The Biker's Baby (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 10)

A knock sounds at the door of our room. I pad across the room and steal a glimpse through the peephole. It’s Smoke. I unlock the door and step aside so he can enter. “Have you heard from Hound?”

“He isn’t here?”

I shake my head.

“Wanted to ask if anyone wanted to grab breakfast before I ride out.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Smoke kicks at the bed. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

“Fuck off,” Torsten mumbles, covering his head with a pillow as he rolls to his side and lets a big fart rip.

“Gross.” I scrunch my face up.

“Get your ass up. I’m hungry.”

“So fuckin’ eat,” my brother snarls at him.

“Damn ya’ll some cranky ass bitches in the morning. Want me to grab you a coffee or some shit?”

“Coffee would be appreciated.” I give him my order.

“Rosie’s up if you want to hang with her while Static and I get the grub.”

“Sure.” I’m not really in the mood to hangout. I want to find Hound. Make him understand.

I trudge to the room next door to where Rosie slept in a room with Smoke and Static for the night. The pair of them take off for the Waffle House down the street.

“How’d you sleep?”

Rosie yawns and winces as the movement forces her face to move her facial muscles, aggravating her injuries. At least she doesn’t need any plastic surgery or have any broken bones. Possibly a concussion and hideous bruises are the worst of it and a light sprain of her ankle. She could be in worse shape. She’s lucky. We both are.

“Like shit. Smoke and Static kept waking me up to ask me stupid questions because of my possible concussion.”

“I can think of worse prospects,” I tease, and she rolls her eyes. “You still planning to come with us?”

“I mean I’ll miss the beach, but at least for a while. I need to lay low. Heal. Clear my head without the stigma of being related to Mona hanging over me like a dark cloud.”

I can’t say I blame her.

“What about you? I’m surprised to see you so soon. I figured you and that one guy would be banging all night.”

I shake my head. “Not with my brother sharing a room with us and besides I kinda fucked that up. Royally.”

“Nah. He’ll come around.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I saw the way he was looking at you last night. The man would fucking eat your ass like a cupcake.”

“That put a weird image in my head of a cupcake up my ass and I’d rather never imagine that ever again.” My butthole tightens in response like my body knows exactly how a cupcake wrapper would feel or something. I do a shudder and Rosie smirks at me slightly avoiding causing herself more pain.

We talk shit about what our club will do about replacing Mona. If they do at all. I don’t really foresee them moving forward. Rosie and I have no interest in staying. I won’t be surprised if they make the choice to disband. The sisterhood we once shared has been dying for some time. Mona was a rotten fruit. And rot spreads, decaying everything it touches. Everything she touched turned to shit. You have to cut off the rotten fruit and separate it from the rest. A lesson our club learned too little too late. The consequences were deadly.

Smoke and Static return with my coffee and breakfast for my brother and Rosie.

There’s still no sign of Hound. Every second he’s gone is one filled with regret. Maybe he’s not coming back. Maybe I should do us both a favor and hit the road. Rosie and me. Take us a vacation. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere not tainted by our pasts. That would be the easy thing to do. What the old version of myself would be drawn to. Intoxicated by the idea of. The freedom and escape from reality that most crave.

Only then I wouldn’t have him.

Darius.

My Hound.

My biker.

My man.

“His phone goes straight to voicemail. Could be turned off or dead. I’m going to ride around. Hit up the local bars.” My brother shoots me a sympathetic look. I know he’s ready to go home. To get to Andrea or whatever her name is.

We returned to our room a couple of hours ago. I expected Hound to come back by now. Apparently so did Torsten. He starts for the door when it opens. Hound stumbles in reeking of smoke and liquor. Great. He’s trashed and he’s sporting a busted lip and black eye.

He doesn’t speak to either of us and flops face down on the other bed.

“I’ll let the others know he’s back.”

I nod. I know what he’s really doing is giving us a few minutes alone. Once Torsten closes the door behind him, I move to the bed where Hound lays, taking a seat near his feet. I wrestle his boots off with no help from him. Crawling further onto the bed I lay next to him and run my fingers along his arm, tracing the clouds inked on his skin.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Out,” he mutters.

“I’m aware but you disappeared for basically half a day. I missed you.”

“Needed to decompress.”