Page 38 of Soul

“Do I need to leave?” Lila teased, her eyes merry.

“No. I wanted to ask. Did the club save those fishermen?”

Soul held my gaze.

“The coastguard saved the fishermen,” he replied.

“Did the MC call in the tip?” I clarified.

“Yes,” Soul admitted after a few moments.

“Okay. But you also lied about hurting people,” I added.

Soul sighed and ran a hand down his face.

Lila got to her feet and nodded at me. “This is between you two. I’m going to head next door and chillax for a bit. Nice to meet you, Bryony.”

“You too, Lila.”

She left, and I turned to Soul. He looked trapped but resigned.

“Explain!” I demanded.

Chapter Eight.

Soul

“Do I have to?” Left my lips like a whiny schoolboy.

“Yes.” Bryony crossed her arms over her chest, and my eyes flicked down. They were very nice breasts.

“Soul!” Bryony exclaimed, and I grinned unrepentantly, as a red tinge hit her cheeks.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “The Royal Bastards is a one percenter. Which can mean many things. The most common is we are an unlawful club. We’re not a single MC, though, we have many chapters throughout the states, and our National Chapter is in New Orleans, and the National President is called Jameson.

“They get to decide who opens a club where and when, and we have to abide by their rules. But each club runs independently. The Camden chapter is special. We’re the only ones with these types of abilities, although some of the other chapters have different ones.

“The club has legal and illegal businesses. But we do not touch drugs, trafficking, or gun running. We run a brothel, which the state says is illegal, but we take prostitutes off the street and give them somewhere safe to peddle their wares. They don’t work for us, we take a small cut to pay for their security and shit. They work for themselves and take home the money they earn.

“Another example is we run a smuggling ring. Bringing in items such as Cuban cigars, Chilean Bass, Absinthe, and so on. That makes us illegal. And we have an underground casino. You want to know if we hurt people? Yes, Bryony, we do, but not without reason.”

“Like what? Because I believe in the law,” she stated firmly.

“Someone takes a kid, abuses them? They ain’t gonna walk away with jail time. A female member of the club was kidnapped, raped, and trafficked for her powers. Those men died. A man stole twenty thousand from the MC. He didn’t want to work and save up. We don’t hurt Jane Doe down the road or Joe Bloggs going about his day. If we find a dealer on our patch selling to kids, he’s gone.”

“So you’re bad guys killing bad guys?” Bryony asked.

“I wouldn’t call us that,” Soul refuted.

“Of course not. The law exists for a reason.”

“What did law enforcement do when our member was kidnapped? Nothing. She was a biker and, therefore, deserved everything she got. They couldn’t care less. Remember James Jackson, the kiddie fucker who abused ten children and got released because of a legality? He isn’t walking about no more, and those kids sleep fine. The old man who sexually assaulted that mother of three and got off because of bad health? Yeah, he ain’t about to threaten her anymore,” I said.

Bryony fell quiet.

“There’re two MCs that are a major threat to our club. The first is the Screaming Barons. They murdered a kid in front of a female connected to the MC and then hunted her down and kidnapped her. They threatened to strip her naked and tied her to a rack with everything in the air. Any of their brothers could rape her when they wanted. Mouth, ass, pussy. That is the scum we take out,” I explained.

“The second club, the Bloody Scorpions, sells women and children through our territory. We work to bring them down and stop those victims becoming sex slaves or worse. There’re men out there, Bryony, who buy young girls to rape and torture till they die. Because that’s their kick. The law does nothing because they hide behind their billion-dollar fortunes and get away with it. That is who my clubs kill.

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