Page 2 of Royally Lucky

He wasn’t a man who was morally black or white. Shit, most days, red ran wherever he treads. His life wasn’t for the faint of heart. But it was how he chose it to be.

“Excuse me? You can’t come in here talking to me...like that,” he sputtered. Father Totton’s face had turned beet red. His pupils appeared blown. Hell, if Kendrick gave two shits, he’d worry the man was going to stroke out.

“Listen, I’m not here to be your judge, jury, or executioner. However, if you have some skeletons in your closet, I suggest you clean them out before the Reaper comes calling. Feel me?” he asked.

Sweat beaded on the priest’s forehead, dripping down his temples. Kendrick hadn’t known before entering the man’s chambers that he’d encounter a man with secrets. Kendrick didn’t know what those were, but he’d ensure someone found out.

“Yes. I understand. Is there anything else?” He shuffled on his feet.

Kendrick watched the artery at his neck throb. The last thing he wanted to do was give this fucker money. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out an envelope, looked at his hand, and tapped the thick envelope against his other.

“This is for the church. A token of gratitude for their services today. My brother and his bride appreciate the church and you for providing the place to perform their wedding ceremony. I trust you’ll handle the paperwork that needs filing, so they’re all legal and shit?”

Father Totton swallowed audibly and nodded. Kendrick held the white envelope out. His fingers gripped it tighter as the bastard reached for it.

“Remember what I said about cleaning out your closets before it’s too late.” With those parting words, Kendrick spun on his heels and left the sweating, shaking man in his chambers.

Andre, his righthand man and unofficial bodyguard, stood outside the door. The man stood at least two inches taller than his own six feet three inches and had thirty extra pounds of pure muscle. If Kendrick were to guess, he’d say Andre had to be at least two hundred and seventy pounds without an ounce of fat. However, he moved as silent as a ghost.

“How long have you been there?” he asked his friend.

“Long enough to know you’re going to have me send his information to our guys.” Andre’s deep baritone held no inflection. It was as if he were repeating the weather to a neighbor instead of talking about a possible sexual predator.

They were nearing the church exit, where they both stopped, dipped their fingers in the holy water again, and made the sign of the cross before leaving.

“Everyone has already left for the MC compound except the two of us. Do you want to go there or return to the rental?” Andre asked. He stepped outside the church first, scanning the surroundings.

Kendrick let out a sigh and moved around Andre. “The clubhouse, of course.”

Andre grunted. His friend didn’t want to go and party with a bunch of people he didn’t know.

“Hell, going to a wedding reception should be a prime opportunity to get laid, my friend. All those women getting drunk and wishing it were them who got hitched.”

“Exactly why I hate weddings. I don’t want one of them to get any ideas because I danced with them, took them to the bathroom, and fucked them, or heaven forbid, I actually spent the night with them. Imagine if they suddenly get it in their minds that we have a future beyond the one night of mutualpleasure. Nope. Not me. I’ll go, stand by the door, and watch with my dick strictly in check, zipped in my pants with orders to stay down no matter how tempting it might be to salute.”

Kendrick shook his head, gripped Andre’s shoulder, and shook him. “You have issues.”

“Hello, pot said the kettle,” Andre said. “Get in the SUV so we can roll. I got some idiots to watch.”

Kendrick released Andre. “Last I checked I was the boss. Don’t push me, Andre. I’m not in the mood for a pissing contest.”

Andre raised his arms in the air. “No disrespect. I apologize. It’s just...you know I hate all this pomp and shit. With your wedding that—didn’t happen, I had time to prepare.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Dre.” Kendrick put his hand on Andre’s shoulder again, hating his carelessness. The big man didn’t show emotions often, making one think he had none. Yet Kendrick knew he had a deep well within him.

“It was a long time ago,” Andre said, dismissing Kendrick’s words. With the fluidity of a much smaller man, Andre sidestepped Kendrick and went around to his side of the SUV, getting behind the wheel.

The drive to the MC clubhouse took little time. Kendrick watched for updates from his businesses back home while Andre stayed silent. When they were five minutes from the turnoff, he broke the silence. “If you want to return to the rental house, I can stay in one of the rooms at the clubhouse. King knows we traveled from Chicago to be here and offered us a place to crash. I’ve heard they renovated them all to his ole’ lady’s standards. Not sure what that means, but I can put up with it for a night.”

Andre glanced at him, a grin tipping his lips. “You mean you can rough it for a few hours?”

Kendrick flipped him off. “I have been known to do so.”

A deep belly laugh came from the other side. “Shut up, asshole. I am fine. If I were going to have a mantrum, it would’ve been during the wedding. A little reception won’t hurt me.”

Kendrick exhaled and let it go. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me because some woman tried to climb you like a tree.”

SUTTON STOOD AT THEbar with her best friends Tiana and Lux, both of whom were ole’ ladies to members of the Royal MC.

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