by K. Webster
“Because he’s hot…” I say slowly. “And he’s Koyn’s brother. Next best thing, I guess.”
“Oh.” She lets out a sharp breath and laughs. “Oh. Hmmm. Guess I never thought about him in that way.”
“Better scratch him off the list then,” I tease. “What about Bizzy?”
Her lip curls up. “He’s a manchild. No.”
“Dragon?”
“I’d like to live to see thirty-two.”
“Thirty-two?! Damn, Stormy, you’re old enough to be my mom!”
She slaps my shoulder. “Bitch!”
We both giggle. The door we’re standing in front of flings open. Both of us snap our heads to meet the amused face of Bermuda.
“Can you take the slumber party elsewhere? You’re distracting as hell,” Bermuda says, his brow lifted and a familiar smile tugging at his lips. He was so cold, but right now he seems more like himself. It warms me to my soul.
“Actually,” Koyn calls out from the room, “Hadley can come in. Bermuda, take Stormy and cook us some fuckin’ grub.”
Bermuda does a playful salute and then escorts Stormy away. As soon as they walk off, I close the door behind me, eyeing each of the men sitting at the conference table.
Intense.
Brutish.
Mean.
All of them stare at me with accusation in their eyes. As though I’m enemy number one. I shuffle on my feet, shooting Koyn a questioning look. Where the others look angry, his eyes are alight with madness. A predator about to kill. He seems victorious as though he’s conquered something big.
He has me.
Little ol’ me.
Daughter of billionaire Marron Genworth.
Okay, so maybe not so little.
“How are you feeling?” Koyn asks, his voice even. Curious. Surprisingly caring.
“Fine. Should I, uh, sit?”
Koyn’s face morphs into a wolfish grin as he pushes back slightly from the table and pats his lap. “Here.”
Ignoring the stares of the other bikers, I saunter over to Koyn as though I’m prancing across a pageant stage, vying for the number one spot. In this competition, I am. I know these bikers are brotherhood above all else. I need to somehow take the throne above brotherhood. As I pass Dragon, I fear he’ll snatch me or stab me or do some other crazy ass thing, but all he does is chuckle under his breath.
These men wear leather cuts. Some have beards. Most have tattoos. Each has a weapon within reach. They give off the dirty MC gang vibe, but intelligence gleams in each pair of eyes, even Bizzy’s. They’re smart and loyal and rich. I’m not sure how Koyn created this band of brothers, but he did it with precision. Each man here is a reflection of the man at the head of the table—brilliant, calculating, hard. They’re obviously a team—a force to be reckoned with. And though I’m technically their prisoner, I’m rooting for their team.
Because the other team…the other team is scary.
Magna and my dad have always made for a wicked team. My dad is rich and has connections, therefore he gets Magna to hop around on his feet, trying to get the carrot he dangles. When not dazzled by Dad’s ungodly amount of dollars, Magna is on his own team. Hell-bent on creating the best world he can for himself. It was never about his son or his old MC or my father. It was all about Magna.
With Dad’s money and power coupled with Magna’s brutality, I wonder if Koyn and the other Royal Bastards will even stand a chance against them.
“You going to stare all night or come sit in my lap?” Koyn asks lowly, his dark eyes pinning me in place.
I suck in a deep breath, lift my chin, and strut the rest of the way toward him. My heart is racing in my chest, but I try not to seem affected by him or his men. Plopping down on his thigh, I try not to wince at my sore asshole.
“What now?” I demand, feigning irritation at having to be at a boring meeting.
Koyn splays a possessive hand on my stomach and pulls me back against his chest. “We were just discussing how poor your father grows by the second.”
“Poor?”
Koyn leans forward and hits a button on his laptop. I stare in fascination at my dad’s online banking. All the accounts are down to zero aside from his checking account, which has five hundred bucks in it.
“You missed some,” I mutter.
Koyn laughs. “I had to leave him some gas money for the trip up here.”
