The Heavy Crown: Washington, DC Chapter (Royal Bastards MC Book 1)

by Linny Lawless

“Why are you helping me?”

  I looked up at his eyes. They were a dark, cold gray. “Not sure why. You’re gutsy, and I like that. You must be running away from something or someone at home. You got dealt a bad card last night, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Pretty girls like you are just prey to bad men like me. I figured you need a second chance.”

  Just then, I saw the man standing before me. Seeing through the mean exterior of tattoos and leather, Heavy was good-looking, and I suddenly felt a flutter in my stomach.

  I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back the money.”

  His warm hands pressed against my back. “You don’t owe me anything, and once you get on that bus, you’re never goin’ to see me again.”

  I was the last one to step on the bus. When I sat in a seat beside the window, I began to cry again as I watched Heavy swing a leg over his bike and ride away. He saved my life. I hoped someday I’d be able to pay him back.

  PART 2

  7 YEARS LATER

  CHAPTER 6

  HEAVY

  Trick’s business venture with the Russian mob backfired on him once they learned of Krista’s death and the disappearance of Danika. Tye took care of burying Krista somewhere in the dense woods surrounding the National Zoo in DC. She was reported missing, and her picture with a description was all over the local news. Tye had a rap-sheet of too many fuck-ups, so the club stripped him of his patches. Since he was a Royal Bastard for five years, the club voted him out instead of dragging him out somewhere to dig his own grave. I only told Wrecker how I’d put Danika on a bus, but he barely remembered that night altogether.

  Things didn’t get any better for Trick either because the club lost all respect for him. A year later, I called all the patched-in members for church at the clubhouse. Every club member voted me in as the prez of the DC Chapter, and I stripped Trick of his patch. He was left as the lowest ranking member but could vote and attend church. Wrecker was my brother from another mother, so it was only natural he was made my VP. And, there was Roadkill. He’d only been patched-in for about a year, but he proved himself time and time again when things got messy. Roadkill was deranged, and the things I saw him do to men were downright medieval, especially with his use of sharp knives and surgical instruments. He didn’t say much, but his eyes lit up when bloody violence was going to happen. I made Roadkill the sergeant at arms.

  The Royal Bastards made a ton of money selling pussy. The Washington DC Chapter ran the strip clubs in the city and used our club whores to sell the pussy and drugs. Wealthy businessmen and politicians just handed over tons of cash, and the club had three-figure-earnings in the bank. The pussy business was just as profitable as the drugs and sometimes made us a bit more. Our whores helped hustle the drugs and pussy. The only drawback to our whores hustling was the liability; some used and became worthless methheads rather than bringing in the profit.

  There’s a saying that goes something like use the gifts that God gave you. It was either God or Satan, but one of them gave me the gift that women loved—a monster dick. I used it well and fucked a ton of pussy since the age of fifteen. My real name is Hendrix Stone, but everyone called me Heavy since I was, well, hung like a raging bull. When I patched-in as a Royal Bastard, the chicks flocked like groupies at a rock concert. They hoped for a chance to see my heavy dick. Some wanted to suck or fuck it just to gain bragging rights. I got a good video camera to film some of my own amateur porn with women who were willing, and they loved it. I uploaded some of my homemade videos to porn sites, which brought on big ideas in my head. I wanted to make more and more fuckin’ money since you could never have enough of that...well, along with tight pussy.

  The NYC Chapter was starting their own porn company, Royal Bastards Video, and some porn biz convention was going on all weekend in Atlantic City last summer. Wrecker and I met up with Crucifix, the prez of the NYC Chapter, and his sergeant at arms, FOCUS, at this huge party in a casino’s private suite, thrown by the legendary porn star, Kristal Kandi. FOCUS brought in this sweet-as-pie new chick they called Nixx as their royal money maker. He let me give Nixx a test ride, so I gave her as much of my dick as she could handle while some of the other brothers watched. She was a dirty rotten little slut and she got my vote that night! Practice makes perfect in the porn film industry, and I sure do enjoy giving chicks as much practice as they need. After the Atlantic City fuck-fest, FOCUS took Nixx out to Los Angeles, where she made quite an impression on the industry in a very short time. They shot their film “Rotten to the Core,” and FOCUS built their fresh lineup of Rotten Apple girls. FOCUS and Nixx even received the Best Onscreen Couple award for the film, and Nixx got Best New Starlet of the Year award. That was the icing on the cake, and the cherry on top was Company of the Year award for Royal Bastards Video.

