Page 10 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Duchess

T he warehouse reeked of stale oil, must, and rusted steel.

Alan had nearly thirty million dollars in new assets buried beneath stacks of unmarked crates on the outskirts of East L.A.

, and I had a ticking clock strapped to my chest. Every second I waited was a chance for Calen Killic to start poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

I knew that when I moved, I needed to make sure I wasn't being followed. I had one move left, and I hated that it led me back to the one person I swore I’d never speak to again.

My thumb hovered over Colt’s name. Colton Winters had been named the VP of the Royal Bastards at the same time Elrik Jameson had been named President.

Unfortunately for Jameson, Rancid took his vengeance and made him a murderer.

He exiled him, and as of now, no one had heard from him.

On the other hand, his supposed best friend maintained his title by doing God knows what under Rancid’s demands.

The worst part about it all was that Colt Winters was my older brother, and the last thing I ever said to him was to drop dead for shaming the family.

That was five years ago. But blood was still blood, and right now, blood was all I had left.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then his voice filtered through the line. He sounded somewhat hesitant, and his voice slightly cracked as he spoke my name. "Steph?"

A part of me twisted at the sound of it.

So familiar and yet so distant. Despite everything he was still my brother, we had been close, and it had all hurt.

Especially what he’d done to our father.

I didn’t know his motives, he kept those to himself, but the least he could do was help me out. He owed me that.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and responded. "I thought you weren’t going to answer."

"I thought you’d never talk to me again." He said quietly.

I almost didn’t. I almost let pride keep me from making this call. But pride didn’t mean shit when you were staring at a future that would be cut short in mere hours.

"I won’t lie," I said. "I thought about it."

There was a long pause between us with a bunch of unsaid feelings that continued to weigh on us.

"How are you?" He asked.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, not really wanting to get into it with him. "I didn’t call for small talk, Colt. I need your help. I’m in deep shit."

I stood at the window, the glass smudged with soot and dust. I pressed the phone tightly to my ear, staring blankly at the flickering streetlight across the street from the building.

The warehouse was located in the middle of nowhere and well hidden, but I couldn't let my guard down.

I kept scanning the street for any sign of movement as paranoia had slowly seeped into my head in the last few hours.

And I knew deep down in my gut that Caleb had eyes on me.

My breath came in shallow pulls as I tried to figure out how to say everything without giving too much away, or sounding like the scared girl I swore I’d never be again.

But Colt knew me. He’d always seen through my shit.

And even though it had been years, I knew he could sense the fear.

I couldn't help the shake in my voice, or the forced edge in my tone that I tried to keep steady.

“I got myself into something,” I finally said, my words tight and low. “Something I can’t get the hell out of alone.”

There was silence on his end. Not the judgment kind. He was just waiting for me to finish. He always did that. Waited until I let it spill and I always did. I eventually broke.

My breathing became ragged as I told him everything.

I let him know about Alan’s death, the Turks, Caleb.

Everything. I even told him about the goddamn laptop that felt like a time bomb waiting to reveal me and our location.

My hands shook as I held the phone, my chest tightening with every word I managed to push out.

I told him about the accounts, the warehouse full of hot goods that no one was supposed to know existed, the kind of information that people were murdered over.

I told him about Alan’s stash, his betrayal, his death, and my place in all of it.

By the time I stopped, I was pressed against the cold wall, knees weak, knuckles white around the edge of the windowsill. And Colt hadn’t said a damn word.

My voice cracked once. I hated that. But it was the truth bleeding through, and he knew it, because this wasn’t just me calling in a favor. This was his little sister calling for protection.

His silence at the end was heavy, but I waited patiently for his response. Finally, he broke the silence.

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"I don't know yet. But I need to move it before the Turks catch on to what Alan had going on, " I muttered, still peeking out the window. "You think Rancid might bite?"

Rancid’s reputation wasn’t just street rumor, he had made a name for himself in the dark circles I dealt with.

His name carried weight among the Turks and everyone from the Italians to the Mexicans knew that Rancid would do anything for money.

He liked to traffic girls, he trained them, buried them, and was vile enough to sell the dirt above their graves.

