The Biker's Gift (Royal Bastards MC)

by Landis, Nikki

  Copyright © 2019 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 Gray Creations

  Edited by Kathy Denver, iPublishGlobal

  Table of Contents:

  Author’s Note:

  Chapter 1 – Bodie

  Chapter 2 – Sasha

  Chapter 3 – Bodie

  Chapter 4 – Sasha

  Chapter 5 – Bodie

  Chapter 6 – Sasha

  Chapter 7 – Bodie

  Chapter 8 – Sasha

  Chapter 9 – Bodie

  Chapter 10 – Bodie

  Chapter 11 – Sasha

  Chapter 12 – Bodie

  Chapter 13 – Sasha

  Chapter 14 – Sasha

  Chapter 15 – Sasha

  Chapter 16 – Bodie

  Playlist:

  Sneak Peek at Ridin’ for HELL

  Sneak Peek at Vindicator

  Also by Nikki Landis

  About the Author

  Author’s Note:

  The Biker’s Gift is an introduction into the Royal Bastards MC Tonopah, Nevada Chapter. It’s a holiday novella intended to give a glimpse into this world and the characters. There’s some dark content and is intended for mature readers only. I hope you enjoy the introduction into the club before the first book in this new series releases in April of 2020. Ridin’ for HELL is Rael’s story. There’s much more to come for Grim and his Reapers.

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  Royal Bastards MC

  Tonopah, NV Chapter

  ...

  The past never stays buried.

  ...

  Bodie Whitman lost everything six months ago.

  When a rival MC took away his woman and his pride, he swore absolute and brutal violence.

  Nothing was standing in his way,

  Including the brotherhood.

  He’s a wildcard. A Rogue. A goddamn mess.

  When his prez offers the chance to seek vengeance,

  Bodie doesn’t hesitate to make his move.

  But one simple choice brings a painful confrontation from his past

  And the Royal Bastard isn’t prepared for the shocking surprise.

  Some gifts are unexpected.

  ...

  This Christmas Bodie is in for one hell of a ride.

  Chapter 1 – Bodie

  Cold tendrils of wind dug into the back of my neck and pricked the exposed skin above my bandana with icy pellets of drizzling rain mixed with snow. The collar of my leather cut was soaked through and snapped repeatedly like a whip hell bent on lacerating my flesh into ribbons. Shivering, I ignored my body’s reaction and focused on the road ahead. The ride had been long and miserable since I left Carson City and promised more of the same until I reached my destination.

  The desert was a fickle mistress. Weather could change her disposition faster than a whore could suck off a flaccid dick. Global warming was blamed for the majority of it, but the truth was that Nevada didn’t usually receive this kind of temperature drop even in the dead of winter. Sure, it was common to get snow in the mountains, but these subzero temps were literally going to freeze my balls off. If I lost a nut, someone was going to pay and Grim would never hear the end of it.

  I’d been riding for nearly two and a half hours straight when I noticed the flickering lights ahead and the familiar dive bar just minutes off the exit ramp of Hwy 95. The last time I set foot in the Blacktop, I was with my prez Grim. He liked the little blonde bartender who worked here a little too much but when she was caught in the crossfire between us and our rival, he cut off all ties. Grim wasn’t the type of man to let anything come between him and his club and that sweet little piece of ass had been a distraction he could no longer afford to indulge. It didn’t end well.

  The situation had been a fucking mess. Tensions were still high with the Scorpions, especially their prez Acid. I had my own reasons for despising that low life son of a bitch. He was the source of all my misery. Someday soon I’d have my revenge. Until then, Acid was living on borrowed time.

  Grim knew the inevitable was coming. As prez of the Royal Bastards MC, he was a hard-ass motherfucker and he didn’t let anyone forget it. All the shit six months ago caused a fucking snowball to grow into an avalanche. Retribution was coming for Acid and his club. Even if I had to officially go rogue to do it.

  Grim tried his best to keep the backlash from turning into an all-out war but no one forgot how shit went down. We both lost the women we loved. I knew Grim pushed his ol’ lady away in order to protect her but that shit stuck with him. In truth, it latched onto us both. The months that sped by didn’t change a damn thing. I hadn’t heard my prez utter a word about his ol’ lady since but time for us was meaningless. We loved, rode, and lived hard. It was just the Royal Bastard way – no matter which city you called home.

  That was why I knew when he called this morning that it was serious. Grim woke me up out of a dead sleep and I was pissed, caught off guard and a bit disoriented.

  “What?” I snarled into my cell, half out of it and still lying in bed when the damn thing went off and wouldn’t stop.

  “Hey,” Grim replied with a chuckle. “Catch you at a bad time?”

  I knew what he was hinting at. Unfortunately, I was neither balls deep in pussy nor suffering from a hangover. Both would have been preferable to my current situation.

  “Nah,” I grumbled with a grin, recognizing Grim’s voice. It had been a few weeks since we’d spoken but I knew his gravelly tone as well as my own. “What the fuck you want so early in the damn morning?”

