Koyn (Royal Bastards MC) Page 3

  And, as an Enforcer, that’s his duty to this club.

  But this isn’t club business.

  This is fucking personal.

  “Do your social media bullshit and let me know what you find,” I order Dragon. “That, you can do.” The fucker pouts. “Halo, I’m going to need you on this one with Copper.”

  Halo, our Chaplain, nods from the corner of the room. He’s the silent brooder. The shadow always watching over us. Man of God with a vengeful heart. He’s also fucking amazing at gathering intel being that he’s ex-military. Now that we have a name and with my brother’s connections as a Fed, maybe we’ll finally smoke out this rat.

  “Dad isn’t a member,” my nephew complains under his breath.

  I stand abruptly, kicking my chair out behind me. It rolls and slams against the wall. Nees’s brown eyes widen. “Care to say that shit a little louder, Prospect?”

  “I just don’t understand,” Nees grumbles. “If he’s important, why isn’t he here at Church?”

  Gibson elbows him and tells him to shut the fuck up.

  Slamming my palms down on the table, I lean forward to glower at him. “It’s for me to fucking worry about, Blake, because I’m fucking Prez. I make the goddamn rules. Understand?”

  Nees winces at his real name, eyes lowering like a scolded child, and nods.

  “Any more questions?” I growl, meeting each member with a glare.

  They all shake their heads.

  Didn’t fucking think so.

  Hadley

  Where the fuck is Milk?

  I slide on my sexiest heels—because being a biker bitch doesn’t mean I have to give up my cutest shoes—and stomp out of Milk’s room I share with him.

  If he’s with that skank again, I’m going to kill them both.

  A few guys whistle as I pass and I sling my dark hair over my shoulder as though I don’t care. It gives me a thrill when they do that shit in front of Milk because then he gets possessive. When he’s possessive, it leads to wild animal sex. It’s hot.

  “Where’s Milk?” I demand, popping my head into the room of his best friend, Hammer.

  Hammer, a burly looking dude, makes a great show of drinking in my long, bare legs before looking up at me. “Hmmm?”

  “Oh, don’t you hmmm me, asshole,” I growl. “Where the hell is my boyfriend?”

  He smirks and strokes his long beard. “I could keep you company until he comes back. My dick is lonely and your ass would look hot as fuck planted on it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fuck off. Just tell me where he’s at.”

  “You his old lady?” he taunts.

  “Whatever,” I snap, storming out of the room.

  My heels clomp loudly on the wood floors as I pass several more rooms. If it weren’t for meeting Milk when I was a kid and falling madly in love with him, I would have chosen any other place to run away to. Like the fucking beach. Not this pissy, hot, smoky clubhouse filled with goddamn idiots.

  With each passing step, my anger morphs into something unstoppable. When I find Milk, I’m going to claw out his eyeballs. And if Juicy is sucking his cock, I’ll shove my heel up her ass because I am so over that bitch.

  I’m so pissed that I don’t remember to tone it down before I pass Prez’s door. When he barks out my name, I flinch.

  Fuck.

  “Oh, hey, Magna.” I wave at him, feigning sweetness.

  “Get in here, girl.”

  Double fuck.

  I suck in a steadying breath and force one of my pageant smiles on him. It works for everyone else, why not him too?

  Magna sits in his leather chair in the corner of the room, a joint pressed between his lips. The room reeks. He’d shit himself if he knew I call him Skunk behind his back.

  “You got shorts under that?” he asks, his eyes roaming down my legs.

  “Yeah, Prez,” I say with a stupid nervous giggle. And then because I’m a complete idiot, I lift my long, flowing white tank to prove it.

  His eyes dart to my belly button ring and his smile becomes predatory. “Looking for Milk?”

  I bite on my bottom lip and nod as I release my shirt. “Just wanted to say hi.”

  “He’s with Juicy,” he says, his blue eyes searing into me. “They’re…preoccupied.”

  My initial reaction is to blow the fuck up over this revelation, but not at Magna. Never at Magna. He scares the hell out of me.

