by Nikki Landis
Copyright © 2020 Nikki Landis
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Model: J.D.
Image: 6:12 Photography
Edited by Kathy Denver, iPublishGlobal
Table of Contents:
Author’s Note
Royal Bastards Code
Playlist
Prologue – Part 1
Prologue – Part 2
Prologue – Part 3
Chapter 1 – Trish
Chapter 2 – Grim
Chapter 3 – Trish
Chapter 4 – Trish
Chapter 5 – Grim
Chapter 6 – Grim
Chapter 7 – Grim
Chapter 8 – Trish
Chapter 9 – Trish
Chapter 10 – Grim
Chapter 11 – Trish
Chapter 12 – Grim
Chapter 13 – Grim
Chapter 14 – Trish
Chapter 15 – Grim
Chapter 16 – Grim
Chapter 17 – Grim
Epilogue – Patriot
Tonopah, NV Chapter
ROYAL BASTARDS MC
2nd Run
About the Author
Devil’s Ride is Grim’s story, the president of the Royal Bastards MC Tonopah, Nevada Chapter. There’s dark and gritty content and is intended for mature readers only. I hope you enjoy the Crossroads, the club, and the members of the Royal Bastards MC. Hell’s Fury is Patriot’s story and will continue the series in July 2021. Papa Noel will release December 2020 about one of the founders. There’s much more to come for Grim and his Reapers.
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PROTECT: The club and your brothers come before anything else, and must be protected at all costs. CLUB is FAMILY.
RESPECT: Earn it & Give it. Respect club law. Respect the patch. Respect your brothers. Disrespect a member and there will be hell to pay.
HONOR: Being patched in is an honor, not a right. Your colors are sacred, not to be left alone, and NEVER let them touch the ground.
OL’ LADIES: Never disrespect a member’s or brother’s Ol’ Lady. PERIOD.
CHURCH is MANDATORY.
LOYALTY: Takes precedence over all, including well-being.
HONESTY: Never LIE, CHEAT, or STEAL from another member or the club.
TERRITORY: You are to respect your brother’s property and follow their Chapter’s club rules.
TRUST: Years to earn it...seconds to lose it.
NEVER RIDE OFF: Brothers do not abandon their family.
Life of Sin – Nick Nolan
I’m Hunted – Raphael Lake, Daniel Murphy, Mark Greenwood & John Wheatley
Killing Me Slowly – Bad Wolves
Outlaws & Outsiders – Cory Marks feat. Travis Tritt, Ivan Moody & Mick Mars
Black Flag Army – Hell Yeah
Hwy 666 – Corey Taylor
Since You Were Mine – Smith & Myers
The Devil Gets Your Soul – Nick Nolan
Dead Man Walking – Crucifix feat. The Lacs
Outlaw In Me – The Lacs feat. Crucifix
The Devil Inside – Like a Storm
Gun In My Hand – Dorothy
The Mountain – Three Days Grace
If You Love Me, Leave Me – Through Fire
My Way – Crucifix
I Walk the Line – Halsey
Under Your Scars – Godsmack
Skeletons – New Years Day
Far Away – Breaking Benjamin & Scooter Ward (Aurora)
Panic – From Ashes to New
Hurricane – Thirty Seconds to Mars
Don’t Let Me Go – Raign
The Dark of You – Breaking Benjamin
You can listen here: Devil’s Ride Playlist
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Royal Bastards MC
Tonopah, NV Chapter
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I've always been a selfish bastard.
As president of the RBMC I've learned how to live and ride hard.
I take life one day at a time, never looking back at my past.
But I've got a dark and deadly secret.
One that could ruin any chance I have with the one woman who owns my black soul.
Trish Holloway.
She's been my weakness since the day we met.
All it takes is one wrong move and her life is in danger.
My enemies surface from every corner.
Lies, deceit, and carnage threaten to tear us apart.
If I'm going to finally take her as my own,
I've got to tear down every obstacle in our path.
Problem is – the Devil's Ride shows no mercy . . .
And bloodshed is the only way to truly stake my claim.
Eighteen years ago ––
The smell of mildew and cigarettes were the first thing I noticed when my eyes slowly cracked open and the fuzzy haze of the last twenty-four hours began to lift. My memory was jogging along at a slow and inebriated pace as I blinked and tried to focus on my surroundings. A steady ache throbbed between my eyes as awareness rose to the surface like a bloodthirsty monster. I winced at the movement of my sore and stiff muscles. Dripping water snared my attention while it echoed throughout the barren room. The steady plop was spaced just far enough to vanish completely before dropping into a ceramic basin somewhere close.
I wasn’t wearing my shirt or my cut and that seriously pissed me off. My colors were sacred, and no way did I remove them voluntarily. The skin around my nose itched like a motherfucker and that was when I figured out that I couldn’t move my hands or reach my face. Cotton mouth proved I hadn’t had anything to drink in a long while. When I licked my lips, I almost groaned with the sting as the skin stretched. My tongue felt thick and unused. I’d been out for a long time. No one had to tell me the situation was dire.
