Royally Bad (Bad Boy Royals #1)

by Nora Flite

  “I’ll stand,” I said, “if it’s all the same to you.”

  Hawthorne shrugged, dropping onto one of the cushions. “I’ll park my ass, thanks.”

  All eyes turned to Costello. He just folded his arms. “We won’t be here long enough for me to settle in. Standing is fine.”

  Brick rocked his chair forward, the feet clacking down. “Oh, shit. Big man on campus over here.”

  His father gave him a warning look. Linking his fingers, he stared not at me, but at Costello. “You said you wanted to talk about a little police action the other day.”

  “Some prick working for you cased our joint,” I said. Brick grunted, drawing my eyes back to him. Squinting, I looked him over with a slow burn of suspicion. “Actually, the guy kind of looked like you, Brick. I didn’t even think about it before because of that giant-ass beard you normally sport.”

  “Yeah,” Hawthorne said, stretching over the table. “Kain’s right. Where’s your beard at, hm? Did you seriously fucking shave it just to pretend to be a waiter at our little party?”

  “I don’t have to answer you,” Brick said, “but no. I wasn’t there.”

  Clenching my fingers, I stared the man down. “I think you’re a liar.”

  “You’re calling me a liar?”

  “He literally just fucking said you were.” Thorne laughed. “Hey, Frock.” My brother jerked a thumb at the leader’s scowling son. “Your kid here caused a lot of trouble for us.”

  “He says he didn’t. Besides, from what I heard, you guys didn’t suffer much in that police raid. You were back on the street in a few hours, and you didn’t lose any hardware.”

  “Bet that makes you real sad—”

  Cutting off Hawthorne, I said, “We almost lost a friend.”

  Everyone went quiet. Next to me, Costello breathed through his tightened jaw. I knew I was about to say too much, but the longer I stared at Brick—the more I realized it was him in the photo—the angrier I got.

  This is the guy that attacked Sammy.

  Frock lifted his hands, his voice eerily calm. “What are you talking about?”

  “This asshole son of yours went after a girl the other night,” I growled.

  Frock shot a look at Brick. “What’s he talking about?”

  “I don’t have a damn clue.”

  That was it; the denial was my breaking point. Bursting forward, I reached for Brick over the table. My hands coiled in the front of his shirt. The air rattled with surprised shouts and metallic clicks; every gun in the place was trained on me.

  Wrenching him closer, I sent glasses tumbling to the floor. Someone had left an ashtray out; it spilled gray dust everywhere, making people cough as it rolled away. I didn’t care that the ashes burned my nose. I was too focused on Brick.

  This close, there was no doubting the fragile, red stubble growing over his face. If I stuck a suit on him, he’d be a ringer for the photo in Fran’s phone.

  Movement wobbled on either side of my view; I still didn’t look away from Brick. His fingers dug into the backs of my arms, his sneer as vicious as mine.

  I jerked him closer to me. “Tell them what you did.”

  “Nothing.” His calmness just infuriated me further. “I didn’t touch any damn girl.”

  Hawthorne groaned. “Fucking hell, Kain. This isn’t the way to do this.”

  “Listen to your brother,” Brick said, grinning so wide I saw his fillings.

  My forearms tensed. “It’s the only way to get him to admit what he did.”

  Frock barely moved, but he managed to lean into my view. “He says he didn’t touch her.”

  “He’s a fucking liar,” I hissed.

  “Yeah?” Brick asked, his lips pulling back. “Where’s your proof? It’s your word against mine.”

  “It’s her word against yours, and I’d believe her over you any day.”

  Costello said, “This game is ridiculous. We know you were at the party, Brick. We have a photo of you there.”

  “You make a really cute waiter.” Thorne chuckled.

  Brick went deathly pale. He licked his lips, but his father spoke first. “You win. Fine. I sent my son to gather some intel on your family. Looking for illegal goods, you know the drill.” He shrugged like we were chatting about the weather and not criminal activity. “It’s obvious we’re not happy with the current arrangement.”

