by Elle Boon
He stepped closer, his body heat making her own feel as if she was on fire, or maybe it was her hormones. “Let’s start by you telling me a little more about who told you this story about me being this hero bullshit, hmm?”
Ayesha shook her head. “This was a terrible mistake,” she said, her voice too loud. She backed away, inching from him
King looked over his shoulder, his eyes finally resting on her face after a couple seconds. “I want you to sit down and don’t say another fucking word.”
“Hey, you don’t have the right to order me around. I’m not one of your club…whatever you call them, brothers, bitches, whatever. You have no right—” she yelped out, the air leaving her lungs at the abrupt motion of being pulled against his rock hard chest.
“Little girl, I have more than just a right. You’re in my club. My territory. I’m not only the President, I’m the fucking King. That’s not just my name but means I’m the ruler of all you see here. I wear the patch and crown, baby. Push me and I’ll gladly gag you, then I’ll paddle that fine little ass until you’re crystal clear on that subject. Do you understand?”
She tried to put space between them, silently wishing he was some fat weak asshole who didn’t actually have the ability to back up his words. “I came to you for help, not to be…be threatened.”
King gave a humorless laugh. “You shoulda done your research first, Little Dove,” he said, turning toward the door. “Duke, get your ass in here. I want to know how the fuck she got past Parker and Clown. If there’s a hole, I want it found, and I want it plugged, permanently, one way or another. Feel me?”
Ayesha watched as Duke nodded, his eyes were the same determined color as his brother’s. King turned around, pinning her with such a look she wasn’t sure what he planned, but there was no mistake. King was in charge, and whoever Parker and Clown were, they were in big trouble for allowing her to slip inside.
Chapter Two
Ayesha tried to swallow, her mouth and throat felt as if she’d been in the desert for days without water. “I…it wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own for getting in here. I followed Chloe in, and told the guys that I was with her.”
“They both know better than to just let anyone roll into the club grounds without verifying they were invited, no matter how fuckable they look.”
“This is stupid. My sister could be getting beaten or raped, or worse, while you’re worried about how I got into your precious backwoods club. Just let me go so I can find someone else willing to help me find her,” she cried, uncaring that tears flowed from her eyes.
“Newsflash, princess, your sister has probably already been raped,” Duke said.
“Shut the fuck up, Duke.” King stepped toward the other man, shoving him out the door. “Find the answers I want, asshole. Come back here after you have something to tell me I want to hear.”
Duke laughed but didn’t say another word.
“I’m well aware of what could’ve already happened, but I’m holding out hope that the guy she went with likes her enough that he’s kept her safe. Or at least kept her with him until…well, until he’s tired of her. God, how did I come to this?” She sank down on the closest surface she came to, the surprisingly soft comfy chair enveloping her.
King squatted down in front of her. “Listen to me, Little Dove, I don’t know where you got your information, but coming to the Royal Sons clubhouse and announcing shit like that can get you dead and a lot of people hurt or killed. So, let’s start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
The way he looked at her. The way he dipped his voice just so, made her want to spill every secret she possessed, even the ones she’d never told anyone. “I overheard a client talking about these men who worked around the FBI, kinda of, but not with them. Guys who didn’t have to follow the law but were able to go in and out of places without having to wait for proper channels or whatever. My sister has been considered a runaway, but I promise, she’s not. I mean, yeah, she left of her own volition, but she wouldn’t have just up and gone unless she thought she could come back. Rico isn’t who he pretended to be. He’s not some eighteen year old kid who has a rich family with a yacht on the ocean just waiting for them to come party it up. Yes, he’s a rich guy, but his family are drug dealers who deal in prostitution and human trafficking. They’ve been investigated for the disappearance of several young girls, girls they meet online, promise all kinds of things, but its like…bam, those girls are all of the sudden runaways. However, Rico, or one of his many cousins, always have solid alibis for when the girls have gone missing.”
