Page 48 of Royal Sons MC

Chapter One

King nodded towardDuke, making it clear Ivy and Tymber were to be allowed to leave relatively unharmed. The sight of her purse and its contents mocked him. “Frog, Groot, front and center.” He waited for them to be within striking distance. “You took it upon yourselves to mess with my family. What do you have to say for yourselves?” The entire club went silent.

The loss of his little brother Luke still cut like a knife to the gut, but he didn’t let it show. Ivy was like family regardless if she’d been fucking his brother or not. Shit, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the little news she’d just blurted. He glanced over at Luke’s twin brother, Duke, watching his reaction and seeing only anger burn in his dark gaze. Duke was more like him. Mean as a rattlesnake that’s been poked with a stick one too many times, while Luke was the complete opposite, clearly in more ways than one. Fuck, Luke had been into guys and would rather have killed himself than face him or Duke. He pushed that knowledge to the back of his mind to go over when he was alone.

Frog’s hands fisted at his side while Groot stood as still as a tree as he’d always done.

“Well, don’t make me ask again. You won’t like the outcome of the evening if you do," King promised. His voice didn’t raise. He didn’t have to. If King needed to yell, shit would go down, and nobody would be left standing who he didn’t want to be, and the two idiots with their eyes looking anywhere but at him would be the first to fall.

Groot shrugged. “We thought it would show our loyalty if we messed up the bastard who made Luke off himself.”

Yeah, his brother, his flesh and blood, had taken his own life, thinking he had no other choice, and that was on him. He was the head of his family, not only the MC.

He could hear the sneer in Groot’s tone as he said Luke’s name. “So what? Finding out my brother lived with a dude changed your mind? You decided to fuck the shithead up and destroy the place my brother called home?”

“He was fucking that prick.” Frog defended his actions.

“You went behind my back and took it upon yourselves to take action as a club and decided to keep information from me. This upsets me deeply.” He sighed and stood to his full six-foot-three-inch height. “Groot, if I told you to get on your knees and suck my dick, or you were out, what would you do?” King waited, crossing his arms over his chest, his leather cut creaking as he moved, the only sound in the room.

Groot wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fuck, King, that’s not...that ain’t right. I don’t swing that way, man.”

King nodded, spearing Frog with his will. “How ‘bout you, Frog?”

Frog shook his head, but he moved forward.

“You see, that right there is why Frog is getting to keep his cut for now. You on the other hand, Groot, you’ve disappointed me. Get the fuck out of my sight and leave my property on the table,” he ordered, tapping the table with his finger.

“You gonna stay and suck his dick?” Groot snarled, ripping the leather vest off his back, and tossing it onto the ground. Everyone in the MC knew there were rules you didn’t break. One was that you never let your club colors touch the ground.

King gave an imperceptible tilt of his head, sighing as Traeger moved out from the darkened corner along with Wheels. The two men grabbed Groot, one clamping down on each arm.

“I thought you knew the rules, Groot? Don’t disrespect the club, being high on that list of things to do and not to do. However, it appears you don’t give a fuck about any of that, right?” He grabbed the front of Frog’s cut, pulling him in close. “What do you think, Frog?”

Frog shook, fear etched on his features, but he had grit. “I think he’s wrong. We fucked up, King.”

“Fucking pussy,” Groot snarled. “You gonna suck his dick just to stay in the club? Fuck that, I didn’t sign up to take any dick in my body.” He twisted, trying to free himself from Traeger and Wheels, something King knew wouldn’t happen until they were told to release him.

“What do you think we should do to him, Frog?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Groot. Sweat beaded on the other man’s brow, but he never lost the look of disgust.

King could’ve reassured him that no man’s lips or dick was coming anywhere near his own dick, but he wanted to see Frog’s reaction. “I...I’m not sure. It’s not my place...to tell you what to do.”

He released Frog, slapping him on the shoulder. “That’s very wise of you. Next time, don’t blindly follow where others may lead.” King pulled a gun out from the back of his pants, laying it on the table, then slid the blade from his boot, all while looking directly at the prospect named Groot. After he placed the knife next to the gun, he waved at the table. “Your choice, Frog, which do I use to teach Groot a lesson, and don’t say it’s not your place. I know it ain’t. It’s mine, but I’m asking. So now you need to answer.”

Frog looked from the table to Groot before glancing back at the table. “The knife,” he said after clearing his voice, the croak evident in his tone, which was why he’d gotten his nickname.

“Excellent choice. I always did enjoy a little knife play.” King picked up the blade, the handle fitting perfectly in his palm. “Here you go, Frog. Teach him a lesson.”

King met Duke’s stare, each knowing whatever went down would be handled inside the club. Frog gripped the knife in his fist, lifting his shoulder to wipe the sweat rolling down his temple away. Like an automaton, he moved to where Traeger and Wheels held Groot.

“Don’t you fucking do it, Frog. We’re brothers,” Groot snarled.

“The club comes first, Groot. You knew that coming in,” Frog muttered.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Groot. You ain’t got no family here. No friends, nothing. When you tossed my property on the ground, you lost any right to call yourself a brother,” King said calmly. Hell, everything was done calmly. It was how he operated. Most thought he was cold. It was how he kept level. If King yelled and was out of control, his brothers should run fast and far.

Frog adjusted his grip on the knife, his fear almost tangible. “Screw you,” Groot snarled.

“I’d rather be judged by the guys behind me than carried out by six to my final resting place.” Frog’s words had the Sons murmuring in approval as he uttered their oath. He stepped closer to where Groot was being held, the knife gripped in his palm so tightly King could see his knuckles were turning white.

---