Page 35 of Royally Lucky

Duke laughed and slapped the larger man on the shoulder. Kendrick tuned them out as he began walking through the cavernous space filled with shelves upon shelves of shit.

In a suit, he still couldn’t pass for what the upper echelon considered respectable, not with his tattoos unhidden. Taysey had grumbled several times about them, saying he could have them lasered off for a small fee before their wedding. The fucking whore was about two sandwiches short of a picnic if she’d honestly thought he’d remove one line of ink from his skin.

As they passed an elevator, he noted that the men walking with him and Andre were like them. Each dressed in clothing that made them appear to fit in, but none could be considered gentlemen. Hell, he would rather choke on his tongue than have to follow society’s rules of what’s right and wrong. His hands flexed next to his sides, itching to pull the guns from their holsters. On his right hand, there were three skulls. The one in the center had its mouth open wide with a mouthful of fangs tinted green, while on his left, a singular skull shrouded in smoke. It had green eyes. The significance of green was an ode to his maternal grandmother, who had the same color eyes as he and his brother. She’d be rolling in her grave if she saw his chest full of tattoos.

Once, one of his lovers asked him why he sported so many skulls on his body. The three on his right hand were for the men he’d killed to take his place as head of the Calderone Family. One was for his father, the second was for the man directly under his father, and the last was for the consigliere. The chief advisordidn’t fight Kendrick the night he'd walked into his home. Hell, the old bastard smirked and lifted a cigar before closing his eyes. The other skulls were meaningful in different ways, except the one at the center of his throat—the meaning behind that one only one other person knew.

“Here we go. This elevator needs a keycard to enter. Keys, whatcha got for us?” Duke stopped in front of a gold-plated door.

Kendrick paused behind him. He clasped his hands to keep from pressing the button to see what the fuck would happen. The urge to kill Frankie and whoever else thought it was a good idea to touch Sutton fueled him.

“Here we go,” Duke said, holding up a card.

“Damn, Keys is fucking good.” Traeger clapped his hands together.

Andre’s lips tilted up in a slight grin.

Kendrick stayed silent. These men were on a mission, but he was out for revenge.

SUTTON WOKE WITH ANache at the back of her skull. Her eyes widened as she realized she was no longer in the clubhouse.

Her mind worked to piece together the events she could remember. Kendrick and the others left, and she asked if there was somewhere she could take a nap since the night before, Kendrick had kept her up in the best way possible. She fought a blush and pushed thoughts of making love out of her mind.

A prospect took her into one of the rooms at the back of the clubhouse after Ayesha called King, and she’d followed him like a sheep to—no, she wasn’t going to be slaughtered.

Very little light allowed her to see where she was, but the rhythmic movement of the tires on the road let her know theywere moving fast. She worked to sit up, keeping her eyes trained toward the front in case the driver happened to have a way of looking back at her. Saliva filled her mouth behind the tape the fucker slapped on it sometime after he knocked her out. Thank fuck he didn’t drug her again, but she was sure she would have a concussion with the power behind his hit. If she could rub her skull, Sutton didn’t doubt she’d feel a knot big enough she’d have ordered a CT Scan.

Whoever took her from the clubhouse obviously decided what he would get from her kidnapping was better than sticking around and becoming an MC brother. She hoped he knew King and the others would hunt him down to the furthest corners of Earth. Not because of their loyalty to her but because the asshole broke their trust. There were rules, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d royally fucked up.

“I’m here to see Mr. Dragna. Tell him I have his package.”

Shit. She needed to pretend to be out. Easing back to the floor, she let out her breath and closed her eyes.

Seconds ticked by slower than a month of Sundays. Oh, yeah, she indeed had a concussion. Her brain coming up with shit like that was not in her wheelhouse typically.

“You sit tight. I need to check it’s just you and the package.”

Sutton rolled to her stomach, making it easier to hide her flickering eyes when the doors opened.

The unmistakable sound of the locks clicking, followed by a squeaking as a door, sent her nerves on edge. She allowed her mind to wander away, knowing someone entered the space. A hand on her calf brought bile to her throat, but again, she stayed in her zone. When she’d been a child, she’d created a world within herself. The void was where she’d gone to save her sanity. God, she’d thought her world as an adult had become safe and light.

Demons were everywhere. They wore different clothes and looked like everyone else but were all the same inside. Vile humans preying on those they thought were weaker. Sutton had gotten free from one before. She could do it again.

“How hard did you hit the whore, kid? She’s not even flinching when I squeeze her ass. I wonder if I fuck her right here if she’d wake up?”

“It’s your funeral. From what your boss said, he wanted to sample her before selling her off.”

Her ears picked up on bits of their conversations—the words alluding to rape and selling her filtered in. If the bastard running his hands over her thought she’d allow him to stick anything inside her without a fight, he’d learn how wrong his assumptions were.

“It’s a shame. I bet she’s got a nice pussy. Alright, you’re good.”

The door slammed seconds after he slapped her ass. Sutton wished she could’ve seen his face so she could remember who she’d shoot if she had the chance.

Chapter Seventeen

It felt like the world dropped as they drove. All the light from outside went away as if they were going into a cave or a basement. Her fear skyrocketed.

“If I come out of this alive, I’ll be a lucky son-of-a-bitch.” The driver muttered.

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