UNWRECK ME
SAVAGE BEAST MC 7
Hayley Faiman
Hayley Faiman Books, LLC
Contents
Also by Hayley Faiman
Stay Connected
Prologue
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
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
UnBind Me
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About the Author
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
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
Prophecy Sisters Series
Bride of the Traitor
Bride of the Sea
Bride of the Frontier
Bride of the Emperor - Spring 2021
Astor Family Series —
Hypocritically Yours
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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Prologue
AVAH
THREE YEARS AGO
Glancing at the man across the bar, I wonder if this could be something more than just a one-night stand? He’s really hot. Like hot-hot. I smile shyly, then turn back to my drink and take a long sip from the mini-straw.
I feel the presence of a body sliding into the stool next to mine. I count to myself before I look over at him. One. Two. Three. Four. Slowly, I turn my head to the side and lift my gaze to meet his. It’s the hottie from across the bar and he’s looking directly into my eyes. He’s even sexier up close.
“I’m Layne,” he says, introducing himself and offering his hand.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I reach out and slip my palm in his. He shakes my hand once, his gaze searching mine before he leans forward, his grip still very much grasping my palm tightly. His lips brush my cheek, then rest against my ear before he starts to speak.
“Want to go upstairs?”
My breath hitches. I’m at a nice hotel, a really nice one, and I can barely afford the one drink I bought myself. I’m broke, and not just a little bit either. My father kicked me out the day I turned eighteen. He would have done it earlier if he wasn’t so afraid that someone from the government would have come after him. He hated me, always has and I’m sure always will.
Layne shifts back, then brings the hand that he’s still holding up to his mouth and my breath hitches when his lips glide over my knuckles. His eyes don’t look away from me. His lips turn up into a smirk and his eyes widen in question.
“Okay,” I say with a small nod.
What I want to say is hell yes, I want to jump up and down, not just because I think that this guy is hot, but mostly because it’s a warm place to stay for the night and a hot shower in the morning.
That’s another thing, I’m homeless.
I’m not just a little homeless, like I couch surf and have lots of friends’ places to stay at, I don’t. I’ve never really had girlfriends, so when my dad told me to leave, I grabbed my clothes and climbed into my ten-year-old VW Passat and drove away, never to look back again.
I drove all the way to Los Angeles. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do here. If I imagined myself as anything but stupid, young, and broke, but I came anyway. I never wanted to be an actress or singer like most girls my age who run off to California.
I just want to live.
I want to survive.
Layne slips off of the chair and holds his hand out for me. I follow behind him, noticing that he’s wearing expensive clothes and shoes, really expensive. Though that should not surprise me, this is a very posh hotel.
It still surprises me that this man, in all of his expensive glory would want anything to do with me. There has to be a line of women waiting next to his bed.
Then there’s the fact that I’m honestly shocked that I haven’t been kicked out of this hotel yet, because it’s painfully obvious that I cannot afford to be a guest here, just simply at first glance.
I don’t miss the looks that we receive as we make our way into the elevator car and then as we walk down the hallway to his room. I feel as though everybody knows exactly who and what I am.
He slips his key card into the little door slot and when it beeps, showing the green light, he pushes the handle down and pushes the door open.
Following him into the room, I don’t stop and wait at the entrance. Instead, I’m drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out at the city. The lights glitter all around us. I let out a
sigh, wishing that I could be one of those people living in any one of the glittery lit apartments.
I don’t jump when I feel Layne’s warm palm touch my shoulder, my breath hitches as I wait for what is to come. I expect him to kiss my neck, maybe begin to seduce me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step back and curiously I turn around to look at him.
“Now tell me why you were really in that bar, Avah,” he coos.
Pressing my lips together, my eyes widen and I shake my head. “Just enjoying a drink,” I lie.
He chuckles. “Maybe after you’ve serviced me, you’ll be a bit more forthcoming with the truth. Now, on your knees.”
Other than demands and instructions, those are the last words that Layne speaks to me, at least, until he’s finished using my body for his pleasure. He does, too. He uses every ounce of me and enjoys himself immensely.
“Now, let’s discuss your future, because I believe I can help you with that.”
HAWK
Eight years with a woman is a life sentence when you’ve chosen and branded the wrong fucking one. And that’s exactly what I did with Savanna. Stupidly and immaturely, I thought if I scooped her up at sixteen, I could mold her into what I needed her to be. What I wanted her to be.
That shit doesn’t work though, not when the bitch is nothing but conspiracies and paranoia. Not when she is too fucking busy shoving shit up her nose and making accusations.
Our relationship didn’t last, and that’s because after being the subject of those accusations, of being told that I’m fucking everything with tits and ass, I just started actually doing it.
Probably all my fucking fault, but Savanna’s dangerous and as much as I love Tristiana, I can’t allow this bitch to cause any problems between me and my brothers, and she will. I won’t allow my brothers and their families to be in danger because I chose the wrong cunt to claim.
Leaving in the middle of the night is a shit move.
I know that it is, but I can’t face Trista.
I can’t see those big blue eyes fill up with tears as she watches me go. I’ll scoop her up and bring her with me. I won’t be able to leave her behind if I see her. Not fucking possible. What kind of life could I give her? A shit one, that’s what. It’s better that I leave her here, in a warm home with money in the bank and an actual mother, no matter how much of a bitch she is to me.
