Royally Broken (Royal Bastards MC: Royal Sons CA)

by Elle Boon

  “Where’d you get that get up, steal it?” she spat a stream of brown liquid into a can.

  He didn’t answer knowing she’d believe he did or wouldn’t care either way.

  “What, now that you got your degree yous thinking you better than us, boya?” Blaire Langley asked from behind the screen door.

  Shit, he’d thought the brothers were gone. He looked around for the truck, wondering where the other asshole was.

  “You dumb? Cat got your tongue. I asks yous a question. Need me to remind you what happens when you step outta line, boya?” Blaire asked, his words slurred.

  “I’ll just be on my way.” He kept his eyes on Blaire, listening for the other brother. If one was home the other was probably near.

  The screen screeched as Blaire pushed it open. “Now, don’t be hasty. We ain’t got to give you a proper party, ain’t that right, Mama?”

  Silas looked from the drunk shithead to the woman who was also a drunk. Her husband had been alive when Silas had first come to live with them, but he’d fallen into the Mississippi River when Silas was a toddler, or so they’d said. Silas wasn’t so sure after the things he’d heard them say, but even still, he didn’t have any memories of him. Looking around the yard, he could only guess the asshole got away from a life of misery.

  He narrowed his eyes as Blaire stumbled and fell down the steps, his groan ending in a hacking cough.

  “Help him up, boy,” Claire snarled.

  A quick glance down, Silas saw Blaire’s hunting knife protruding from his abdomen, with blood pooling beneath him. Fuck, what the hell should he do. “Miss Claire, you need to call an ambulance. He’s landed on his knife there.” Silas didn’t move any closer.

  “You don’t call me by my name, boy. It’s ma’am.” She tried to push up, failing as her hands wouldn’t hold her weight.

  Silas took a step back then another. This family had damn near killed him every chance they’d had. She’d promised him the only thing he’d ever wanted, but he’d known she had lied, holding out on the only piece of hope he’d had. He kept walking backward, never taking his eyes off the spectacle before him.

  Ma’am, as she expected him to call her called out to him, yelling for him to help. Silas turned at the driveway, letting his feet lead him back toward the road. They weren’t his family, not his problem. When he hit the street, he kept walking, holding his cap that didn’t mean shit to him but held so much hope. The next town over, where the Navy office was located, was his destination. Thirty miles. He could make it. He had to make it. Luckily for him, he was in shape thanks to all the walking he’d had to do in his life.

  The sound of a diesel engine had him moving farther into the grass. Not that he feared he’d be hit in broad daylight; however, it was best to be safe than sorry.

  He watched the big rig’s taillights turn red. His fight or flight instincts had him looking toward the woods to his right. Shit, he needed to make it to the next town over before they closed at seven.

  “Hey, kid, you need a lift?”

  Silas took a deep breath, deciding to take a leap of faith for once. If he had to, he’d jump out of the truck if the dude got stupid, or...he’d do what he had to survive. Killing a man would wreck his plans but he was done being a punching bag.

  “Thanks, man.” He hauled himself up into the passenger seat.

  “Where you heading? You just graduate high school or something?” The truck driver shifted into gear as he spoke.

  Silas told him the next town over after nodding affirmative about graduating. Hell, he was in his graduation gown still.

  “Good for you. Never did graduate myself. Got my GED though.”

  He and the other man sat in silence for a few, then he let the guy talk. Obviously being a big rig driver, he got a little lonely or some shit. Silas didn’t mind, since it allowed him to keep his trap closed.

  “Well, kid, it was good having someone to shoot the shit with. You got business in town?” he asked, pulling off to the side of the road just outside by the sign welcoming visitors.

  “Yeah, starting a new life.” No need to tell him his life story.

  “Have a good one and stay outta trouble.”

