Page 50 of Royal Sons MC

He stepped closer, his body heat making her feel as if she was on fire, or maybe it was her hormones. “Let’s start by you telling me a little more about who told you this story about me being this hero bullshit, hmm?”

Ayesha shook her head. “This was a terrible mistake,” she said, her voice too loud. She backed away, inching from him.

King looked over his shoulder, his eyes finally resting on her face after a couple seconds. “I want you to sit down and don’t say another fucking word.”

“Hey, you don’t have the right to order me around. I’m not one of your club...whatever you call them, brothers, bitches, whatever. You have no right—” she yelped out, the air leaving her lungs at the abrupt motion of being pulled against his rock-hard chest.

“Little girl, I have more than just a right. You’re in my club. My territory. I’m not only the President. I’m the fucking King. That’s not just my name; it means I’m the ruler of all you see here. I wear the patch and crown, baby. Push me, and I’ll gladly gag you, then I’ll paddle that fine little ass until you’re crystal clear on that subject. Do you understand?”

She tried to put space between them, silently wishing he was some fat, weak asshole who couldn’t actually back up his words. “I came to you for help, not to be...be threatened.”

King gave a humorless laugh. “You shoulda done your research first, Little Dove,” he said, turning toward the door. “Duke, get your ass in here. I want to know how the fuck she got past Parker and Clown. If there’s a hole, I want it found and plugged permanently, one way or another. Feel me?”

Ayesha watched as Duke nodded. His eyes were the same determined color as his brother’s. King turned around, pinning her with such a look that she wasn’t sure what he planned, but there was no mistake. King was in charge, and whoever Parker and Clown were, they were in big trouble for allowing her to slip inside.

Chapter Two

Ayesha tried to swallow. Her mouth and throat felt like she’d been in the desert for days without water. “I...it wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own for getting in here. I followed Chloe in and told the guys I was with her.”

“They both know better than to just let anyone roll into the club grounds without verifying they were invited, no matter how fuckable they look.”

“This is stupid. My sister could be getting beaten or raped, or worse, while you’re worried about how I got into your precious backwoods club. Just let me go so I can find someone else willing to help me find her,” she cried, uncaring that tears flowed from her eyes.

“Newsflash, princess, your sister has probably already been raped,” Duke said.

“Shut the fuck up, Duke.” King stepped toward the other man, shoving him out the door. “Find the answers I want, asshole. Come back here after you have something to tell me that I want to hear.”

Duke laughed but didn’t say another word.

“I’m well aware of what could’ve already happened, but I’m holding out hope that the guy she went with likes her enough that he’s kept her safe. Or at least kept her with him until...well, until he’s tired of her. God, how did I come to this?” She sank down on the closest surface she came to, the surprisingly soft, comfy chair enveloping her.

King squatted down in front of her. “Listen to me, Little Dove, I don’t know where you got your information, but coming to the Royal Sons clubhouse and announcing shit like that can get you dead and a lot of people hurt or killed. So, let’s start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

The way he looked at her. The way he dipped his voice made her want to spill every secret she possessed, even the ones she’d never told anyone. “I overheard a client talking about these men who worked around the FBI but not with them. These were guys who didn’t have to follow the law but could go in and out of places without waiting for proper channels. My sister has been considered a runaway, but I promise she’s not. I mean, yeah, she left of her own volition, but she wouldn’t have just up and gone unless she thought she could come back. Rico isn’t who he pretended to be. He’s not some eighteen-year-old kid with a rich family with a yacht on the ocean just waiting for them to come party it up. Yes, he’s a rich guy, but his family are drug dealers who deal in prostitution and human trafficking. They’ve been investigated for the disappearance of several young girls, girls they met online and promised all kinds of things, but it's like...bam, those girls are all of a sudden runaways. However, Rico, or one of his many cousins, always have solid alibis for when the girls have gone missing.”

She swiped at the tracks of tears flowing down her cheeks. Her sister had met the little bastard on Instagram, where he’d started messaging her. The next thing she knew, they were meeting behind her back. Ayesha had never approved of her sixteen-year-old sister seeing a nineteen-year-old boy, or she’d have looked into him and his family. She’d have found out the fucker wasn’t nineteen but twenty-four, who was way too old for Tiana. The account he’d used had been deactivated as if it had never been. When questioned, he'd sworn the pictures her sister and Rico had exchanged had been “hijacked” from his real account. Of course, he’d reported it. He’d claimed the same thing had happened numerous other times. She didn't believe him. He was too smooth, too creepy. He was a liar.

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