Page 25 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Duchess

I don't know what got into me, but I found myself pulling up to Caleb Killic's house on Mulholland Drive at two o'clock in the morning.

I'd called Bandit up earlier that day to find out where he was.

Bandit, or Barry Reed, was the Royal Bastards' crazy pilot.

He'd been doing a drop off when I asked him for a favor, one which he owed me for something I'd done for him a while back, when I'd introduced him to his newest conquest.

"I'm only taking you as far as the strip. You're on your own after that." They'd recently acquired a small cargo plane in which my motorcycle fit perfectly. Bandit simply shook his head and muttered obscenities in his deep Louisiana accent as I slid into the passenger seat.

"You're lucky I'm heading’ down that way," he spoke through the mic as he continued to complain.

I looked at him and smiled. "Well, your bed is nice and warm because of me, so I figured you owed me."

He looked over at me, mouth agape as he pulled the plane up and over the airstrip.

"I don't believe you threw that in my face."

"I would never," I pressed my hand to my chest in mock horror. "I'm simply asking for a favor in return."

"Uh-huh," he murmured.

The entire flight, I kept going through the plan in my head. Sneak in, grab his laptop and leave. Then again, my instincts at the moment were to storm in, fire two shots, and leave.

Don't hesitate, don't think, just kill him and get it over with.

"Why are you heading down there in the first place?" My thoughts were interrupted by Bandit as he hummed a happy tune.

"I've got a business situation that needs to be dealt with."

"Why does it sound like there's an underlying truth in there somewhere?"

"Did I ask you what kind of dealings you had in my city? Aren’t you supposed to ask for permission anyway."

He closed and opened his mouth for a second before answering. "Well...not exactly. I’d already spoken to Crucifix.”

“Yeah, but that’s the Bastards, did you speak to the Harlots?”

“Well…no."

"Exactly. Besides, Royal Bastards don't ask Royal Harlots their business and vice versa."

"Well I'm neither," he shrugged. "I'm just the fucking pilot."

I stared at him for a second and then turned away. He had a way of making his smart ass remarks honest. It was one of those things you just kind of loved about him.

Three hours later, we'd landed on a strip near the docks owned by the Hellbound Lovers and Death Row Shooters. Grabbing my bike, I backed it out and revved the engine up.

"Hey," Bandit ran towards me.

"What's up?"

"Be here by seven in the morning and I'll take you back," he gulped in air as he rubbed his big belly.

I smiled and leaned over to him, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Barry, I knew I could count on you."

"Be careful now. You die, and they'll put that blame on me for bringing you here."

I waved at him as I took off, heading straight for the Hollywood Hills, a thirty-minute drive from the Port of Los Angeles.

The city glowed to my left as I enjoyed the cool breeze of the evening.

I was startlingly calm as I took the drive.

Of course, that calm went out the window as I coasted silently onto Mulholland Drive, the tires whispering against asphalt as I rolled to a stop near the edge of the gated community.

I killed the engine and parked the bike just shy of the turn, making sure it remained hidden. The rest, I’d do on foot.

The hill leading to the property cut steep and unforgiving. Perfect for keeping people out. Even better for someone like me to slip in.

I adjusted my jacket, tightened the strap across my chest, and walked the path remaining hidden in the shadows.

A sleek black sedan approached the iron gate just as I stepped into the shrub line. I crouched low. Waited. When the gate opened, I moved. Quickly sliding behind the vehicle as it passed, using its bulk to slip through undetected.

Too fucking easy.

This place reeked of wealth, and not the new kind. It was the kind that allowed you to build empires full of bloodshed and keep those dark secrets hidden behind million-dollar doors.

I made my way to the third house on the left. I only knew where it was because hours before, Obsidian had given me a full file on Caleb Killic and the dirty company he headed.

The house was perched on an ultra-private hillside on the coveted Mulholland Drive.

The mansion itself was also gated, but I was able to get access from the hilltop.

It took me a minute, but I was finally able to leap over the fence along the side of the house.

I crouched and waited, assuming cameras would see me, but all was quiet.