  One of the Deep Shots, a guy with a big, red Mohawk, shouted, “Yeah! Fuck you guys! You’re trying to keep us from making any damn cash out here! So what if you got raided?”

  Brick was still staring at me. I think my silence made him the most nervous. He said, “That’s the facts. You guys are screwing us while we’re trying to make a dime. Everyone else is suffering, why shouldn’t you?”

  “I’m about to suffer from some busted knuckles when I slam them into your face,” I growled. I’d heard enough—did no one get how furious I was? A cold, hard piece of metal dug into my temple. The man at the table—the one I didn’t know by name—had stood up, his pistol pressing to my head.

  “Slow and steady,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “Let him go and stand down.”

  Instead, I shifted my hold so that I could wrap Brick’s shirt around his neck. My veins popped; his did, too, as I started strangling him. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Costello was staring at me in disbelief. Hawthorne was copying him. They didn’t fucking get it: this piece of shit in my hands was the man who’d gone after Sammy.

  He tried to hurt her. If she hadn’t fought back, who knows what could have happened to her?

  “Brother, let him go,” Costello said coolly. “Getting a bullet in your skull won’t help her.”

  Brick was struggling, cutting into my skin, his face going a pretty shade of purple. The gun dug harder into my temple, and I knew . . . if I kept going, more than one gun would fire on me.

  Shoving Brick back into his chair, I watched him topple over in it backward. He was gasping for air, sweat making his red face shiny. People hurried to help him up; he shoved them away, scrambling to his feet.

  The ashtray was stuck to his cheek—he slapped it away, leaving black smudges all over his skin. Hawthorne snorted, covering his smirk with the back of one hand.

  Frock waved his hand. “Put your gun away, Rush.”

  Flipping his pistol into his holster, the new guy faced me down. Rush—as he’d been called—gave me the barest hint of a smile. “Attacking the son of our gang’s leader, right in front of everyone? Now that’s ballsy.”

  “People tell me mine are pretty big.” Flexing my fingers, I looked back at Frock. “Your son is bullshitting all of us, even you, but I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll just say this: if he fucks around with the girl again—and he knows who I mean—he won’t just get a coffee cup to the head as a result.” I flicked my glare toward Brick. “Next time, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Brick’s mouth twitched, his chest flaring with rapid breathing.

  His father shrugged, acting as if seeing his son getting threatened was normal. It probably was. “Your family and mine, we don’t get along so well. Spilling blood will break whatever semblance of a truce that we have. My son says he’s innocent, and we all know you aren’t about to try and get the cops involved to investigate. So . . . my advice? Walk the fuck out of here, and forget about whatever your lady friend told you.”

  Twisting on a heel, I stormed for the exit. Only then did I notice the bar patrons were all standing, their hands resting on their weapons. It was a cold reminder that I was in Deep Shots’ territory; as notorious as we were, any one of them would happily pull their triggers in respect for Frock and his gang.

  Keeping my hand by my gun, I walked the slow march out, then up to the street. The sun felt refreshing on my skin after being soaked in the ash below.

  I’ll tear his fucking throat out.

  “Kain!” Hawthorne’s hand clasped my shoulder from behind. Spinning, I broke his contact and backed up. Costello was besi
de him, they both watched me as if I was some rabid animal. “Calm down, Kain.”

  “How can I calm down? That asshole down there is lying! He went after her!”

  Thorne started to move forward, but Costello beat him. Rounding on me, my scarred brother ignored whatever fury was boiling in my eyes. One strong shove and he had me backed against Hawthorne’s car. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare do anything rash. Understand?”

  Faced with the jagged cut that marred his face, I hesitated. Costello would always be a cold reminder of what could happen if you tried to take a serious situation into your own hands.

  Ever so slightly, I relaxed. His pale irises warmed. Deliberately, he let me go and backed up. “It’s obvious that Brick is lying. His father is right, though. We can’t do anything about what happened. Unless you want to go to war?”

  My chuckle was sour. “Might be fun.”

  Hawthorne sighed, his keys tossing up and down in his fingers. “Kain, don’t be stupider than usual. Let’s just go tell Dad what we learned. He might have a solution.”

