Keeping The Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 4)

“Got it.”

I go back out to the truck and let Alexa know it’s cool. “Just the damn prospect,” I mutter as I hold the door open and give her hand getting out. “Forgot I put him on this.”

Her palm slides to my jaw. “Honey, you need to relax. You’re tense.”

“I’ll settle once shit is official. You having my last name. This house business over.”

Her lips tip to a smile. “It’ll all happen. Don’t stress yourself out so much.”

“I’ll always worry, babe. Comes with the territory.”

“Club business,” she murmurs.

“You get it.” Yeah my woman knows the score. Fuckin’ perfect Old Lady. Perfect every-fucking-thing. I kiss the inside of her wrist. “Let’s get this shit over with. Anything that’s Ruthie’s goes to donate or to the dump. Don’t give a fuck which. See something of Rochelle’s you think we need to hang on to tag it. Most my shit I give a fuck about is already at your place or the clubhouse.”

“Got it.”

Alexa and I set to work. I don’t want her lifting or doing anything strenuous, so she has sticky notes and a marker. I trust her to know what matters and what no longer holds any count. I go into the master bedroom and check the closet. Anything I wear is already in rotation between the clubhouse and Alexa’s. “All this shit in the closet can be donated. Start getting shit boxed and marked. I’ll call in some more men and get a truck to take it to the dump or charity.”

Rio nods. His dumbass should be home resting that arm, but he wants to work through the pain then whatever. I call Viking. “Grab Sandman and Hound and a moving van or truck. I’ve got a house full of shit I need cleared out. By next week.” I pause and wait for his yeah. “My place. Hurry it up.”

Alexa enters the room appearing a little pale. “Hey,” she whispers. “You mind if I keep this?” She holds up a purple fuzzy diary. Must’ve belonged to Ro.

“Whatever you want.”

She sniffs and nods. “Kay.”

“Let me get you a box.”

She looks to Rio. “What happened to your arm?”

“Got shot.”

I slap the back of his head. “What’d I tell you.”

“Sorry, Prez.”

“James?” my woman presses.

“He’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” The second the words leave my lips. The front living room window shatters. At the sound of breaking glass and gunshots I grab Alexa and drop to the floor with her, shielding her with my body. When the noise stops, I roll off Lex. “Stay here with the prospect. Guard her with your life.” He gives me a chin lift, and I’m moving down the hall. I step out the front door in time to see a black SUV speeding off.

I scrub a hand over my face as a couple neighbors peek out their doors. Bet they can’t wait till I’m off their street. I know I gotta call this shit in as much as it pains me to do so. I make the call. One of my neighbors beat me to it but at least it’s on record. Within ten minutes there are two units accessing the scene putting a halt to getting this shit sorted.

Alexa is shaken but good. Me? I’m riled the fuck up and want to put these fuckers down for good, but I’m trying to be a better man for my woman and our child that’s on the way.

Detective Masters strolls in with a smug smile. “Should’ve known you’d be involved.”

“If you’d do your job and get that scum and their product out of our city you wouldn’t see my ugly mug.”

His face reddens. “Street justice never solves anything.”

“Someone has to get a handle on this before someone dies.”

“Like your pal Nickel or Grudge was it? How about your ex-wife? Your woman know the danger she’s in? Next time it could be her.”

“My woman is none of your fuckin’ business. Do something about these punks or I will,” I warn.

“Outside,” he barks at me. “Need a word.”