Taken By The Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 6)

“I need to get my ride and catch a few hours of sleep before we get on the road.”

“So, I’m just supposed to go with you? Leave my life behind?”

“I have a wedding to officiate tomorrow.”

“A wedding?” What the hell? He’s officiating? Sure he is. And I’m a fucking long lost princess.

“Your uncle is getting married tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to a wedding.”

“Didn’t ask you to. I’m fucking telling you one last time. I came to find you and I did. You’ve got your shit so damn twisted. Want me to be the bad guy and treat you like shit. Maybe that’s what you’re used to from other men. That’s not me though despite what you think about me. Had you stopped for a minute to think you’d fucking know I’d never hurt you. You’ll always be safe with me, but that means you gotta listen to me. I’ve got a job to do and that includes getting you to West Virginia. Once I get you there you can do whatever you want. Since I’m so fucking horrible.”

I want to tell him how wrong he is, but I don’t. I let his words hang between us.

He unhooks the chain from his wrist but only long enough for us to exit the vehicle.

We stop outside of the metal door. “Remember what I said. Don’t give me any lip in here. If I can’t control my woman, it’ll make me appear weak. Make men who want a new wet hole to stick their dick in think you’re up for grabs. Some won’t take no for an answer.”

His words chill me to the bone after the shit I experienced with Bruno. I don’t think he’s bullshitting me. Not about this. I’m not stupid. I’ve dealt with assholes. Outlaws however, men like Holy—apparently live by their own code. Outside of the law. I’m no stranger to bikers who’ve come to the club. I’ve danced for them but never taken any of them up on an invitation to come party.

The moment we step over the threshold it’s like entering another world, and that’s because it is. A honky tonk biker bar. Cowboy hats, daisy duke cut offs, boots, loud music, long hair, and liquor. But it’s more than that. There appears to be an underground casino being ran out of here too. If I wasn’t being treated like a prisoner, I could have a helluva time here. Holy tugs me along to the bar. No one bats an eye at my being chained, cuffed, and collared by their biker brethren.

The men here wear cuts similar to Holy’s. I’m surrounded by Royal Bastards. Not that I expected any differently. Holy takes up a stool next to a big biker with wavy dark hair that reaches his shoulders. “Thanks for the tip.”

The man smiles into his glass of whiskey. “No problem. I see you found what you were looking for.”

Shit. Yeah. These people definitely won’t help me get out of these damn cuffs that are really starting to dig into my skin. Sounds like they told Holy exactly where and how to find me. Not good.

“Memphis, get the man a drink.”

A big busted blonde who looks like she stepped off the set of a country music video materializes behind the bar. Dressed in short denim cutoffs that curve to her booty, a black and white checkered top tied up under her tits exposing her midriff, her look is finished with a black cowgirl hat. She’s gorgeous and I shouldn’t automatically hate her for being so pretty it isn’t fair, but I do. She has her freedom.

“You came back.” She winks at Holy, placing a double shot on the bar for him. “And you brought a friend.”

“So

mething like that, sweetheart.”

“Find me later,” the bitch tells him like I’m not standing here chained to the asshole.

Yup. I definitely triple fucking hate her. I want to claw her eyes out and pee on Holy to mark my territory.

“Holler and swaller,” the man named Riff says, clinking his glass against Holy’s.

As I stand next to Holy while he bullshits with his buddies, I feel invisible. Not one person has glanced my way long enough to make eye contact. Not even the fat man at the end of the bar I can only describe as fat Elvis. I’m beginning to wonder if Holy’s forgotten I’m even with him when he turns to me finally and offers me a drink of his liquor. The man he’s been talking to shoves off from the bar with a nod of his chin.

“Got us a room. I’ll take you up in a minute.”

“Great,” I mutter as my stomach grumbles. I’m starving. “They got anything to eat around here?”

He slides a bowl of peanuts toward me.

“Ew. No”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs.

Guess he’s still super pissed about the whole spitting thing. It was a cunt move. I know I should apologize, but he’s treating me like a dog on a leash. It’s humiliating.