Raw and Dirty (Bad Boys MC Trilogy #1) (20 page)

“Maybe we should reschedule our meeting for another time?”

“You fucking think?” he asks me, the flicking sound of a lighter preceding the scent of cigarette smoke. I turn around and glare at him, at his tense jaw and clenched teeth. I think his hands are shaking, too.

“Don't talk to me like that. I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Nothing except violate the sanctity of the club's chapel,” he says, turning those dark brown eyes on me. I can't tell if he's joking or not. He better be.

“Are you taking the piss with me?” I ask, hoping I'm using the slang right. If not, oh well, he can deal with it.

“I might be.” Royal's face relaxes, some of the anger leaking out of his expression. I think he almost smiles. But something about what just happened between us is bothering him. “But I still think you should go.”

“What about our meeting?”

“Take my truck and I'll come see you tomorrow.” He moves over next to me, reaching past me and ashing his cigarette in a tray. We're so close, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I don't even know him, but I wish with all my heart in that moment that he'd wrap his arms around me and hold me.

Royal pauses, his body going suddenly still, like he can read my thoughts.

“Royal,” I start to say his name, but he pulls away, taking a step back to put some space between us. Good. This is for the best. Back to business. “What time should I be expecting you?” I say cooly, my pussy still throbbing, wetness teasing the insides of my legs, a fervent reminder that he was just there, that
we
were just together in the most intimate way possible. “Sometime around ten?”

“Sure thing, love,” he says, moving back over to his chair and pulling it out. I watch as he scoots a stack of papers in front of him and pretends to be engrossed in reading them. His eyes don't even move from their fixed spot. If that's not a cue to get lost then I don't know what is.

“Fine. Ten o'clock,” I snap, my voice colored with emotion that even I don't quite understand. Royal's head snaps up at that, but I'm already turning away, my boots loud against the wood floors of the chapel.

I lean back in my chair, watching Lyric storm out of the room like her ass is on fire. I don't fucking blame her. I know I'm being a dick right now. A
royal
fucking dick. Literally the first woman I've ever wanted like this, and I can't have her.

Life's a bitch.

My cock stirs in my jeans, reacting to the slick wetness that still clings to my skin, making me run my hand over the bulge with a groan.
The hell did I just do? I banged the girl without a rubber.
That's a huge no in my world. But I did it anyway. Couldn't help myself.

I run a hand over my face, fingers scraping against the stubble on my chin and cheeks. I blame Landon for my sudden lack of self-control, for the bottomless pit of anger and frustration and want that I've become in the last few days.

Landon knew, fucking
knew,
that Brent was dirty, that he was trading favors with Clayton Moore.
That was Glacier's news, a big heaping pile of shite to dump on me when I came in this morning. The revelation erased any sort of joy I might've had at catching FBI Douche with his fingers in the cookie jar.

The hell were you thinking, brother?

No self-respecting MC would take a snitch into their ranks, welcome on a man who turns his back on his own brothers. I close my eyes and think back to his last day, to that frantic motorcycle chase that ended with Landon's blood on my hands. He didn't give me any choice, no room to maneuver or bargain or deal. Instead, he attacked me with a vengeance I'll never understand, would've killed me, too, if he had the chance. I could see the ugly truth of it written into every line of his face.

So why?

“Boss?” It's Smoky, standing at the front of the room and staring at me like he knows what I'm thinking about. I'm not the only one hurting from Landon's death. But I'm sure I'm the only one who wants to take a pint-size little mayor's daughter into my arms and hold her tight, bury my chin in her hair, put a jacket on her shoulders with a patch that says
property of.

My mouth almost twitches into a smile.

She'd never wear it.

That makes me want her even more.

“What is it?” I ask, looking up at him, at the almost blank expression on his face.

Fuck.

“What in the bloody hell is it now?” I ask, standing up from my chair and shoving the pile of papers down the table.

“There's a man from the mayor's office here to see you.”

I raise my brows at that one.

“Who the fuck is it?”

“A
Sully
Rentz this time.”

I snort and shake my head. Great. Just what I need. Another Rentz to throw a wrench in my wheel.

“He as hot as his little sister?” I joke, putting two and two together. Youngest of three. Sully ain't the name of the mayor himself. So this has got to be the big brother.

Smoky smiles at that, a facade of good ol' boy America at its best. Only he can bring down a man twice his size in less than thirty seconds. He's a bloody brilliant sergeant-at-arms.

“I'll let you decide that one for yourself. He's inside now, having a drink at the bar.”

As soon as I see Sully, images of his sister flood my brain, my hands clenching into fists at my sides as I try to reign in the urge to hop on my bike and go after her. They have the same green eyes, pale skin, and dark hair, but Sully doesn't have even an ounce of the fire his sister has.

