by Elle Boon
Doc looked at the blood on his hands, then at Duke. “I deserved that. You mistreat her though, and I don’t give a shit how tough you are, I’ll come for you.”
Duke stood back up, holding his hand out. “Then we’ll have no problem.” He waited for Doc to take his hand. Finally, the other man slapped his hand in his allowing him to pull him to his feet.
“You didn’t have to hit me in the nose, fucker.” Doc put both hands on either side of his nose, grunting as he straightened what Duke had broken. “Damn, that hurt.”
“Want me to get you some ice?” Lennox asked.
They both turned toward her, noticing Traeger had stepped up beside her. Duke was sure the other man was prepared to hold her back if shit had gone sideways. “Baby, go in the kitchen and get a wet towel for your dad.”
As she nodded, hurrying to do as he said, Doc sighed. “Yeah, I’d say it’s a done deal. So school is over for her, huh?”
Duke shrugged. “I told her whatever she wanted to do I’d stand with her.”
The door opened at the same time as Lennox came back out. Keys shook his head, laughing. “Seriously, brother, I agree with Ayesha. You would make YouTube gold if I allowed her to put video footage of that shit online. Luckily for all of us, there was a malfunction in my system. Damndest thing happened right about that time, too. Lost fifteen minutes like poof, gone.” He shook his head.
King laughed from his spot in the corner with Ayesha in his lap. “That is a shame. It was epic, brother. Where you off to, Keys?”
Duke eyed the duffel Keys had dropped near the door. Shit, his brother didn’t miss a thing, and he was pretty sure Keys was lying ‘cause his system never fucks up, but Duke was happy his friend was covering his ass, again.
Keys scratched his jaw, looking in the corner at King. “Church?” he nodded at the closed door.
Cosmo came in from the back hallway looking tired, his usual smile missing. “I can’t stay here another night, King. Too fucking loud, too small of a space, and fuck, too many motherfuckers I want to kill.”
He looked behind him, snapping his mouth shut.
“You can watch my place while I take care of some business,” Keys offered.
“Church.” King stood up, settling Ayesha on her feet. “Be good until I get back.”
Duke kissed Lennox. “Hang out with your dad for a few. Don’t let Ayesha talk you into anything while I’m gone.” He pointed at King’s ole lady. “You behave.”
Ayesha pointed her finger at Duke. “You just made me think of Austin Powers in one of those movies where he’s a spy. Wait, I’m kidding.” She backed up as Duke took a step toward her.
He followed King and the others into the room, closing the door on King’s ole lady’s laughter. “She’s a brat, brother.”
King sat back with a smile. “I know,” he agreed. His brother rubbed his hands together like he was planning all the things he was going to do with Ayesha later.
“What’s going on Keys?” Traeger asked.
Keys sat his backpack down next to the chair at the opposite end of the table. Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms, staring straight ahead. “I’ll be gone for a week, maybe two. Cosmo and his girl can bunk at my place. I was coming here to see if one of you would watch my dogs for me. Moana’s a good mama, no problems there, but Maui is a fucking dick to anyone who comes near them. I figure any of you guys could come in and make sure they got food and water and shit. You know make sure they’re happy.”
“Shut the fuck up. Tell us what the hell is going on?” King sat forward.
Duke was watching his friend, eyeing the way he was looking at the backpack like he was ready to bolt. “Level with us, brother. You know none of us go on a run without someone watching our back.” Even when he’d gone to NY on what was essentially a killing mission, he had Keys and F.O.C.U.S along with The Bishop backing him. Keys was out of his mind if he thought none of them would have his back.
“This ain’t a run, Duke. It ain’t about club business.” He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “Don’t ask me to tell you what’s happening or why I’m leaving. I...shit.” He shoved away from the table.