  It was time for the DC Chapter to move up from amateur porn and reap some rewards with the big sharks in the porn industry. I set up a big party at the Pink Pussy Dollhouse, a strip club we owned, for strippers and club whores who wanted to be part of what we called DC’s Dirty Dolls. The club was packed with half-naked strippers dancing on poles and my Royal Bastard brothers, but I noticed Trick didn’t show up. That was fine with me since I hated to be within eye-sight of him anyway. Loud stripper music blared through the speakers, while the three bartenders were pouring drinks and taking the high-dollar tips.

  I sat beside Wrecker in a booth decked out in leopard print. FOCUS and Crucifix sat across from us. FOCUS was a retired combat marine, a big motherfucker from Tennessee who liked smoking his cigars, which he was puffing on as he sat across from me. The NYC Chapter sold its Five Point brand of meth, but FOCUS was against Nixx and his Rotten Apple girls being strung out on any drugs. He was a charmer with the women, but he was downright ruthless too, which was what I liked about him. Sitting next to him was the NYC Chapter Prez, Crucifix, the old-school badass from the Big Apple smoking a joint. He passed it to me, and I took a hit as we drank and caught a good buzz.

  I passed the joint to Wrecker when he jumped, looking down under the table. “Teeth! Watch the teeth, darlin’.”

  I looked down and chuckled.

  A blonde chick with big fake tits and braces was under the table, sucking his dick. She looked up with big doe eyes and pouted. “Whoops! Sorry, I just got the braces last week.”

  Wrecker smiled down at her, shoving a thumb in her mouth. “You’re gonna need plenty of practice with those new braces, but not on me, darlin’. Go on, get outta here.”

  The girl crawled out from under the table. Wrecker smacked her on the ass as FOCUS and Crucifix laughed, then she walked away.

  Wrecker was zipping himself up when I caught sight of a dark-haired girl walking up the steps to the center stage. It was the girl—Danika. There were times I’d imagined what her body looked like underneath those baggy clothes she wore seven years ago. There’s nothing left to imagine now, ‘cause she was dressed in a fishnet catsuit, with black, high-heeled boots, and nothing else. Her tits were real and gorgeous as fuck, and there was no little patch of hair...that pussy was bald.

  I nudged Wrecker when Danika began to dance. “Remember that young chick at your patch-in party? The one I put on a bus?”

  “Yeah?” Wrecker said.

  “That’s the same little bitch on the fucking stage right now.”

  Wrecker, FOCUS, and Crucifix’s eyes moved to the stage.

  “Hot Damn!” Wrecker hollered when I shot out of the booth.

  I stormed up the steps to the stage before Danika could hook her leg around the pole. She gasped, and her eyes went wide the moment she recognized me. “Heavy?”

  I clenched my jaw, and she yelped when I lifted her onto my shoulder. She was just as tiny as she was seven years ago. I carried her down the steps and walked into a VIP room, hearing the hoots and hollers behind me.

  I slammed the door and set her down. She flipped her long dark hair, her eyes all fierce and sexy when she glared at me.

&nb
sp; I moved toward her.

  She stepped back.

  My hand shot out, wrapping around her throat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Her soft hands grabbed at my tight grip. “Making a shit ton of money; that’s what I’m doing here! Let me go!”

  I let her go and breathed in deep. I was so full of rage, I could blow a gasket.

  CHAPTER 7

  DANI

  Heavy looked the same as he did seven years ago, but even deadlier with those cold, steel eyes. When he let me go, he stepped back, clenching his fists, his nostrils flared.

  But he was quick, and in the next breath, he reached out, spinning me around. I faced the wall and slapped my hands on it.

  “Wait!” I cried out.