  If the man only knew how much Silas wished his life was that easy. He shoved open the door, thanking him for the lift. Although he’d be several hours early, he didn’t want to waste time wandering around town. Hell, he didn’t even know what he could do with no money, no friends, nothing. Keeping his head down, he put one foot in front of the other, taking the quickest route to the office he’d been to once before. The man had come to his school to talk to his class about enlisting. Silas had immediately known he was going to do it. Figuring out how to get to the place for his physical had been a little harder, but again, he was determined. Like today, he seemed to have someone looking over his shoulder. The recruiter had been his savior that time, offering to give him a lift for the exam and his physical. Whatever his motives, Silas didn’t care as long as he’d get out of Lionsville for good.

  A familiar sound had him looking up, his heart beating like he’d been running a race.

  The Langley’s pickup rumbled by. Blaine wasn’t paying any attention as he chugged a bottle of whiskey in a brown paper bag. More than likely, he was three-sheets to the wind already, thankfully.

  He kept his head down, heading toward the recruiters office. He’d already taken the test, signed the papers, and was shipping out today. It felt good to have a plan, a place to go. The image of Blaire lying in the dirt bleeding made him stumble, but then he thought of all the times they’d left him broken and bleeding, easily making the choice to continue moving forward. They had a phone and each other. He’d had no one, not even the promise of help, ever. Silas had only ever had himself and the lure of who his birth parents were. He should’ve known the old bitch was lying. Fuck it, he didn’t need to know where he’d come from. No, scratch that. He came from the garbage, but he wasn’t trash. From this moment on, Silas was dead. Opening the door with the word NAVY in large letters on the window, he felt eyes on the back of his head. He ignored them like they’d ignored him his entire life. The man behind the desk stood up, walking around the wood thing with his hand held out.

  “Silas, it’s good to see you. You ready?”

  “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

  He looked Silas up and down, clearly seeing he still had his blue graduation gown on. “Where’s your bag? How did you get here?”

  “Figured I wouldn’t be needing anything for a while,” Silas said. Truth was, he didn’t want to take any of his shit with him. Besides, the Navy would be supplying him with what he’d need. When he’d come for his physical and tests, he’d gotten a ride from the man before him. Silas didn’t kid himself; they both knew he didn’t have anyone who gave a shit about what happened to him.

  “That’s true. Anyone seeing you off?”

  Silas shook his head. “Nah, I already said goodbye.”

  “Well, let’s get going then.”

  He looked at the cap he still held like it meant something. Walking over to the trash can, he tossed the blue square into it, shrugged out of the silk gown, and balled it up and adding it to the trash as well. If he’d had a lighter, he’d have lit the shit up and watched it burn. The gold cord around his neck showed he’d graduated with honors. He tossed that in too, not needing it as a reminder.

  “Son, don’t you want to take any of that with you as a memento?”

  His heart clenched. Nobody had ever called him son. Son-of-a-bitch. Lowlifesonsofbitch. And other forms with son thrown in, but they were all derogatory in nature.

  “I don’t need a piece of paper or fabric to remind me about my past. From today forward, I make a future for myself.”

  The recruiter nodded, looked at the garbage, and nodded again. “That’s a good attitude to have. Come on, it’s a long trip ahead of us.”

  “Am I the only one enlisting?” Silas hoped like hell he was. None of the guys in his class were ones
he’d call friends. Although the office was outside the town he’d grown up in, he was sure this man probably knew the Langleys, especially since he’d seen Blaine cruising through only moments ago. He wondered why the asshole had driven thirty minutes away from home, especially since he’d been drinking. None of his business anymore.

  “Yep. It’s just you and me.”

  Chapter Two

  Keys shook thoughts of the past away. The eighteen-year-old kid he’d been was gone and buried. He’d vowed to never go back to that hell hole, to the place that tried to kill him. Shit, the only good memories that was there, had been at the school. Once the administration had realized he was half-starved, they’d seen to it he’d had one square meal a day. During Holidays he wasn’t as lucky. And Palmer. Although he’d made sure she was at a six foot or more distance. After she played Good Samaritan his body was in a constant state of need. Something no little fifteen-year-old needed to see or experience. He was older not only in years, but life. She was another huge factor in his decision to leave. If he’d have stayed, his little sunshine girl would’ve been the temptation that he couldn’t have denied for much longer. If there was one thing Keys had known about himself and the town, it was that you didn’t try crossing the tracks when you were the dirty little bastard and sully the princess. Not without some major consequences. And for all his faults, he liked breathing.