  “It’s almost noon, you lazy fucker.” His laugh filtered through the line and then he grew serious. “Need a favor.”

  I lay back against the mattress, stifling a tired groan. I’d do anything for Grim, but I wasn’t interested in club drama. Not after last time. “I’m listening,” I finally replied.

  “You remember Tricia?”

  Shaking my head, I tried to dislodge the last of the fog and took a few seconds to think about which pair of tits he was talking about. “Your ol’ lady? Or the one who used to be?”

  He cursed softly and I heard a scuffle and then a loud bang like he threw something against the wall. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s missing.”

  “Wanna tell me how you know that?” It wasn’t a surprise he kept tabs on Trish even if he wasn’t fucking her anymore. Hell, I could be wrong about that. Maybe he was still seeing her in secret.

  “I know everything that happens with Trish.”

  Enough said. The way he spoke the words – full of longing and bitter regret – let me know the relationship hadn’t been rekindled. “What do you want me to do? Check out the Blacktop?”

  “Yeah. I need to know if Trish has been there recently. Let me know what you find.”

  I didn’t ask why he didn’t send Mammoth or Rael or any of the other brothers. It was obvious he wanted me to go and I knew i
t was because out of all the guys in the MC, we were the closest. Our brotherhood was tight, and we trusted one another with our lives – at least what was left of them – but Grim was the most closed off and ruthless asshole of all the Royal Bastards. We both had a lot of buried shit that we didn’t want to deal with and when it came to secrets Grim was king. I was close second only to Rael. Rael was the Enforcer of our MC and the only brother with an axe to grind harder than mine or Grim. He was one scary motherfucker when he was pissed.

  Pulling into the lot, I parked near the entrance and noticed the large space was nearly empty. Only about a half dozen vehicles were scattered about and probably half were employees. Twinkling strands of multi-colored Christmas lights were strung up across the front of the building and the drooping awning above, obviously hung with haste as they dangled precariously in the wind. Snowflakes filtered through the holes and rotting wood while icicles formed on the sharp, descending edges. As I approached, my boots stomped through the salt that someone had the forethought to throw down on the frozen ground and scraped the hard crystals against the mat before I entered. No locks or patrons blocked my path.

  With a purposeful crack of my neck, I slammed my palms against the door and strode inside as if I owned the place and I might as well. My reputation as a member of the Royal Bastards preceded me. No surprise. The few patrons in the bar scooted out of the way as I sauntered toward the bartender and moved further back into their seats. I was a big man and well over six-feet-tall. Belonging to the most well-known MC in Nye County – hell, the whole damn country – and being covered in tattoos, bearded, and having a tough, unapproachable demeanor kept the civilians away. In case anyone had any doubts, my cut proved my allegiance to the brotherhood.

  I never went anywhere without it, no matter what kind of shit went down six months ago.

  Grim knew where my head was at. We were good.

  I lowered the skull print bandana from my face and frowned, noticing the lack of whiskey on the bar. Fuck. I really hated this shit. Grim knew it, too. He was probably laughing his ass off back at the Crossroads since he knew I’d have this problem.

  “What can I get you, honey?” The little red-head with a heart-shaped ass was full-on clueless and I was already irritated without speaking a word, watching her wipe down the wood with a stained off-white rag.

  New bars were fuckin’ annoying. At the Crossroads I didn’t have to worry about telling the bartender or any of the cute little pieces of ass what I wanted to drink. I simply walked in, approached the bar, and my glass was being poured before I had time to blink.

  That was the way I preferred it. I didn’t like to explain myself – drinking, fucking, or fighting. I did things my way. Period.

  She sent a knowing smirk my way. “Which of the four kings are you slaying tonight? Johnnie, Jameson, Jack, or Jose?”

  Grumbling a reply, I reluctantly answered, “Johnnie.”

  “Nice choice.”

  I picked up the shot she placed in front of me and downed it, happy to see she left the damn bottle. After pouring another, I closed my eyes momentarily and felt my insides begin to thaw with the familiar and welcome heat. A sweet and spicy flavor and robust smoke with a warm finish. I almost always went for my friend Johnnie, preferably the blue label.

  “Better warm up, honey. That winter storm warning has turned into an advisory with hazardous traveling conditions. You’re gonna be stuck here for a bit.”

  Yeah, I figured that out already.

  My gaze shifted to the windows where I could see the snow falling heavier, the fat flakes covering the ground and sticking to the asphalt of the parking lot beneath the meager lights still in working condition. The lot was far darker than I liked which only decreased visibility in the event of an emergency. Scoping the place out and relaxing as I remembered where all the exits were located, I sank onto the barstool with a soft sigh. The far-right side of the bar kept a wall at my backside and a clear view of the entire room, excluding the kitchen and restrooms.

  “So,” I began casually, “I’ve not seen you here before. Where’s the regular bartender?”

  The redhead shrugged but I caught the way she wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Not sure.”

  “A cute blonde. Wasn’t her name Tricia?”