“Keys, when I left did I just hop on a plane and say fuck off, assholes, I got shit to handle? No, because that’s not how we do it. Yeah, I left my cut behind, so I didn’t drag my brothers down with me if I’d have fucked shit up, but I was smart. Shut up, King.” Duke didn’t look at his brother as he spoke. “You want to go all Rambo and shit, by all means go right ahead, but you remember your oath.”
“First thing, Rambo was in the Army. While I respect that branch, they are not and never will be a SEAL, HOOYAH,” he yelled.
“See, that shit makes no sense to me either. What the fuck is the difference?” Duke asked.
“Fuck that, man. Let’s get back to what matters and that’s this fucker running off like he’s a one-man whatever SEAL shit.” King pointed an accusing finger at him. “You took an oath when you put that cut on. You may have gone through hell for our country, which I respect you and all our men and women for. I’ve seen your tattoo, brother. The Creed means a lot to you. I asked you if that was going to interfere with club business, and you said no. Our oath, brotherhood, and loyalty to our club comes first. You said yes. Are you saying you’re turning your back on us?”
“King, he’s not doing that. Keys, tell him,” Duke argued.
Keys shook his head. “You know it’s not, and you know I’m not. Fucking A, man.” Keys turned away. His fist flew toward the wall. “I’m going back to the last place on Earth I ever wanted to see again.”
Duke looked to King, seeing if he had a clue as to where that was. They’d known Keys had been in the SEALs since he’d been eighteen, his home in Coronado where the Navy base had been. As for friends, he’d been somewhat of a loner, which was kind of odd since most SEALs tended to be close. King had met Keys at Tymber’s tattoo shop, Twisted Ink, when they’d both been getting inked. Ember, the other artist had been working on Keys while Tymber was doing a piece for King. Duke could still remember riding up and seeing a bike parked next to King’s that he hadn’t recognized. His first thought had been Tymber got a new ride, but then he’d found out it was Keys. Once they’d started talking, it became clear Keys needed a purpose, and well, he’d been a good fit for their club.
“I thought you were from California, brother?” Traeger asked.
Keys looked at his fist, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “This is where my life started, out here in California. Missouri is where my other life ended.”
Read on for a look at Keys book in the Royal Bastards!
Thank You
Thank you for reading Royally Treasured! I hope you loved it!
Did you enjoy meeting Duke and Lennox? I am so excited to introduce you to these characters and the stories they have to tell. I can’t wait to introduce you to the Royal Bastards MC.
I’d love for you to meet Keys and Palmer. Ah, Keys was one of those characters that surprised even me as I began writing him and his heroine Palmer is one I absolutely adore. Their story is one I ripped from the headlines, twisted, turned, and made it mine. You will hopefully fall for them and their story as well as want to kick some redneck ass like I did.
You can also join my Facebook group, Boon’s Bombshells, to discuss all things Elle Boon books and see what’s going on or coming up in my book world.
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Now, turn the page to read an excerpt from Royally Broken set to release in June...
Royally Broken
Coming June 2nd
“Did you ever think about ringing the bell?”
Keys looked over at the man who spoke. “Hell no, man. I don’t even know where the bell is. Do you?”
> His visitor gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. I remember the first day of training when the instructor brought the fucking bell to class. We were all so cocksure none of us would ring it. I was the sixth one to get up-close and personal with it.”
“You look like you did alright.” Keys stared at the guy in his three-piece suit, looking as if he’d never seen death other than on a TV screen.
“I decided becoming a lawyer was a better option for me not to mention safer all around.” He lifted a shoulder. “Do you remember anything about your last mission?” He tapped the manilla folder on the table.
Keys looked at the folder then back at the lawyer. “Nope. I said all I had to say to my Commanding Officer. It’s all in there.” He nodded toward the folder, knowing exactly what they were doing. This dude was here trying to make like he was his friend. Keys didn’t have any fucking friends. He glanced up at the camera in the corner. They probably had a couple of psych fucks watching every nuance he made, thinking he would make some move that would show them he was a killer or had somehow killed his entire team. They could watch until their eyes bled. He hadn’t done a damn thing wrong except live. An ache in his shoulder threatened to make him move, but he held completely still. The fact he’d sustained a head injury and three bullets that should’ve killed him, with the body of his best friend covering him, hiding the fact he was alive when the enemy had swept through their camp, was a miracle. He and TMan had been playing cards when all hell had erupted around them.