Shit. I wasn’t with my club brothers. Completely alone, I lifted my head as far as I could to figure out where I was being kept.
Assessing my situation, I tugged on the chains holding down my wrists and ankles that were attached to an old, worn wooden table with gouges in the surface where my bruised and bulky flesh settled upon unevenly. Leather straps were buckled across my chest and upper thighs. It was futile to move and try to break free, but I wasn’t above testing the limits anyway.
It was a no-go.
I was locked down and held prisoner. No one else was in the room but that didn’t mean I would have uttered a single word if every motherfucker in Nevada was standing next to my chained and imprisoned ass. I wasn’t a pussy. Whatever was going down, I’d handle my shit.
The room I was being held in was dark and cool, hidden somewhere deep underground with a dampness that chilled to the bone. Bleach added to the odor of cigarettes and mildew. The singular window on the opposite side of my position was covered with a scrap of material black as sin. Fluorescent lights hung down from above where I lay but only one actually worked and the solitary bulb w
as the only illumination available.
Kind of wished the light was burnt out. It was too damn bright. I kept seeing dark shadows and echoes of the light whenever I blinked, and my eyes shut. Old blood stains and crimson splatters could be seen all over the tiled walls and even a few droplets splashed up on the yellowed plaster above my head. The ceiling had once been white from what I could tell but the grime had long ago disguised the original color.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that I was located in a torture chamber of some kind. Blinking, I used all the strength I could muster and jerked at my restraints, but the chains rattled, mocking my pathetic efforts. I wasn’t leaving this table, not until I was released. Didn’t take a lot of brains to know that meant my death.
“Fuck,” I cursed aloud, frustrated at the lack of control. I hated to relinquish any power to anyone else. It was a personality flaw to be sure, but it wasn’t going to change. I needed to be the one who made decisions and led others. I wasn’t a follower. Those who knew me best understood.
Keys certainly did. That was why he helped raise me up and became my sponsor. I served the minimum one-year probation for a prospect and then I was patched in right away. Maybe he saw the viciousness of my nature or maybe he just glimpsed my old man and that was enough to gain his trust and admiration. I wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter.
I was a Royal Bastard, and I was fuckin’ proud to wear my patch.
The door across the room from my position flew open and interrupted my musings. The president of the Scorpions strolled in. Scar was a ruthless piece of shit, but it was his son that truly stole the show. Acid was carrying two knives with gut hooks on the edges of the blades and he smiled with the promise of cruelty that was sure to come.
Scar grinned wide when he noticed my glare. “Look who’s finally awake, son.”
Acid snickered. “Can I tell him about his pres?”
Great. Show and fucking tell. Just what I needed.
“Tell him what? That Keys isn’t doing as well as our friend here?”
“And then there’s Lockjaw. What a pussy,” Acid spat.
Son of a bitch! If they thought that using my brothers against me would make me turn rat they were in for a rude awakening. Right before I killed every last one of these motherfuckers, I was going to ensure a little payback. If Keys or Lockjaw were harmed, the whole damn club would go down in a pile of fucking ash. I’d burn this place to the ground with all of them alive inside it.
Fuck the Scorpions.
Five men filed in behind Acid, all staring me down with a deep and undeniable hatred that was mutual. I recognized the V.P., SAA, two of their enforcers, and Scar’s other son Razr. I smirked when I saw the multiple black eyes, busted lips, and a bruised jaw that the group couldn’t hide. When they captured me, Keys, and Lockjaw they didn’t know what kind of hornets nest they just kicked up. We hadn’t gone down easy. Took ten of their guys to best the three of us.
Bunch of pussies if you asked me. Taking us prisoner and chaining us down, torturing and fighting like cowards. None of them were man enough to unshackle and face us head on, fist to fist. Not even the damn pres or his SAA.
The guys in this MC were pissed and by the eager expressions on their faces, they were ready for revenge. Probably didn’t help that I stared them all down, daring each man to come forward. They circled like vultures as I was unchained from the table and multiple weapons pointed in my direction. I wasn’t stupid. They were waiting for the chance to shoot my ass and congratulate themselves on their good fortune. No fuckin’ way. I needed my vengeance, and I was going to get it.
That was thing about beating a rabid dog. Let him loose and he’s going to fight to the death.
I didn’t wobble as I was hauled to my feet, standing my ground as I glared defiantly at each man, waiting to act or lash out until the right moment. I was fast. Keys said that often. When I got in a brawl, I had a lot of stamina and I knew how to hit hard and fast in just the right spots to bring down my opponent. Wasn’t any different now.
I let my body go limp, chuckling at their frustrated expressions as it took four of their guys to haul my dead weight across the room. A couple of punches hit me in the gut and a decent one landed in my back close to my kidneys. Unfazed, I was just waiting to strike out and catch them all off guard.
One Scorpion was trying to snap my wrist into a leather cuff attached to a long length of chain that was anchored floor to ceiling. I wasn’t going to give him the chance to secure one of my arms. Snapping into action, I kicked out and twisted my body as I slipped from my captors, landing on my ass before I started swinging. My fists and shitkickers landed on kneecaps, ribs, and wherever else I could land a startling blow. Razr took a massive hit to the jaw and it was lights out. He didn’t move as Scar roared, pissed I wasn’t subdued.
