Page 1 of Next Level (Royal Bastards MC: Oakland Chapter #1)

GAME NIGHT

B eing President of the Royal Bastards Oakland Chapter, I don’t get much alone time, especially here at the clubhouse.

Most of the time, we have a handful of members lounging around.

But right now, I’m alone, sitting at the bar with a beer, just relaxing in the quiet.

I know it won’t last long, but damn it feels good.

Life is good right now, and I want to take it all in.

“Level!” My name booms across the clubhouse.

I chuckle, thinking, Well, damn, that didn’t last long .

Looking up from my phone, I see Dawg, my best friend and vice president, swaggering toward me with a fat blunt the size of a cigar hanging from his mouth and a half-cocked smile.

We moved up the ranks together as president and vice president of the Royal Bastards Oakland Chapter when my father, the president, was killed, along with his VP and best friend.

“Waddup, Dawg?” I give him a head nod.

Here we go. I think to myself, Dawg’s up to something.

He got the name Dawg because he’s like a mixture of Snoop Dogg and Dre Dog, but White. He can recite almost every song by both artists.

We met in middle school and have been best friends ever since.

He was teased throughout his younger years for the way he looked and talked.

We were both funny-looking, a good foot apart in height, and completely awkward middle schoolers back then, making us easy targets.

When we finally had enough and started doling out ass-whoopings, word got around and the bullying stopped.

When he reaches me, he blows out a puff of smoke with a big shit-eating grin and rushes out, “I’m so ready for tonight!” sounding pumped up.

Tonight, like every other night, we’re hanging out at the Royal Bastards clubhouse. Most nights we’re here, but if we’re not, then we’re at the local bar. However, it’s my weekend with my daughter, so we’ll be around here unless she wants to do something different.

“Ready for what?” I ask.

He answers, “For the battle!” blowing out another puff of smoke.

As if she knew we were talking about her, the light of my life walks into the clubhouse. Samantha Amato, my daughter. My pride and joy. She’s been up at the house doing homework.

Our clubhouse is a large open-space building. When you walk in the front door, to the left is a long hall that leads to the bathrooms and kitchen. On the right, the hall leads to the shop. Moving past the halls, you enter the main building, where the bar sits to the left.

Walking into the room, there’s a pool table, dart boards, couches, and a few TVs. One is for watching and the other is mainly used for gaming since most of our members enjoy gaming.

On the back wall, there is another hall that leads to a few bedrooms, and to the right of that hallway is a room where we conduct club business. It’s also used for church and is reserved for members only. To the left of the back hall is an office.

I jump off my stool and head toward her.

“I’m ready for you, Sammie,” Dawg yells. “Tonight’s the night!”

I chuckle, knowing damn well he hates getting beaten by my daughter.

Sam beams up at me.

“Hey, Pops,” she says, leaning in to embrace me for a hug.

She gives the best hugs.

“I don’t know, Unc!” she says over my shoulder. “You always say that.”

“Hi, Punkin. Did you finish your homework?” I ask while squeezing her back.

“Yep, all done.” She pulls away, heading for the gaming area.

I love that no matter when or where, she always gives me a hug when she sees me. I’m not sure if I could ever love anyone as much as I love this girl.

I turn and watch her move to the couch, grabbing the controller Dawg is handing her.

Samantha is like royalty here. Ever since she was a baby, she’s been running around this clubhouse, getting every member wrapped around her finger.

I snap my fingers to get Dawg’s attention. “Put that shit out. Use your vape pen,” I demand, not wanting the room to fill with weed smoke. He can use his smokeless inhaler pen while she’s around.

“I got you. I already did, brother.”

I should have known Dawg would. He thinks of Sam as if she’s his daughter. I trust all my brothers with her life.

Sitting on the barstool, I take a swig of my beer, watching them banter back and forth.

When Sam’s here, I try to keep the place mellow. I know she’s been here when we’ve had parties, but I try to keep her up at the house when she’s with me.

Our clubhouse is located in the Oakland Hills, where it’s highly wooded and secluded. My great-grandfather purchased the property, and we’ve since expanded and built up on it.

Most of my brothers live in town, only a few minutes away, but they crash here when we have parties.

The house my great-grandfather originally bought still stands.

It’s an old cottage located at the top of the hill.

A road leads you down to my home, and as you continue down the road, you’ll run into the clubhouse right before hitting the main road.