I tense in his arms, my fingernails digging into the flesh of his forearms. “He’s on his way?” My throat aches as bile creeps up. A wave of dizziness has me sucking in sharp breaths of air. Tears burn and sting my eyes.
“Scared I’ll hurt your precious daddy?” His taunted words are low and menacing.
A tear leaks free and I catch Filter’s somber stare. Quickly, I look away from him and swipe my cheek with my thumb. “No,” I utter, five seconds too late.
“You’re mistaken,” he growls, his fingers brushing along my stomach. “You should be scared. I won’t go easy on him. I’ll make him fucking pay and then I’ll kill him.”
“I’m not scared you’ll hurt him.” I swallow and look over my shoulder at Koyn. “I’m scared of what he’ll do now. To you. To them.”
Koyn’s eyes narrow to slits as he inspects me, searching for truth in my words. I feel as though he can see right inside my head. Disgust washes over me. Can he see the filthy, dirty parts I hide from everyone? The ones that solely involve my father? My throat tightens as I blink rapidly to rid myself of memories of the past year. Magna may have fucked me like I was his, but I could handle him. It was Dad who tore pieces of my soul away each time he stepped into my bedroom. The wrongness of what he did will haunt me until the day I die.
Which very well could be soon.
Today even.
Will Koyn have any use for me if he manages to kill my father?
Or will I be expendable?
What about our baby?
Feeling a fierce protectiveness ripple through me, I clutch my stomach as though I can somehow protect the tiny life from the horrors in my world. But Koyn’s hand is still there. Still holding my stomach like I own a piece of him. My fingers flitter over his skin, unsure if I should link my fingers with his or pull away. His other hand covers mine, making the decision for me.
“A man like your father is a coward,” Koyn states, matter-of-fact. “He’s nothing without his money and his minions. Take away his checkbook and he’ll freak the fuck out. Take away his muscle and he’ll piss his pants.” His thumb strokes over the back of my hand. “Take away what he owns—something he created with his own blood, and it’ll end him.”
If only it were that easy.
Dad is rich and powerful because it’s not easy to take him down. He’s ruthless and cunning. A shark in all aspects of his life. When Mom killed herself, I was left alone in the deep end with the shark.
She was disgusted by pictures she’d found in his study—erotic pictures of me that Junior had taken when I was around fifteen when we’d first started having sex. Pictures Dad was using to pleasure himself with. I’d heard the yelling as I hid behind the stairs. She’d called him every name in the book. Threatened to take me far away from him. Vowed to financially drain him and ruin his reputation.
And the next day she was dead.
Overdose.
She was depressed. At least that’s what Dad told them. Not a word was spoken about his sick compulsions.
Though I don’t have definitive proof, I know my father had a hand in her death. Either he drove her to suicide after what she found out, or he forced her to end her life. All I know is she was gone.
I was all alone.
In the water.
With a shark.
Circling and circling and circling.
Each day, I avoided my father’s predatory stares. Tried not to think about the horrible things I’d overheard. Stayed busy with school and friends and activities.
But I was tired.
Losing Mom and trying to keep my head ab
ove water was nearly impossible. I almost drowned. Fell into the depths of my own despair, curling up in my bed for days at a time as I tried to make sense of my life.
And waiting at the bottom for me was a shark.
Him.
My father.
He drew blood. Took that forbidden bite. Sank his teeth into my soul. Devoured all the good, innocent parts left inside of me until I knew I had to get away or I’d end up just like her.
So I ran.
Straight to Junior and Magna.
To safety.
A choked sob escapes my throat. It’s then I realize the room has long since emptied and Koyn holds me against his chest, stroking his fingers through my hair. He’s supposed to be my enemy because he hates my dad, but he’s the safest haven I’ve ever known.
“I’m scared,” I whisper tearfully, clutching his leather cut. “I’m so fucking scared, Koyn.”
Same words I’d muttered late at night to Junior. Words he never understood. He thought I was scared of leaving the MC life with him and getting pulled back home to my rich girl life. He didn’t know who I was afraid of. He didn’t understand.