  “Uh, yeah. She still works here from time to time. Haven’t seen her in a bit though. Can I pass your name along when I see her next?”

  Right. “Just tell her the Royal Bastards say hello.”

  That was the end of our discussion since she ignored me after that and made sure cleaning was the most important thing to occupy her time. I saw it for what it was, but I didn’t expect her to come outright and say she knew Trish. A friend would keep their silence and these girls usually protected one another. I’d find out what I needed to know sooner or later, and it wasn’t that far to ride back again once the weather decided to cooperate.

  Restless, I couldn’t quite explain my unease. Perhaps it was that ‘sixth sense’ ability that my brothers and I all shared. When your soul was sold to the devil, you gained unnatural insight into the world around you. The things I could do . . . well, they were dark, deadly, and absolutely sinful.

  Maybe that was why I loved the club. My ass was on a one-way ticket to Hell, but I had plenty of company. Nothing like a group of badass motherfuckers to spend all of eternity with. Throw in my bike and the Devil’s Ride and shit, I was as fucking contented as I could ever be. Maybe once, a long time ago, I could have wanted or needed more but that was before I accepted this way of life and my part to play in it.

  And it was long before Suraya.

  A slight tingle traveled up my spine and I carefully set down my glass as my gaze fixated on the front doors. I felt the movement of the other men and could hear the steel barrel of their guns, the smell of tightly packed gunpowder, and the deadly desire to inflict harm long before they entered. Lifting the skull print bandana over my face was like second nature. The drunken patrons would wonder if what they saw later was only a figment of their imagination. There would be no proof of my transformation. Naked eyes couldn’t see beyond the filmy haze that separated life from death.

  Only Reapers held that coveted skill.

  “Let’s dance,” I rumbled with an enthusiastic tone, taking a wide stance. “I was bored anyway.”

  Chapter 2 – Sasha

  Hawthorne, Nevada had a population of 3,269. A small town with about a thousand more people than Tonopah, the other city I called home from time to time. I chose them both for a reason. You could say it was the stargazing or the frequent ghost tours or the historic mining park and you’d be partially right. But it was the obscurity that I liked the most. No one knew who I was or my past and I could hide in the crowd without worry or shame.

  At least, everyone but Trish. A victim of the same foolish choices, we both lived in a carefully constructed house of lies. As they say, misery loves company. So does desperation. She was my one saving grace and my only true friend. Without her, there was no doubt I would be dead.

  “Sasha?”

  “Over here,” I called out, smiling as Trish walked out the employee entrance and shivered, pulling her heavy winter coat tighter around her slim frame.

  “Aren’t you cold?” She slid next to me on the wooden bench left for the smokers along with a sand filled birdbath that long since faded to an obscure salmon in the brutal Nevada sunshine.

  “A little,” I admitted, “but the snowflakes are pretty, and the stars are so bright tonight.”

  “You and those stars,” she chided.

  “Hey, don’t give my twinklies a hard time.”

  Trish sent me a look that said whatever, babe. “It’s gonna be a bad storm. I can feel it in my bones,” she joked, jumping up and holding out a gloved hand. Snowflakes fell onto her upturned palm and melted as she shrugged, turning my way. “I’m gonna get out of here before the roads are shit. Need a ride?”

  I was tempted but Shelly was working the bar tonight and she was
the one putting up with my ass for the time being, so I decided to stick around until her shift ended. “Nah, I’ll go with Shelly. She’s closing.”

  “You know you could stay with me. I don’t mind.”

  “You’ve got enough to worry about,” I argued, refusing for the third time. She’d been asking all week. “No unnecessary attention. Remember? We both have to lay low and it’s better if we do it apart rather than together.”

  Trish leaned in and gave me a quick hug, squeezing a few seconds longer than needed. Tempted to ask if something was on her mind, I opted to keep my mouth shut. It was far easier than standing in the freezing wind and dredging up the past. “I worry about you. Suraya asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I laughed, shooing her away with my hands and ignoring the painful tug on my heart. “I’m not so sure you aren’t the one who needs more supervision.”

  “True that,” she snorted, shaking her head. Her smile wasn’t quite as full as it used to be, not for about six months now. We both knew the cause was a certain biker president that had severed all connection since that fateful night when Suraya lost her life. In the months that followed, we had to watch our backs on a daily basis and prepare for the worst. Trish packed us each a getaway bag with cash, extra clothes, snacks, and fake I.D.s stashed in case of emergency.

  We both should have left this town a long time ago. Problem was, we were stuck in the past and trying to move on from our mutual loss, but it was far easier said than done. Trish kept hoping Grim would come back and welcome her with open arms. I refused to leave the area until the murderous asshole who killed Suraya faced justice.

  It was a fucked-up lose, lose situation.

  I didn’t see anything changing in the immediate future.

  The wind picked up and whipped a cold blast of snow off the roof as Trish screeched and then ran toward her car, starting the engine as I laughed from the back entrance, not closing the door until I was sure that her car wasn’t going to break down and no one was following. Assured of her safety, I pulled the door closed with a click and slid the lock into place.