by Deja Voss
Lean In
Royal Bastards MC: Pittsburgh PA
Deja Voss
Copyright © 2020 by Deja Voss
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Royal Bastards Code
Royal Bastards MC Second Run
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Royal Bastards Code
ROYAL BASTARDS CODE
PROTECT: The club and your brothers come before anything else, and must be protected at all costs. CLUB is FAMILY.
RESPECT: Earn it & Give it. Respect club law. Respect the patch. Respect your brothers. Disrespect a member and there will be hell to pay.
HONOR: Being patched in is an honor, not a right. Your colors are sacred, not to be left alone, and NEVER let them touch the ground.
OL’ LADIES: Never disrespect a member’s or brother’s Ol’Lady. PERIOD.
CHURCH is MANDATORY.
LOYALTY: Takes precedence over all, including well-being.
HONESTY: Never LIE, CHEAT, or STEAL from another member or the club.
TERRITORY: You are to respect your brother’s property and follow their Chapter’s club rules.
TRUST: Years to earn it...seconds to lose it.
NEVER RIDE OFF: Brothers do not abandon their family.
Royal Bastards MC Second Run
COMING SOON!
E.C. Land: Cyclone of Chaos
Chelle C. Craze & Eli Abbot: Ghoul
Scarlett Black: Ice
Elizabeth Knox: Rely On Me
J.L. Leslie: Worth the Risk
Deja Voss: Lean In
Khloe Wren: Blaze of Honor
Misty Walker: Birdie’s Biker
J. Lynn Lombard: Capone’s Chaos
Ker Dukey: Rage
Crimson Syn: Scarred By Pain
M. Merin: Declan
Elle Boon: Royally F**ked
Rae B. Lake: Death and Paradise
K Webster: Copper
Glenna Maynard: Tempting the Biker
K.L. Ramsey: Whiskey Tango
Kristine Allen: Angel
Nikki Landis:Devil’s Ride
KE Osborn: Luring Light
CM Genovese: Pipe Dreams
Nicole James: Club Princess
Shannon Youngblood: Leather & Chrome
Erin Trejo: Unbreak Me
Winter Travers: Six Gun
Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty: Broken Ties
Jax Hart: Desert Rose
Royal Bastards MC Facebook Group - https://www.facebook.com/groups/royalbastardsmc/
Links can be found in our Website: www.royalbastardsmc.com
Foreword
Full disclaimer… I bleed black and yellow.
I was brought up in Pittsburgh, and I didn’t think it was right to write a book about the city I love without a heaping dose of ‘yinz,’ ‘jagoffs’ Primantis, pierogis, and maybe a little Donnie Iris.
If you know, you know. :)
Chapter One
Lean:
“You wanted to see me, boss?” Bags stands in the doorway of my office. It’s luau night at Bella Donna’s Gentlemen’s club, and the 6’3 giant is decked out in a dorky Hawaiian shirt, looking more like a tourist than a prospect for the Royal Bastards. He’s one of the best bartenders in the whole city, makes us lots of money, but there’s a reason why he hasn’t been patched in yet.
Something about this smooth talking, bullshitting joker never sat right with me, and I think I can finally put my finger on why.
I crack my knuckles, one by one, staring him in the eye. The look on his face is more confusion than fear. Either he’s a damn good actor, or I got the wrong guy.
I never have the wrong guy. My intuition is about the only thing I have going for me, and I know a rat when I see one.
“Shut the door behind you,” I say. He walks into my office and sits down in the folding chair across from my desk with a groan.
“My feet are fucking killing me. Gonna be a good night for the drawer,” he says, tapping out a cigarette from his pack and lighting it up.
His feet are about to be the least of his concerns.
I reach into my desk drawer and pull out a baggie of white powder, slamming it down in front of him.
“Dude, what are you doing with that?” he asks. “You’re not falling off the wagon, are you brother?”
“Don’t fucking call me brother,” I growl. “You think you can come in here and step on our business? You think I wasn’t gonna find out? I always find out, Bags.”
“Woah, woah,” he says, raising his hands in the air. I pull my knife out of my pocket and stab it into the bag, spilling the cocaine all over the desk. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You think this shit is mine? You’re outta your Goddamn mind. I know how it works around here.”
“That’s not what Destiny said.” I yank the knife out of the baggie and clench it in my fist, letting him know I’m not afraid to use it if I have to. “You know what happens to motherfuckers who think they can steal from the club!”
The rules are pretty clear around here. No outside drugs. It’s for the girls’ safety and ours. We can’t afford to have bitches overdosing on the pole. They want to party, we aren’t gonna stop them, but anything they use on our property comes from us and us alone.
