Free Bad Apple (The Uncertain Saints MC #4) by Lani Lynn Vale Page A

corners of the stairs.
    He grinned.
    “I don’t mind if you don’t,” he teased.
    I blinked slowly, then smiled.
    Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to his cheek.
    “Hurry.”
    His eyes flared.
    “I’ll see what I can accomplish,” he said.
    I nodded and turned, but his grip on my hips had me halting.
    “Did I tell you how fucking hot you looked in this?” He asked.
    My head dropped to my chest.
    “No,” I told him breathily, my nipples beading into sharp little points.
    But before I could act on the need that was exploding through my body, he was gone, and I was left alone in a cold stairwell with only the smell of him to keep me company.
    “Holy shit,” I breathed. “The man’s going to be the death of me.”

Chapter 7
    I’m trying to cut down on my fucking swearing. Let’s fucking see how the fuck that fucking goes. Fuck.
    -Text from Kitt to Ridley
    Apple
    “Well, you got us,” Mig said as he took another shot. “Are you ever going to grow a pair and tell us why we’re all here getting drunk, instead of out with our women?”
    I was getting to that.
    I just needed another drink first.
    I held my finger up to the bartender, and he brought me my eighth shot.
    “You’re going to die of alcohol poisoning. How are we going to get your bike home without you to drive it?” Ridley sighed in exasperation.
    I took the shot the moment the bartender sat it down on the bar top in front of me.
    “It’d be helpful as fuck if you didn’t push me,” I said, bringing the beer that the bartender followed up with up to my lips and took a long swallow.
    I wasn’t even tasting it at this point.
    I nearly chickened out and that was about the point where I started ordering the shots.
    “Come on, boy,” Peek said thickly, finishing the last of his beer. “I got a hot, warm, willing woman in my bed. If you don’t spit it out, I’m just going to assume you’re not going to and get to her.”
    I downed the rest of the beer, not stopping until the only thing left was the foam.
    “Fine,” I ground out, looking around the bar.
    There was no one there, which worked well.
    I wasn’t about to tell them my deepest, darkest secret with other people around.
    It was one thing to tell them, men I knew I could trust to carry my secret to the grave.
    Others that weren’t in the same lifestyle…who didn’t know how fucking hard it could be for a combat veteran to acclimate to regular life after they’d done so much time in combat.
    Normal people just didn’t understand.
    These men in front of me, though, did.
    “I met my best friend in the Army when I was eighteen. We stayed with each other all through boot camp, training and then later, the Army Rangers,” I started.
    I saw Peek wince when he realized that something bad was about to unfold.
    A man didn’t have to drink eight shots of whiskey to tell a story unless it was bad.
    “He got hurt,” I continued. “We both did, but he was worse. We both came home, both of us fucked up as hell. Me with a head injury. My arm and back fucked. And him...”
    I took a deep breath.
    “He couldn’t walk. Couldn’t piss by himself, and he had seizures nearly once a week.” I didn’t look at Ridley when I said that. If I did, I would see the sympathy there, and I couldn’t handle that right then. “He couldn’t even get out of bed because both of his arms and one leg were blown off. He refused any and all treatment and help in getting his health and his life on track again after all that,” I blew out a breath. “I started out better. Got a job on the Los Angeles police force once my head was deemed ‘okay’ and my arm healed. My head had supposedly healed, but the emotional damage wasn’t healing, not at all. So, I lied. The longer I was home, the worse I got. I was violent. I got into fights and then blacked out and couldn’t remember what I did the previous day.” I shook my head . “It kept getting worse and worse until one day I made a deal with Stephen. One that