Page 11 of Royal's Reign
I mount my bike, taking a quick glance back at the building. Leaving her here with little protection goes against my better judgment, but as soon as the engine roars, the familiar vibration between my legs grounding me, I pull back on the throttle, ease up on the brake and lead my men out onto the road.
Our evening is a successful one;however, it takes us longer than anticipated and much more force for us to get the result we need. The idiot thought it was a good idea to replace some of the bricks of cocaine with bath salts, and I’m not talking about the flower-scented crystals that you sprinkle in your bathwater. It’s a cheaper synthetic designer drug that gives you a similar rush to cocaine, but by all accounts, it’s causing a hell of a lot of issues in the emergency departments across the state.
The bottom line is we are paying for quality coke, but Josiah and his scrawny lowlifes thought it was a smart idea to skim around twenty percent off the good stuff, keep it for themselves so they can deal it on the side, making themselves some extra bucks.
Big mistake.
We are part of a supply chain, which means if our customer, the one we run and hand over the majority of the supply to, isn’t happy, then we take a hit.Whether financial or physical, we take a beating, so it goes without saying that we hit back harder.
I’m not going to go into details, but who we supply is not someone you fuck with. The repercussions, an all-out war, but I’m lucky. Our club has dealt with them for years. The relationship that was built with Horse was one of trust and respect. Horse had made it clear to them that, as the new president of the club, they could instil that trust in me too. It’s a good job, because with this current fuck-up, my ass could have ended up as pig food.
So, it’s only right I make sure that Josiah understands that fucking with the Saints is a huge mistake. He’s already taken one hell of a beating. One that seems not to have had the effect on him we had hoped. However, one of his sidekicks has now spoken up, and the situation is taking a dramatic turn.
The runt’s voice is annoying the fuck out of me, grating on my very last nerve as he spews out threats. When he vomits out, snarling and laughing at the same time, how he will take a knife to every single one of our club whores’, slice up their cunts, put them out of action, I’m fucking livid.
Boulder and Creep have him restrained. I pinch his nose hard until his mouth gasps open for air. I shove my hand into his mouth, grab a firm hold of his tongue, pulling it out until it’s stretched to the max, and flash the steel knife as far back as I can. The Uber-sharp blade slices through it like butter. A damn sight easier than I’d expected, but with the removal of theorgan, comes a shit ton of blood. It’s at that point I toy between holding his head back and watching him choke to death, or throwing him to the floor and letting him bleed to death slowly. The latter will give him a shimmer of hope, because if his buddies care about him and work fast enough, he still has a chance if they get him to the hospital in time. Would need a talented surgeon and a blood transfusion, but it’s doable.
I decide to leave his fate in the hands of his buddies because, quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck either way.
We walk out of the disused warehouse without further challenge. My black t-shirt and jeans are covered in blood. Boulder and Creep not so much, but still haven’t avoided the splash of blood and saliva, being so close when Runt had coughed and sputtered. Thankfully, our dark clothing disguises the red. We’re able to mount up and ride out, making our way back to the club, leaving Josiah to heed our warning, lick his wounds and, if he so chooses to do so, save his foul-mouthed runt.
By the timewe pull through the gates at the back of the clubhouse, it’s getting late. I’m filthy, sweaty and in desperate need of a shower. I also need to check on Gio. She’s been held up in my apartment for muchlonger than expected, but knowing that she has been safe has made it easier for me to blank out any fear and concentrate on the task in hand.
“Boulder, get the prospects cleaning up the bikes, make sure there’s no transferred evidence, just in case the cops come knocking.”
“Sure thing,” he replies, pushing through the back door of the club. “I’ll get right on it.”
Hammer and Creep follow him, with me and Grinder close behind.
“Surely they won’t go to the cops?” Grinder pipes up.
“No, but if they get him to a hospital, there’s going to be questions asked and the cops might be pulled in.” I’m hoping not, because although we have pull with the local law, we have little to none further afield.
“What about clothing? We need to fire up the furnace?”
“Shit, might be wise. Damn it. I like these fucking jeans too, but better to be safe than sorry. Tell the others; we might as well burn the lot. Check that the prospects do a full detail on all the bikes including the wheel treads, every fucking inch.”
“Grinder,” Hammer steps up in front of us, blocking the doorway into the communal area and the only way I can gain access to the stairs that lead up to my apartment. “Can I have a word with you out back? I… I… was wondering if you could take a look at some-ert.”
“What now?” he grumbles.
Hammer’s eyes flick to mine, then back at Grinder. Instantly I know something’s up and he needs to get his VP out of here.
Giorgia!
“Go,” I tell him. “We’ll catch up later.” Despite wanting to push forward, fear crawling over my skin, I wait until the back door swings closed behind Grinder before I go see what the fuck is going on.
When I see Gio playing center stage, dressed in a strappy little sundress that barely covers her panties, arms stretched high in the air, shaking her ass and putting on a show for all to see, my blood begins to boil. I want to take a red-hot poker to every brother’s eyes for glaring at her like she’s fair game. But I can’t let my temper get the better of me, or give anyone of these fuckers the wrong impression when it comes to my feelings for her. Who am I trying to kid? If I didn’t want her for myself, I wouldn’t be reacting like this.
But she’s Grinder’s sister and off fucking limits.
Giorgia
With my hands stretched high above my head, my hips sway to the beat of Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi, I’ve managed to find it hiding in the depths of the old jukebox that’s behind the bar. I’m surprised that, despite its age, it’s in perfect working order. It was the only tune that I thought was dance-worthy among the heavy rock tunes that monopolized the machine.
I’d done as Royal had asked and stayed in theapartment, watched a little TV, had a snack, but after three hours I’d begun to crawl up the walls with boredom. It hadn’t been far into hour four that the noise from downstairs had filtered up. With music blaring out, punctuated with high-pitched laughter, it was blatantly clear that there was a lot more fun going on downstairs, than up. So, I’d thought, ‘fuck-it’ and had edged my way down into the communal area to see what was going on.
It had been obvious that Cherry and Poppy, the club twins, were aware my being there was against Royal and Grinder’s wishes, but still dragged me straight to the bar and lined up shots of tequila. No doubt they were still a little pissed that I was trespassing on what they considered their turf, and I was damn sure they weren’t acting in my best interests, but hell, I wanted to let loose.
