Page 49 of Royal Sons MC

Duke moved in like lightning, stopping the forward movement of Frog’s hand that held the blade. “Good job, kid.” Duke expertly took the knife away, holding it to the side for King to take. “You, on the other hand, aren’t worthy to wipe the shit off my ass, let alone wear our colors,” Duke said quietly. He tilted his head, making a jerking motion toward Groot. “Let him go. Don’t want him thinking I’m a pussy and only hit a little bitch when he’s being held by two big bastards.”

As soon as Groot was free, Duke lunged at him. King watched as his younger brother lashed out, hitting the other man solidly in the chest. He followed him down to the concrete floor, his fist striking Groot several times before he stood. “Some think I’m crazy, that we’re crazy. Newsflash, fucker, we are. The difference between us and you, other than the obvious, is we enjoy every second of our insanity. Oh, and if you think to spill any club insights to anyone, we’ll know. Trust me, there’ll be nowhere you can run or hide from us if that happens.” Duke pointed at King. “You think what I just did is bad? Next time, he’ll be the reaper, and you won’t get to walk away, feel me?”

King used to hate being referred to as the reaper, but as the President of the Royal Sons, he had many responsibilities—ensuring the safety of the Club was only one of them.

Traeger helped Groot to his feet. “Get outta here, boy.” He shoved Groot toward the door, the man’s plain white T-shirt smeared with his blood. A stark indicator of what went down. As Groot walked out, holding his side, King didn’t need to see what his brothers outside did. He knew they’d not recognize him in any way. To them, he was dead.

AYESHA TRIED TO STIFLEher cry. Shit, she’d come to ask for help, but what she found was like nothing she’d expected. Oh, King Royal, the President of the MC, was everything she’d heard he was. What made her pause and sweat pool beneath her breasts was the lack of care he paid to what had just happened. Her stomach was in knots, having watched the VP named Duke beat Groot without so much as disrupting a bit of hair on his head. The two men were, in a word, dangerous. “I should’ve listened to Quincy,” she whispered.

“That would’ve been smart,” a deep voice spoke from behind her, making her scream.

“I wonder what you’re doing hiding back here when I told everyone to clear out?” King’s warm breath fanned over her shoulder, making her shiver.

“I...I’m sorry. I came here to ask...a question, but now I realize that was a mistake. I’ll just be on my way,” she said with more bravado than she felt.

King sighed. His hand was gentle as he turned her to face him. “Little Dove, you should’ve thought of that before you broke the rules.”

Ayesha shook her head back and forth. “I don’t—what are you doing?” She yelped as he tossed her over his shoulder.

“Sssh, I’m taking us out of the clubhouse while you explain what the hell you had planned and who sent you.” King strolled past a smirking Duke, ignoring the look his younger brother tossed his way. “You’re in charge while I’m gone. Make sure someone tails that shithead. We don’t need the heat coming down on us.”

“If you don’t let me go, there’s gonna be much more than you bargained for coming up here. People know where I am.” Ayesha tried to reason with him.

The feel of his palm running over her ass reminded her she’d worn a miniskirt, which made her wriggle harder to get free. A sharp slap made her tense. His words did the same as he told her to quit fucking moving in such a deep voice her body instantly heated. Ayesha had never had a man do what King was doing, taking complete control of everyone and everything around him. “King, I mean, Mr. Royal, listen to me. I needed help, and I heard you guys were the ones to come to.”

He froze in mid-step. “Wait ‘til we get to the big house.”

She’d met Chloe several months back when she’d come into High Maintenance, the salon Ayesha owned, for a haircut. They’d ended up talking about hair color because the other girl liked Ayesha’s blue and black hombre fade. When Chloe said she’d have to ask her boyfriend before doing something so daring, it shocked Ayesha since it was the year two thousand and nineteen. Ayesha refrained from saying anything to the other girl because protecting Chloe's feelings was important, and she hoped to gain her trust. A couple days later, Chloe called and made an appointment for a cut and color. That had been the beginning of a great new friendship and an eye-opening to a world she’d only seen on TV or read about. If Ayesha was being honest, she envied the other girl and what she had as she’d watched her being dropped off by her boyfriend. He walked her into the shop and looked around as if making sure it was safe. His gaze took in everything and everyone, possession stamping his features. He would take Chloe into his arms, staking his claim one last time before he left, demanding she call him when she was done. It had taken monumental effort for Ayesha to tear her eyes away from the kissing couple as he devoured Chloe’s mouth while his hands held the other woman’s ass, their bodies fused together. Yeah, Ayesha knew they’d be getting it on the moment he had Chloe alone, and the other woman would be more than happy when he was done. She’d only fantasized about having a man do those things to her but had never found one who actually could deliver.

Chloe mentioned the club was more than just a biker gang that ran drugs and guns. She’d been a little tipsy and went on and on, talking about how they helped damsels in distress, Chloe’s words. So when Ayesha’s little sister came up missing or, if the cops had their say, ran away, she followed her friend after doing her hair. Big mistake. Huge. She was coming to realize her foolhardy plan could now cost her own life, while her sister Tiana would most probably be sold to the highest bidder in a sex trafficking ring in some third-world country. A sob left her throat, but she choked back the next one.

Fear was an ugly bitch, but Ayesha couldn’t stifle the sensation from working its way through her, making her break out in a cold sweat. “I think I might be sick,” she muttered.

“Don’t. You won’t like me very much if you do.”

“I don’t like you very much right now anyway,” she muttered angrily. At least if she was angry, it kept her from wanting to vomit all over her sexy kidnapper’s back.

King chuckled, walking into his house without pause. The door banging shut behind them was like an omen to her. “Alright, you got five minutes to explain. I’ll decide your fate after I hear what you say.” He lifted her from his shoulder, placing her feet on the floor. His hands spanning her hips kept her steady.

It still took her several seconds to get her bearings. She glanced around the room, surprised to see that it looked like a... regular home.

“You’ve got four minutes now. Better start talking.” He let go of her but didn’t move away.

She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face with a swipe of her palm across the cheek, but her need for his help kept her hands down. “My sister was kidnapped. I need help getting her back.” Shit, she sounded like an idiot.

King raised a brow. “Why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you go to the cops?”

Ayesha rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think I tried that first? She went willingly for all intents and purposes, but I know better. I heard you help do this sort of thing...bring home people who are taken. My sister is one of them.”

King tilted his head to the side. “What do I get out of this?”

Ayesha barely controlled her instinct to roll her eyes again. “What do you want, a blow job?”

King laughed, the sound louder than the beating of her heart. “Little Dove, if I wanted a blow job, I could open the door and whistle. Within minutes, I’d have my pick of women willing to let me fuck their face.” He held his arm out, palm facing toward the door.

Oh, there was no doubt in her mind he could and had done that very thing in the past. So why did her heart skip a beat at the image of him opening his jeans for some nameless, faceless woman? The thought of King getting his rocks off with another made her angry. She pulled her focus back to her sister and the very real danger she was in. “I would do anything for my sister, even though I know you don’t need me to...whore myself out to you. Tell me, what do I need to do to get your help? Get on my knees and beg? Offer you my firstborn? Give you a million dollars? What?” she begged, desperate for a reaction, her voice rising.

The door opened behind her, but she didn’t take her eyes off King.

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