Royally Broken by Elle Boon Page 0,21
Bastards chapter there. Tomorrow he’d be going back to the shithole he’d hoped to never see again.
He braced his hands against the tile that might’ve once been white, the cool water beat down on him reminding him of other times he’d taken cold showers. In the military, they’d taken them out of necessity. As a boy, he’d taken whatever he could, so he wasn’t that stinky kid. Full motherfucking circle.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands balling into fist.
With years of patience and control he’d trained himself to keep, he relaxed each muscle group one by one. Some may scoff at meditation, but for him it was a necessity.
When the water became icy, he soaped up, washing his hair and rinsing. His body didn’t register the water temp much, having been exposed to extreme conditions since he’d been a child had been a form of torture, a lesson given for whatever infraction his caregivers had decided he’d done.
He absolutely hated the memories that came back thanks to one damn email. Although with the bad came the few good, and they all included Palmer with her innocent blue eyes and blonde hair. He’d imagined wrapping his hand around all her thick tresses while he did things to her that no good girl like her would ever entertain, not with the likes of him. He’d been the good for nothing kid nobody wanted, while she’d been the little princess meant for greatness.
Keys dressed, made sure he hadn’t left anything behind, not even his fingerprints, before walking out of the crappy hotel room. The sun hadn’t risen completely as he straddled his bike. He’d parked his Harley next to the door, so he’d hear if anyone had tried to mess with it while he’d slept. One never knew what might happen or what another was willing to risk, in order to make a buck. As he fired the engine, the loud familiar rumble settled into his bones while he eased onto the streets. No matter what he did or where he went, riding always settled him.
He pulled up to the Royal Bastards place in Oklahoma, the feeling of brotherhood greeting him when he caught sight of the men. The home was huge, but he’d passed it, heading for the garage where the men hung out. He’d spoken with Koyn earlier and had known from his investigating...alright, his hacking skills, that the brother’s ole lady was expecting a baby. If anyone deserved a new beginning it was Koyn. His first wife and daughter had been brutally raped and murdered in front of him, then he’d been left to die. Only he’d been a tough son-of-a-bitch even before he’d become the man who stood in front of him today. The assholes who’d taken his first life didn’t know the shit they’d done would unleash a hell they’d live and die to regret.
Several of the men looked at him and his ride with a little suspicion. He was able to pick out who was whom. Dragon, the psycho of the bunch who could be a supermodel if he’d wanted, stood with his back against the wall, looking bored. Next to him was Katana. The Asian male was hardly ever away from the other brother’s side and was deadly in a fight. Copper, Koyn’s brother used to be a fed and would be a great ally if Keys needed him. If Keys’ hunch was right, and he hardly ever wasn’t, he just might be making a phone a friend call when, not if, the shit went south.
The big house he’d passed was a testament to the amount of money the Tulsa chapter of the Royal Bastards had, thanks to their endeavors. Like his own club, they followed their own set of rules. Their bikes weren’t cheap either, not some thrown together crap nobody would care to ride, let alone steal. Nope, they all rode bikes that even Keys could admire. And the house looked straight out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, if the famous were a bunch of bikers gone wild and a little bent, that is. They all worked hard for what they had, taking down fuckers who deserved it. They just happen to do a little lightening of their accounts, taking their ill-gotten gains for their own. Kinda like modern day Robin Hoods. Only none of them wore tights and shit.
The man with an X on his forehead came out last. The scar was a permanent reminder of the shit he’d been through, a loss