Page 14 of Royal Sons MC

With ease, he kicked the stand down on his bike. The motorcycle’s rumble stopped when he pushed the button, silencing his ride while the other two did the same. The loud thump of music could be heard from inside the spacious-looking building. He didn’t realize the MC had a home as close to his until they’d begun riding up and away from town. He began to worry when they’d pulled into an almost unnoticeable drive. Lights up ahead had kept him on the path. They passed a home twice the size of his and another smaller yet still large house before coming to the huge clearing where another building sat. The lights and sounds inside were reminiscent of a bar. Only the line of bikes outside and a few other vehicles let him know this was where the club met and hung out.

Knowing it would do him no good to ask the two jackasses who’d ridden out with him what was up, he walked forward, waiting at the door for one of them to open it. One didn’t just barge into a clubhouse without permission, that he knew from talking to King.

The door opened, and the music blaring interrupted his thoughts. “You three gonna stand out here all night, or you coming in?”

Tymber looked the other man in the eye, uncaring what protocol suggested. This wasn’t the president or the vice president, but his rockers differed slightly from the other two men. Fuck, he swore. They’d sent prospects to get him. Meaning he was screwed. Only he didn’t know what he’d done. The last time he’d seen any of the members had been when King came for his previous tattoo. That had been almost a month ago. In the weeks between, he’d done nothing but work and spend time with Ivy. Damn, he wondered if she was pissed at him for standing her up. Tonight, he’d planned to cook her dinner at his place. He had no plans past that other than to go with the flow. Hell, for weeks, he’d gone to bed with her name on his lips, her taste in his mouth, yet he still hadn’t pushed their relationship to the next level. Not because his body didn’t ache to fill hers, but for the first time, he wanted to get to know the woman, wanted to build something more than sex. Finally, he was sure they had that, with the promise of more. Yet, here he was, being led into the lions’ den like a sheep to the slaughterhouse.

“Ah, I’m glad you could make it. Did my prospects give you any shit?”

Tymber barely kept from jumping at the words spoken so close to his ear. He hadn’t even seen the man come up, let alone feel the air stir as he moved into his space. “They were very closed-lipped on why I was being summoned up here. No, I take that back. They mentioned something about me not liking it if they forced me. So here I am, what the fuck’s going on?” He turned, leveling King with his stare.

King slapped him on the shoulder, then steered them toward the back. People parted for them without being told, giving Tymber an idea of this man’s power he wielded. He almost wished he could call back the challenging words.

“I always did like you, Tymber. The first time I met you, I knew you had grit.” King swept his arm out in front of him. “You hungry, thirsty?”

Women lay on the long tables, their bodies displayed with a different assortment of food placed strategically on them. He shook his head at the offer. The only body he wanted to eat off of was Ivy’s.

“Drink? You know it’s rude not to accept an offer from your host?” King snagged a beer from one of the buckets on the table between the two women. He then ran the cold bottle up the calf and inner thigh of the one on the left. The redhead closed her eyes, moaning at his actions.

Tymber didn’t want the bottle that had just been rubbed all over the woman. His hand reached for a bottle, glad when nobody struck out at him. “Thanks,” Tymber said after he downed half the contents of the cold brew.

“My pleasure. Now, let’s have a seat and talk, shall we?” King made another sweeping motion, getting people to move from their spots, leaving two chairs open, plus the one at the head, which clearly belonged to the president.

Tymber sat in one of the chairs, the fine hair on the nape of his neck standing on end. “While I appreciate the hospitality, why don’t you tell me exactly what’s brought me here?” He took another healthy swig from the bottle.

King tipped his bottle toward him. “You know, I always liked you. You do good work and don’t seem to shake easily. I admire that in a man. Now, I have a question for you, and I want you to think before you answer.”

Placing the bottle on the table, he waited for King to continue. Fuck, he swore the entire place had gone quiet, yet he could still hear music. “I’m always honest. No reason not to be. Besides, it cuts the bullshit down when you spit shit out truthfully.”

“You fucking Ivy, and if so, for how long? And, before you think of getting stupid and tell me it’s none of my business, don’t. Your answers are crucial to your health.” King’s hand flexed and unflexed on the table.

Shit. Was she one of theirs? He tried to think back to the past few weeks. There’d been no sign of a boyfriend, nor did she let on that she knew the club when he’d talked about tattooing King that first night. “My first inclination is to ask you questions, but I think that’s the wrong thing to do here.”

King nodded. “You’d be right. So, what’s your answers? Do I need to ask the questions again, or are you just working up the courage to tell me to my face you’ve been fucking my little brother’s ole’ lady?”

Shock held him immobile for a second. “What the fuck do you mean? Your little brother’s ole’ lady?”

King motioned to someone behind him, but Tymber kept his eyes on the leader. His following words would be a defining moment in his life.

“Ivy is my brother Luke’s girl, didn’t you know?”

“I’M NOT NOW, NOR HAVEI ever been any of the club members’ ole’ lady,” Ivy shouted.

Tymber jumped up, reached for Ivy, and came up short as another member shoved the tip of a knife near his throat. “The Prez ain’t done talking to you,” the guttural words were said with such menace that they silenced him.

“Rooster, back the fuck off him with that knife, or so help me, I’ll be shoving it so far up your ass the sun will be the last thing you think about,” Ivy warned. Her heart had been racing the entire drive from outside Twisted Ink and didn’t seem ready to slow a bit.

“Everyone out,” King said, his voice booming above the other sounds.

It wasn’t a hot night, but she swore her entire body had to be sweating from fear and adrenalin. She kept her eyes on Rooster and his wicked-looking knife. The man was a lover of making his point with a blade. She shifted her focus to King, moving forward, her hand brushing Tymber’s. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Alright, now that the only ones here are family, we can talk.” King nodded, waiting until the entire MC club seemed to surround them.

Ivy thought they’d be somewhat safe since there were others around who weren’t fully patched members along with their ole’ ladies. She should have known King didn’t play by one set of rules. “King, it’s me you’re mad at. Let Tymber go, and I’ll—” she licked her lips before continuing in a firm tone. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, just don’t fuck with him.”

King gave a dry chuckle, sitting back down in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Tymber’s arms flexed, showing the muscles and strength he had within him. She didn’t doubt one bit he could take on any member of the Royal MC and probably win. However, he’d be taking on more than just one man.

“Sit, Ivy. We’ve things to discuss.” King tapped the table, expecting obedience.

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