Chaos ensued until the sound of gunfire announced this party just took on a whole new level of intensity. My gut burned as something sharp pierced the flesh, but I wasn’t stopping. A bullet bit into my chest below my right shoulder but I didn’t slow down. Adrenaline pumped through my bloodstream and I was fuckin’ lost in rage. Acid slashed with his blades and one nicked my forearm as another stabbed into my other shoulder. He yanked the metal free and a piece of flesh attached itself to the gut hook.
Blind fury took over and I wasn’t sure what happened next. I fought like a mad man, moving so fast I wasn’t sure I registered what I was doing or who was involved. Instinct took over and like a wounded animal I fought for my life and kept going until every man in that room was incapacitated in one way or another.
When it was over, I finally noticed the gun in my hand and the blood splatters. Razr was still passed out. Acid was coughing up blood, crawling over to his old man. Scar was dead. His blank stare focused on the yellowed plaster of the ceiling and I fucking smiled at that shit.
See ya in hell, asshole.
Groans echoed around the room, but I didn’t stop to assess who else was dead or alive. That would prove to be a mistake later, but I was injured, and I needed to find Lockjaw and Keys. A steep set of stairs led to the next level of the building and I ran up the flight, pausing just long enough to lock and latch the door shut with a small length of chain. It wouldn’t stop the Scorpions for long, but I needed to buy a few minutes to locate Lockjaw and Keys.
My side was aching and burned like a bitch, but I hobbled through the empty kitchen and out into the blinding brightness of the backyard. It wasn’t a backyard as much as an open field of desert sand, boulders, and tumbleweed that led into a thick patch of overgrown cactus. Up against one was Keys, lashed by a length of rope. He was bleeding from several deep wounds and one of his fuckin’ eyes was gouged out. Blood had long ago dried from the heat and brutal sunshine.
His cut was laying in the dirt along with mine and I scooped them up, pissed they touched the ground. There was gonna be hell to pay for that later.
“Keys!” I shouted, my heart nearly leaping into my throat when I saw the way he was rasping for every single breath he took. “Pres, you okay?”
All I got in return was a grunt.
Fuck. Not like my old man. Not like this.
I didn’t want to lose another father figure in my life. It wasn’t fucking fair.
Keys needed a doctor and we had to haul ass off this property. Took a couple of minutes but I finally untied him, and he slumped over, barely held up as I grit my teeth and caught him as he wobbled. Our bikes were parked around the front of the Scorpion clubhouse and I practically dragged Keys closer since I knew we were running out of time. Didn’t know where the rest of the MC was, and I didn’t want to bump into anymore Scorpions.
They had several compounds throughout central Nevada, and I was sure someone was calling in reinforcements. Time wasn’t on our side.
“Where’s Lockjaw?” I asked, scanning the vicinity. Didn’t see him anywhere.
Keys ticked his head in the direction we’d have to travel to leave. I thought he meant we’d be picking Lo
ckjaw up on our way out. Nodding, I helped Keys onto his bike and slipped on his cut before I limped to mine, sticking my arms through my own leather, and hissing as it stretched my wounds. I hopped on my bike, pausing as the sound of birds caught my attention.
About twenty feet to my right I saw Lockjaw. He was buried in the hot sand up to chest, slightly slumped over as if he was asleep. If I didn’t look any closer, I could have ridden away without a nightmare that would haunt me for years to come. Instead, I took a few steps forward and then abruptly stopped. It wasn’t his body at an odd angle that caused my stomach to roil or the rage within to climb to new levels. He’d been cut up and sliced open. Gouges from a knife were clearly marked on his flesh like someone had tried to cut out precise little pieces one chunk at a time. Exactly like the handiwork of a gut hook.
Ropes of his intestines had been yanked free and were looped around his neck, sliced open in several spots where blood and other bodily fluids had leaked free. A signal to the desert wildlife that a feast was prepared in their honor. He was also missing an eyeball, but it wasn’t gouged out. Lockjaw’s once pale blue eye was dangling from the socket right above his lips which had been sliced farther open on either side of his mouth in order to give him a bloody macabre grin much like the Joker.
“Gotta head out, son. Ain’t nothin’ we can do for him now.” Keys was right but I had a hard time leaving my brother sticking up out of the ground for the buzzards to feast upon. “We’ll come back for him. His body needs peace and that cut belongs inside the clubhouse.”
That was the only reason I listened. We’d be back and these motherfuckers were all going to die. Gunshots rang out and then a few curses as we rode off the private lot and into the waiting desert, our enemies hot on our tail.
The desert was a cruel mistress. During the day, she would lead you astray with mirages that promised relief from the cruelty of the sun’s heat and constant rays. At night, she ushered in the moon and predators, cool air, and a brisk breeze that robbed your body of warmth. There was no escape. Only miles and miles of no one will ever find you or recover your sun-bleached bones.