  “King, is he breathing?” Duke snapped his fingers too close to Keys’ face, making him react before he could catch himself. He moved on automaton, snatching the VP’s hand in his right hand, slamming him onto the table face first, his fight or flight mode kicking in with a vengeance. He’d learned how to kill from Uncle Sam, honing those skills under the tutelage of men who didn’t give you their last names.

  “Motherfuck, Keys, what the hell?” Duke snarled.

  Keys released his friend, flashes of red leaving his vision. He stepped back, raising his hands as he did so. “Sorry, brother. I—shit, I gotta go.” He bent to grab his bag. “I’ll check in with you every Friday. If I don’t...then something is FUBAR.”

  King was on his feet, planting his large form in front of the door. “What, you think because you put some Kungfu shit move on my brother you’re walking out without more of an explanation? Not happening. Sit your ass down and let’s hash some shit out. I assume you’re riding there?”

  Keys looked at his friend, who he admired and trusted. “That’s my plan, yeah. Look, seeing that email from a person I knew, marginally, it’s got me fucked up. I need some open road to clear my head.”

  “I get that, truly, brother, I do. Duke and I have lost everyone from our past that meant something to us. We built our family, our brotherhood with those we trust and care about. You’re one of them. Our women, they might think we’re overbearing and well”—he paused as Duke snorted—“well he’s an asshole, and I’m a controlling prick. At the end of it all, we look out for each other. It’s how we stay level and alive. You’re running off half-cocked, man. That’s not how we do shit. That’s not how a Royal works. When we were just the Royal Sons it was easier, but now we got a fuckton of others we can tap into with the Royal Bastards from East to West and everywhere in-between.”

  “What do you suggest? You want to send a group of brothers out with me on a run? Listen, I need to do this alone. I’ll stop in Oklahoma at the Royal Bastards Chapter there. I won’t go in without some kind of backup, but I need to do this by myself, to an extent.”

  Traeger knocked on the table, bringing their attention to him. “Keys is smart, King. If he needs us, or some help, I don’t see him throwing up his middle fingers and saying fuck it. He doesn’t have a death wish. Do you, Keys?”

  “If I did, I sure as shit wouldn’t be here today.” Keys was sure his back molars had to be close to dust the way he’d been grinding them. Fuck, what the hell was up with this third degree?

  “You say you’ll check in every Friday? Not good enough, Keys. I need a report that you’re alive every other day, at the least. And don’t give me that incredulous look, either. You and I both know shit can happen in the span of twenty-four hours. Either you agree, or I’ll have a tag on your ass.”

  He snorted, wondering how the asshole would accomplish that since he was the one who normally got that task done.

  Traeger held up a little device, the same type he normally used.

  “Fucker, what the hell?”

  “Hey, I watch and learn. Besides, I figured one day I’d need one of these little gadgets so...” Traeger shrugged.

  Knowing it would be useless to argue, he closed his mouth.

  “Looks like we’re finally on the same page,” King muttered.

  “Yeah, if that page is assholes are us.”

  Duke laughed, slapping him on the back. “You being head asshole?”

  This time he didn’t fight the urge to flip the VP off. “I’m out. I’ll check in, every other day, Mommy.” The irony of his words hit him. He’d never had a mom who cared whether he checked in or not.

  “Hey, be glad I wasn’t demanding a FaceTime call. Of course, that’s not off the table yet.” King pointed his finger at him then the phone lying in front of him.

