Repair My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book 6) Read online

  REPAIR 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

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Repair My Life

  Copyright © 2022 by Hayley Faiman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Pink Ink Designs. Cassy Roop.

  Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove.

  Proofreading: My Brothers Editor. Rosa Sharon.

  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

  Underworld Sinners—

  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

  Beautiful Unwanted Wildflower

  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

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  The time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining.

  JOHN F. KENNEDY

  CHAPTER ONE

  REBECCA

  Standing in front of the mirror, I stare at myself and wonder why the hell I am even here. What’s the point anymore?

  With a heavy sigh, I pull the cardigan over my arms, wrapping it around myself tightly to cover up the marks. Though it’s become a uniform for me, anything that can cover marks.

  It’s a hot day. Someone will probably ask me why I’m wearing it and I’ll have to lie and tell them I’m always cold.

  I’m not always cold.

  But the bruises on my arms are too dark to try to ignore, and I can’t stay here a moment longer. I can’t stay here long enough for them to fade away. It’s the same way I forget to take my sunglasses off in buildings sometimes.

  I’m trying to get away from Mitch, but it’s not working. I keep trying and he keeps dragging me and the kids back, either physically or manipulatively—controllingly. All I want is my freedom. All I want is my children’s freedom, but he won’t let us go.

  Over and over again.

  Tears prick my eyes as I look behind me to the bed where I see him sleeping peacefully. He won’t wake up. After he grabbed me and threw me around last night, among other things, he took a bunch of pills and drank some vodka. Thankfully, he passed out.

  I don’t know when he’ll wake up again. But watching him, I wonder how the hell he looks so good still? Mitch looks about the same as he did in high school. He still has the put-together all-American hero vibe going on.

  He’s got short, clipped and styled hair. When they’re open, his green eyes are almost mesmerizing. He’s tall and fit from the time he spends in the gym. The countless hours he spends in the gym. He doesn’t do much else, doesn’t even have a job, so he has plenty of time to stay fit.

  Too bad he’s a complete piece of shit. A piece of shit that has forced four children on me, children that I would never trade in any way, but children that I wasn’t aware I would be having mainly because he kept poking holes in condoms in an effort to keep me dependent on him.

  And it worked.

  It’s worked for a decade, but now, I’m done.

  Walking out of the bedroom, I slowly and carefully close the door behind me so that I don’t wake him up, just in case the pills and booze have somehow worn off from last night already.

  The last thing that I want to do is wake him up. And that’s not only because I don’t want to be dragged back to the bedroom and given more bruises, but because I’m leaving again.

  I am gone.

  Again.

  I refuse to stay.

  I will continue to leave over and over, never stopping, never giving up. One day I will be free. I have hope that today is that day. Nobody should be forced to live this way, especially my children.

  I am done. My kids are done—again.

  Done. Done. Done.

  I hold my breath as I tiptoe into the living room, then let it out slowly before I look over at my children. Ten, eight, five, and two. The only reason I haven’t gotten pregnant again… yet, is for two reasons. One, because I keep running. And two, I’ve been on birth control for two years, since my youngest, Maisie, was born.

  I should have been more suspicious earlier, but when I got pregnant with her, I became suspicious.

  Three children from condoms, it just didn’t sit right with me, so I went on a hunt. And that was when I found the box of condoms, taking them out of the box, and inspecting the foil wrappers, I discovered that they had holes in them. He was poking holes in the condoms so that I would keep getting pregnant.

  When I was pregnant with Maisie, I saw all of the evidence with my own eyes. And I knew, I knew wha
t he had been doing, and I knew that he would do it again. That he had been doing it this whole time, for a decade.

  He wasn’t going to stop, and I wasn’t going to be able to take pills without him knowing. So, I secretly went on birth control, an IUD that would be undetectable. I wouldn’t have to take pills and he would never know. It’s been two years, and he hasn’t discovered it, but at the same time, I have also tried to avoid sex with him in any way, shape, or form as much as possible.

  Pressing my lips together, I inhale a deep breath. I have cash in my wallet that I have been skimming off of him for years. I don’t know what he does to get money, but I don’t ask either, mainly because it’s never much. He does give me a budget every week for the household. It’s not much, but I’ve been taking a few dollars from that and hiding it away for this day. It will get me by for a few weeks until I can figure out a plan.

  I don’t take any credit cards or my phone. Both of them I leave in a drawer in the kitchen. I’m taking no clothes, except for two brand-new outfits and one set of brand-new pajamas that I bought for everyone and hid in my van three weeks ago in preparation.

  Grabbing the diaper bag, I stuff it full of diapers for my two-year-old, I know that she’s close to potty trained, so hopefully this will be the end of the diapers that I’ll need, and I can just start potty training her when they run out so I won’t need to come up with the money to buy more.

  This time, I didn’t tell the kids anything. They have no clue that today is the day. In the past, I’ve made that mistake, and they have accidentally told Mitch or left little signs around the house, not purposely, but because they’re just kids. It’s a lot for them anyway, it’s a burden that is too much for them.

