Dragon Royal Bastards MC (Tulsa, OK)
“Thanks, bro,” Koyn says, pulling a wad of cash from his jeans pocket. “Tell Animal I owe him a favor. After tonight, there won’t be any need to watch that motherfucker anymore.”
Koyn does another fist bump with the guy and then climbs into the Tahoe. He drives out of the parking lot and back onto the road. We follow the guy’s directions and turn off on a road littered with potholes. He slowly drives until a baby blue trailer peeks through the trees.
“We’ll park here. Wait until dark and then move in.”
Dragon scoffs. “You can sit here. I’m not waiting another second.”
He climbs out of the vehicle. Katana follows him, always having his back. Koyn utters a string of curse words under his breath. “I swear to fuck, this shit drives me insane. Let’s roll, BP.”
The four of us prowl through the woods, Dragon leading our pack. As soon as we get a good look at the trailer, Dragon holds up a fist, signifying we need to stop. I walk past Katana and Koyn to stand beside him.
“You okay?” I murmur.
He cracks his neck and whips out two knives. “I’ll be better than okay once I’ve gutted that pig.”
“Does it have to be messy?” I hiss. “Can you just put a bullet through his head and be done with it?”
“Nope. The asshole needs to pay in pain,” Dragon says in a detached tone. “For what he did to me, to you, to everyone.” He turns to face us. “I’m doing this alone.”
“No way,” I snarl.
Dragon’s lips twitch on one side. “Fine. Balls of Steel here is coming with me. Prez and K, you watch our backs.”
Koyn mutters his affirmation. Dragon creeps from the trees through the tall, overgrown grass like a lion stalking his prey. I walk behind him, matching each of his footsteps with similar ones of my own.
We reach the back door of the trailer and pause, listening for sounds. All quiet. It makes my heart lodge itself in my throat. I check the safety on my Glock, making sure it’s ready to fire in case this psycho monster comes charging at us.
Dragon turns the doorknob, slowly pushing into the trailer. The metal hinges creak in protest, making us both tense up. Still quiet. No footsteps or anything.
Dragon’s heavy boots make the floor groan as he steps inside. Each sound we make feels like a blaring alarm, alerting the madman to our presence. Still nothing.
The air is pungent with the smell of a cheap microwavable dinner. I motion at the coffee table where the plastic container is full of food and still steaming. Dragon nods, understanding. He’s here. Somewhere.
Chick-chick.
Dragon yanks me to the floor just barely before a shotgun blast obliterates the wall behind where I was standing.
We roll out of the way as another boom makes the floor explode.
The massive, towering monster emerges from the kitchen, a shotgun in his giant hands. He fumbles to shove two more buck shots into his shotgun, but Dragon is faster, meaner, more vicious. The shotgun is easily ripped from Night Giant’s grip despite his size and strength. Dragon is a man on a mission.
“Arghh,” Night Giant roars as he and Dragon crash to the kitchen floor.
I scoop up the shotgun and finish loading it in case I need to use it. Koyn and Katana emerge from outside, hollering to make sure we’re okay.
“He’s got this,” I assure them, my eyes glued to the way Dragon just stabs Night Giant over and over and over and over again in his protruding belly through his stained shirt.
“I wanted to make this last,” Dragon snarls, “but as it turns out, even you don’t deserve a special death. I just want to stick you and make you bleed.”
Night Giant is no longer fighting. When I’d seen him every time before, he’d had a mask on. Now, he’s maskless and looks like your everyday guy with a dark beard. Except, rather than writhing in pain, the creep is smiling.
“You m-must b-be his little t-toy.” Night Giant coughs up blood, spewing it everywhere. “You always w-were his f-favorite.”
A chill skitters down my spine at his words. Dragon is still in a crazed rage, now cutting off the man’s shirt to access his flesh.
“Dragon…” I mutter.
He ignores me, his blade slicing through the man’s gluttonous stomach. This guy is different. I’d remembered Night Giant was huge like this guy and had a similar voice, but he was solid, not fat. It’s what made me feel so confused about not hating giving him a blowjob. The parts of him he allowed me to see were far from ugly.
“Dragon,” I say louder. “It’s not—”
A phone rings from somewhere in the living room. Koyn’s footsteps are heavy as he goes toward the sound. Katana hovers nearby, ready to step in in case Dragon needs it.