I slowly walked down the lightly lit path, finally coming to a large European-style villa. The motherfucker owned a thirty-million-dollar home with views across the valley to the canyons, and he was chasing me down for a mere twenty million. That was chump change for him.

"You gotta be shitting me," I whispered into the night, as I made my way toward the back of the house.

I was met with an Olympic-sized swimming pool hidden by giant Spanish columns. The pool itself had a lazy river and a fountain in the center of it. I cursed as I made my way along the side of the house and tried the sliding door.

"Please. Please, please," I whispered, tugging on the metal handle, and was surprised to see the door was truly unlocked.

I stood in his living room in shock. This was all too easy, and my gut instinct told me to run. Of course, I never listened to it.

Clearing the area, I spotted two very expensive bottles of wine, one of which was empty and had fallen onto the white area rug. Drops of red wine had already sunk into the rug, and all I could think about was what a bitch it was going to be to get that stain out.

I shook my head. "Somebody's been drinking."

I stepped over the bottle as I took out my gun. The bottles explained why the door may have been left open, but was he alone in the house?

I slowly made my way up the stairs, trying to remain as quiet as possible. I never did do stealth well. I was more a kick the door in and make an entrance type of girl, but in this case, I would do my best.

Pulling my phone out, I found the blueprints Obsidian had provided. If she was correct, his door was at the end of the hallway, and it stood wide open. As I made my way in, the lingering thought remained about how all this was just too easy.

How could there not be security?

Where were the cameras?

Where were his foot soldiers?

How could a big-time Mafia King to be, not have any men watching over him?

I found him sprawled, face down on top of the bed. A half-empty glass of red wine was placed on the nightstand beside him. His hand hung off the mattress, fingertips dragging against the floorboards, and he was only wearing his boxer briefs. He had a tight ass; there was no denying that.

I was only here for one thing… his coveted laptop. We needed whatever contract was on that laptop so that Obsidian could forge it and make it disappear. I still thought it was a weak plan, but it kept me out of jail.

As I stared down at him, I couldn’t resist. I raised my gun and slowly pointed it at his head.

The steel of the Beretta my father had given me glinted in the moonlight.

It was a newer model, sleek and light, tinted with rose gold and made especially for me.

All my girls had custom-made guns recently provided by the Royal Bastards MC.

I had one bullet in the chamber, and as I cocked the hammer, all I kept thinking was that it would take just one shot to get him the fuck out of my life.

As the heavy click bounced off the walls, the figure on the bed suddenly stirred.

The shot rang out as he swept my wrists up and over my head and swung me down onto the mattress. The bullet had been fired into a pillow, and I struggled with trying to get a second shot in.

"Murderous bitch," he muttered, as he wrestled the gun out of my hand.

I screamed out in frustration as I fought him. Scratching at his arms and back as my knees came up to make contact with his lower appendages.

Prying the gun from my fingers, he raised it over our heads and fired a warning shot. I screamed and covered my face.

"Will you stay still, now?" He stated calmly, as he flipped off the bed and went out to the balcony.

From the awkward angle I had on the bed, my head falling over the side of the mattress, I watched as he flung my gun over the side of the railing.

"Son of a bitch," I whispered as he sauntered back in. A loud splash sounded in the distance, and I realized he'd thrown my gun in the pool below.

"You'll pay for that one."

"Oh. I fucking hope so." He made his way towards me with purposeful strides.

It took me a second to realize what he was going to do, but by the time I reacted, it was already too late.

It happened too fast.

One second, I was kicking off the sheets and scrambling to bolt from the bed, my instincts screaming louder than the blood rushing through my ears, and the next, his hands were already on me. Rough and possessive.

Caleb’s fingers clamped around my ankles, yanking me back across the slick black silk sheets as if I were nothing but prey caught in his net.

I thrashed, kicking hard, my heel connecting with the sharp edge of his jaw.

I heard the crack, felt the jolt up my leg, but all it did was make him grunt.

A savage grin cracked across his face, and I realized he was enjoying this. I’d just turned him the fuck on.

"Don’t touch me!" I spat, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, my nails tearing into the fabric as I tried to crawl away.