A highly secure fence with cameras surrounds the property at every angle.

You need a code or a remote to open the gates at the end of the road.

I hate that Sam doesn’t live with me full time, but her mother used to be one crazy bitch. When Brooke got pregnant, I was nineteen, and I knew she was trying to trap me. Shit, we weren’t even dating. We’d hook up here and there. Then, bam, I was a dad.

Brooke hoped to become my ol’ lady, and that I’d marry her, but fuck that, she was crazy.

I did the right thing and took care of them both, even with her craziness.

Thank goodness, about five years ago, when Sam was ten, her mom started dating a guy named Mike Baird, which took a lot of Brooke’s psycho focus away from me.

She married Mike a year after they met, and since then, she and I have been able to co-parent without fighting.

“Pops, you going to jump in and play with us?” Sam asks over her shoulder as she gets cozy on the couch.

I shake my head. “Nah, you and Dawg have at it. I got shit to do.”

She glances over at me and Christ, the look she gives melts my heart every time.

There’s no doubt she’s my daughter, just by looking at her.

She has all my features: dark brown hair and olive skin.

Brooke has sandy-blonde hair and pale skin.

The only thing Sam shares between her mother and me are her blue eyes.

She’s fifteen but acts like she’s twenty-five. Sam has had to grow up a little faster than girls her age, given her surroundings in the club and having a mom like Brooke.

Brooke is a good mom, but she used to be desperate for someone to take care of her. She always wanted to go out partying, trying to meet someone, and would leave Sam with the neighbors. We fought all the time.

Now, though, Brooke’s settled down with a good guy. He’s a suit kind of guy who sells real estate. Samantha likes him and feels safe with him, so that’s all that matters to me.

A buzzer sounds, letting us know people are entering the compound gate. I glance behind the bar, where a TV monitor displays security cameras. I see Zip, our road captain, and Lip, our tail gunner, pull in. They’re cousins, but they look more like brothers.

Dawg hits something, and music blares around the building. “Breathe” by Kasablanca starts vibrating the walls. I laugh out loud as the two of them bounce around, clicking through the system, setting up their people, and getting ready to fight.

The door swings open, and in comes the chaos. Zip’s the first to walk through with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

Zip’s old man, Lazy, is our former road captain. He’s still a member, but he stepped down after a bunch of our members were killed.

Lip’s hands are flying around as he talks his cousin’s ear off about something.

Life is good.

“Did everything go smoothly?” I ask the guys as they approach.

Lip is still gabbing about something but stops when he hears me speak.

“You won’t believe what happened,” Lip says with a big-ass grin.

They had a meeting with the Port Local Teamsters today. We hold monthly meetings to ensure everything is running smoothly. Lately, it has been, so I wasn’t expecting to hear anything new.

Lip moves next to me. “I was telling Zip about Big Betty.”

Zip says, “Listen to this shit.” As he sits down on the other side of me.

I look back over to Lip. “You mean Betty the badass?”

This woman works down at the ports and is one badass bitch. She’s not bad on the eyes, but definitely more muscular than I find attractive.

“Yeah, that’s her. You won’t believe what happened,” Lip states.

Jay, our newest prospect, slides two drinks over to the guys.

“Well, fucking spit it out,” I say, irritated.

“She fucked up two guys last week,” Lip says, lifting two fingers. “Two guys.”

I look over at Zip and then back to Lip, needing more information. I instantly worry, thinking, It has something to do with our shipments .

When I don’t say anything, Lip continues, “Seems three guys tried jacking one of her loads. They didn’t think anyone was around, and when they saw her, they thought they could take her.

” Lip shakes his head. “Obviously, they underestimated her.

I guess one guy ran off right away, one guy was taking most of the beating, but when the other guy tried to help, he got smacked around too.

He was finally able to grab the one getting his ass handed to him and ran off.

“Do they know who it was?” I ask.

Everyone knows not to fuck with the ports or they’ll have to deal with the teamsters or us.

“Nah, she said they were young. Probably just fucking around or hoping to score,” Lip replies, reaching for his beer.

I don’t like to hear people are fucking around down there.

“I knew the bitch was tough, but hot damn!” Lip exclaims.

Zip spits out, “You just want her to beat you, but in a different kind of way.”

I gaze over at Lip, who’s got a look of lust for Big Betty on his face.

Well, fuck me. Lip wants Big Betty.