65 Barracuda. Man, I’m fucking jealous as shit that I didn’t get to work on that one. It’s getting a complete overhaul, and it’s going to be gorgeous when it’s done.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He licks his lips, then jerks his chin toward the door. Turning my head, I let out a sigh at the sight of Penny standing in front of her broken-down, piece-of-shit Beetle.
“The fuck she want?” I ask.
He laughs. “More of what you gave her last night, I suspect.”
“You’re working the front tomorrow, jackass,” I call out as I grab my shit from beneath the counter and head out the front door.
“You ain’t touching the ‘Cuda tomorrow,” he shouts.
Lifting my hand, I flip him
off as I make my way toward Penny. She’s smiling as she watches me come her way. She probably thinks I’ll just pick her up and fuck her right here. Skirt’s short enough, I could do it if I wanted to. But I wouldn’t in front of the garage.
We don’t have many rules here, but publicly fucking at the garage is one of them.
“What’re you doing here?” I demand.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tip my chin down and look at her. She doesn’t say anything right away; then she pouts as she looks up at me. She lets out a little huff. Maybe it’s supposed to be cute, but it’s not.
“Thought we could hang out. Maybe have dinner down at the diner or something?”
Dinner.
A date.
This bitch wants to go on a date. I almost laugh in her face, but I don’t. Instead, I arch a brow as I look down at her and shake my head once. She’s fucking lost her goddamn mind. If she doesn’t know what she is by now, I just don’t think me reminding her is going to do much good.
“Don’t date,” I say, trying not to be a dick.
“What?” she asks, her voice full of shock and awe.