Robert lifts his hand, giving us a wave, as I pull us up to the street.
“What’s in Kentucky, Mommy?” Levi asks again because I didn’t answer him the first time.
I hit the blinker and feel pretty damn proud of myself for remembering that.
It’s a little victory, but a victory nonetheless.
And if we’re going to make it through this, I need every victory I can get.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I admit as I peek up at the rearview mirror to check on him. “I’ve never been there before, but Uncle Robert says it’s great.”
Chapter Five
Coy
Louisville, Kentucky
There’s a lot to be said for the hills of Kentucky. It’s got all the beauty and charm that big cities don’t have.
It’s also got some long-ass gravel backroads.
“Fifty says he screams like a bitch for the first sixty feet then passes out,” Grem says from beside me as we watch two prospects attach a naked, squirming man to the back of a pickup truck by a long chain.
“I’ll take that action. I say he lasts until about seventy-five.” I grin at him.
“Hey prospects!” Grem shouts to the guys chaining this douchebag up.
“Mark the spot where you start, we got a bet goin’ on,” I say, pushing the hair from my eyes.
“Alright,” the one they call Hammy shouts back. “Anything else we need to do?”
“You got a measuring tape?” Grem asks me.
I smirk. “The twelve inches in my pants.”
“I’ve seen that pencil you call a dick,” he laughs and then yells to the prospect, “One of you find a way to measure how far he gets dragged till he passes out.”
Hammy looks up at us after finally getting the guy’s wrists locked into the chain. “How we supposed to do that?”
“Fuck if I know, boy,” Grem growls at him. “Figure it the fuck out.”
“Jesus, are they all this fucking stupid?” I ask, and again I have to push my sweaty hair out of my eyes.
“Probably,” Grem says then looks at me. “What do you want us to do with the body after we’re done here, Pres?”
That’s me now—Pres.
Five years in the Royal Bastards and I’m the head of the Louisville Chapter. The transition five months ago lost us a couple of the guys who weren’t ready for a young prick like me to take over, but it wasn’t too much of an issue. To most, I’m just a carryover from what my old man started. I haven’t tried to reinvent the wheel. I just keep the profits moving and the guys out of prison as much as I can.
“Drop his body on their fucking doorstep,” I say and stare at the naked fucker rolling around on the gravel.
“You ready for the blowback, Coy?” Grem asks me quietly enough that I know he’s not trying to question me as much as he’s makin’ sure I’m ready for what will happen.
Gremlin has been with the club for ten years now. He’s a hardened veteran of quite a few wars with rival factions. I don’t doubt his loyalties or his convictions to the brotherhood, and I don’t doubt his faith in me.
“It’s why you brothers put me in this role. We all got a part to play,” I say and point to the guy on the ground. “His is to die and send a message to the Bloody Scorpions—don’t fucking sling heroin on our highways.”
“Alright,” Grem says and then motions to the saddlebag on his bike. “I’ll make sure to shove every fucking ounce of it down his throat.”
“Make sure you put the needles in his eyes,” I say. “That should be a nice touch.”
“Will do.” Grem grins.
“Can we get this fuckin’ show on the road?” I yell to the prospects. “Church is in forty-five minutes.”
“You know, your VP and the enforcers could have handled this,” Grem points out.
I shrug him off. “Nah, I need to make sure some things get done properly.”
Hammy and Steve finally get the fucker chained up to the truck.
Fuck, was I that fucking useless as a prospect? Fumbling and fucking about like I had all the time in the world?
Hammy runs to the truck and pulls out an old wood stick from the bed. Staking it down in the ground, close to where the body is, he looks at us for a moment.
“Ain’t got anything to measure with, Pres,” he says.
“Well then ya’ll figure it out,” Grem growls at him.
Nodding his head, Hammy walks back to the truck and hops in on the driver’s side. Starting up the engine, he looks out to Steve and says, “Get in the back and thump the roof when he stops screaming.”
“Gonna need to get us some extra hardware soon,” Grem says.
Sittin’ here on our bikes, watching this pile of pig shit about to be exterminated, reminds me of how far we’ve come, and how far the upcoming war this is sure to start will take us.
The old man warned me that we’d be tested as soon as I took the throne. He wasn’t fuckin’ around. Good thing he knew I have the fucking spine and mind for this shit.
“I got a call from Rain the other day, it’s why I called Church,” I say.
“Ain’t going to like whatever I’m going to hear, am I?” he asks.
Rain… Fuck. That dude lives up to his name. He’s bad news half the time for us.
Someone always gets shot when Rain’s around. Whether it’s from an accident or a fight, Rain just brings fucking bad juju with him when he comes to Kentucky.
But thankfully this call wasn’t bad. No, it might be just what we fucking need.
Looking over at Grem, I smirk. He still has a scar on his ass from the last time Rain was here.
“Nah, it won’t be that bad, least it won’t be for the Bastards,” I say then yell, “Hammy, let’s fucking move it!”
“Alright!” Hammy yells back and starts the truck up.
The fucker chained behind the pickup starts screaming and squealing so loud you can hear it over the thunderous rumble of the mufflers before the truck even starts moving. His eyes wide, he tries to wiggle and thrash his way out of the chains.
Won’t work, but I give him a B for effort.
The chain holding him pulls tight and he’s instantly yanked down the gravel road.
He’s wailing so loud, I can hear it over the BDSM ball gag we stuffed in his mouth. I can even hear it over the mufflers and distance.
Hammy’s not going fast enough to kill him right off the bat, thankfully. I want this bitch to fucking suffer. Castrating him with a knife and then cauterizing the wound wasn’t enough to send the message I want to send.
I want this fucker’s death to stand out.
When they get far enough away that I can no longer hear the wailing, I take my eyes off the bouncing soon-to-be corpse. “I want him dropped at one of their hangouts or something. I want them all to see with their own fuckin’ eyes what happens when you come to our town and sling shit.”
“Got it. I’ll send Poster Boy,” Grem says, mentioning one of our trusted enforcers.
“Good, he likes to do all this dirty shit,” I laugh.
Grim shakes his head. “One day that fucker’s gonna snap and we’ll all be caught in the fallout if we ain’t careful.”