“So, you’re really walking out on us, on your family?” Savanna hisses.
Lifting my head, I look over at her. She is pretty still, even wearing her look of hatred and disgust on her face. She’s aged well and she’ll continue to do so, but the hatred inside of her has made her nothing like the beauty she was when I met her eight years ago.
She’s changed.
She’s angry and suspicious, she drinks a lot, she’s doing far too many drugs. I turned her into this and I’m going to leave so that it doesn’t get worse, so that the anger and fighting can just disappear with me. Then she can get back to the girl she was and give a good life to our daughter.
“I am. It’s better this way.”
Her top lip curls in disgust. That’s okay because I feel the same fucking way about her. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I think about turning around and just walking away, but then I remember that although she’s twenty-five, we have been together for eight fucking years and she really does deserve to say her piece.
“It’s better to abandon me? Trista? You’re a coward, Hawk. A fucking coward,” she growls.
Shrugging a shoulder, I watch her for a moment. I am a coward, but not in the way that she’s thinking. I should toss her to the curb, take my daughter and raise her without the bitch. I should stay with my brothers, but I know that Savanna won’t stop.
She won’t stop following me on runs, stalking me, doing all-night stakeouts in hopes that she’ll catch me fucking someone else.
Then one day she’s going to see something that I can’t protect her from.
She’s going to get herself fucking killed.
So, instead of allowing that, instead of staying with my daughter, instead of a lot of things—I’m walking away.
I’m being weak. I know that I am, but I can’t sit by and allow her to get herself or my daughter killed because of her stupidity.
“I fucking hate you,” Savanna screams.
I turn my back to her and walk out the front door without looking back. I walk away from my daughter in hopes that she’ll have a better life without me even though I’m going to have a fucking miserable existence without my Tristiana.
HAWK
TEN YEARS LATER
The bitch at the bar gives me a wink, then slides off of her stool and saunters over to me. The man at my side that I’ve been talking to all evening chuckles before he lifts his hand and squeezes my shoulder.
“Talk to you later, man. You look like you’re about to get laid, and good.”
I snort. Marshall has no clue, but he’s a good dude, so I don’t give him a smart-ass reply. Jerking my chin in his direction, I look back to the girl who is still slowly swinging her hips from side to side as she makes her way toward me.
“Let’s get outta here,” I grunt as I stand and dig a few bills out of my pocket.
I toss the money on the bar, turn my back to her and walk out knowing that without a doubt she will follow behind me. Making my way toward my bike, I throw my leg over and straddle my machine.
“Hey,” a female voice calls out.
Turning my head, I lift my eyes toward the woman standing with her leg out and her hip cocked. “Are you seriously ignoring me?” she asks.
“Either you get on the back or I go find pussy somewhere else. Your snatch isn’t the only one in the city.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever talked to me like that before,” she murmurs.
I don’t bother responding to her. Instead, I start the engine, allowing it to roar to life as I get it ready to take off. She doesn’t hesitate to climb on behind me, and together we ride toward the hole I’m living in at the moment.
I’m a roamer, a nomad. I do odd jobs for the Savage Beasts all over the country. Runs, bartending, whatever they need me to do that earns me a little living cash. I don’t take a dime from my cut in Eagar, that all goes to Savanna and Trista. It’s the least that I can do.
The woman at my back slides her arms around my waist, pressing her tits against my back. I grin, all thoughts of the past fade away and I force myself to think about the here and now.
Pulling the bike up to the trailer, I kill the engine. The girl climbs off of the back and I throw my leg over and do the same, heading toward the front door. Tugging it open, I jerk my chin toward the entrance before I look back to her.
She smiles and saunters toward me, stopping just in front of me before she climbs inside. She places her hand on the center of my chest.
“You’re a real biker, aren’t you?” she breathes, tilting her head back.
Dipping my chin, I look down at her. “Yeah, babe. I am.”
“Wow,” she sighs.
I chuckle. “Yeah, let’s get to the wow.”
AVAH
“I think she needs her nose, cheeks, tits, and ass done,” Layne announces.
I should probably feel self-conscious about his suggestion to the plastic surgeon. I don’t though, not at all. He’s right. I need all those things done if I’m going to move up in my new career, and that’s exactly what I want to do.
Career.
I’m not sure that’s what this is called, but I just keep telling myself that this is exactly what I’m doing. A professional escort or call girl is what I’m being called. In reality, I’m a whore. A prostitute. Escort is just a nice name for what I truly am. And Layne is my pimp, men pay Layne to have sex with me.
The doctor turns to me, his eyes shifting up and down my nude body. “This is what you want as well?”
“What else would you suggest?” I ask.
“Money is no object,” Layne announces.
&
nbsp; It’s no object because Layne is going to take it all off of my profits until it’s paid off. The doctor grins, then reaches forward with his Sharpie and begins to mark my body and face as he explains all of the things he’d like to do with my body, all of the changes and tweaks he’d like to make in order to make me look—perfect.
Perfection.
It’s not something that I’ve ever aspired to in my life. All I’ve ever wanted to do was live comfortably. I don’t care about being rich, but I do want security and I can get that with this job.
“What do you think?” the doctor asks, turning me to face the full-length mirror.
I think that I look like a fucked-up roadmap. I think that I’m going to be recovering for months. I think that I’m going to look like a completely different person. At that thought, my lips curve up into a grin.