Dragon Royal Bastards MC (Tulsa, OK)

Payne groans, shaking his head and burying his face in his palms. “That shit would go to her head.”

“Your ol’ lady like to boss you around in bed?” Bizzy asks Copper. “Do you call her Mommy?”

Copper flings an ink pen at Bizzy, nailing him right between the eyes. He grumbles, rubbing at the spot, and shoots Copper a death glare.

“Where’s your buddy, man?” Filter asks, nodding at Katana. “Usually you two are joined at the hip.”

Nees smothers a laugh and fiddles with his pocketknife to keep from giving away my secret. I can feel heat flooding my cheeks, making them turn bright red.

Katana gives Filter a shrug and doesn’t betray his best friend by looking at me. It’s clear he knows where Dragon holed up last night, but he’s not letting on.

“Seriously,” Bizzy says, elbowing me. “Who was she? Do I know her? Was it Erin? I bet it was Erin.”

“It wasn’t Erin,” Bermuda snaps, showing a rare flash of anger. “Don’t be an asshole, Biz.”

Pressing on, Bizzy whistles and waggles his brows. “What about Calla?”

“Dude,” I hiss. “My twin? Are you fucking insane?”

Bizzy cackles. “I knew it was Erin. Gibson, you owe me twenty bucks.”

Bermuda snags Halo’s pack of cigarettes and launches it at Bizzy, who barely dodges it.

“Man, I don’t know,” Gibson mutters under his breath. “Something’s not adding up.”

A formidable presence fills the doorway, sending the temperature in the room skyrocketing. Against my better judgment, I dart my eyes to find Dragon walking into the room. He’s still wearing the sweats from before and is shirtless.

Fuck. Me.

“Dude, you got laid too?” Bizzy demands, throwing his hands up in the air. “Unbelievable. I swear I’m never going to get my dick wet. All this working out and shit was a waste.”

Dragon stalks over to Bizzy’s chair and grabs the back of it, rolling him away from the table. “Move.”

“What? No. I was here first, dickhead,” Bizzy throws back.

“You’re in my seat,” Dragon growls.

“Since fucking when?”

“Since today, dumbass. Move before I send you through the fucking window.”

“Prez,” Bizzy whines. “Seriously?”

My face flames hotter and I can’t look at Koyn. He’s watching the entire situation unfold with intense scrutiny. The man is smart and I know he’s already putting it together.

Dragon makes good on his threat, shoving Bizzy so hard his chair slams against the window and a crack forms from the impact and splinters like a web.

“Bermuda,” Koyn grumbles.

“Already texting them,” Bermuda mutters back.

We’ve broken more windows at the clubhouse than humanly possible. Someone is always throwing something or someone through glass, which is why Bermuda has the window repair company on speed dial.

Dragon saunters over to an empty chair and drags it past everyone into Bizzy’s vacated spot. He sits in his seat, swiveling so he can stare at my profile. I’m going to kill him.

“Holy shit,” Filter mutters. “Is this fucking for real?”

“Are you done?” Koyn grunts. “Because we have shit to discuss and whatever this is”—he waves a dismissive hand between the two of us—“will have to wait until the next Q. This is Church, not social hour.”

I give Koyn a clipped nod, mortified about this whole shitshow. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Because I want an update on what you guys found out last night. Katana insists on letting Dragon tell the story.” Koyn leans back in his chair, the leather creaking with the movement. “This should be interesting.”

Dragon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s so close, I can smell his smoky scent. I hate how I want to turn my head and bury my nose against his neck.

“Max is dead,” Dragon deadpans.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Koyn barks back. “Elaborate.”

“He was wearing more of Max than Max was wearing of Max,” Nees offers with a full-bodied shudder. “Fucking sick, man.”

“Body?” Copper demands, his voice sharp with authority.

“Incinerated,” Katana offers. “Nothing but ash.”

Copper gives him a nod of approval. Being an ex-Fed, he makes sure we cover our asses anytime we do something illegal like torture, mutilate, and murder a loser like Max.

“What happened before you burned his body?” Koyn asks, irritation clawing at his tone.

“I stabbed him.” Dragon chuckles, low and sinister. “A lot.”

Koyn scrubs a palm over his scarred face and shakes his head. “Right. And what did you find out?”

Dragon’s attention is no longer on the conversation but instead fixated on my neck. He reaches up to touch one of the hickeys. I hiss at him, smacking his hand away.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Koyn snaps. “What the fuck happened?”

“Max was meeting up with Night Giant,” I blurt out, annoyed that neither Katana nor Dragon seem to be ready to tell the story any time this century.

The room goes silent.

“I see,” Koyn mutters. “Explains the horror show aftermath Nees saw. Anything else of use?”

“Not really.” I let out a huff. “Someone killed him before we could get anything helpful from him. All we know is he was headed to Memphis but—”