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

I stood, walked by the tomb, and over to Father Lombardi. “Look at ya, Father . . . hangin’ out like the piece of shit you’ve always been. You didn’t have a lot to do with shit way back when . . . ya kinda stepped into the fire by accident and pretended like there was nothin’ goin on. Maybe you couldn’t have done much, but this shit ya got goin’ on here . . . sellin’ nuns to rich motherfuckers . . . Father . . . I guess they sent you to the right place alongside that child-rapin’ cunt, Sister Antoinette. You were just as much to blame as the rest of ‘em who were involved and I know there were others. You’ll meet up with ‘em in Hell.”

It was time for FOCUS to come in and deal with Lombardi. I didn’t have time for all three of ‘em, and that hillbilly fuck needed to get his hands dirty enough to wash off the stench of L.A. plastic. I sent him a text and went back to the two I was most interested in. The bitch who kicked the first ball into motion and the little pussy-ass motherfucker who’d gotten me kicked out.

Time to go to church.

I pulled the lid of the tomb over and turned it to the side so I’d have a bridge to sit on. Just like I thought, Sean Foley was inside, shakin’ in his shoes. I plopped the red bow onto his head and laughed. “Look at what a piece of shit you’ve turned out to be. Ass-lickin’ pansy back in the day, and a lyin’ scumbag pussy peddler now. I mean, we run girls, yeah, but we don’t pretend to be somethin’ we ain’t. We don’t sell bitches against their will.”

The Royal Bastards do a lot of shit. We make our money off drugs and chicks and everyone knows it. The cops are in our pockets or try to build cases they never win. Girls come to us for employment and protection. We do what we do with the drugs, and it is what it is. Other than occasionally coercing a chick into working for us—like Nixx—they line up to be on our stage and we gotta turn a bunch away. We give ‘em safety and we all make money. No matter how dirty our hands get, we’d never do what those sons of bitches were doin’.

“I think you’ll all be proud . . . I’ve been gone from the church for a long fuckin’ time, but I still remember how shit goes. I might be a little rusty . . . but I think I remember how to do last rites. Okay, not exactly, but my own version.” I hoped off the tomb and rubbed my hands together. “What do ya say? Should I give it a shot?”

“Wow, yank! I heard you were havin’ a shindig down here. I hope I didn’t miss anything good y’all were up to.” FOCUS was already yellin’ as he came walkin’ in. “Which one’s mine?”

I shook my head over to Father Lombardi. “That one. Gimme a sec first and then he’s all you, bro’.”

My hand went into my vest pocket. I pulled out the flask and walked over to face the priest.

“Ya know, you’re a scumbag, but I woulda let you live if you weren’t part of this monstrosity. Too bad . . . ya coulda skated.” I slowly opened the flask, tipped it to my fingers, and flicked the sign of the cross over him like I didn’t give a fuck. “Through him . . . with him . . . in him. Now, get the fuck outta here.”

He wasn’t worth my time or effort. Sister Antoinette and Foley were the two I wanted most. I climbed back onto the lid of the tomb, looked down at Sean, and dripped the sign of the cross on him with the unholy water.

“Okay . . . that part’s outta the way, let’s get on to your confession . . . why don’t you tell me how you ratted on me. How your big fuckin’ mouth got me sent to live on the streets.” I lit a smoke, exhaled hard, and brought my boot down onto his face. “You have no idea what it was like to be seventeen, livin’ in subway stations . . . panhandlin’ . . . pullin’ every scam I could come up with just to put some food in my belly. It was fuckin’ February, you sorry motherfucker!”

I kicked him under the chin and then landed a hard stomp to his sternum.

“Confess! Your! Sins!” It was a sound that came up from the pit of Hell he’d left inside me. “Tell me how you were jealous that Fi wouldn’t fuck you! You could never have gotten Fi. She was always too good for you. This fuckin’ shit . . . bringin’ her here just shows how much of a thorn in your ass it is! Now confess!”

Foley tried to talk and started blubberin’ like he used to when we were kids. I could almost see the face of the guy who’d been my friend cryin’ because one of the priests beat his ass. I took up for that little prick, and then he went and threw me to the wolves in black habits.

“Gio . . . I’m sorry. I was a dumb kid. What do ya want from me?”

Oh, now there’s a loaded question.

“That’s it? You’re fuckin’ sorry?” I crushed my boot into his ribs and heard a snap as he screamed. “You might’ve been a dumbass then, but now you’re just an evil prick who was gonna fuckin’ sell Fi and other chicks to some demented, rich bastards! You brought her here to die and you know it!”

I stood up and paced around the edge of the