I’ve told Koyn nothing, but something shifts in the air.
I can almost taste it.
Knowledge. Understanding.
His possessive palm clutches my hip and he nuzzles his nose in my hair. “I’m going to ruin him,” Koyn murmurs, violence dripping in his words. “I’m sorry.”
He knows and yet his revenge is still the most important thing to him.
He’s sorry he’s going to ruin him.
Because that means ruining me.
Koyn
The whole house goes dark.
One moment I’m holding a shivering, silently crying angel, and the next, we’re bathed in darkness. Several of the guys hoot out somewhere within the house. I can hear Stormy bitching in the kitchen.
“Oh no,” Hadley whines.
Yes.
He’s here.
Her fucking father.
I almost laugh trying to imagine the victorious look on his face. He’s somewhere nearby because no matter how good he is, he can only do what I allow him to do. And in this instance, it requires him to be within a certain distance. The motherfucker wanted to take me out because he knew he’d never be as good as me. Nothing’s changed. Same shit, different day.
Now he’s here.
Walking right into the trap I laid.
He thinks he’s the master of our fucking universe.
Someone should tell him he’s only a puppet on strings—strings I’m going to strangle him with.
“Koyn.”
Hadley’s worried voice does something to me. Plucks me out of the vortex of mindless revenge and forces me to face the present. For so long, all I’ve thought about was the past and what happened.
Then she happened.
Present.
Inside her is a future.
Rather than dwell on shitty things like hope and family when monsters like Genworth and Putnam roam the world, I decide to focus on the past. At least for now.
“Have you eaten?” I ask, patting Hadley’s thigh, indicating she should stand.
She obeys and shakes her head. It’s dark, but the moonlight pours in through the window, allowing me to see her pretty, somber features.
“Find Bermuda and eat.” I stand and grab my sheathed knife from the table so I can clip it to my belt. “Put shoes on while you’re at it. Without heat, it’s going to get cold real quick.”
I start to walk away and she grabs my wrist. Turning, I regard her half shadowed face. Tentatively, she steps toward me and traces her fingertips down along my scruffy jaw.
“All I ever wanted in life was to do things that make me happy,” she murmurs. “I wasn’t sure what it would be. Now that Mom is gone and I’m clearly pregnant, I’ve found some direction.” She smiles the prettiest smile in the goddamn world. “I want to be a good mother to this little one. I want to protect him or her from the horrible people in the world.” She swallows and drops her gaze to the floor. “I don’t want to do it alone.”
Lifting my hand to her chin, I nudge her head back up so I can see her face. My thumb rubs across her dry bottom lip. “You flirt with danger, little girl. You don’t know what you ask for.”
Her gaze hardens. “I know exactly what I ask for. I know what I want.”
“Princesses don’t always get what they want.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be a princess,” she says hotly.
“Yeah, Pageant Girl? Were you thinking queen instead?”
She stands on her toes and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I was thinking old lady has a nicer ring to it.”
Damned if my dick doesn’t get hard.
“Go eat,” I growl.
She smirks, her playful spirit finally finding its way back inside her. “Yes, Daddy.”
This fucking girl.
Silence.
Complete and utter silence.
I’m freezing my balls off outside, but I don’t move a muscle. They’re coming. Walking right into our trap. I thought maybe they’d roll in on their Harleys like a mob of mean motherfuckers. And if Putnam was taking lead, he’d probably do just that, despite the snow. But since Genworth is in charge, they’ll be sneakier about it.
Crunch.
My eyes dart to my left to where Bizzy’s dumb ass shoots me a guilty look. Fucker can’t sit still to save his life. I drag my gaze back up the road, squinting against the darkness and the flurries of snow falling.
I catch Katana’s dark eyes and give him a nod. He disappears into the night to search farther up the road. Payne prowls after him. We have the house completely surrounded and protected from all angles.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Pulling my phone from my coat pocket, I swipe it and press it to my ear but don’t breathe a word.
