Koyn (Royal Bastards MC)

by K. Webster

  I stare in horror as the man stabs Milk so many times I lose count. Ribs. Stomach. Chest.

  “Nooooo!” I scream. “Noooo!”

  Milk gushes blood from each hole and his eyes roll back. The man holds him up even though he’s clearly passed out. The gunfire is relentless in the other room, but this monster isn’t worried. He simply holds him until he stops twitching. Then, without any remorse, he drops him to the floor like a sack of garbage. A sob rattles through me as I scramble over to Milk.

  “Junior!” I cry out. “Junior, wake up, baby! Please!”

  So much blood.

  He’s not waking up.

  He’ll never wake up.

  “Holy shit, Koyn,” a deep voice rumbles from behind the murdering monster. “She looks like Bla—”

  “I know,” the monster growls and stalks over to me. I screech when he snags my arm, hauling me to my feet. I’m easily hoisted up and thrown over his shoulder as though I weigh nothing. My bare ass is up in the air for all to see.

  “You find Putnam?” Koyn growls.

  “Fucker got away. Everyone else is dead, though.”

  “Goddammit!” Koyn roars, his fury rattling me to my bones.

  Everyone? Hammer? Bouncer? Molly? Juicy?

  Oh God.

  I stop my struggling when I realize the man speaking to Koyn is wearing an FBI jacket. Am I safe? Did they save me?

  “Cover this shit up, Copper. Ride back to Animal’s club with Filter. I’m getting her the hell out of here.”

  Cover it up?

  Copper—the fucking dirty Fed—nods, his features somber. “Fine, but you’re taking her? Why, Koyn?”

  Koyn practically snarls and he grips my naked thighs hard like I might run away. “You know fucking why.”

  Koyn

  Blaire. Blaire. Blaire.

  When I looked into the girl’s deep brown eyes—the color of how Ellie used to drink her coffee—my mind cracked. Right down the fucking middle. Blood covered her face. She was half naked. And her makeup was running from her tears.

  That motherfucker was going to rape her.

  Just like his father did my daughter.

  Just. Like. Blaire.

  I had plans for Putnam’s son. Dark, twisted, nefarious plans. Plans that involved strapping Putnam to a chair so he could watch as I shaved off every inch of his son’s flesh with a dull pocketknife.

  But the moment I saw the girl, I wasn’t Koyn.

  I was Dad.

  Husband.

  Protector.

  The threat stood between me and Blaire. It had to be eliminated.

  She’s not Blaire, though.

  I buried my baby girl ten years ago beside her mother in a small cemetery in Pearland, Texas, beneath a willow tree.

  “Please let me go,” the girl begs. “Please.”

  “It’s not safe,” I practically hiss.

  I walk back into the bar area and it’s a fucking bloodbath. We need to just torch the place. When Dragon’s eyes widen, I realize the girl’s still naked.

  Fuck.

  I jerk her off my shoulder and put her on her feet.

  “Don’t move.” My harsh order makes her tremble, but she nods, her bottom lip wobbling. I yank off my cut and toss it on a table so I can pull off my long-sleeved black Henley. “You’re going to put this on.”

  She doesn’t fight me as I help dress her in a shirt that falls to her knees, covering enough. I tug my cut back on over my undershirt and then snag her by her elbow.

  “Let’s move, girl,” I grunt. “You don’t need to see this shit.”

  I haul her outside and she puts on the brakes.

  “No! I’m not leaving with you!” she shrieks. “You killed my boyfriend!”

  Grabbing both her shoulders, I get in her face. She shrinks back, terror shining in her brown eyes.

  “He was assaulting you. Some fucking boyfriend.”

  She sobs all the way to the truck. I fling open the back seat door to the truck and toss her inside.

  “Buckle in and stay put.”

  “Please, mister…”

  I slam the truck door and hop in the front. Copper’s stupid country music blares the moment I turn over the engine and I flip the dial until something hard roars through the cab. My adrenaline is flying through my veins like I’m high on coke or some shit. I’m practically shaking with a mix of both raging anger at losing Putnam and relief at rescuing the girl.

