Southern Ballz (Royal Bastards MC: NYC Book 3) Read online

  B.B. BLAQUE

  Copyright © 2021 B.B. BLAQUE

  All rights reserved.

  Photo from James Critchley

  Model: George RJ

  Editor: Proofed Positively

  The Royal Bastards MC is a COMPLETELY fictional 1% motorcycle club. The chapter depicted in this book is based out of NYC. They do not represent any MC known to exist. The Malevolent MC is also a COMPLETELY fictional 1% club based out of Brooklyn, Indiana, Louisiana, Georgia, and Florida. None of the chapters or characters in this book is meant to depict any known MC or riding club. None of the scenes portrayed in this book are from any actual events. The logo was conceived and designed solely for this series by Simply Defined Art Jay Aheer. Other artwork and teasers connected to this book were created byLucian Bane or the author.

  ROYAL BASTARDS CODE

  PROTECT: The club and your brothers come before anything else, and must be protected at all costs. CLUB is FAMILY.

  RESPECT: Earn it & Give it. Respect club law. Respect the patch. Respect your brothers. Disrespect a member and there will be hell to pay.

  HONOR: Being patched in is an honor, not a right. Your colors are sacred, not to be left alone, and NEVER let them touch the ground.

  OL’ LADIES: Never disrespect a member’s or brother’s Ol’Lady. PERIOD.

  CHURCH is MANDATORY.

  LOYALTY: Takes precedence over all, including well-being.

  HONESTY: Never LIE, CHEAT, or STEAL from another member or the club.

  TERRITORY: You are to respect your brother’s property and follow their Chapter’s club rules.

  TRUST: Years to earn it...seconds to lose it.

  NEVER RIDE OFF: Brothers do not abandon their family.

  CONNECTIONS MENTIONED IN THIS BOOK

  RBMC NYC Chapter Rotten Apple (FOCUS)

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08FTJP624

  RBMC-Tonopaugh, NV Chapter Nikki Landis (Patriot)

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08HY7C87C

  RBMC-Nashville, TN Chapter Morgan Jane Mitchell

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09CP6CKQN

  RBMC Royal Harlots (Coney Island Chapter) Deja Voss

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B098YDWYHP

  The character of The Bishop is in almost all of my books and will have a RBMC book in 5/2022 Royally Malevolent he’s also been borrowed from RBMC authors and others

  Redhook, Colt,and The Bishop are all characters from my Masters MC/Malevolent MC series

  Prologue Somebody Save Me

  1. It Ain’t My Fault

  2. Mr. Red, White, and Blue

  3. I Stand Alone

  4. Ballroom Blitz

  5. Kiss on the Lips

  6. Somethin’ in Your Mouth

  7. Beautiful Dangerous

  8. My Own Hell

  9. Shake Your Foundations

  10. Pissed Off & Mad About It

  11. River

  12. I’m Comin’ Over (and over)

  13. Reach For Me

  14. Take It

  15. Sin City

  16. Blue Christmas

  17. Meet the Monster

  18. Dirty Thoughts

  19. Touch Too Much

  20. One Way Or Another

  21. Goin’ Under/My Own Hell

  22. Dark Side

  23. Numb Life/Trouble

  24. Your Man

  25. Dream

  26. It Is What It Is

  27. Monsters & Devils

  28. EveryBreathYouTake

  29. Battle Cries

  30. Toxic

  31. Sexual Hallucination/IGY6

  Epilogue In Case You Didn’t Know/All I Want for Christmas is You

  Playlists

  Chapter

  Vixen’s Kiss

  Blitz Triggers

  Blitz & Vixen SeX Soundtrack

  Somebody Save Me

  3 YEARS EARLIER–VIDALIA, GEORGIA

  I’d been back from the war about a year and wasn’t adjustin’ well. If Bish hadn’t put in a word for me with the Malevolent MC, I probably woulda offed myself—that’s the God’s honest. The nights I spent with a gun in my mouth, prayin’ the good Lord above would gimme some kinda sign were at least 200 outta the 343 I’d been home. Yeah, I was countin’. It was just a matter of time before I either blew my brains out or drank myself into the grave. One night, I was just about there, pulled the trigger, and it jammed. It wasn’t my time.