  With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he walked to the door. The need to say something made him stop, his back to the room. “Thank you—for caring about me. Take care of my babies. Remember Moana is good. She’s a new mama. It’s Maui who’s being a dick.”

  “We got this. And Keys,” King said, waiting for Keys to turn toward him. “You don’t thank family for looking out for one another.”

  PALMER LOOKED AT HER computer, then at the door. Her grandfather had come home a couple hours ago. The household staff always seemed to become extremely busy when the Mayor was home. She wanted to snort in derision, since they were all nothing but busy bodies who tended to gossip behind one another’s backs. Oh, they didn’t know she heard them when they retired for the night. What they didn’t know was she’d been sneaking through the secret passages since she’d been a child, and those passages went behind every wall, including their rooms. Gah, she hated every last one of them who called her and her son trash. Looking over at the baby with the blond curls, sleeping so peacefully, her heart swelled with love. No, he wasn’t trash. His father? God, he was the worst sort of human ever, but that didn’t make the child anything other than a blessing.

  She thought back to the email she’d sent off. It had taken her months to track down Silas. Lord, she hadn’t thought of him in years. No, that’s a lie. She’d thought of him almost once a week or more. However, she’d never have gone searching for him if she hadn’t tried to find the papers on her own son’s grandparents. Her mother had been the darling daughter of the mayor, the beloved princess, marrying the perfect man, Palmer’s father. Or so she’d been told. They’d been killed on vacation overseas, leaving Palmer to be raised by her PopPop and MeMaw. She’d had a wonderful childhood with everything a girl could ask for. Until she’d met and married a man her grandfather chose for her. At her age, she still felt like the naïve debutante she’d been raised to be.

  “Well, that girl was gone.” Or rather she’d been beaten down.

  The hair on her arms rose, memories of her wedding night had her lunch threatening to come back up. Every girl dreamt of being swept off their feet. Of giving themselves to a knight in shining armor, or at least she had foolishly believed in fairy tales where things like that happened. Of course, her PopPop and MeMaw had fostered those hopes and dreams with her, telling her how important it was to save herself for the right man. She’d only truly wanted one man her entire life. Ever since she’d seen Silas DeMarcus lying on some rocks by the river, naked as the day he’d been born, her heart and her young body had yearned for him. Well, if she were being honest, her teenage heart had already wept for him.

  She scrubbed a tired hand down her face. The hair she’d always kept long growing up was now short, barely reaching her shoulders. Since she’d had Jaxson, it had been eas
ier to manage, and gave Thomas less to hold onto if she didn’t have the heavy mass hanging down her back. Another shiver wracked her frame as images tried to encroach in the daylight hours. She’d worked to bury those horrifying nights. Once she’d fallen pregnant, Thomas had eased up on his abuse. Physically anyhow. His verbal assault didn’t stop until he’d driven himself and his lover into a tree at a rate of speed that ensured there were no survivors.

  Looking over at the little boy who looked like the spitting image of her, she tried to work up a little sadness for the loss of the man she’d thought she cared for. Loved? No, she hadn’t loved Thomas Kincaid. At first, she’d liked him. He’d been nice, handsome, and had seemed to genuinely care for her. All that had ended the night of the honeymoon. At twenty-eight, Palmer had finished college, started a career in design, and planned to do so much with her life that didn’t include marriage. Sure, she’d had a couple of boyfriends, but silly morals had kept her from going the distance with them. How stupid and foolish of her, thinking it would be special to give that one thing to her future husband.

  She got up from her perch, the need to check on her precious child almost overwhelming like it had been since the day she’d found out she was carrying him. “No matter what happened, you were worth it.”

  Goosebumps rose on her arms as she thought about the first time with her husband. Thomas had been angry that she hadn’t been experienced instead of pleased.

  “You’re a virgin? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” He glared at her.

  Palmer recoiled as if he’d hit her. “What do you mean? It’s no big deal, Thomas. I just thought you should know...I mean, I thought you’d be pleased. We never did it before we were married. I assumed you knew.”