  “We have a playdate with Miss Josephine. Are you guys ready?” I ask, trying to sound chirpy and happy.

  My oldest, Maddux, tilts his head, his eyes finding mine, and I know that he knows something is up, but he doesn’t say anything to the littles. Instead, he helps me gather them up. I’m trembling, shaking even, as I scoop Maisie up into my arms.

  Wordlessly, the five of us leave this house of hell, hopefully for the last fucking time.

  IRONFIST

  Lifting my hand, I scrub it down my face as I stare at the car in front of me. I have so much shit to do and another all-day fucking transmission rebuild is not helping my schedule. But I’m the best when it comes to trannies, so here I am.

  The LA Mafia is breathing down our necks, inching in on us so fucking close that I can practically see their eyes on us. They do not like the fact that we’ve amassed a potential army. They don’t like it at all and they’re trying to stay one step ahead of us, but hopefully they’ll never get that far.

  They’re smart, but I’m hoping that we get to them before they realize it’s happening. It’s almost time to attempt to take them out. Though I don’t know that it will be a quick and fast thing.

  Working with Country and Bans, we’re trying to do this slow, easy, and smart. Even though the last thing I want to be when it comes to the LA Mafia is slow. Personally, I want to go in there and fuck shit up immediately, if not sooner, but this is a game of chess, and I gotta be patient.

  I’m about four hours into my workday when my stomach grumbles. The garage is pretty empty today. Luella is at the front, but the rest of the guys are doing other things. They’re all busy on runs, club shit, strip club shit and everything else, so there’s nobody around to grab lunch for me. Luella can’t really go, because then nobody would be at the front counter.

  Standing, I stretch as I look around. Bowie is balls deep into whatever he’s doing, so I call out to him.

  “You want some lunch? Gonna grab some burgers.” I call out.

  He lifts his head, jerking his chin. “Yeah, Luella might too. She’s stuck here all day, no prospects around to relieve her and run the counter.”

  Jerking my chin, I walk out to the front of the garage and see her sitting behind the office counter, fiddling around on the computer. She lets out a sigh and I can’t help but smile at her.

  “You hungry?” I call out.

  She spins around on her stool with wide eyes and a cookie hanging out of her mouth. “Starved,” she announces.

  Laughing, I shake my head. “I’m gonna get some burgers and fries. Anything else?” I ask.

  She nods her head, swallowing the cookie bit in her mouth. “Yeah, a strawberry shake.”

  “A strawberry shake?” I ask.

  She nods her head, then places her hand on her belly. “I don’t know why, but I could fuck up a strawberry shake right about now.”

  Shaking my head, I leave her to her cookies. She’s pregnant, she wants a strawberry shake, that’s what she’s gonna get. I walk over to Bowie’s pickup truck, knowing I won’t be able to bring back the shake or anything else on my bike. I flip the visor down and the keys fall into my hand, and I shove them into the ignition and start the beast.

  Making my way toward town, toward the best burger place in East Texas, I’m listening to talk radio. Why, I don’t know, but I am. And then I see a familiar van on the side of the road. I blink once to make sure that it’s her before pulling over to the side and looking in my rearview mirror.

  It is definitely her, plus all four of her kids. Glancing down at my phone, I cringe at the temperature. It’s over ninety degrees outside and fifty percent humidity. They’re just standing at the back of the van, most likely burning to a fucking crisp out there.

  Shifting the truck into reverse, I back up a few feet, then open the door and start to head toward them. The kids are as far off the road as they can be by the back of the van, and Rebecca is standing slightly on the shoulder, looking extremely fucking defeated.

  “Hey, babe, you okay?” I call out.

  Her head whips up and her lips part, then they press together in a thin line. “Hi,” she calls out, almost too softly for me to hear. There are cars buzzing by, driving at least seventy miles an hour, and are loud as fuck.

  “It broke down again,” she says, but her voice is trembling.

  Looking at the van, then at her, I shake my head. “I patched it up last time, babe, and it’s done for. The last time was the last time, I can’t do any more. Why don’t you guys jump in the truck, and I’ll take you to the garage? You can call your old man.”

  She takes a step backward, stumbling slightly, and I reach out to grab her. The baby in her arms clings tighter to her neck and that’s when I realize something is fucking wrong here. Really fucking wrong.

  Although haven’t I always known it?

  I have, we all have, but seeing the sheer panic in her eyes, I know that whatever we all thought to be true, it’s probably worse.

  Fucking shit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  REBECCA

  I’m on my way out of town. Where I’m going, I have no clue. But I’m going as far and as fast as I possibly can to get as far away from Mitch as humanly possible. Then it happens. The moment I’ve been dreading since the last time it happened.

  My van engine light turns on and I hear a rattling, then clunking noises. I press my foot as hard as I can against the gas pedal, but nothing happens, and I coast it to the shoulder. We aren’t even out of the city limits yet.