Page 10 of Property of Legend

And today, we got church.

I walk in as Lex, our chaplain, starts things off with a shot of bourbon and a blessin’ none of us take too serious.Though Royal bows his head like he might actually believe, even if he looks more like a resident of Hell than the rest of us.

The brothers settle in, Bullet, Vandal, Whiskey, Wildcat, Holler, Bluff, Ash.Our prospects, Kernel, Whip, Critter, are posted at the doors.

“First order of business,” I say, noddin’ to Oaks, who steps forward with a file in hand.“Paradise Falls?”

That name hits me like a hammer to the ribs.

“Sophie Montgomery’s people reached out,” Oaks says.“They got threats.Her daddy’s dyin’, the Derby’s comin’, and they think trouble’s knockin’.”

The room stills.Nobody breathes.

I suck in a long drag of my smoke.“Ain’t been back there in over a decade.”

“You think it’s the reverend?”Rye asks.“Or somethin’ darker?”

I meet Royal’s eyes.The man’s always read between the lines.

“Could be anyone,” I say.“But if someone’s messin’ with Sophie, they’ll find out real quick, Hell’s not just a place.It’s a promise.”

Oaks nods.“Then we ride tomorrow.Paradise Falls.”

“Ride?Hell, we could walk next door,” Holler quips as my hand tightens on the gavel.

“Nobody fucks with the Kings,” we all chant in unison as the gavel lands.

Time to go back to the girl I left behind, the ghosts I tried to forget, and the land where everything I am was born in blood, bourbon, and one bad night.

Chapter 6

Legend

We call it The Lockup, our clubhouse, in the bones of the old county jail, bullet holes in the walls.Barbed wire still crowns the rooftop like a halo of sin, and the holding cells downstairs make damn good bunkers when a fight breaks out.We turned the old warden’s office into a war room and the mess hall into our own personal hellhole.

Only thing missin’ is an electric chair like our National Prez has out in California.Been tryin’ to win it off the bastard for years.Big Daddy won’t let go of it.

I rack the balls on the beat-up pool table in the center of the main room while my brothers howl and slap bets down on who’s gonna win.Bourbon’s flowing.Weed’s burning.The music’s loud enough to shake the fucking brick walls.

Royal leans on his cue, grinning like a jackal, biting his tongue ring."You hittin’ that blonde tonight or passin’ her to me?"

"The blonde or the redhead?"I nod to the bar where Becki and another club bunny, Tawny, are pouring fireball shots straight into each other’s mouths.

Oaks chuckles, dark and low."Damn, Becki’s got that crazy glint again.You better lock your bedroom door or she’ll carve your name into her thigh with a steak knife."

"She already did that," I mutter.

Rye snorts."Bet her mama taught her that shit at Pearly Gates Sunday School."

"Enough yappin’.Let’s play," I growl, taking the first shot and sinking two solids clean.

It ain’t long before the girls come strutting over.Becki’s wearing her favorite leather bustier, nothing but attitude and nipple rings.Tawny’s got her hand on my back, tracing the ink down my spine.

One of the club bunnies, a new girl named Kandddy with three ds, for a reason, and no shame, tags along right behind her wearing the hell outta a "Property of Nobody" tank like it's a damn invitation.

"Can we help you line up your next shot, Prez?"Kandddy purrs.

I don’t stop her when she leans in and presses her titties to my arm.

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