  Not her.

  Not her.

  Not her.

  Her sobs are loud in the back seat, but I can’t talk to her. Not now. Not like this. Not when I’m seconds away from pulling the girl into my arms, stroking her bloody hair, and promising her Daddy will make it all better.

  Not mine.

  She’s not mine.

  Yet a sense of ownership wraps its sticky tentacles around my heart. The need to protect, all-consuming. This girl looks so much like Blaire it’s fucking with my head. She’s someone’s daughter, though clearly not mine, and doesn’t deserve to be club trash and raped.

  The drive out to Animal’s clubhouse flashes by in a blur. I need to get back to my compound, but I’m shaking too fucking badly to drive the four plus hours back. I need a smoke. I need a drink. I need to chase any leads to Putnam.

  “Please,” the girl begs.

  “You’re safe now.” My words are raspy and cold. So much for reassuring her. “What’s your name?”

  “Hadley.”

  “Hadley what?”

  Silence.

  I dart my eyes to the rearview mirror to find her staring at me with mascara streaked cheeks. Defiance gleams in her glare, reminding me so much of Blaire my chest feels like someone punched it. I tear my gaze away from her to focus on the road. By the time we arrive at Animal’s, I’m still trembling with barely contained malevolent energy.

  “Why are we here? What are we doing?” she demands the moment I shut off the truck.

  “Meeting,” I grunt out. “We’re going to get you cleaned up and some clothes on you. Let’s go.”

  She makes no moves to get out, so I hop out of the truck and fling open the back seat door. Hadley can’t be any older than my Blaire was when I last saw her. That thought fucking hurts. Real damn bad. Slender. Frail. Young. This girl got herself mixed up with a bunch of asshole bikers. It’s a good damn thing I showed my ass up when I did.

  “What’s your story?” I demand as I grab her arm and drag her from the truck. “Where are your parents?”

  She hisses at me. “I don’t have parents.”

  Liar.

  Her brown eyes flare with the lie just as my daughter’s used to. Only thing is, nowadays, I don’t have patience for this shit.

  “Guess you’ll have to come with me then.” My hand squeezes around her bicep when I feel her tugging away. “You stay right by my side until I can figure out what to do with you.”

  “Are you gonna kill me?”

  I bark out a cold laugh. “I’m a cruel sonofabitch, but I’m too lazy to rescue some kid only to turn around and put a bullet in her head. Tell me what the fuck would be the point of that?”

  “Are you…are you going to sell me?”

  Stopping right before we reach the door, I turn to look down at her. Her big brown eyes widen impossibly more when I step close enough our chests touch.

  “Do I look like some sick bastard?”

  “You’re a one-percenter, aren’t you?”

  “I’m one hundred percent evil, but I don’t deal in fucking kids.”

  Her nostrils flare. “You kidnapped me.”

  “No, little girl, I fucking saved you.”

  “You. Killed. My. Boyfriend.” Fat tears race down her cheeks.

  “Your boyfriend was a piece of shit. It’s a good damn thing I came when I did. The fucker was going to hurt you real bad.”

  “Maybe I was into it,” she challenges with false bravado, lifting her chin.

  “Then you’re just another dumb, brainless bitch who
’s gone cock crazy because she gets a good dickin’ every now and again. I don’t take well to liars. You’ll figure that one out real quick. Ask my guys what happens to liars. I’ve taken a belt to my nephew’s ass many times for lying. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.”

  She gapes at me. “You’re not my daddy.”

  “Until you tell me who is so I can drop your ungrateful ass on his doorstep, I sure as hell am. Now get the fuck inside before you catch a cold.”

  Animal, Copper, Filter, and myself all sit at the table with a big-ass bottle of Jack we keep passing back and forth, trying to put our heads together as to where the fuck Putnam would go. Animal is going to keep an ear out for that motherfucker to resurface and when he does, I want him alive. I’ll pay Animal handsomely and he fucking knows it.