  “While my son is being entertained, why don’t you come sit in my lap and share a joint with me?”

  Triple fuck.

  You don’t turn down Magna.

  Ever.

  Until now, I’ve been smart enough to stay glued to his son’s side and never catch myself alone with him.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” I say breathily.

  He watches me as I prance into the room, hoping for a carefree expression on my face. When I get close, his large hand grabs my wrist and he tugs me into his lap. I let out a squeak of surprise. His arm circles around my waist and he rests his palm on my inner thigh.

  “Here,” he grunts, holding the blunt to my lips.

  I hate this shit.

  But I don’t dare deny him.

  Taking the smallest hit known to man, I inhale the pungent smoke and try not to choke. He chuckles when I fail, landing myself in a coughing fit. He sticks the joint between his lips before sliding his palm up under the back of my tank. Gently, he pats at me under the ruse of helping me recover from my choking.

  Cold dread trickles down my spine, making me shiver. He caresses my back with his calloused fingertips. Every so often, his fingers curl around my ribs. I don’t like his hand on my bare flesh, but I’m more afraid if I tell him no. Magna has fucked up many club bitches for much less offenses.

  “So what’s up?” I chirp, hiding my unease.

  “My dick, for one.”

  Oh, God.

  I laugh, pretending he’s telling a funny joke. He doesn’t laugh back. Instead, he unhooks my bra.

  “Oh, uh…”

  His palm slides around to cup my small breast. “Uh, what, Beauty Queen?”

  Our eyes meet and his are blazing with challenge. He wants me to argue with him. To fight him. The last girl who fought him got punched in the fucking face. I like my nose and teeth. Which is why I don’t say a word when he pinches my nipple. Or when he starts to unbutton my shorts.

  “I’m on my period,” I whisper. A lie that’ll probably get my ass kicked.

  “I like blood.”

  His finger slides down into my panties, brushing against my clit, making me whimper.

  “What the fuck, Hadley? I gas up my bike and come back to you getting fingerfucked by my dad?”

  I scramble away from Magna like I’ve been burned. Rather than him beating the shit out of me, he roars with laughter. And even though Milk is pissed, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to him, a possessive wave pulsating from him.

  “Your girl was jealous that you were with Juicy,” Magna says, sniffing his finger that was in my panties. “I was helping her manage that anger.”

  Milk grabs my jaw, glaring at me. I can smell the tequila and…pussy on his breath. Tears prickle at my eyes—angry tears of course—and I fight the wobble of my bottom lip. Milk—Junior as I call him in the bedroom—was supposed to love me like I’ve loved him since we were kids. While our daddies talked business, we’d jump on my trampoline and play with my rabbits.

  “I don’t need help managing my bitch,” Milk says to his dad. “I’m about to manage her real nice.”

  Magna’s laughter booms. “Good boy. But if she ever becomes too much to handle, you know I can settle her down with a firm hand and my belt.”

  I shudder in Milk’s grip. He releases my jaw to grab my hand. I’m all but dragged out of his dad’s room and past the other rooms in the shitty clubhouse. Hammer’s boisterous laugh should get on my nerves, but I’m too shaken up at the moment.

  Milk is never mean.

  Not like Magna.

&nbs
p; Is he that pissed at me? Like it was my fault!

  We make it back to his bedroom and he slings the door shut so loudly, a bunch of shit falls off a bookshelf, crashing to the floor. I open my mouth to argue my case and then it happens. He swings at me. The moment the back of his hand connects with my cheek, I’m knocked off my high heels and fall to the bed. I’m so stunned that he raised a hand at me, all I can do is hold my cheek as tears leak out.

  “Fuck!” Milk yells. “Fuck, Hadley, fuck!”

  I tremble at his raised voice, curling my legs toward me. Junior was all I had. I left everything and everyone for him. I gave it all up for him.

  “Jesus, babe,” he mutters, his voice softening. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He drops onto the bed behind me and curls a muscular arm around my middle. His nose nuzzles my hair as he whispers more apologies that make me cry. “I was just mad as hell my fucking father had his hands in your shorts.”

