Crucifixed (Royal Bastards MC: NYC Book 2) by B.B. Blaque (best books to read for self development .TXT) 📕

poured some half and half and a mountain of sugar into my coffee and talked while I stirred. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I sent her packin’ this mornin’, and before you crawl up my ass and ream me a new one . . . yeah . . . she showed up. I pounded the livin’ fuck outta her and left marks that’ll probably be there when she dies. A goin’ away present you could say. I just need to get my head right.”

Casket blew over the coffee and shook his head behind the mug. “You sent her packin’ . . . okay, whatever . . . until the next time. Somethin’ about you and that nun’s snatch . . . I mean, I’ve heard you’re a beast in the sack, but to have a nun keep comin’ back to ride, there’s gotta be some heavenly type shit goin’ on with your dick. Break the bad habit, brother. She fucks up your head and you ain’t even Catholic no more.”

Heaven isn’t where I woulda gone with it.

“She’s gone . . . I’m done with her. I’ll probably work out some of my demons with Candy later. I owe her for last night.” I owe her in more ways than one. “Don’t I have a meetin’ with Redhook today? Or am I mistaken, which is highly possible.”

We were so close to gettin’ Brooklyn, but Redhook had some stipulations and we were all ears. Since FOCUS wasn’t in town, it was up to me and Casket to have the sit down. Redhook hated Rattler and he wasn’t allowed in the old man’s visual field. Just as well, I wasn’t in the mood for his loudmouth bullshit. Redhook would kill him without a thought if he got loud. Not goin’ was probably savin’ his life.

“Yeah, that’s the plan. Head over to Brooklyn in a little while and try to sew shit up. I gotta bail as soon as we’re done, though. My mother has some kinda thing goin’ on out on Long Island and the BQE is gonna be jammed by the time we’re outta there. The Expressway will be even worse.”

I was fine ridin’ alone back to the City. It wasn’t a big deal and we were goin’ to talk to the old man. There ain’t gonna be a problem with colors and me ridin’ alone in Brooklyn. It’s gonna be Bastards’ territory soon. Thank you, Redhook.

A couple hours later, Casket and I were rollin’ across the Brooklyn Bridge. We had no idea what he was gonna want for the only borough we didn’t have, but we were pretty much ready to do whatever it took. We pulled up in front of the Malevolent clubhouse and I got a good feelin’. Things were gonna change.

“What do ya think he wants? He can’t want one of the other boroughs back . . . I mean, we’ve had Queens and Staten Island for years. The Bronx was a hard sell, but we got that and the City. Jersey has always been ours, like since the beginning of time.”

I slid off the bike and lit a smoke with a huff. “Nah, he don’t want any territory back. He’s unloadin’ shit and movin’ to Florida with his kid. FOCUS saw him not too long ago. It’s all good.”

FOCUS left me and Tombie in L.A. with Nixx while he took a trip with The Bishop down south. Not sure what they were doin’, just that it had to do with helpin’ out Redhook’s son. It wasn’t Bastards’ business, but FOCUS said Jameson let ‘em borrow some secluded place we got outside of New Orleans.

“Well, I guess we won’t find out sittin’ here playin’ with our dicks.” Casket walked away from his bike and rang the buzzer on the gate.

One of the guys, Blitz, came out and let us in. He’s ex-military and looks the part. Word had it that he’d been transplanted, on purpose, from somewhere down south. We’d met once before and he seemed decent enough.

“Hey, y’all . . . Redhook’s waitin’ on ya in the bar.” Blitz walked us in and we went through a few doors before we saw the old man sittin’ on a stool. We were early and so was he. He was flingin’ his dick so we’d feel a little offkilter when we got into their place. I’d done the move myself. It was a power thing, and we all knew how it went. Redhook had probably played it more than anyone on the East Coast. He was as old school as ya could get.

“Well, lookie here if it ain’t the two Bastards who are a royal pain in my ass! Good to see yas!” His Brooklyn accent was worse than mine and his voice sounded like he’d been garglin’ with asphalt. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse with FOCUS and the Malevolent Musketeers down in Florida, and you two come walkin’ in. How ya been, Crucifix?”

“Not bad . . . just got back in town from the land where bleach-blonde tits and ass grow offa palm trees.” I pulled up a seat and swallowed hard thinkin’ about Fi. “How bad could I be, right?”

How bad could I be? Lemme count the ways.

“Casket, pull up a stool and get yourself a drink . . . yell at prospect to get a couple for us too.” He turned to me and took a drag off a smoke. “You look hungry, kid. You wanna get a slice of that Brooklyn pizza pie, dontcha?”

Casket pulled up a seat and the guy behind the bar brought a round for Redhook and me. I laughed. “Who wants a slice when I can have the whole pie? That’s what we’re doin’ here right?”

The old man took a mouthful of his drink and smiled. “Yeah, kid. That’s exactly what we’re doin’. Figurin’ out the terms and conditions