Crucifixed (Royal Bastards MC: NYC Book 2) B.B. Blaque (top romance novels .TXT) 📖

and all that shit. It’ll take some time before the deal’s sewn up, but I’ll make an offer and you can sleep on it. Capiche?”

A legit offer was further than we’d gotten up to that point. FOCUS was a big help, no doubt. For some reason, that big Irish prick had gotten himself into Redhook’s good graces and kept himself there. The Bishop made the introductions, but that didn’t mean FOCUS couldn’t have fucked shit up in ten seconds flat.

“Whatcha got for me? You know we want Brooklyn, so I won’t even try to downplay that shit and pretend we don’t.” He didn’t need to know the lengths we’d go to, but he could almost write his own ticket and we’d be on board with it. Havin’ Brooklyn meant bank, and if given by the old man, it meant even more. “What can we do to help make it happen? Shy of gettin’ down and lickin’ your balls, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

Redhook held up his rocks glass to the prospect and had a refill in a blink. He was as gnarly, Italian old school biker as I’d ever known. I hoped to have a quarter of his clout and the respect they give him when I’m his age. The mob has their guys; we got Redhook.

“Okay, kid, I’ll quit jugglin’ your balls and get to it. First, and I’ll just toss it into the ring so we both know where I stand, I’m an old fuck and ready to get outta the game up here. With you guys, I see a beautiful retirement package . . . like one of them 401K plans I hear about. I paid my dues into it as you very well know. I wanna be hands off . . . don’t need to know nothin’ about nothin’. I just wanna see money in my bank account every month. You guys can wash it all up nice-nice for me. We started a great thing with Santa Claus and the toy run, and I wanna keep goin’ with it.”

We’d sold some of our Five Points meth to the Malevolent in Indiana and Redhook had been happy with the product and money he was makin’ out there with it. I heard our cook is good, but since I can’t get near the shit anymore, I just take everyone’s word for it. The old man just saw dollar signs like I do.

“Yeah, it was a good start . . . I heard it through the grapevine that you were happy.” I tapped my glass and the bartender went to get me another drink. “Throw some numbers at me . . . you wanna slice off the top, no?”

“Of course, kid . . . that’s the idea. That ain’t all there is, so lemme get through it before we start doin’ math.” He lifted his glass to me and took a drag off his smoke. “I hear yas have a good business goin’ out west . . . don’t hold it against FOCUS for tellin’ me either. I have ears and eyes everywhere, and he just nailed down what I already knew. Little known fact about me . . . I’ve always had a special spot in my heart for the cinema . . . woulda been an actor when I got back from Nam if Graffiti and I hadn’t decided to split the coasts. That fuck isn’t good lookin’ enough, but look at this mug, I coulda had my name up in lights.”

Typical old New Yorker knew how to tell a story around whatever topic came up. Redhook probably woulda been able to do movies in the old days, but those days were gone. He was talkin’ about Royal Bastards Video, and we both knew it. I hoped with the mention of Graffiti he wasn’t tryin’ to hint to us lettin’ him in on shit. The two of those old school motherfuckers were like peanut butter and jelly, just like their kids, Colt and Kash. It was a recipe for those sons of bitches wantin’ to go full pie for full pie. Talk about bein’ on our knees with their nut-sacks in our mouths—a little teabag to go with our pizza. Fuck that.

“Okay . . . so ya wanna be a super star behind the camera, I’m guessin’. I’m sure that pie is big enough to go around. I can’t speak for the other chapters though, only our cut of the pizza. It’d be a cut of our cut, if you get my meanin’. We got the Rotten Apple girls and our own shit. That’s what made sense to us and would be all we could offer.”

None of it seemed unreasonable. A piece of the meth and the movies for all of Brooklyn. It coulda been much worse.

“Crucifix, just so ya know, I ain’t tryin’ to step on toes. I want my hands to stay squeaky clean. Not sure if my kid and those other two fucks, Kash and Sundown, are gonna wanna be involved at all in the skin flicks, but I want nothin’ to do with it.” He sipped at his scotch and looked off toward the door we’d come through earlier. “See that guy over there, Blitz? Good guy . . . solid . . . part of the deal is givin’ him this part of the chapter and lettin’ him stay on as president. Your chapter is gonna sorta inherit my guys, but they respect that southern ball-breaker over there. Might make the transition easier.”

I shook my head, wiped a hand over my mouth, and looked back to the military guy who’d let us in. Redhook had appointed him to his chapter, and now it was makin’ sense.

“Redhook, if I’m hearin’ you right, you want me to split the Rotten Apple chapter with Blitz in Brooklyn . . . like two chapters in one. I’ve never heard of