“The physician who treated you said you might remember once the swelling went down. It’s been two weeks. Don’t you want to find who killed your friends?”
The question was asked casually, but there was no doubt it was supposed to make him feel something. He’d been trained to not show weakness from the time he was a kid. The SEALs had only sharpened those skills, making him a trained killer. Of course, he didn’t tell this suit that or show those watching. Nope, he sat straight, back against the hospital bed with his arms resting on the sheet while he stared at the man, blinking every five seconds, which was a second longer than the average person.
“Silas, help me out here, man. I only want to find those responsible for killing our men, your team, but we need your help.” He held his hands up as if showing Keys.
He wanted to snort at the man. He hadn’t been called his given name since the first day at BUDS training. “Look, if I could remember what the fuck happened, I’d be the first on a plane back there.” Of course he knew that was a lie. Medically discharged was his new label. He was officially out. Out of the military, a place he’d found somewhere he belonged, the team he’d called brothers gone. He was alone again, and he needed to regroup. Keys didn’t know who had betrayed them. Their location had been secure. Their mission wasn’t dangerous, this time. Hell, they’d been helping the community not swooping in and fucking shit up.
“We done here?” he asked, keeping his voice level. If anyone was looking at him, which he knew there were probably a half a dozen fuckers watching, they’d see a relaxed soldier.
The lawyer glanced toward the camera, then back at the folder. “You don’t care about being discharged?”
“My time was up. Besides, a medical discharge isn’t a bad thing. I got a metal plate in the head, a couple more scars to add to my body, and a bullet lodged in here to keep for a souvenir.” He pointed at his shoulder. “Not like ringing the bell before even getting out of training,” he said, waiting to see if the suit flinched. If he’d truly wanted to be a SEAL his dig would’ve made him flinch or made him react in some way. Nothing. Yeah, he probably had a notebook on how to rattle the cage or befriend a man. Dumbass, you don’t become a friend with a SEAL by sitting across from them.
“That’s it for now. You planning on sticking around base while you heal?” He looked toward Keys’ chest.
He didn’t move a muscle except to blink and breath as if pain wasn’t wracking his body from the wounds he’d sustained. “Sounds reasonable.” Keys didn’t say anymore. Let them think what they wanted. His discharge papers from the hospital were already signed. He was waiting for the whole wheelchair shitshow to be brought in so he could leave.
“Good, good.” He picked up the folder tapping it on the table again. “Well, I guess that’s it then. If we have any other questions, we’ll be in touch.” He stood up, chair scraping loudly.
Keys nodded, looked at the hand the other man held out, then at the camera. Whoever was there watching could suck his dick, but again, Keys kept all emotion from his face and body language. With a nod toward the unseen observers, he shook the man’s hand firmly, knowing he hadn’t expected Keys to have any strength after a couple weeks of being laid up in a hospital bed. After the door slid shut behind him, he sat there, silently. Finally, he turned to the side, swinging his legs over, getting to his feet. Folded on the chair was a black shirt and cargo pants along with a pair of socks and boots. He didn’t waste time going to the bathroom to dress. Modesty wasn’t a thing in his world. Once he was clothed he stared at the camera again, still not showing any discomfort. The door slid open; his chariot having arrived. He looked at the wheelchair the nurse had brought in. “Can I walk beside that thing?” He gave her a charming grin?”
“Afraid not. Come on, I’ll make it fun.” She waved toward the chair.
Keys picked up his bag of stuff, since he’d already packed before the suit showed up, sat down in the fucking chair, and plastered a smile on his face. “No wheelies.”