  “Shut up.” He grunted. I heard him unzipping his jeans. “Spread your legs.”

  I took a wide step and arched my back, my heeled boots hiking my ass up even higher. I turned my head to watch him out of the corner of my eye, breathing fast.

  Heavy reached down and roughly ripped a hole in the fishnet between my thighs. He spit in his palm and reached down. I wondered for so many years what his dick looked like, felt like, then suddenly he pressed the tip right at my eager opening.

  When he took hold of my hips, I held my breath, waiting for Heavy to slam all of himself into me, but instead, he was nice and slow. His dick was unbelievably thick, and I cried out, but pushed back, needing all of him.

  “You’re so damn tight,” he groaned next to my shoulder as he drove the rest of that monster deep, stretching and filling me up.

  My head fell back, relishing the feel of him as he pulled out and drove back in again.

  Someone pounded on the door.

  “Goddamnit!” Heavy fumed, pulling out. “What the fuck!”

  I turned from the wall, raking both my hands through my hair, trying to catch my breath as Heavy zipped up and moved to the door.

  He opened it, and a big bearded man wearing a Royal Bastard cut shoved Bobby inside.

  Bobby stumbled back, holding his hands up to ward off the biker. “Hey, man! I don’t want any trouble, just wanted to check on my girl!”

  “Your girl?” Heavy asked, glaring at me.

  Bobby held my bag over his shoulder and smiled when he saw me. “There you are, Dani! Are you okay?”

  “The stupid shit followed you back here, Prez. Started pounding on the door,” the big biker grumbled.

  Heavy slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Roadkill. I got this.”

  The biker turned and left the room.

  He called that biker Roadkill?

  Heavy turned his attention back to Bobby. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Bobby shrugged his shoulders, straightening out his suit jacket. “I’m Big Bobby Decker.” He pulled out a business card and offered it to Heavy.

  He snatched my purse from Bobby, then slapped the card out of his hand. “Another white-collar motherfucker who thinks he’s mobbed up.”

  “I’m Dani Storm’s manager! She works for me!” Bobby was pompous enough to open his mouth and get a fist smashed into it. I knew because I’d seen it happen before.

  Heavy dropped my bag on the couch and twisted his fists into the lapels of Bobby’s jacket, baring his teeth. “She doesn’t work for you anymore, pissant. She works for the Royal Bastards.” He turned Bobby around, shoving him toward the door. “Now, get the fuck out of my club.”

  Bobby looked at me with a nervous smile before he left the room. “I’ll sort this all out with these guys tomorrow, baby.”

  Heavy chuckled then. “He’s not your manager. He’s just your suitcase pimp, and he looks old enough to be your damn granddad!”

  I folded my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable in front of him. I lifted my chin. “You didn’t have to do that to Bobby. He’s done so much for me. He keeps me fed, sets me up so I can live at his place, and buys me nice clothes. He gives me everything I need and treats me with things I want!”

  “Yeah, that’s what pimps do, Dani. I’m bettin’ he’s fucked all your holes to keep you just where he wants you, making him good money with that pussy of yours.”

  Like a broken dam, I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, and I began to sob. I was both exhilarated and exhausted with anxiety when I saw the dangerous man who saved my life seven long years ago.

  I balled my fists and drew back to hit him, but he blocked me. “You swung at me before, bitch. But never again.”

  I jerked my arm from his grasp. “You know nothing about me, you arrogant heartless asshole! I told Bobby it was a bad idea to come here tonight.”

  I moved toward the door, but Heavy snatched me around the waist.

  “Let me go!” I shouted, struggling against him, but there was no use. He was much stronger.

  He spun me around, pressing me tightly against him and pinned my arms behind me. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re Royal Bastard property now.”

  I was breathing too fast after feeling the leather of his cut brush against my nipples that were hard since he carried me into the room.

  “You don’t own me! No one fucking owns me!” I shot back.

  His brows were furrowed, his glare penetrating. “You’ve come to the wrong place at the wrong time, Dani...just like seven years ago. You should never have come back. You’re staying for good this time and making my club a shit ton of money.”