She swiped at the tracks of tears flowing down her cheeks. Her sister had met the little bastard on Instagram, where he’d started messaging her. Next thing she knew, they were meeting up behind Ayesha’s back. She’d never have approved of her sixteen year old sister seeing a boy who was nineteen, or she’d at least have looked into him and his family. She’d have found out the fucker wasn’t nineteen, but twenty-four, way too old for Tiana. Now, the account he’d used was deactivated as if it had never been. The pictures her sister and Rico had exchanged had been “hijacked” from his real account, and of course he’d reported it, just as he’d claimed had happened numerous other times. The liar. How the police, or the FBI hadn’t caught on to the MO of all the times him and his family members, who’d done the same thing countless times before, amazed her. By her count, over twelve girls, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty, have disappeared up and down the coast of California, and that was only as she’d put in her sister’s features. Ayesha was sure if she widened the search with other criteria the number would rise. She didn’t tell King all of that, not wanting to see the disbelief on his face. The same skepticism as she’d seen on the detectives faces when she’d spoken to them at the precinct, even when she’d shown them what she’d found.
Obviously, Rico’s family either had friends on the payroll, or they bought the story he was selling. Ayesha on the other hand knew better. Her sister, while young and impulsive and yes, if she were being honest, was wilder than all get out. She would probably make Ayesha’s hair turn grey sooner than she’d like, but no matter what her little sister did, she’d always be her baby sister, and Ayesha would always, always protect her.
“I have no doubt you love your sister and are worried.” King held up a hand, stopping her protest. “However, barging onto private property thinking we’re some modern day vigilantes just isn’t the way to get her back. You need to take your sexy little ass back out to your soccer mom car and file a report. Your sister’s sixteen. Once a certain amount of time has passed, they’ll file a report and begin searching for her.” King stood up.
She didn’t protest, seeing the resolve in his hard face. God, she’d been stupid to come out to a place she knew nothing about on the word of Chloe, a woman who was clearly not as in the know as she’d thought. Shit, thinking of the trouble her client might get into, she opened her mouth to deflect then thought better of it. Maybe King would forget her earlier outburst of who she’d followed in or think it had just been coincidence. Whatever the reason, she was sure she’d lost a client. “I’ll be on my way and won’t bother you again.” Dread settled in her stomach, her last hope for saving her sister gone. No, she wouldn’t give up, not now, not ever.
“Duke’s outside with your car. I’ll be seeing you.” King tilted his head toward the door as the sound of heavy steps pounded up the wood planks.
Two hard knocks heralded the arrival of the VP. “She ready to go?” Duke’s gaze bounced to King’s first even though Ayesha was closer to him. She realized he wouldn’t glance at her unless his brother gave him some silent indication. It would’ve disturbed her except she felt comforted on some level she wasn’t ready to define just yet.
“Yep. Did you get what we needed?” King gripped her elbow, guiding her toward the door.
Ayesha shivered at the touch, knowing it was impersonal, yet her skin prickled. Get a grip she chided her inner hussy.
“Absolutely. All good here?” Duke lifted his chin in her direction.
She wanted to point out she was able to speak and hear but kept her lips sealed. No reason to antagonize the bikers any further. Hell, she was lucky to be making it out of their clubhouse relatively unscathed from what she’d seen earlier, unlike the one named Groot or Frog, she wasn’t sure which was which. Motorcycle clubs gave their members road names that had some sort of significance behind them, but she couldn’t puzzle out what they were, not even Chloe’s boyfriend Tag, and she wasn’t brave enough to ask.
The walk to her car felt like forever, her shoes weighing her down as if she’d stepped in cement and now was dragging hundred pound weights with each step. She tried to think of what to do next, who she could contact that would take her case seriously instead of thinking she was overreacting, or that her sister was just a teenager who left of her own free will and would come home—eventually. However, they didn’t know Tiana, or want to see Rico the way Ayesha did. She knew her sister had thought she’d gone off on some grand adventure with a teen boy, not met up with a grown ass man who had god knew what planned.