“I make no promises.” The door slid open as they came to it, and then he was being pushed out. He didn’t fidget or change his breathing pattern as they rolled toward the elevator. During his stint in the hospital, he’d walked the hall a few times as part of his rehab or whatever the fuck they’d called it.
“Is someone picking you up?” she asked.
Keys figured it was a normal question. “My cab should be outside.” He knew there would be one waiting since this was a busy area. At the lobby, she stopped just outside the revolving doors, giving him the opportunity to get up. “Thank you for the ride.” Keys didn’t give her the chance to protest his actions. Moving toward the exit, skipping the spinning doors, he grabbed the handle and pulled, exiting without a word, never looking back. As he walked outside, he wondered what the fuck he was going to do with his life.
Silas Demarcus had died in that jungle with his team. The man walking out wasn’t him, hadn’t truly been in years. He’d been their weapons and computers expert, the one who could hack into computers anywhere at any time.
Outside the building, he flagged a cab down, getting in without looking left or right. Out of habit, he went on the notion he’d have a tail.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Keys looked at the traffic ahead. “Can you get us lost in the flow of all this shit, and then I’ll decide?”
“Sure thing, mister. You running from your wife or girlfriend?” He pulled into traffic, signaling as he did.
“Something like that,” Keys agreed, lifting his cellphone so he could look through it to watch behind him without turning around. Several vehicles back, he noticed a sedan bob and weave in and out. “Can you take this exit right here?” he asked, knowing the driver would need to cross two lanes and possibly piss a couple other drivers off. He held a hundred dollar bill up he’d pulled out when he’d gotten in. Two long ass weeks he’d been laid up gave him enough time to get his go bag delivered to him. They’d trained him well.
“Yes, sir,” he agreed, jerking the wheel hard. If Keys hadn’t been braced, he’d have fallen over.
With the phone still held up, he saw the sedan pass by, the driver probably cursing a blue streak if they were indeed following him. “Hop back on up here would you?” Keys indicated the on ramp on the other side of the exit they’d taken.
Keys knew it was risky especially with the chance there was more than one tailing him. Paranoid maybe, but he didn’t survive this long without being cautious. Fifteen minutes later,
he instructed the driver to take another exit. He was good at starting over. At eighteen, he’d done it. At thirty, he’d do it again with money and skills he’d gained in the last twelve years.
“Right here.” He tapped the window.
After passing another hundred through to the man, Keys got out, lifting his hand as he walked away. Keys hustled to the nearest bus stop, making it in time just as the bus pulled up around the corner. In his black T-shirt and cargo pants, he fit in with the myriad of other passengers.
He sat back. Stop after stop, he rode as passengers got on and off. At the last stop, he got out and began walking, night had fallen, and the neighborhood was one of the worst in LA. He didn’t look at anyone as he made his way to where he was going. Hell there wasn’t a single person he passed who was more dangerous than he was. A chain link fence with barbed wire on the top came into view, two snarling dogs greeting him. “Hey, how are my friends?” he murmured, unlocking the gates with his key. He shut and locked the gates behind himself, petting the two hairy beasts walking beside him.
“Look what the dogs dragged in.” The sound of a shotgun being cocked had him stopping in his tracks.
Keys looked up at the old man standing on the rickety porch outside the trailer. “Hey, Burt. Just came to collect my stuff.” Keys stood with his hand on one of the dog’s head, the other he held ready to pull the knife strapped to his side. Old Burt might hold the gun at the ready, but Keys was pretty sure he could get his knife out and in the man’s throat before the bullet could find its mark.
“Why don’t you come on in for a minute?” Burt asked, holding the door open.
He’d gotten real good at knowing when things were off in a situation. Nothing was setting off his inner sensors telling him there was danger. He gave the dog a scratch, lifting his chin toward the gun. “You gonna put that away?”
“Ah shit, sorry.” He brought the gun down, popping it in half. “I’ve had some trouble lately.”