  Heavy released me, grabbed my bag off the couch, and tossed it at me. “You’re not showing off the merchandise here tonight. Put some fuckin’ clothes on.”

  CHAPTER 8

  HEAVY

  I’d never let some chick get under my skin, but Danika sure as hell did when she got up on that stage at the Dollhouse showing off her tits and ass to everyone. I was so fuckin’ pissed that all I wanted to do was inflict some pain to punish the little bitch. I enjoyed shoving my dick up inside that tight pussy of hers in the VIP before she could bat those pretty brown eyes at me. When the party ended, Danika dressed in actual clothes, climbed on the back of my bike, and ended up at my house right outside DC city limits.

  I parked the bike in the garage, and Danika followed me into the house, clutching her bag to her chest.

  “The house is nothing extravagant, but it’s clean,” I said as I led her past the living room and down the hall. I showed her the spare room and turned on the light. There was no bed, only a mattress and box spring on the floor with sheets, blankets, and a pillow. “You can sleep in here.”

  Danika entered the room, and I turned to leave.

  “Wait!” she called out.

  “What now?”

  She was walking a very thin line with me that night. I didn’t want to see her cry or bitch and moan about the mattress or any other fucking thing.

  “I have money. I can stay at a hotel tomorrow if you take me to one.”

  I leaned against the doorframe and stared at her for a moment. Those light brown eyes of hers were giving me a semi hard-on. “My club is at war with the Bloody Aces. The clubhouse isn’t safe, especially for you. Hotels are out of the question.”

  She turned to look at the mattress, then back at me. “You’re not going to rape me again, are you?”

  Oh, she was trying to pick a fight.

  “Well, you didn’t say no.” I scratched my beard. “And I do recall seeing your hands pressed on the wall, just waitin’ for my dick to slide up in you.”

  “You asshole!” she shouted, throwing her bag at me.

  I caught it and tossed it on the floor next to her feet. “The bathroom is down the hall. Get some sleep.”

  ***

  I would’ve made Danika sleep in my bed with me, but I slept alone—always. If I fucked a chick in my bed, they were never allowed to sleep in it with me afterward.

  A few days later, Danika wanted to call her ex-pimp, Bobby, in Atlantic City. She told me he must be worried sick about her and that she wanted to get some of her clothes. I shot that down quick though and gave her some cash and s
ent her out shopping with Lacey Lust—the blonde with the new braces who sucked on Wrecker’s dick at the party. I sent one of our new prospects to watch over the girls all day while they shopped at the mall since we were at war with the Bloody Aces MC. They took three of our girls a year ago and sold two of them to a sinister cartel family south across the border into Mexico. Roadkill and two other brothers went down and got the girls back, but they were cut up and severely beaten, messing them up in the head forever. The third girl was pretty but didn’t make it back alive. The Bloody Aces killed her in a snuff film.

  We had another run-in with the Bloody Aces only a month ago. Nolan Reynolds was one of those white-collar mobbed-up types who ran the MGM Casino in Maryland with politicians and rich tycoons lining his pockets. He paid us Royal Bastards a hundred grand to find any leads on a missing girl. We found out the Bloody Aces were in bed with this Caruso crime family in Atlantic City and killed that missing girl in another snuff film. When they kidnapped Nolan’s wife, Gina, he needed our help to get her back alive. We found her in some shitty motel in Virginia with Jimmy Caruso. One of the members of the Bloody Aces MC they called Maggot cut Gina’s face up bad, so Nolan put a bullet in his head. We took Maggot’s bike, stripping it and selling off the parts while Roadkill axed off Maggot’s head and hands, then had them delivered to the Bloody Aces clubhouse. It was a clear message that their club and their bloody business in snuff films was over.

  While Danika was out shopping, I sat at the bar in the Pink Pussy Dollhouse, waiting for Wrecker and Roadkill to show up. I pulled out my phone and made a call to Nolan Reynolds. He’d be the one to set us up with the perfect place to shoot our first film.

  “The director, the girls, and a few of us Royal Bastards are going to use one of those fancy suites you got there at the MGM this weekend. We’re shooting some scenes for our porn film.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Nolan grumbled over the phone.