Repair My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book 6)
REPAIR 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
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
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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.