“Everything’s under control. See that she gets home safely,” he ordered.
Duke nodded, holding the door open. “Come on, princess, your chariot awaits.”
Ayesha snorted. “That thing is ten years old. I don’t think it’s anyone’s idea of a chariot.”
“It’s a cage no matter how old or new it is, but it’s a nice one,” Duke replied.
Pride at his words made her stand taller. She’d worked her ass off in order to buy the Mercedes SUV, saving up until she had enough to make a sizable down payment, and paying it off within a year so her interest would stay down.
“Wait, a cage?” she asked.
“It’s what anything on four wheels is called, little girl.” Duke answered as he waited for her to get in.
“Oh, that’s…that’s fucked up, but yeah, okay. I’m outta here. Thanks for, nothing.” Ayesha hurried into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her before she broke down in front of them. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped they could help her. Now, with her headlights highlighting the driveway, the stark realization of her situation hit her. She made sure to use her blinkers, following all the laws as she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Her eyes kept going to the rearview mirror, checking to see if anyone was following her. Once she hit the freeway, she relaxed, merging with traffic that was flying even late at night, or rather early morning.
Her nerves were strung so tight she felt a migraine beginning behind her right eye, the stabbing pain one she hated. With her right hand, she felt for her purse in the passenger seat, not taking her eyes off the road while she searched inside for the little bag that held her rescue meds. If she took the prescription early enough, she could usually stave off the harshest symptoms of the migraine. “Fuck, I hate this shit. I hate this entire situation. Why’d you do this to me, to us?” she screamed, slapping her hand against the steering wheel, angry tears flowing down her cheeks, making it hard to see the road in front of her. The sound of a car horn had her swiping at her face, pissed that she was allowing herself to cry again.
It took her less than an hour to get from the clubhouse to the small house she and her sister shared, the one she’d bought with the small life insurance policy after her husband’s death. It was the only thing good that had come from her marriage. She looked around the neighborhood, checking to see if there were any strange vehicles. The porch light was on, a habit she’d made sure both she and her sister did for an added safety measure.
She pressed the opener for the attached garage, waiting until it was open, easing inside with like she’d done many times. She shut the car off before pressing the button to close the door. A sliver of something she couldn’t put a name to worked its way down her spine. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she got out of the small SUV, grabbing her purse and phone off of the charger as she went. At the door to the house, she keyed in the alarm code, waiting to see the all clear sign before entering. The house felt empty, lonely, and even a little scary. “Shit, I’m a little pussy. Next, I’ll be jumping at shadows.”
On the counter, she noticed the bananas had started to turn brown. The only person who really ate them was Tiana. Pulling one off the bunch with her right hand she felt her heart constrict. “These will rot before you get home,” she said, squeezing the offending fruit between her fingers, yellow mush flowing out making a mess.
“Follow her and make sure she doesn’t have a tail. By the time you get back Keys should have everything we need on her and her supposed missing sister. I want to talk to Gator and his old lady first thing in the morning, we’ll need to have a meeting, but I want more intel before calling Church. This could be a shitshow if word’s gotten out we are some do-gooder motherfuckers.” King ran his hand through his hair. “Take Gator and Cross with you,” he ordered Duke.
“You worried about my safety, bro?” Duke asked, his dark eyes flashing.
“This is about us, all of us. I’m not gonna let some hot chick fuck up our brotherhood. Besides, if you get into trouble, I’ll have to save your sorry ass and I just don’t got time for that right now.” Losing their brother Luke to suicide hung heavy between them.
“Yeah, well I don’t got no plans to meet my maker anytime soon either. I’ll keep you posted once we see your girl safe at home.” Duke lifted two fingers to his temple, turning toward the clubhouse, his fingers flying over his phone, he didn’t say another word.