“Destiny? She’s a fucking skank, Lean,” he says. “You trust her skinny ass over me? What the fuck she ever done for you other than shake her tits in your face?”
“You didn’t sell this to her?” I ask. I’m still not convinced. He’s a little too cocky, a little too confident for a guy who’s sponsor is pointing a knife at him.
“I’m sick of this shit, Lean. Every time something goes sideways, you point the finger at me. You been my sponsor for how long and you still come at me with this tired stuff?”
“You swear on your life you did not sell this to Destiny?” I ask.
“I swear on the motherfucking patch.” He stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray and leans over the desk, his face right up in mine. “Bring her in here. Let’s see if she’ll say it to my face.”
I stand up from my desk and walk over to the closet, swinging the door open. Destiny’s arms are bound behind her back, and her mascara is running down her face in big black streaks as I pull the gag out of her mouth. She gasps for air and quickly begins sobbing, and Bags’ eyes grow wide.
“He telling the truth, blondie?” I ask, pulling her up from the floor. I wasn’t p
lanning on hurting her, but throwing false accusations around about my brothers isn’t something I accept from anybody, let alone somebody on my payroll.
“Fuck you, Lean. I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t untie me, you fucking psychopath.”
“That’s strike two, baby,” I say. “Look me in the eye and tell me Bags sold you the drugs.”
“You’re gonna kill him. Then you’re gonna kill me. Bags! Go get help. He’s lost his fucking mind,” she squeals. Maybe in the past her sheer terror would’ve done something for me. The catch in her voice is exactly the kind of thing that drove me wild back when I was a young buck. Now it’s just obnoxious. I have five other clubs to hit tonight, and I don’t have time for some junkie hoe histrionics.
“It’s your call, Bags. I don’t want to fucking slice anybody over a couple grams of powder, but what kind of message would I be sending if I let this slide?” I grab her by the hair and hold the knife right up to her throat, pressing it into her ever so lightly.
“Well that shit definitely ain’t mine,” he says with a casual shrug.
“Is that the truth?” I whisper in her ear. Her heart is pumping so hard, I can feel it through her ribcage.
“They were gonna kill me. I had to do it,” she says, her eyes wide with terror. “I didn’t know what else to say. You backed me into a corner.”
“So you blame it on poor old Bags?” I let her go entirely, and she falls to the ground with a thump, a pathetic pile of fake blonde hair and glitter.
“Told ya!” he says, pumping his fist in the air.
Rowdy throws the office door open. He’s huffing so hard you’d think was in the middle of running a marathon or some shit. “We have a fucking emergency. I need a medic on stage two. It’s Ginny.” He takes off running down the hallway.
I rush over to my computer screen and look at the security camera on stage 2. Gin is laying there on the ground, her eyes empty as Rowdy drops down next to her. “I’ll deal with you later,” I say to Destiny as I take off running to the stage.
The music keeps playing, and the lights are still low, but everyone in the strip club is gathered around the stage, and most of the girls have come out from the dressing room to form a circle around her. Rowdy drapes his cut over her body, and tears begin to run down his face as he feels for a pulse.
My heart races as I try to figure out what the fuck to do. Ginny’s a good girl. I don’t want to lose her. I know my dad is going to blow a gasket when he finds out I have a dancer dying in front of a crowd’s eyes, and I have no idea how I’m gonna fix this.
Bags rushes past me and pulls a thing of nasal spray out of his pocket, shoving it up her nose. She starts screaming and foaming at the mouth as Rowdy scoops her up and rushes her offstage. I turn to the crowd of dancers standing there gasping and shrieking.
“Everybody get the fuck out of here,” I shout. “Nothing to see here.”
Before the DJ can even stop the music, my phone rings in my pocket.
I hurry up and answer, worrying that my dad might be watching the security cameras from his office at the clubhouse. Instead, I hear a woman laughing on the other line.
“Do I have your attention now?” she asks.
“Who the fuck is this?” I step onstage and start ushering girls into the dressing room, my phone cradled in my shoulder. “I don’t have time for games.”
“Seems like you don’t have time for much of anything. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for a month now. My brother and I have something you and the club might be very interested in. I’ve tried calling, texting, I even emailed you, Lean.”
My blood runs cold when I realize I’m talking to Catarina Gallo, the infamous daughter of Pittsburgh Mafioso Guilio Gallo.
“You know, you really should invest in a secretary. Or learn to answer your phone.”