  Loud music blares from the other room as both our chapters party it up in celebration for taking out most of the Roaring River MCs. My eyes keep drifting to the bathroom where Hadley last went. I already checked it. There’s no windows or anything, so she can’t get out. She’s just taking forever in there.

  I catch Copper staring at me and give him a lifted brow. His lips press together in a firm line. With a heavy sigh, he picks up his shot glass, slams back the amber liquid, and then rises from the table.

  “Can we talk a minute?” he asks.

  I mimic his action and drink my Jack down, relishing in the burn. I follow him over to the living room near the bathroom where I keep my stare fixed.

  “You okay, man?” He clutches my shoulder. “Above everything, you’re my brother. I remember…I know how all that shit irrevocably fucked you up.”

  I grit my teeth. “Your fucking point?”

  “That girl ain’t Blaire.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He lets out a frustrated huff. “You’re watching over her like she’s yours.”

  “For now, she is.”

  “You can’t replace your daughter.”

  The alcohol burning through me ignites into a blazing inferno. I grab the front of my brother’s shirt and slam his back into the wall beside the bathroom door. “Who the fuck says I’m trying to replace my baby girl?”

  “No one,” he bites back. “But the look on your face. It’s fucking crazy.”

  I clench my jaw. “Don’t make me kick your ass tonight. I’m not in the mood.”

  “No,” he taunts. “You’re in the mood to play house. You need to ditch the girl. Let me take her in and get her sent back home.”

  The bathroom door jerks open and Hadley steps out. Freshly showered and wearing some other bitch’s clothes now. She’s no longer dripping in blood or wearing smeared makeup. Fuck, she looks even younger. More innocent. More like Blaire.

  “I can’t go back home,” she whispers. “I…I just can’t.”

  “Darlin’,” Copper starts, but she shakes her head.

  “Just let me leave and I’ll figure things out on my own.” She says it in such a prissy bitch kind of way like she’s used to demanding shit and everyone just bowing. I don’t know what world she came from where she was the princess, but I’m the motherfucking king around here. What I say goes. Her ass isn’t going anywhere.

  “Nope.” I grab her skinny arm. “Let’s find a place to crash. We’ll figure all this out tomorrow.”

  She yelps, tugging, but I have an iron grip on her. Copper scowls at me. I ignore his ass as I make myself at home. Animal may be a crazy motherfucker, but he and I are cool. He knows I’d do the same shit to help him out if he were in a bind. I push through a room with a couch and a television. There’s a window but no outer doors.

  Hadley eyes the couch with suspicion. Like I’m going to actually touch her. I’m not some sick asshole. She looks like my daughter, for fuck’s sake.

  “I can’t have you walking off,” I tell her. “I don’t know half those men in there. I’m by far the safest one to be with. We’re going to catch some sleep and in the morning I’m taking you home.”

  “I told you—”

  “My home.”

  Her brows furl together and she crosses her arms over her chest. With no makeup and fully clothed, she looks all of fifteen.

  “How old are you?” I drop down to the middle of the sofa and nod to the cushion beside me.

  “Old enough.”

  “Stop fucking playing with me, child.”

  She hisses at me. “I’m not a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one, goddammit.”

  “I’m an adult now which means you can’t keep me here. I had my eighteenth birthday the other day. I can leave.”

  Knowing that asshole was sticking his dick in some underage pussy boils my blood, because I sure as shit know he didn’t wait for this flower to blossom. She’s already claimed to have wanted that shit, but that’s not the point. The point is, she got drawn into a world she clearly doesn’t belong in and is spreading her legs for men who are too old for her when she should be in high school. If I were her father, I would’ve whipped her ass into shape a long time ago. She would’ve never run off to live with a bunch of bikers.

  “You’re not leaving. Sit,” I order. “I’m tired as hell and don’t need you running off.”

  She stomps over to me and plops down on the cushion. Despite her apparent anger, her hands tremble. The poor thing’s shaking like a leaf.