  “He’ll just tell us to keep everyone on lockdown until he’s sure they won’t try anything again.”

  “Then let that happen.” Costello climbed into his own car, the door wide open as he talked to us. “You want her to be safe. Let her be safe with us.”

  As I settled into the car, I ran the situation through my head. I was positive that Brick had been posing as a waiter at our party. But why he’d targeted Sammy after the raid, I had no damn clue.

  After all of this, I didn’t feel an inch closer to an answer.

  - CHAPTER THIRTEEN -

  SAMMY

  The rosebushes blocked out most of the sky. Lifting my arm, I spread my fingers, pretending to grab one of the pink flowers. The world around me cascaded with birdsong, and the air smelled divine.

  No one would have guessed how miserable I was.

  I have to get out of this place. I’d already tried once; right after the morning meeting about my mystery attacker, I’d kicked the front door open and looked for an escape.

  It was very dramatic, and I like to think I looked like a badass. But then I’d ended up wandering around like a lost puppy. The cars parked on the large, round driveway were all locked. Everything in the garage was no better.

  Flustered, I’d stomped back into the front yard, ignoring how everyone was watching me through the windows. Their stares burned on my neck, reminding me that of course I was being watched.

  Kain had come to the front doors, standing on the landing. “Sammy,” he’d called to me. “Come inside, let me talk to you.”

  Holding my head high, I’d walked on stiff legs around the side of the house. My ears rang with my name on his tongue. There were a million things I wanted to say to him, many of them not meant for children to hear.

  Let him simmer, I told myself. If I couldn’t control my escape, then I’d control what I could. I didn’t have to speak to any of them. Especially not Kain.

  I’d thought he was on my side. That had been my mistake.

  Afterward, I’d heard three of the cars rev up. Even lying in the backyard, I could tell they were driving east off the property. The metallic clang of the front gate slamming shut made my heart skip.

  Since then, I’d been lying in my shaded part of the garden for a couple of hours. How was I going to get out of here? I needed to see my mother, and what was going to happen to my business? My appointments? Everything was turning to shit.

  The scent of hay broke through the fragrance of roses. A shadow blocked out the sun, making me blink and look up. With a giant smile on her round face, Matilda looked down on me. “Hey, stranger, what are you doing back here?” she asked.

  Sitting up, I dusted grass off of my back. “Didn’t you hear? I’m . . .” I stopped myself. Matilda was watching me curiously. Does she not know I’m supposed to be kept on the property? The first seed of an idea grew. “You work with the horses, right?”

  “Yup.” Gripping the dirty sides of her torn jeans, Matilda beamed. “Have for around five years now.”

  The pride in her face made my heart swell. Standing, I ducked out from under the rosebush I’d been hiding beneath. “So if I wanted to ride one, you’re the girl I need to see.”

  “Oh. Um.” Her eyes darted back toward the stables. “Pretty much. Why, you wanna take one out?”

  The pounding in my chest reached a crescendo. “Very, very much.” It wasn’t a lie. I’d wanted to touch those horses since I’d seen them. Their raw smell called back some of my fondest memories.

  Matilda motioned to me, her steps light. “I don’t see why not.” Brightening her voice, she said, “I thought you might be a horse person from the minute I saw you.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nudged the stables open, leading me inside. “The way you were looking at Rosel the other day gave it away.”

  My ears turned red. “I rode a bit when I was little.”

  She led me over to the same chestnut mare as before. Clicking her tongue, she reached out, her palm gliding over the animal’s smooth flank. “You want help?”

  “It’s like riding a bike,” I said, suddenly unsure. It had been thirteen years since I’d last sat on a horse. My determination gave me the courage to move forward with my plan.

  Matilda set about saddling the horse. As she did, I walked closer, moving to Rosel’s right flank. She set one big, round eye on me. Her massive nostrils flared. Swallowing, I extended my fingertips slowly toward her. “Hey, girl, relax. I’m not going to eat you. Though I once heard horse was a delicacy in some places. Ha-ha. Hah.”