He was a disgusting pedophile. And anyone who was anyone knew that Rancid didn’t just buy product, he controlled it.

If I was going to put my life in anyone’s hands, it needed to be someone who had more power than the people I was running from.

And in this world, that wasn’t a long list. Sadly, Rancid sat right at the top of it.

"How much product is it?" Colt asked finally, voice clipped.

"We’ve got at least thirty million’s worth."

"Fuck, Steph. That’s a lot of fucking money. I don’t think he’ll go for it. Maybe half of that."

I hissed at him. "Don’t try that haggling shit on me, Colt. I know Rancid’s movements, I watch everything. He’s got the funds. What I want to know is if it’s worth taking the risk on. Will Rancid buy the items or not?"

He paused, and I imagined him pacing back and forth in whatever hideout the RBMC called home now. Probably scratching at his stubble while doing the math in his head.

“I can’t guarantee it but I’ll see how I can sell it to him.”

I nodded, although he couldn’t see me. “Thanks.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

It took me a second to respond. “I know you think I was dumbass for leaving.”

“Not exactly… but yeah. I’m sure Mom and Dad will welcome you back.”

“I don’t want to come back, Colt. Just like you made your decisions in life, I’ve made mine.”

“That’s not fair…”

“Yeah, life isn’t fair, Colt. It wasn’t fair for Jameson either.”

“I’m not going to get into that, Stephanie.”

“Then don’t ask questions and just help me. You owe me that.”

He sighed before responding. “Gimme an hour and I’ll have a response."

“Thank you.”

“And Stephanie…”

“Yeah.”

“About Jameson…”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’m not the one you need to tell that to.”

I quickly hung up the phone and left the warehouse, careful not to have anyone follow me. Although I could still feel him everywhere.

That hour was hell.

I had gone back to Obsidian's apartment because at the moment, it was the only space where I felt safe. I couldn’t go back to my apartment, let alone Alan’s place.

At least with Obsidian, she’d have eyes on anyone within blocks of the apartment.

She would warn me if she saw anything suspicious.

Especially if it led up anywhere near her safe space.

Her apartment always smelled like incense and burnt coffee.

It was an industrial-sized condominium with concrete floors and brick walls.

The faint hum of electricity was sort of peaceful with everything going on around us.

The curved screens were either on surveillance cameras or in chat rooms. Different colored neon wires snaked across the floor, and sealed documents were shoved into crates labeled with obscenities.

I paced the large apartment, my heels scraping against the concrete floor as that godforsaken tension continuously coiled in my spine.

The silence was loaded. It was too quiet, too still, and it made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

Every pass by the window, I glanced out into the darkness.

Obsidian had put out the streetlight on purpose.

She said her cameras had night vision, and the light only blocked them.

"You doing alright over there?" Obsidian's voice rang out.

"As good as I'm gonna get... I guess," I whispered that last part of the phrase. Almost scared to jinx it all. I literally figured I was never going to sleep deeply again.

I ran through scenarios. What if Rancid said no? What if Caleb found out first? What if Colt turned on me? What if one of the Turks came here and shot us all up?

I continued to pace the apartment, waiting on my brother to come through. As soon as the hour hit, we were both sitting side by side staring down at the screen.

“Are you sure he’s going to call?”

“Give him a minute.”

When the phone finally buzzed, I snatched it off the table. My brother’s face appeared and Obsidian gave a small laugh. “Damn.”

“What?” I asked her as I put the phone to my ear.

“He’s cute is all,” she whispered.

I rolled my eyes and answered. "What’s the word?"

Colt exhaled sharply. "Rancid’s interested. But he wants to meet you first. Wants to make sure this deal is clean."

"It’s not."

"We know that, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Who, bro. Livin’ on the edge, huh?”

“Do you want my help or not?” I unwillingly stayed quiet as he continued. “He wants to talk. Not in person. He wants to do a secure video call. Tonight."

That gave me a little breathing room but brought me a whole new level of paranoia.

"Send me the link," I said, my voice low. "And make sure it doesn't get traced."

