Bewitching The Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 7)

Chapter One

“That’s a fucking greatidea,” Pam slaps a palm on the bar. “Knew I liked you.” She winks at Wylla Mae.

I continue to drink my beer at the opposite end of the bar, ignoring the Ol’ Ladies and their hair brain ideas for their Halloween party. An hour ago, the theme was zombies. Fuck that shit.

There’s nothing worse than a dead whore. Thankfully East, Wylla Mae’s old man and my Vice Prez, put his foot down and said we aren’t doing that shit. Last thing I want is to try getting laid and a bitch’s caked on fake blood makeup rubbing off on my dick when she goes down on me.

Got blood on my dick once when one of the club hangarounds started her period. I shudder at the memory. Thought her pussy had grown teeth and tried to eat my dick. Watched a horror movie about that scenario once. Fucked with my head for weeks.

“Sandman,” Pam coos my name.

Fuck. She’s pregnant and driving us all bat shit crazy with her cravings. We all cater to her though, because at the end of the day we’re all elated for her and Link. They’ve had a hell of a time conceiving. “Yeah, babe.”

“Need a favor.” Her lips curve into a smirk as she pulls her dark hair into a ponytail.

Here we fucking go. East is already chuckling. Fucker.

“Whatcha need, sweetheart?” I’m a glutton for punishment.

“A Ouija board.”

I blink. “A what?”

“Ya know. A spirit board. We’re going to have a seance.”

“I think the last thing you need to do is tempt the devil, woman.”

“Don’t be a party pooper. Just think how much easy pussy you’ll get when I scare everyone’s knickers off.” She grins.

I shake my head but entertain the thought. “It’s not the worst idea you’ve had.”

“There’s this antique shop downtown. They sell crystals and stuff. I bet they’d have the real thing,” Wylla Mae cuts in. “A girl I knew from high school used to work there on weekends for her grandma.”

“If and it’s a big if I go get your toy, will you stop bugging me?”

Pam taps her red fingernails on her chin pretending to even contemplate my question when we both know the answer. “Probably not, but you won't know until you give in.”

“What’s the name of this store?”

Wylla Mae touches the screen of her cell phone. “Enchanting Heirlooms.”

“Anything else?”

“Cheese fries,” Pam practically moans the words out with a little drool.

“You sure that’s it?” I know her. I’ll get halfway back, and she’ll want waffles with chicken or some shit.

“For now.” She smirks with her she-devil smile.

“Right. May want to send Nav to get those fries. I might be a while.”

“That’s a good idea.” Wylla shuffles her newborn son, Milo from one shoulder to the other. “I’m getting hungry too.”

East picks up Mia, their daughter from her playpen at his end of the bar. “Why don't I treat you ladies to lunch?”

Place is becoming overran with babies, bottles, diapers, and shit during lunch time. Wylla Mae stops by every day to see her old man with her rug rats in tow.  Most brothers don’t complain, but we never set out to be a damn daycare. They want that shit they can move it down the road to Zoe. Link’s sister. Her and Pam opened a daycare together.

Prez has been busy at home with Alexa and the twins since she gave birth. A boy and a girl. Jovie and Jarod. Which means Prez isn’t around as much and East is here filling in and that brings us full circle back to Wylla Mae stopping by with the kids.

Kinda hard to get laid and party when there’s a bunch of kids constantly shitting their pants around.

I hurry out of the clubhouse before whatever shit that has been knocking all the old ladies up attaches itself to me. Having brats of my own has never been in my plans. Doesn’t really fit into my lifestyle. I love the single life. I’ve never been much on superstitions, but the past year there seems to be a damn baby boom. As my momma used to say there’s something in the fucking water. Best not to drink it.

I throw a leg over my Harley Davidson Softail, appreciating the paint job Roane did on my girl recently to match the tattoo he designed of a cemetery on my left bicep. Brother is mad talented. I grab my sunglasses from where I had them hooked on the collar of my tee and ride out.

Enchanted Heirlooms is a corner shop in downtown Charleston that appears as if it’s sat here since the town was founded. An old block cement structure. Guess it fits the name. I park in front of the green, fancy pole light and look up when I get that sensation deep in my gut as though someone’s watching me.

I stare at the shop window, but I don’t see anyone. Only old furniture and a coup’la plants. An earthy scent hits my nose. The doorbell sounds over my head as I enter the premises.

“I’ll be right with you,” a female voice calls from somewhere in the back.

I scan the store. To my left there’s vintage dressers and a few chairs. Wood carved boxes on a shelf. Along with statues of naked women. Animal skulls and a few that appear to be replicas of human ones. To my right however is rows of candles, crystals, some type of altar. Suppose that’s where the enchanted part of the store name ties in. Witches.

Shit. Where in the fuck did Wylla Mae send me?