“The hell do you want?” I ask, lighting up a smoke and tapping my hand on the bar for Fauna to pour me a drink. “I've already got your sister on my dick, so why are you here?” I grin at the pun and enjoy watching as Sully's brows furrow together in confusion.

“Mr. McBride?”

“Call me Royal,” I say, grabbing a finger of Jameson from Fauna's outstretched hand and tipping it back in a single swallow. I slide the glass back over to her for a refill. “Didn't even need a nickname because I am what I am.” I shrug my shoulders and keep smiling. “
Royalty.
”

Sully clears his throat, obviously a little confused and disjointed by my rude welcome. I don't know if he gets it, but that's kind of the point.

“Well, uh, Royal. My name is Sully Rentz and I'm with the—”

“I know who you are and where you come from, Sully. Get to the point and quick. I don't have time to spend all day in meetings with you, your sister, and your goddamn Gram.”

Sully's a quick wit, hardening his face and dropping any pretense of trying to get along with me.

“I need to talk to you,” he says, glancing around conspiratorially. Little does he know that none of my boys give a shit about what he has to say. If it's important, I'll let 'em know. “But we should probably talk in private.”

I sigh and grab my drink, nodding a thanks for Fauna before I gesture at Sully to follow me with a jerk of my chin. He slides off his stool slowly and fixes his tie before bothering to follow, leaving his beer behind.

Once we're outside, I head over to Janae's office and unlock the door, ushering Sully into the warm interior and locking it behind me. It's a Friday evening, so there shouldn't be any customers or staff here right now. I like to let my people leave early on the weekend.

I sip my whiskey, letting the burn block thoughts of Lyric from my mind as I take a seat in Janae's chair, leaning back and crossing my boots on the top of the desk.

“So, how can I help you, Sully Rentz?” I ask as he comes to stand in front of the desk, not bothering to take a seat in any of the chairs lined up against the back wall. I study the man, his perfectly tailored suit and his clean shaven face, his manicured brows and his red tie. Talk about a tool. No wonder poor Lyric's so uptight. Clearly it's a family thing.

“I know my sister's trying to work out some deal between the Wolves and the city,” he begins, sounding like he's rehearsed this speech a time or two before coming over here. “But I don't know if she's mentioned the fact that the FBI's considering opening an investigation into your organization and its business practices.”

I don't respond, letting the man talk at me. But I'm already interested in what he has to say—or how he's going to implicate himself in all of this. Lyric did say he was a friend of Brent's, didn't she? I've been wondering about that for a few days now, trying to decide what to do about it.

“A friend of mine,” he begins, outright admitting his guilt to me, “Brent Gilman, told me he spoke with you a few days ago about a missing club member?” I dig into my pocket for a cig, setting my drink aside and lighting up. I don't usually smoke in the office, but what the hell? Janae can air it out tomorrow.

“Where are you going with all of this, Sully?”

“The thing is,” he begins, his professional smile turning smug, “we know now that Landon isn't just missing.” I crook a brow at that, exhaling like I couldn't give two shits about what Sully's saying. He straightens his tie and squares his shoulders, looking down at me like he's got me right where he wants me.

Poor sap.

What he doesn't know is that he's already dead.

“Mr. McBride, unless you're willing to face charges for the murder of Landon White, I suggest you get in touch with Brent immediately. We've worked out a little deal that I think will be beneficial for all of us.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a pair of business cards, setting them next to my boots before smiling and turning towards the door. “He's waiting for your call.”

“It's going to be a fucking nightmare,” Glacier says, his chin in his hand and his blond hair bright under the silver light of the moon. “I mean, the FBI guy is actually easier for me to deal with. Whatever happens to him, it'll be blamed on Mile Wide. If the feds already know he's dirty, then that shouldn't be an issue.”

I stare down at the ocean, my arms crossed over my chest, my mouth turned down in a frown. It's not the FBI douche or the mayor's idiot son that I'm worried about; we can deal with them. But I smell another rat—and I have a pretty good idea of who that might be.

“But making the mayor's son disappear? Right before a re-election? When the city knows we're in negotiations with them?” Glacier sighs and shakes his head, rubbing a tattooed hand down his arm. He glances over at me. “I don't know how all that wheeling and dealing is going with the mayor's daughter, but I suggest you sign those papers and fast. Pose for the camera, shake the man's hand. If you don't, this shit is all coming down on top of us.”

I nod my head once, my stomach in knots, a heavy weight on my soul.

I made a mistake with Rebecca, a huge mistake. And I should've known better, too. I've known the woman since high school. She and Landon … they weren't just lovers or spouses or friends, they were partners. In everything.
Everything.

“I'm heading out for the night. Figure out a plan and run it by me before you put anything into action.”

Glacier nods at me, glancing sidelong at my face. If he's trying to read my expression, then good luck. Even I have no idea what it is that I'm feeling right now.

I killed my best friend after he betrayed us all, after he tried to kill me.