"You’ll be safe on this one. He doesn’t do anything without one of his men securing everything. I’ll call back in ten minutes."

I ended the call and turned to Obsidian, who was already on her feet, grabbing her laptop.

"We doing this here or moving to another site?" she asked, already pulling up a shell system on her laptop.

"Theres no time. He said ten minutes. A video call. Besides, less eyes, less questions."

Obsidian nodded and got to work. I pulled up a chair beside her, my nerves fraying with every click of her mechanical keyboard.

"This link’s bouncing across six proxies," she said.

“Okay, what does that even mean?”

"It means that no hacker, not even Rancid’s little tech bitch, will be able to track us "

“That's good.” I nodded nervously.

“Turn down the lights. This son of bitch doesn’t need to see our faces.”

Five minutes later, my brother's face appeared on the screen. I was surprised to see him. He’d aged in the last few years.

He looked grim, lined with hard years of club loyalty, or better yet betrayal.

Rancid was a shadow behind him, seated on a worn leather couch, flanked by armed bikers, and a woman with a snake tattoo winding down her throat, sitting on his lap.

He tapped on her ass as I came on the screen and pouting, she got up and walked off.

"You must be the infamous Duchess," Rancid drawled.

I leaned into the camera, letting just my voice cut through the screen. "And you must be the bastard who pissed on the Royal Bastards patch."

His smirk widened. "Colt, you didn’t tell me she was feisty. Women like that give me a hard-on. I bet you look as sweet as you sound.”

“Wrong. I’m not sweet at all, on the contrary, I’m poisonous to men like you.”

The tension was thick, but I couldn’t let Rancid take the upper hand. Colt cleared his throat nervously, lowering his voice and his head. Coward. “Tell him about the deal.”

“This will be fun. Yes, let’s talk about that deal." Rancid pressed.

Obsidian kept the feed clean and Colt’s eyes flickered nervously between screens, while I laid out every detail of the inventory, drop locations, percentages, and timelines.

Rancid didn’t flinch. He watched me with the calm of a man who'd slit throats before breakfast. Each term I offered was another coil of barbed wire closing around my neck, and I knew it.

But I kept selling it and the bastard kept eating it all up.

“This is solid,” he said eventually. “Clean. Smart. I like the way you work, Duchess.”

My stomach twisted as he leaned in closer, his voice menacing. “You make me wonder what else you’re good at. I hope this won’t be the last time we work together. I like a woman who brings this much heat to the table.”

“The product needs to be moved tonight, it can’t wait.”

“Colt will handle it. Won’t you Winters?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir,” he stuttered.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced a smile. “You’ll get access to the product as soon as I get my money. But after this, we’re done. I don't plan on doing any more deals with anyone”

Rancid gave a low chuckle. “No one’s ever done in my world, sweetheart. But we’ll pretend you are if that makes you feel better.”

“It does,” I stated. “The sooner you make the transfer, the faster I can get this shit off my hands and into yours. And Rancid…”

“Yeah, Princess,” he smiled smugly.

“You fuck me over and I’ll come after you personally.”

His deep amused chuckle was the last thing we heard before the screen went black. I sat in silence, my breath tight in my chest. I’d just handed my soul to a devil meaner than the last. Rancid had me in the palm of his hand now, and there was no forgetting it.

“You think he’ll come through?” Obsidian asked worriedly.

Suddenly a ping came in and we both glanced at the screens. Killian’s hacker name popped up. “Nice work ladies. I suggest you check your account.”

Obsidian quickly opened a new window and sure enough, staring back at us was not only twenty million but an additional eleven million dollars. Obsidian almost yelled out, covering her mouth as her eyes danced with glee. She simply stared at me in amazement, grabbing my hand.

“Ho-ly shit,” she whispered.

“So are you gonna come through for us or what, Killian?” I asked.

“Lay low. I need forty-eight hours and I’ll get you both the fuck out of there. Oh and Duchess?”

“Yes.”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

The screen went black and I looked at Obsidian. We needed to disappear. And fast. Because once that product moved, and once the dust settled, the real hunt would begin, and this time, I wouldn’t have Alan or Colt to shield me from these wolves.