B - stard (Royal Bastards MC) - Sapphire Knight Page 0,2
that salt air.”
“Lucky bastard. I bet my mom’s happier than shit having him all to herself. They’ll be back home soon enough. My pops can’t be gone from the garage for too long, or he loses his shit.”
He grunts, agreeing. “We could always set up our own ride; it’s been a while.”
“Maybe down the road, but we have too many consistent sales going on right now. I want our fedia to flourish, and our pockets to fill before we fuck off and roll out for weeks on end. Once we start, we may not return for who knows how long.”
“That’s the beauty of it—the freedom.”
“Couldn’t agree more. We’ll plan something soon, even if it’s only a short ride down to the gulf for some cold beer and salty air.”
He nods, appearing less stressed already. Blow may be my VP, but Whiskey takes on a brunt of the club responsibilities as well. He’s the club treasurer but also acts as the secretary as well. He’s got his hands dipped into everything, as do I. Blow’s my best friend, but he’s got less obligation, and he likes it that way. He gets the respect of rank, but the freedom to fuck off when he wants, the lucky bastard.
A text comes through, and I toss a pleased grin at Whiskey. “Powerhouse has a truckload of bitches. It looks like we’ll have some entertainment soon enough.”
“Mm, guess I better eat a sandwich. You young assholes like to binge drink without eating. I can’t handle that shit anymore.”
I chuckle and salute him as he heads for the small kitchen. We binge drink without eating cause it gets you fucked up faster. I don’t on every occasion; it depends on Powerhouse and if he’s partying or not. He keeps an eye on things most times, but some nights I have him cut loose, and I sip slowly, making sure shit doesn’t head south. I won’t put our club in jeopardy just to party, even if we are a pretty wild bunch. With everyone doing their own thing, I head for my shower. I want my cock sucked tonight, and bitches love a good smelling man.
Chapter 2
If we were meant to stay in one place,
we’d have roots instead of feet.
- Unknown
“Have you found her yet?” my father demands, worry and anger coating his voice. He’s the calm, rational one of our family, but lately, that role has fallen to me.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t. This place is crawling with people. It’s almost impossible to get any leads unless you’re constantly paying people. Majority of the time, the so-called leads turn out to be lies from people taking advantage of the situation. Sadly, people will lie so easily when it comes to a missing person.”
“I think it’s time you leave Nevada and head for Texas.”
“Texas? You believe she’s gotten that far?” My sister isn’t exactly resourceful, but somehow, she’s been finding ways to stay under the radar. Could she have met someone who’s helping her? I suppose anything’s possible at this point. I don’t bring that suggestion up to my father. I can’t stand to worry him any more than he already is.
“It’s Madison. She always figures out a way to run. It’s nearly election season, and I need her home, cleaned up and ready to play the dutiful daughter. If the press were made aware of these excursions she goes on, I’d be finished. Our family name would be tarnished. She thinks she hates life in politics; she’d hate it, even more, being poor. I was too easy on her as a little girl. I allowed your mother to give her whatever she wanted, and now I’m being punished for it. You were the good girl, Alice, always swimming and doing well with your studies. This is my punishment for having a wonderful family, I suppose.”
“I know, Dad, but it’s Madison. She’s different. She doesn’t think like we do. And stop taking this out on yourself; you’ve done nothing but try to protect us. She may’ve been spoiled, but you made sure we’ve always felt safe.”
“Do not make excuses for her! She’s tearing this family apart, all in the name of a spoiled tantrum.”
“I’m not—”
“Look, honey, it’s not only Madison that concerns me; it’s you. I need you back here too. I don’t like having both of my daughters so far away. You’ve always been a big help with my campaign, and I don’t enjoy sending you on a wild goose chase. It’s dangerous.” My poor father…his