Page 6 of Slayin Villain (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN #11)
Kingpin
If I was gonna be overshadowed, I’d set the stage on fire and watch the whole damn club burn.
That’s what I told myself as I stood in the middle of the Royal Road courtyard, half-dressed and already on my second cigar. The sky above Nashville was a dirty orange, the kind of glow that said trouble was coming, probably wearing a cowboy hat and boots that were worth more than Royal Road.
“They think my brother’s gonna steal the spotlight,” I muttered. “They don’t know who the fuck they’re dealing with.”
“Who exactly are they dealing with?” Eve’s voice floated down from the second-floor balcony. Sultry. Teasing. Dangerous.
She wore one of my button-downs, oversized on her long legs, nothing underneath but attitude. Blonde hair twisted up, face still stained from the red I’d smeared across her mouth hours ago. Morning sex was the best.
I looked up, smirking. “A goddamn king, baby. That’s who.”
She leaned on the rail, arms crossed beneath her tits. “Then quit pacing like you’re losing your crown.”
“I’m not losing shit,” I growled. “But I’ll be damned if Bubba rolls back into Nashville with a gospel choir playin’ at the Grand Ol’ Opry while I get stuck with barbecue and limp dick fireworks.”
Eve arched a brow. “You wanna go bigger than the Beau Strick Show? Then you better get creative, Prez.”
“I am creative.” I pointed my cigar at her. “I’m thinking fire breathers. Cage fights. Live branding ceremony for the new prospects. Maybe the sweetbutts. We’ll brand everyone. Something no one sees comin’.”
She laughed. “What, you gonna burn Dimple’s name into someone’s ass?”
“Maybe his woman’s.”
“Does he even have one?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll burn Dimple into your ass. It’s all part of the show.” I stepped inside and headed upstairs, voice dropping. “I want a bigger stage. More strippers. A goddamn lion if I can get my hands on one.”
Eve met me at the door, one bare leg sliding between mine as I cornered her against the frame.
“Hush, now. You’ll wake the babies.”
I made a motion like I was zipping my lips. “Where’s Haven?” I asked, almost silently.
Eve whispered. “She’s taking time off. No babysitter this weekend.”
“Where’s she headed?”
“Kingpin, it’s none of our business. She’s of age.”
“I made promises Eve. I promised her Levi we’d watch over his daughter”
“She’s safe, Beau. I promise… You catch more flies with honey. Don’t fret. I’ve got this.”
“So, about the ceremony,” I started, leaving Haven’s security in Eve’s hands.
“Tell me the truth,” she whispered, fingers tugging at the waistband of my jeans. “You doing this to prove something? You still mad I went on tour with Bubba? Or are you just trying to distract yourself?”
I kissed her slow, deep, tasting her smile and the smoke on my tongue.
“Both,” I said, pulling her into the room. “I’m still livid you lied to me and didn’t tell me about my baby inside you.”
We fucked like the end of the world was coming.
Hands on the windows. Nails in my back. Her moans echoing off the cracked brick walls like a gospel for sinners. I slapped my hand over her mouth so we wouldn’t wake the kids. She bit my hand when she came, and I took it like an oath.
Afterward, we laid there in the glow of the neon sign that buzzed just outside the window, Royal Road flickering like a goddamn crown in the dark.
“You ever miss it?” she asked softly, head resting on my chest.
“What?”
“Before all this. Before the club turned into all politics and posturing.”
I didn’t answer right away. I ran my fingers down her spine, slow, like counting old money.
“I miss it,” I said finally. “I miss when it was simple. You ride. You fight. You fuck. You don’t explain shit to no one.”
“And now?”
“Now I gotta throw a party just to remind these bastards who the real king is. Things will be different after we patch over. We’ll be back, baby. The Bastard Sons MC will be ours. A club for Angel and Prince, and whoever this lil’ devil in your belly is.”
Eve propped herself on one elbow, her eyes fierce. “Then throw the damn party. Burn the town down if you have to. But don’t forget who helped you build this kingdom.”
I grabbed her by the throat, gentle but firm. “Never, baby. You’re my queen.”
Her lips curled. “Damn right.”
Later, I lit another cigar and stepped out onto the balcony, looking over the compound.
Villain would get the bylaws done. He always came through. But he was getting sloppy. Distracted. Pussy-drunk. And that could be a problem if I didn’t steer him back on track.
I had big plans. Loud ones. Ones that would leave the rest of the MC world in the dust.
Fire dancers. Barbed-wire cage matches. A live tattoo artist to ink the new recruits in front of the crowd. Motorcycles jumping through rings of flames. Maybe a high-stakes poker table in the middle of the pool, surrounded by gators.
And when the new patches went on?
They’d go on with smoke and a body count if needed. If the head bastard himself showed up, trying to stop us.
Because this wasn’t just a patch-over.
It was a damn coronation.
I was becoming the king of my own kingdom.