Page 50 of Royally Embraced: RBMC

King grunted. “Want me to light your ass up?”

Their president rubbed his hands together. They all were aware that the Prez had a penchant for spanking his ole’ lady’s ass, but she loved it.

Traeger laughed. “Nah, I think you’d enjoy it too much, and then we’d be in trouble. Besides, I am a strictly a pussy man.”

“That could be taken completely out of context, brother,” Viking said.

The man who rarely spoke said in a deep tone. They called him Viking because he wore his hair in a mohawk and had various braids in the mass. He was a big bastard with Norwegian-Scandinavian roots. Many of the women who came to the clubhouse said he reminded them of the guy from True Blood mixed with Thor on steroids. Of course, the man had a shitton of tattoos, so if one added those to the other men, Jeter might agree Viking could pass for a cousin or some shit. The brother happened to be one of the most intelligent men in the Royal MC, with a degree from Harvard Law, yet didn’t like many to know.

“Fuck you and context, asshole. I don’t see you with any pussy on demand,” Traeger said without turning around.

“That’s because I have a running roster. Ain’t no way I’m going to have some woman laying claim to me by saying I’ve made promises I don’t plan to keep. Each and every one knows what I bring to the table. A good time. Sex that blows their mind. Sometimes, if they’re really good, I’ll even send them off with a nice present.” He winked.

“What, like an STD?” Crash asked.

There was an oof that sounded as if Viking elbowed the other man. “Last I checked, you were the one getting antibiotics from Doc, fucker.”

“That’s enough,” King barked.

Jeter let out a sigh as he noticed they were on Kendrick’s street. The half-hour drive took less than twenty as the other man had broken every speed limit to get there, thanks to Keys using his computer hacking to turn every light green.

“I could use a guy like your Keys on my team,” Kendrick said.

King crossed his arms. A grin crossed his harsh features. Jeter knew his brothers would always come through for him. He hoped they made it in time to save his ole’ lady.

“Listen, I haven’t gotten the feed from inside yet, but someone activated the safe room inside my closet.” Kendrick turned his phone toward Jeter.

He breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that meant Tori had made it inside.

“Anything from Andre?” he asked, even though he knew there hadn’t been, or he’d have heard.

The vehicles blocking the drive and entrance decided how they’d move forward. Using the SUVs to hinder the others from leaving, Jeter exited before the car came to a stop. Each of them had reloaded on the ride back, so he nearly ran up the drive. Hefocused on entering through the kitchen since it was closest to the back stairway.

He punched in the code to get in and ignored the loud blaring of the alarm. Luckily for them, they’d had Keys silence the automatic call to the police, knowing the situation would need a cleaning crew. Whatever happened, they’d take care of it with no law enforcement.

The sight of blood at the foot of the steps sent his nerves on edge. A quick check showed him it wasn’t anyone he knew, so he dismissed the asshole. He jogged up the steps, knowing the sound of his boots would alert others to his presence. As he turned the last landing to Kendrick’s floor, the sound of a woman’s sobs and a man’s harsh curses infiltrated the ringing in his ears.

Jeter shook his head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly with thoughts of Tori in danger on his mind.

He brought his P320 out in front of him, holding it steady as he took in the scene. Two men he’d never laid eyes on were in the room. One appeared to be on the phone while another knelt near a woman who was bleeding all over his brother’s Persian rug.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barked, keeping the gun trained on the man with the phone to his ear.

The older man paused his speaking. His dark eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

Jeter gave him a grin. “I’m asking the questions here, testa di cazzo.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I suggest you lower your weapon. You don’t want to cause a war.” A vein throbbed in Gino Masseria’s temple as his eyes darted toward his son.

Jeter kept both men in sight as he took out the second gun from the back of his jeans, aiming one with his left at Gino and the other at Geovani. “Listen to me closely. I don’t give two shitswho the fuck you are or what war you think you can cause. You came into my brother’s home and tried to fuck with what’s mine. For that, you both signed your death warrants.”

“Wait. I only came to get Taysey. I didn’t come to fuck with you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Geovani. Sei un pirla. I should’ve killed you at birth,” Gino snarled.

Kendrick walked in, clapping. “While this is entertaining, and I agree wholeheartedly that your son is an idiot.” –he looked down at Taysey and shook his head—“this entire thing is boring me, and my lovely rug is getting ruined the longer that piece of garbage lies on it. Jeter, if you will allow me to take out the trash.”

“Kendrick, please help me. I’m s...sorry. I love you.” Taysey held her hand up. Tears fell from her eyes. Pain and remorse made her look pitiful.

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