King didn’t correct him about Ayesha being his girl. Duke would take great pleasure in giving him shit if he did. Seconds later the sound of three bikes rumbled out of the drive, following their mark. His phone beeped, getting a message from Keys. He scrolled through, reading what Keys had gotten on Ayesha and her sister Tiana. He clicked on the pdf, reading what he’d gotten. Ayesha was her sister’s guardian since their parents were killed a few years back. She and her husband. King narrowed his eyes as he read the other man’s name, exhaling when he read Ayesha’s husband had died in a one vehicle car crash only months after their marriage. “Damn, that had to suck,” he muttered, scanning over the document Keys had put together. The other man got his name because he was a computer hack. His fingers could fly over the keys of any keyboard within seconds, getting information they needed without so much as leaving a footprint, or whatever hackers do. He ground his back teeth as he read on, seeing Tiana’s report and what she’d been up to on the world-wide-web. “Little sister clearly didn’t know big brother was watching her. What a brat.” Not that it was bad to look at porn, but to have different social media accounts, one she probably let her sister know about, and the other she hid because she knew she’d get into trouble. Well, he probably would’ve done the same if he’d been a teen and in her shoes. However, now her dirty little lies were coming back to bite her on the ass, and her sexy big sis was the one who was paying the price.
He pocketed his phone. The need for something to drink had his feet taking him to the kitchen to grab a beer. He thought about what Ayesha said and her offer to suck his dick. He’d told her he could have someone willing to do that and more within a minute, and he wasn’t kidding. Being the President of the Royal Sons MC came with perks. His father before him had been President as had his grandfather. They’d come over from Ireland, but they sure as fuck didn’t have the luck of the Irish. Well, they did have a pot of gold and then some, yet the Royal men wanted more, and they’d do anything to get it. Getting what they wanted, when they wanted it, hadn’t been a problem for any of them. “Maybe we do have the luck of the Irish,” he mused. With a flick of his wrist, he uncapped the beer and took a long swig. The cold brew sliding down his parched throat quenched one thirst while another was left wanting.
After he finished the beer he walked over to the window, staring back toward the clubhouse, seeing the lights still on, music barely audible where his house sat. Looking over his shoulde
r, his eyes caught on the last picture he and his two brothers had taken, the three of them standing next to their bikes. He and Duke had smirks on their faces, while Luke was smiling. His kid brother always smiled. He had been the one to bring him and Duke out of any funk. Now, it was just the two of them, both assholes who were prone to being dicks.
“I would’ve accepted you, you little shit,” King said, squeezing the long neck bottle between his fingers. The glass shattered from the force. He ignored the pain and the warm blood that dripped down unnoticed. “I’d have kicked the shit out of anyone who fucked with you,” he growled, looking down at his hand and what was left of the bottle. Instead of dropping the glass, he carefully walked to the kitchen, depositing the remnants in the garbage before running his hand under cold water. Once he had his hand clean, and wrapped in a towel around it, he went to clean up the floor.
An hour passed before his phone rang again, he finished sealing the cut with the glue Doc had given them, seeing his brother’s number showing on the caller ID he picked it up. “What’s going on?” he asked without preamble.
“She lives in a small house with an attached garage. Nice neighborhood, but not the Hills. She’s got a tail, definitely not the police either,” Duke said calmly.
“Did her tail have a tail?” King sat forward, his fingers flying across the keyboard of the computer. The silence that greeted him let him know Duke was checking with the other guys.
“Nope, only the G-Wagon that was pimped out. The dumbass was following her. Seriously, a white G-Wagon with chrome everything is a conspicuous rig. Either these dudes are dumbasses, or they think she’s that stupid.” Duke let his distaste show in his tone.
Although they had money, they’d rather put the cash in the club, their bikes, or on shit that had tangible meaning rather than a cage that meant nothing in a few years. “What did they do once she got home safe and sound?”
