Prologue
Roughstock
2021
Pushing my bike faster, I flew down the road, barely keeping it on the wheels as I hugged the tight corners, praying I made it in time. A few hours ago, I got a call from the VP of my club, the Royal Bastards MC of Rapid City, giving me news no one wanted to hear. My pops, Nitro, was found down at our ranch, and after they called an ambulance, they called me.
“Roughstock, you need to get home, now. Your pops is down,” Phantom yelled through the phone, and my world stopped moving.
I’d been out of town with my ol’ lady, Cheyenne, for the last few days, finalizing a big sale with another ranch. I’d been the Enforcer of the Royal Bastards Rapid City chapter for over a year, learning the ropes so one day, I could take over the club and finally see my pops take a well-deserved break. He suggested that I take Cheyenne with me for a little getaway, and I jumped at the chance. She’d been my ride-or-die since we were teenagers, floundering around with sex and love, trying to find our way in the world.
“Slow down,” Cye yelled over my shoulder as the back wheel of the bike slipped on the asphalt, nearly causing us to wipe out. “Pops will be pissed if you wreck.”
Cye’s father was a club brother who passed away when she was fifteen, and she never left the club. I saw her sitting in the clubhouse, looking lost and sad, and instantly, I knew that she was meant to be mine. She kept me centered through all thechanges we’d seen over the last decade, and having her plastered to my back as I rocketed back home was the only thing keeping me calm.
“Text Jagger and find out what’s going on,” I yelled over my shoulder to her as we got close to Keystone.
The little town at the base of Mt. Rushmore was quaint, but traffic always sucked, so my frustration was growing as another slow-ass car poked along in front of me, looking at the sights. I wanted to scream, or maybe even level my sidearm on them, but I knew that would delay me getting back to the ranch on the north side of Rapid City.
“Damn it,” I yelled as the car in front of me hit their brakes. “This is bullshit.”
Cheyenne wrapped her arms around my waist and placed the palm of her hand across my heart as I zipped around the car and pushed the bike’s speed, needing to be there already. As we were winding our way back to Rapid City, Cheyenne removed her hand, and I glanced into the rear-view mirror to see her checking her phone. She lifted her eyes to mine in the mirror and the sadness staring back at me said more than words ever could.
“Is he gone?” I asked as we slowed for a turning truck up ahead.
She shook her head and swiped the tears falling from her eyes as she tucked her phone back into her cut and wrapped her arms back around my waist. Pulling herself closer to me, she yelled, “He’s on the way to the hospital.”
I nodded silently and clenched my jaw in frustration before pushing the bike faster. The hospital was in town, and as I weaved through the surface streets, I worried this would bethe last time I’d see my pops. It was always him and me, and thinking about life without my father—and our club President—pushed my emotions closer to the surface. My eyes glistened, but I refused to let the tears fall as we got closer to the hospital.
Cheyenne hugged herself closer to me and placed a kiss on my upper back as I turned into the hospital parking lot. There were Bastards everywhere, and when my bike drew closer, they parted like the sea as I pulled into the parking space they saved and turned off my bike. Jumping off, I stepped up to Phantom and couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes.
“Where’s Pops?” I asked, feeling like I was coming apart at the seams. “And what the fuck happened?”
Cheyenne walked up to me and placed her hand on my lower back as she stood just to the side and back of me while I handled business. She knew her place was by my side, but not where club business was concerned. This was a mix of personal and club, so her closeness was acceptable.
Phantom began to speak, and the more he said, the angrier I got. “Jagger and Animal were on their way to the warehouse when some asshole nearly took them out just before the turn to Nitro’s ranch. They knew something was wrong, and when they got to the old house, they found your pops on the front porch.” He paused and cut his eyes to the side before he leveled his hard brown eyes on mine. “Someone beat him pretty bad and . . .”
“And what?” I spit, knowing I was disrespecting my VP and not giving a fuck.
Pops always warned me that my temper was going to get the best of me one day, and I feared it may be today.
“Someone stabbed him in the back and left him for dead on the steps,” said Jagger, the club’s Sergeant at Arms, and I snapped my head to the side as Cheyenne gasped behind me.
“Who the fuck would do that? And who was the asshole who nearly ran you over? Did you get a look at them or the vehicle? Why aren’t we out looking for them? And why haven’t we gone inside to see Pops?” I yelled, I’m sure drawing attention from the locals.
The Royal Bastards were accepted in Rapid City but maybe not always welcome. We were the constant presence of bikes in the Black Hills, and our less than legal ventures were only tolerated because a large part of Rapid gets their weed from us. Without us and our product, they would have to remain sober while they dragged ass through their boring lives.
“He’s in surgery,” said Whistler, an old timer who helped Pops prospect the club back in the early eighties before I was born. “They asked us to wait out here since we were overrunning the waiting room.”
Whistler was like a second father to me, so I walked up to him, needing his reassurance. “Did you see him?”
He nodded and explained, “He was conscious when they got here, and he was bitching about a traitor but never said who.” He lowered his voice and nearly whispered, “It’s not one of us, that I know for sure.”
I looked into his eyes, seeing the years of hard living on his wrinkled, weathered face, and I knew he was telling the truth . . . or at least the truth he believed to be accurate. That still didn’t explain who’d attacked him. I needed to know so I had a name for the person I was going to road-haul.
And if you didn’t know what that is, count yourself lucky.
I lowered my voice and leveled my gaze on him as I asked, “Where do we need to start looking?”