“I have access to everything, Koynakov.” Genworth’s words are spoken with cool confidence, but I don’t miss the slight strain in his words.
He’s in the lion’s den now.
“You already took the only things near and dear to me,” I remind him. “You think my electricity going out hurts?” I pause. “Nothing you could ever do could hurt me again. As far as you’re concerned, I’m unfuckingtouchable.” I let out a cold laugh. “But you? I have your tiny beating heart in the palm of my hand.”
“Do it.”
His barked words are my only warning before I hear the rat-a-tat-tat coming from the tree line. Windows shatter as bullets spray through my house. Irritating as fuck but expected. I step behind a stone column off the porch, waiting out the assault.
Second by slow second the shooting stops as my men find their targets.
“I sent Hadley to the kitchen to eat,” I say into the phone that’s still pressed to my ear. “Might as well just turn the fuck around and go home at this point because after that stunt, she’s dead.”
“You really must think I’m stupid,” Genworth says with a cruel laugh. “That I wouldn’t have already sent someone in to get my kid the second you fuck faces came out?”
I dart my head to the right, finding Filter. He nods and holds up two fingers—our signal that Putnam was the one to take her.
“Are you at the rendezvous point?” I taunt. “Are you in the clear? Ready to run off with all my fucking money with my fucking prize?”
“You know I’m not leaving until I watch him gut you—ahh!”
The line goes dead.
“We got disconnected,” I deadpan to Filter. “Let’s get to the slaughterhouse. Time for a pig roast.”
I love to hear the squeals of my enemies.
Seeing Marron Genworth and Randall “Magna” Putnam tied to chairs, side by side, in my building is the most gratifying experience in my entire life. The moment I’ve waited on for ten long years. The beginning of the end.
But seeing Genworth’s little girl sitting on the mattress in front of the fireplace with her knees drawn up and a ha
unted look on her face is not gratifying at all. It’s fucking disturbing. Twisted and wrong. Something I don’t want to see.
I look away.
Focus.
As I approach, I notice Dragon’s already been fucking with Putnam. Putnam has the word RAPIST PIG cut into his forehead in impressively neat handwriting. Dragon is a master with a blade.
That’s for what you did to my girls, asshole.
I scan the room and find all my guys watching and waiting, some in the shadowed parts of the slaughterhouse and others in plain view. They want this every bit as much as I do. It makes me wonder what the fuck Church will be like without spending half the meeting contemplating revenge. I can’t even begin to imagine a life of peace.
So I don’t.
My life is war. It has been for a decade. A war I will win in the end.
Gibson hums something that sounds oddly like “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult. It’s an appropriate song. Genworth and Putnam don’t need to fear the reaper. They need to fear me.
Putnam garbles out something, but from behind the strip of duct tape, it makes no sense.
“What’s that?” I ask as I bypass him to walk over to Hadley. She doesn’t flinch when I reach out and stroke her hair. I flit my gaze over to Genworth. His eyes blaze with fury, zeroed in on the way I touch her. No father wants to watch his daughter get defiled. “You know,” I say to Genworth. “I’ve spent a long time contemplating this moment. Killing the people responsible for taking my family away from me. I’ve imagined everything from a quick slit of your throat to more creative ways for you to die like carving out each of your organs one by one and feeding them to you until you fucking choke to death on them.”
“Gross,” Hadley mutters.
“I thought about making Dragon wreck your asshole, Putnam,” I growl, pinning him with a hard glare. “This isn’t business.” I mimic his words from the past. “This is personal.”
Dragon makes a salacious gesture of grabbing his dick through his dark jeans. Someone snorts out a laugh from the shadows. Probably Katana.
Putnam doesn’t seem fearful of the prospect of having Dragon sodomize him, just pissed. Well, fuck him. This is my show and he has to stay until the end. He’ll endure whatever fucked up plans I have for him.