  Thank you, God, for the sign I prayed for.

  My mind was so full of demonic visions I thought I was goin’ batshit crazy. I saw some gruesome shit in Afghanistan, but the worst was watchin’ one of my closest buddies blown up in front of me. He had a family, kids, and a farm full of all kinds of critters. I had none of that. My sister was the only person waitin’ on me back home. She coulda handled it. Bish and FOCUS had already discharged, but they were in New York. That woulda been a nightmare on top of my nightmares. Most nights I woke up in a cold sweat, shakin’, or hidin’ in a closet waitin’ for some long-lost enemy to just gimme a chance to kill him again. It happened on the regular. Any little sound had the potential to set me off and my instinct to survive would kick into overdrive. I even landed myself in jail a few times for bar fights, but the night I had a knife to the throat of one of my overnight guests was the breaking point.

  I’m sorry.

  I didn’t mean it. I thought you were one of them.

  Please forgive me, girl.

  I chewed on it all day, and by night I was shit-faced drunk with a barrel in my mouth.

  Not my time.

  I was gonna call FOCUS, but he wasn’t the guy to talk to about that mess. That motherfucker is so full of his own war and there wasn’t no way I was gonna put mine on him too. Bish is such a stone-cold sumbitch, all up in the psychology of shit. It’s like the war never even fazed him. I kept the gun in my hand while the phone rang.

  “To what do I owe the honor of this late night phone call, Blitz?” His deep voice was what I needed to hear. It’d gotten me through a lotta shit over our years in Recon. “By the hour, I’d venture to guess it’s nothing good.”

  While I poured myself another drink I had no business drinkin’, I started to stammer it out. Captain Bishop wouldn’t think I was weak, but I also knew he couldn’t understand on the same level as FOCUS.

  “You’re right about that and then some . . . Do you want the whole deal, or just the bullet points?”

  Fuck me, bullet.

  I walked over and sat on the expensive new couch I bought in an attempt to make myself feel better and waited for him to respond.

  “Give me the rundown and we can go from there. You don’t call often and never this late, which tells me there have been nightmares.” He paused and I heard him lighting a cigar. “You do understand they’re normal, don’t you? It’s a rare man who can see the things we have, do the things we have, and not be haunted. I’m one of those. I’m fortunate.”

  I explained to him all I’d been goin’ through—our teammate Kyle, jail, the girl, all the way up to the jammin’ gun.

  “Cap, these fuckin’ visions won’t get outta my head and I coulda killed that girl in my bed last night. Thank God she understood and didn’t call the cops, but you can imagine, she hauled outta here like her ass was on fire.” He’d let me ramble on, but I had to take a breath and get a grip. I went outside and started to wander the small property while he talked.

  “Point number one . . . you didn’t kill her. There are many things we might do, but only what we actually do makes the difference, which brings me to point number two. You did not allow Kyle to be killed. You did not die, even though you might have. Either of you migh
t have; he did. You, sir, have survivor’s guilt.”

  He is always so logical about everything, but I can’t say it didn’t make sense. I didn’t feel better about it, but it was what we signed up for when we became Marines. Every hour of every day could be the day you got your ass blown off. We knew it somewhere in the deep caves of our brains, but to think about it would be a detriment to our mission.

  “Your problem is you no longer have an assignment. You do not have the support of a team. I’m fine alone, but I know you well enough to know that you . . . are not. I might have a way to help you. It won’t stop the nightmares, but in some capacity, it could be quite beneficial to you, and to them.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks and questioned the obvious. “Them, Cap? Who the fuck are they?”

  “They are the Malevolent MC. I’m assuming you still ride, correct?” It was rhetorical. “They will give you a mission, brotherhood, and you’ll be able to channel some of that aggression. I’ll make a call tomorrow.”

  It was a done deal, I’d been given orders by a superior officer, and I was used to followin’ his. I’d seen the club around and knew exactly who he meant.

  “Oh, and Blitz, I suggest you don’t have any guests accompanying you overnight. When you’ve worked through some of your issues, maybe. I don’t want your next call to be from jail.”