  I stiffen, hating how alone I feel in his arms. With each passing day here, we grow further apart. He fucks around with Juicy and probably Prissy too, but it was supposed to be just us. It was never supposed to be all this other shit.

  “Hey,” he rumbles, moving my hair away from my neck so he can kiss it. “You’re pissed at me. You have every right to be. I’m not like him. It was an accident. I—it just happened, baby. Fuck, you gotta understand that.”

  But I don’t understand.

  I don’t understand him at all.

  His lips are revealing, though. He kisses me in a way that makes me melt at his touch. I feel his apologies. The boy from my youth kisses my neck tenderly—worshiping my flesh. His dick is hard pressed against my ass. I try not to worry over the fact it probably smells like Juicy.

  “What do you need from me to make you happy?” he asks, rocking his hips against me, urging me to beg for a make-up fuck.

  I’m stubborn, though.

  “I need you to hold me and promise me that it’s only me, Junior. Always only me.”

  He lets out a frustrated sigh but doesn’t fight me on it. “Yeah, Beauty Queen. Only you.”

  His lie smells like Juicy’s pussy.

  I wake up in the dark, naked and alone. My body is sore and abused in the good kind of way. I didn’t want to forgive Milk easily, but sometimes he says all the right things at exactly the right time. It was after the third orgasm I decided I forgave him. Love is stronger than a stupid club whore trying to hoe around on my man. We’ll get through this.

  Loneliness is a gnawing beast, though.

  While I sit here, I wonder where he’s at and who he’s with.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I grab his laptop off the end table, knocking away the condom foils, and pop it open. I ditched my phone when I ran away from home, but I still check in on my social media through a fake profile I used to have when my dad would ground me. It’s been four months since I left home. Dad used to write shit on my wall every day, begging me to come home and making threats. He hasn’t posted anything in weeks.

  Silence is worse.

  I find Junior’s Facebook and check up on it. It’s mostly pictures of his bike. We have an unspoken agreement that he doesn’t put me in any pictures so my dad doesn’t trace me here. Since Dad and Magna go way back, I don’t think he’s ever considered Magna would betray him by letting me stay. While scrolling, I find that Milk is tagged in one of Juicy’s pictures. Sitting in his lap. The picture is from tonight.

  That bitch!

  I go to her page and find more of them together. Away from the clubhouse at some shitty dive in town. All over each other tongue fucking. What a scandalous whore!

  Instead of sobbing like I want, I decide I’ll bring the monster back out and make him jealous. Then, I’ll deal with that bitch once and for all.

  The music from the clubhouse bar is loud. From the sounds of it, while I was sleeping, everyone was partying it up without me. I’m dressed to kill in a pair of tight jeans, high heels, and a fitted crop top. My dark hair is straightened into long, silky strands and my makeup is pageant-worthy. As soon as I walk into the bar, several heads turn my way, including Hammer’s. His grin is wolfish.

  “My offer ssstill sssstands, Beauty Queen,” he slurs.

  I mock him back. “You’re ssstill a frog, loser.”

  His friend Bouncer cackles with laughter. They’re already drunk as hell. I don’t care about those idiots. I’m on a mission to confront Junior and claw Juicy’s fucking eyes out.

  “Lookin’ hot, chica,” Molly says, bouncing up to me. She’s higher than a kite and grinning happily at me. Molly is one of the few girls I like around here.

  “Thanks. You seen Milk?”

  Her eyes drop guiltily. “In the back with Juicy. She’s such a slut.”

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  “Not before we get a selfie with you looking drop-dead gorgeous!”

  We pose with our lips pursed and tits out as she snaps the picture. Hammer photo bombs us, copping a feel of each of our tits.

  Molly squeals when he nips at her ear. I manage to pull away, but she leans into him. They take more selfies and point at her phone for a bit before they start making out. I scan the crowd, looking for Milk and Juicy.

  I make my way to the back and stop dead in my tracks when I see Magna. Some girl I don’t recognize—and who looks a helluva lot younger than me—is on her knees sucking him off. His eyes track me, though. Wild and domineering. I pretend I don’t see him, scurrying past him. Before I pass, he stops me with a hand to my thigh.