“We don’t want whatever you’re selling, and if this girl fucking dies, there’s going to be blood like you’ve never experienced, Catarina,” I say as quietly as I can, trying not to draw attention to myself.
“You don’t want a casino tag?” she asks. “I heard through the grapevine you’ve been in the market.”
Mother fucker.
We’ve been trying to get our hands on a casino tag for as long as our chapter has existed. Washing money has always been our thing, and having a casino would streamline our operation massively. Unfortunately, with a history of crime like ours, the city hasn’t exactly been eager to hand one over to us, even though we’re more than willing to pay.
“Calm the fuck down, Lean. The girl will be fine. Just let her sleep it off. And come and meet with me and Stefano tomorrow at noon at the house. Bring your father. I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” she says in her best Don Corleone voice before cracking up, obviously delighted with herself.
“I’ll think about it,” I say and hang up on her. A casino tag would be life changing for the club, but these people are obviously unhinged. They also deal in skins, which is something we want no parts of no matter how depraved shit gets around here. In our book, traffickers are the lowest of low, and aligning ourselves with an organization known for that isn’t worth any cost.
“You alright, Gin?” I ask the redhead, who’s laying on a couch, shivering and sweating at the same time. Rowdy tips a water bottle to her lips and she sucks it thirstily down. “The fuck were you thinking?”
“Leave her alone,” Rowdy says. He looks like he’s got murder on his mind, and I don’t take a step closer to her. “How the fuck was she supposed to know?”
“I gotta go,” I mutter, taking his cue. For whatever reason he’s got a soft spot for her, and I don’t feel like getting my head ripped off. He’s a trained medic, so I know he has shit under control on the Gin front, and as our secretary, he’s definitely one of our more responsible brothers. “Get everybody out of here and shut it down for the night. Make sure Gin isn’t alone tonight. If anything happens to her, you call me.”
“What’ going on?” Rowdy asks. “Is there something I need to know?”
“We’ll talk in the morning. Not the place or the time.”
I walk through the club, which looks even more depressing with the lights on and the music off and nobody filling the chairs. It just looks straight up dirty and sad. It’s me and my father’s empire of filth without the smoke and mirrors.
“Bags, I’m sorry,” I mutter as I push past him outside into the night. No apologies ever is a mantra my old man hasn’t been able to drill into me, but I know I fucked up. I don’t wait to listen to his answer, just hop on my trusty old Indian Scout and disappear into the Steel City.
Chapter Two
Lean:
I walk through the door, and everybody in the clubhouse stops what they’re doing and looks right at me like they’ve just seen a ghost.
My old man, Bruiser DeCico is hunkered down at his normal spot at the bar, glass of bourbon on one hand, some random club slut’s ass in the other. He doesn’t say a word to me as I pull up a stool next to him, just sneers.
I can tell by the feeling in the air everybody knows exactly what happened at Bella Donna’s, but I’m pretty sure nobody has any idea why. That phone call between me and Catarina is weighing heavy on my mind.
“You having a beer, love?” Jewel asks, holding up a bottle in front of me. She shoots me a wink and licks her bright pink painted on lips. “You want something stronger?” It’s not lost on me the way she’s arching her back and batting her big fake eyelashes, but I’m not trying to slide into her tonight.
“I gotta talk to you, Bruiser. In private. Now.”
“Son, do you know how many times in all my years this shit has happened? You think you can trust these hoes? They’re a dime a fucking dozen, ain’t they sweetie?” The girl next to him giggles with a shrill laugh. “Stella here will happily take her place.”
“Gin isn’t some random hoe, dad. And this wasn’t some random shit.” As I stand up from the bar, I kick my stool halfway across
the room without even realizing it. I’m on edge, and apparently it’s going right over my old man’s head.
“I’m a little busy,” he says with a laugh before burying his face in between Stella’s tits. I know it’s all for show. Cool, calm, collected, don’t give a fuck about anybody but himself until it’s too late and he snaps, that’s always been his way of dealing with business. That’s why he’s one of the most feared men in the tristate area. You don’t ever know when that switch is gonna flip.
“Now,” I growl. I take off for the war room, and Lazarus, my best friend and Sargent at Arms follows hot on my heels.
“You alright? Gin alright? Everything under control?”
I nod and press my fingers to my temples, trying to alleviate some of the pressure building up inside my skull. I’m pissed at Destiny for betraying us, pissed at Gin for being so reckless, and most of all, I’m pissed at myself for letting it get to this point. At the end of the day all this is on my hands.
At the end of the day, acting like my father got us in a world of shit, and the only light at the end of the tunnel is potentially making a deal with the devil and getting our casino tag once and for all.