  It wasn’t my time to go that night, but it was my time to join the Malevolent MC. The gun not firin’ kicked the twisted chain of events that landed my redneck ass in the Royal Bastards NYC.

  That girl in my bed was the catalyst. I haven’t had one stay over since.

  1

  It Aint My Fault

  Present day—Brooklyn, New York

  After shit went down with rescuin’ Snaps, I headed back to Georgia to pack. I was still wonderin’ if the old man was losin’ his mind by makin’ me patch over to the Royal Bastards. Havin’ me roll right on in like I owned Brooklyn didn’t seem like a smart move. I’d only been in the Malevolent MC for three years, but I’d earned my place. Bish pulled some sorta strings to get me in, but I had to do the work. He and the club saved me. When FOCUS got involved with them, it sealed the deal on the whole flip-flop. I got friends in low places, and it ended up with my 6’3”, 220-pound redneck ass in Brooklyn. I wondered if my twin sister Tenley had anything to do with all that mess. She’s in the Royal Harlots MC in Florida, they call her Prancer. I wouldn’t put it past her to toss her two shiny pennies in.

  Mama must be turnin’ in her grave thinkin’ about me livin’ here.

  When I was officially moved in, patched as president—and accepting the fucked-up turn of events my life had taken—my new relationship with the core of the Rotten Apple Chapter started to fall apart. I didn’t ask to be transferred, would never in a million years have asked for it. Bein’ in the South Pole Chapter of the Malevolent was where I started and wanted to stay. I understood that when the whole Malevolent Brooklyn Chapter patched to the Bastards, they wouldn’t just fall in line with Crucifix and them guys. I don’t know what made Redhook think they’d take to my southern ass a whole lot better because I was a Malevolent brother. I was far removed and they didn’t know me any better than I knew them.

  My history in the Corps made me a shoe-in for leadership. I command respect and eventually get it. Until it’s earned, I generally work on instilling fear and showin’ them who the fuck they’re dealin’ with. There ain’t nothin’ I’ll ask of them that I wouldn’t do myself. Gettin’ ‘em to do it is where bein’ a dick comes in. Although the guys in my chapter weren’t makin’ me run their dicks totally in the dirt, they weren’t makin’ the transition smooth either. In the end, it was all about Redhook wantin’ FOCUS for his son Colt’s chapter in Florida. There was a history and the old man always gets his way. Crucifix and them wanted Brooklyn, and all the fruits it had to offer, and that was the price they had to pay. Keepin’ me was the price of what they’d been waitin’ for. Lose me, lose FOCUS. Forfeit, lose Brooklyn. I had ‘em by the balls, but I wasn’t gonna throw my nuts around to make ‘em toe the line. I’d earn it from them. They’d damn shit sure earn it from me if the deal was gonna go the way everyone wanted.

  Things had been more hardcore in the Marines, so it wasn’t something new to be tossed into one fucked-up mess or another. I think the hardest part about bein’ in the city was feelin’ lonely. At war, you’ve always got somethin’ goin’ on and even if you beef with people, you still end up with a strong group of brothers on your side. Crucifix and them ole boys would have my back—I didn’t second-guess that part—but every night I’d end up at the clubhouse alone. That was the hardest thing. No female was ever allowed to sleep over—the PTSD and past situation made it a really bad fuckin’ idea. When I was with the club, even with the whole crew, there was that sick feelin’ of bein’ an outsider. The holidays were just around the corner and I knew that all the fucked-up would just be gettin’ worse.

  Things were fixin’to get harder before they got better, and I was still wrestlin’ with my ol’ demons a lot. The sounds outside never stopped, and I’d been trained to wake up at the slightest noise. It was conditionin’ at its finest. The evil dreams, cold sweats, and poundin’ heart woke me up and sometimes the place would be trashed when I snapped back to reality. Each mornin’ before the roosters crowed, I’d read the Recon Creed and remind myself that I chose to do what so many didn’t or wouldn’t be capable of. The price I was willin’ to pay for my country. I’d pull myself together and take a run through the quiet streets before comin’ back and throwin’ some weights around. I’d shower, drink coffee, and wait for the VFW to open, knowin’ eventually everything would fall into place.