  “Honey,” Magna tells the girl. “Go practice sucking dick on Bouncer. I can barely stay hard.”

  She frowns and starts to put his cock back in his jeans, but he shakes his head. “I said go, woman.”

  I try not to look at his half-hard dick, hoping he’ll let my thigh go so I can bail. He squeezes me hard enough to make me yelp.

  “I still want to come,” he grunts out, his eyes red from drinking. “And you’re prancing through here looking like a fine-ass treat. Since Junior’s busy, you can lend me a hand.” He pauses and cocks his head. “If you don’t make yourself useful around here, I might just have to send you back home.”

  “Magna, I—”

  He grabs the front of my crop top and yanks me to the floor between his spread thighs. “Wasn’t asking, Beauty Queen. Now suck my fucking dick before I make you.”

  Koyn

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The giant clock on the wall in my office dances forward without a care in the world. As though Dragon and Katana last night didn’t deliver me the single morsel of information I’ve been salivating over for a decade.

  Ten fucking years.

  No leads. Dead ends. Cold case.

  Now I have a name.

  Randall Putnam.

  Fire burns through my veins hot and searing. The thirst for vengeance is all I’ve known since I lost my girls, and now I feel like I’ll finally get a taste. Not just a sip, but I’ll gulp down the whole damn thing. Revenge is mine. So close.

  I stare out the large window in my office, taking note of the trees and the way the rain patters down on the leaves, making them bounce. Despite all the rage flying around inside me like that of a F-5 tornado, this compound in Green Country keeps me as calm as someone like me will ever be. I’ve found peace here, and soon, I’ll find justice too.

  Swiveling around in my chair, I stare at my computer. In my past, I spent so much goddamn time in front of it for my company. I was the best in my field. Annihilated the competition. Made a cushy life for my family. When they were murdered, I abandoned that life altogether. I spent the next year ruthlessly hunting down the man who ran from me. All I had to go on was he was a biker and the emblem on his cut. It led me to the Royal Bastards. Unlike those motherfuckers who took from me, the RBs were different. I felt a sense of brotherhood right from the start. The moment I met Filter, I knew I needed something to connect me to this world. Something to give me purpose. I found that in the club life.

 
; I turn off my biker mind filled with revenge and hate, tapping into my IT brain. I once had contracts all over the globe, specifically with the National Security Agency, which paid me to hack their systems. To crack their security. I was to outline where they were penetrable and design programs to safeguard them from future attacks. Because our world revolves around information technology, it was a booming business to be in. One I was the absolute best at. In fact, I drove away all the competition by hacking into their shit and dismantling it. If they couldn’t protect their own information, they certainly didn’t deserve my clients.

  While Copper hunts down Randall using his work connections, Halo shakes up his military buddies, and Dragon scours social media, I’ll do the dirty work. The shit I’m really fucking good at. I’m going to hunt him down and destroy him.

  I start with his criminal record. Everything from domestic violence to child endangerment to multiple counts of sex with a minor. Fucking sick bastard. From his publically available criminal record, I then trace it back to which precinct he was booked into. I crack open their database with such ease I’m embarrassed for them, and then pull up the actual police reports. The child endangerment one piques my curiosity. I discover it’s his son.

  His. Fucking. Son.

  Eye for an eye, asshole.

  Randall Michael Putnam, Jr.

  I pause on Putnam to go on a hunt for his son. He’s twenty-one now. High school dropout. Last known address in New Orleans. I locate his son’s mother, a woman named Lydia who overdosed on methamphetamines when the kid was three. Putnam was an abusive fucker, but it never landed him any prison time. Just in and out of jail. When he got caught fucking with some girls, he went to the pen in Huntsville, Texas. Then, his son bounced around foster homes until he ran away for good at age twelve. Or was kidnapped. Putnam’s release date lines up with the son going missing.

  Putnam doesn’t have any bank accounts or anything legal tied to his name, so the paper trail grows semi-cold. But hopefully the guys can come up with more.