Crucifixed (Royal Bastards MC: NYC Book 2) B.B. Blaque (top romance novels .TXT) đ
- Author: B.B. Blaque
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Casket blew over the coffee and shook his head behind the mug. âYou sent her packinâ . . . okay, whatever . . . until the next time. Somethinâ about you and that nunâs snatch . . . I mean, Iâve heard youâre a beast in the sack, but to have a nun keep cominâ back to ride, thereâs gotta be some heavenly type shit goinâ on with your dick. Break the bad habit, brother. She fucks up your head and you ainât even Catholic no more.â
Heaven isnât where I woulda gone with it.
âSheâs gone . . . Iâm done with her. Iâll probably work out some of my demons with Candy later. I owe her for last night.â I owe her in more ways than one. âDonât I have a meetinâ with Redhook today? Or am I mistaken, which is highly possible.â
We were so close to gettinâ Brooklyn, but Redhook had some stipulations and we were all ears. Since FOCUS wasnât in town, it was up to me and Casket to have the sit down. Redhook hated Rattler and he wasnât allowed in the old manâs visual field. Just as well, I wasnât in the mood for his loudmouth bullshit. Redhook would kill him without a thought if he got loud. Not goinâ was probably savinâ his life.
âYeah, thatâs the plan. Head over to Brooklyn in a little while and try to sew shit up. I gotta bail as soon as weâre done, though. My mother has some kinda thing goinâ on out on Long Island and the BQE is gonna be jammed by the time weâre outta there. The Expressway will be even worse.â
I was fine ridinâ alone back to the City. It wasnât a big deal and we were goinâ to talk to the old man. There ainât gonna be a problem with colors and me ridinâ alone in Brooklyn. Itâs gonna be Bastardsâ territory soon. Thank you, Redhook.
A couple hours later, Casket and I were rollinâ across the Brooklyn Bridge. We had no idea what he was gonna want for the only borough we didnât 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 feelinâ. Things were gonna change.
âWhat do ya think he wants? He canât want one of the other boroughs back . . . I mean, weâve 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.â
I slid off the bike and lit a smoke with a huff. âNah, he donât want any territory back. Heâs unloadinâ shit and movinâ to Florida with his kid. FOCUS saw him not too long ago. Itâs all good.â
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 doinâ, just that it had to do with helpinâ out Redhookâs son. It wasnât Bastardsâ business, but FOCUS said Jameson let âem borrow some secluded place we got outside of New Orleans.
âWell, I guess we wonât find out sittinâ here playinâ with our dicks.â Casket walked away from his bike and rang the buzzer on the gate.
One of the guys, Blitz, came out and let us in. Heâs ex-military and looks the part. Word had it that heâd been transplanted, on purpose, from somewhere down south. Weâd met once before and he seemed decent enough.
âHey, yâall . . . Redhookâs waitinâ on ya in the bar.â Blitz walked us in and we went through a few doors before we saw the old man sittinâ on a stool. We were early and so was he. He was flinginâ his dick so weâd feel a little offkilter when we got into their place. Iâd 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.
âWell, lookie here if it ainât the two Bastards who are a royal pain in my ass! Good to see yas!â His Brooklyn accent was worse than mine and his voice sounded like heâd been garglinâ with asphalt. âJust when I thought it couldnât get any worse with FOCUS and the Malevolent Musketeers down in Florida, and you two come walkinâ in. How ya been, Crucifix?â
âNot bad . . . just got back in town from the land where bleach-blonde tits and ass grow offa palm trees.â I pulled up a seat and swallowed hard thinkinâ about Fi. âHow bad could I be, right?â
How bad could I be? Lemme count the ways.
âCasket, pull up a stool and get yourself a drink . . . yell at prospect to get a couple for us too.â He turned to me and took a drag off a smoke. âYou look hungry, kid. You wanna get a slice of that Brooklyn pizza pie, dontcha?â
Casket pulled up a seat and the guy behind the bar brought a round for Redhook and me. I laughed. âWho wants a slice when I can have the whole pie? Thatâs what weâre doinâ here right?â
The old man took a mouthful of his drink and smiled. âYeah, kid. Thatâs exactly what weâre doinâ. Figurinâ out the terms and conditions
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