  2

  Mr. Red, White, and Blue

  November 11-Veteran’s Day

  I was sittin’ at the corner of the bar in the local VFW tryin’ to keep my head right. Brooklyn still made me feel all kinds of squirrely, but in that Veterans of Foreign Wars waterin’ hole, I was at home. It wasn’t Georgia, but even New York City was better than Fallujah.

  Don’t forget that.

  “Blitz, honey, ain’t you supposed to be celebratin’ today?” The barmaid with the inky black hair musta noticed me bein’ far off in thought. “Ya got a buy-back comin’ . . . and I’ll make a deal with ya. You smile and I’ve got ya covered for the rest of my shift.”

  That girl’s eyes were the prettiest fuckin’ blue I’d seen since the Georgia sky. New York was dreary and didn’t have much color besides gray and black. After bein’ in the brown desert, and now the gloomy cement farm, I seemed to notice colors a lot more than I ever had.

  The little things we take for granted until we lose ‘em.

  “Naw, I’m okay, Ronnie.” I flashed a big, fake smile and held up my glass. “But bein’ polite and all, sure, I’ll take another round. You gotta lemme buy you a couple back when you get outta work, though.”

  The New York buy-back thing was somethin’ I couldn’t complain about. You buy a couple and then get one on the house. That V wasn’t too bad—hot girl, comfortable like all the others, and free drinks. It didn’t seem like any state in particular—just the VFW. When Ronnie came back over, she put the two drinks down and propped her elbows on the bartop. I’d had a few rounds and she hadn’t asked me why yet.

  “I know what you’re doin’. I didn’t fall off a truck yesterday.” Since we were the only two in the place, she pulled out a vape and took a big hit and snuck it back under the counter. “Who ya drinkin’ with, Marine? Must be somebody special.”

  With a small smirk, I knocked one shot off the other, took a moment of silence, and then hammered it back. Special isn’t even close.

  The other shot for Kyle was lifted and down my throat in a quick beat. I looked to the ceilin’ and let out a hearty oorah for my fallen brother-in-arms. I sucked down all the feelings—like I always have—and gave her an actual smile.

  “Right now, Ronnie, I’m drinkin’ with you, girl. Unless you see someone else in here
. If ya do, I must be goin’ blind.”

  Deflect. Repress. Success.

  “Okay, whatever wise-ass. I got ya.”

  She snuck another hit off the vape and blew it down her sweatshirt. I hadn’t seen her in much of anything else, but I woulda bet my daddy’s prized cows she was hidin’ somethin’ incredible under that baggy thing.

  “So, tell me a little more about yourself and why you ain’t hangin’ with the rest of your club somewhere. Not for nothin’, but the VFW isn’t really where the new vets tend to hang. I’ll have one of them sweet teas you think are so awesome if ya start spillin’ your guts. That’s a sacrifice I’m willin’ to make for you, but just ‘cause it’s Veteran’s Day. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

  The guys in the Brooklyn chapter were all ex-Malevolent so they were kinda okay with me. The rest of ‘em on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge still hadn’t warmed up, though. My best guess was that Crucifix—or someone—felt threatened for some reason. Maybe he’s just a greedy sumbitch and didn’t wanna share. Whatever the reason, Ronnie was the only friend I’d made since comin’ to the city, and we barely knew each other ‘cept from opposite sides of a bar.

  “Alright, I’ll spill the tea, and you can drink ya some. Good deal.”

  I pulled out a piece of gum and waited for her to get herself the drink. She couldn’t have alcohol on shift unless it was ordered by the Commander, but ya couldn’t go wrong with good ole sweet tea.

  “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not from around here . . . big shock, right? Y’all New Yorkers seem to have it out for guys like me. Not that I really give a fuck in general. I mean, I don’t. When y’all are in the South, we don’t cut ya much slack either. It ain’t nothin’ to cry about, but doesn’t make a guy feel welcome either.”

  Not welcome is an understatement.

  “I thought you guys are all together, like one club and shit. Doesn’t that imply some kinda somethin’? I dunno, a brotherhood?”

  I watched her full lips while she talked and listened to that sexy harsh accent. Damn, girl you are fine.