  Matilda gave me a look.

  With my smile twitching, I ran my hand over Rosel’s muzzle. She was even softer than I expected, my head swimming with memories. The mare pushed forward, demanding more of my petting. For a minute, I forgot about what I was going to do. I was lost in the wonderment of this giant animal, how she could be so gentle—so sweet—when she was capable of crushing my skull.

  “She likes you,” Matilda said.

  “I like her, too,” I said softly.

  Tightening the last strap, she gave the animal a quick tap. “I’ll lead her out, then it’s your turn.” Taking the bridle, she guided Rosel out of the stable with me close behind.

  Under the bright sun, the horse glistened like freshly poured caramel. I noticed the tip of her nose was pink and white, and there was a single sock of dark color on her rear left leg. Flicking her tail, she kept her eyes on me.

  Matilda stepped back, so I took that as my cue. Gripping the saddle, I stuck my foot in the stirrup and prayed I wasn’t about to fall on my ass. Maybe it wasn’t like riding a bike, but then again, I’d never ridden a bike as a kid. My body remembered what to do, though. Grunting, I lifted myself onto the horse, straddling her.

  The shift in position changed my worldview. I could see over the estate, the roses dotting the green in bright pops of color. There were a few trees in the distance, then beyond, I saw the hills of grass and hedges.

  Beyond that is the road.

  “Okay,” Matilda said. “Let me just show you around, we’ll take it slow.”

  “Listen. I’m really sorry,” I said earnestly.

  Laughing, she looked up at me with her brow in a knot. “For what?”

  I didn’t speak, I just dug my heels into Rosel. In a burst of muscle she flew forward, nearly knocking me from the saddle. It took several desperate, minor adjustments of my body’s tension to make sure I was leaning over her in a way that would keep me afloat.

  Behind me, Matilda shouted something. I didn’t hear the words; I didn’t need to.

  I’m sorry, I thought for the fifth time. I really am. I’d make sure that Rosel would get back to her. I wished I could have explained that I just needed to do this, that it was the only way out.

  The wind tore at me as we raced over the yard. The flat ground was broken up by the gardens. I spotted a gazebo to one side, a l
arge storage facility on the other. As I passed, two men stumbled backward, watching me in abject shock.

  They didn’t stop me, but I expected them—or Matilda—to alert the rest of the Badds. People would come after me soon. I had to get to the road as fast as possible.

  “Come on,” I hissed into Rosel’s ear. Over the rushing air that pushed her mane into my eyes, I wasn’t sure she’d hear. My plan was to get to the street and follow it back to a rest stop. I could call for a taxi from there. I had no money on me, but if we went back to my house, I could pay them. As far as I knew, my purse was still hanging in the kitchen.

  Unless that guy Jameson robbed me. Gritting my teeth, I decided to worry about that when it came up.

  Rosel jumped some short bushes, my teeth rattling on the landing. Beyond the wall of green hedges surrounding us, I looked for a hint of pavement. Ahead of me, miles and miles of fields waved. Keep going, I told myself firmly. It’ll become a road eventually!

  The wind whipped, lightening my spirit. Years since I’d ridden . . . and it still made me feel so free. I was lightning, a leaf, the sun and the sky. I felt and tasted everything, Mother Nature calling my name.

  It was kind of serene, when you thought about it.

  “Sammy!”

  That wasn’t fucking Mother Nature at all. Twisting, I gawked back in disbelief at the figure in the distance. Like a knight out on patrol, Kain burst across the field upon a glossy, black stallion. I’d expected to be pursued, but I thought it would happen much later—and by someone else.

  How was he already on my tail?

  Something broke through the evergreen of the land. Flushing with excitement, I guided Rosel toward the mark on the horizon. Seconds before I couldn’t turn away, I saw it was a fence. A large, black iron fence that stretched for miles.

  No, there has to be a way around it!

  Kain yelled again; he was much closer. Wildly I forced the mare to run, leading her along the fence without slowing down. The longer that my body shook with the force of Rosel’s stride, the deeper my realization of my mistake sank in.