  “You may as well let me go,” she sasses. “I’m on every milk carton from coast to coast. If anyone sees me, they’ll call the police. You don’t want to be involved in that.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” I grab her thigh and drag her down the couch, ignoring her squeals of protest, before lying down on the couch. She struggles, but I pull her tight against my chest so she won’t get away in our sleep.

  “Let me go! Did you hear that whole part about me being a teenage runaway and everyone is looking for me?” Her voice is shrill.

  “And I think you missed the part about how I don’t care.”

  Hadley

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  My heart races inside my chest. I don’t think it’s stopped in the past several hours. I’m having trouble coping with reality.

  Junior’s dead.

  Dead.

  My childhood friend and lover.

  A cold, hollow ache settles in my bones. The same boy who cheated on me over and over again. The same boy who struck me and made vile insinuations about my future with Roaring River MCs. I was nothing more than a toy to be used and tossed away.

  He’s dead, though.

  All his promises were empty, even the horrible ones, because he’s no longer here to fulfill them. Tears leak from my eyes. The new Junior who couldn’t keep his dick out of Juicy’s twat wasn’t the guy I knew. That guy was a loser and an asshole. The one I remember from my childhood was adoring and loving and sweet. That’s the boy I’m grieving over.

  Well, as much as one’s allowed to grieve in the arms of the man who killed him. My mind whirls as I wonder how I got myself stuck in this position. The massive man with the big X on his face has me in a death grip on this sofa, his soft snores lulling me into a false sense of security.

  I’m not safe with him.

  I’m safe with no one.

  Dad could save me…

  Having to ask Dad for anything makes my blood curdle. If it were up to me, I’d never speak to him again. I don’t need his help. I just need out. Away from these people. Away from this life.

  Will Magna come after me?

  I shudder at that thought.

  “Cold?” Koyn’s gritty, sleepy voice makes me stiffen.

  “No.”

  “Liar.” He practically lies on top of me, forcing his body heat on me. “Now go to sleep.” His breathy words against my ear through my wet hair makes me shiver again.

  Okay, so maybe I am cold.

  And tired.

  And exhausted.

  And devastated.

  Maybe he does feel like a giant blanket.

  De
spite my best efforts to remain awake so I can sneak away when he falls into a deep sleep, I drift off. The villains in my nightmares aren’t the ones at this clubhouse. They’re the villains I already know.

  I wake, whimpering. The room is dark now and I wonder when he turned out the light. Koyn’s masculine scent invades my nostrils.

  “Shh,” he murmurs, half asleep. “You’re okay.”

  My heart lurches in my chest. It reminds me of a time I’d crawl into my dad’s bed and he’d keep all the monsters away. I felt safe back then. I haven’t felt safe in a long time. The fact that the same sense of security comes in the arms of Koyn has me reeling.

  Why?

  Why him?

  I’d overheard him and the other guy talking about a girl named Blaire. Apparently I look like her. Maybe he won’t hurt me and will let me go.

  But where would I go?

  Home?

  I shudder at that thought. When Mom OD’d last year, it changed Dad. It changed both of us. While he worried about his social standing and Mom’s death reflecting badly on us, I could barely breathe. She was the buffer. Calmed him before he became a storm. Now that she’s gone, I got swept up in Dad’s furious winds. His social standing woes were the beginning, but it evolved into so much more.

  And when I couldn’t take any more of it—any more of him—I ran.

  I was always going to run to Junior, I just thought it would be different. After college or something. Down an aisle in a chapel. Toward a future written specifically for us. Turns out, all I’ve been doing is running. This way and that. Mostly away. No future. Just reminders of the past when I dreamed of impossible things.

  Now I don’t know where to run.

  A helpless sob claws its way up my throat. The heavy sounds of his sleeping grow quiet and the room becomes thick with awareness. I can practically feel his eyes on me in the dark. With surprising gentleness, he strokes his fingers through my hair.

  “A girl like you belongs at home with her parents,” he says, his voice gritty from sleep.

  “My mom is dead.” My words clip out bitterly.

  “I’m sorry.” The gruffness in his tone reverberates to my heart. I can tell he means it, which is stupid since we just met and under awful circumstances. “Your dad?”