Crucifixed (Royal Bastards MC: NYC Book 2) by B.B. Blaque (interesting books to read for teens txt) 📗

“Break your vows . . . cut your ties completely or walk out that door and don’t ever come back.” If that wasn’t enough for her, then fuck, she didn’t deserve all the pain I was in over her. “Ya see, I’m not a Catholic anymore, but doin’ this fuckin’ dance with you is self-torture of biblical proportions. Now tell me!”

My voice was so loud it even scared me. I’d been mad and made her leave, but never with the amount of rage I felt at that moment. She caught me at the wrong time—maybe it was the right time.

“Gio, you know I can’t just up and walk away . . . it’s not that easy . . .”

She was still in the middle of talking and I stood.

“Sure it is . . . watch this. One foot in front of the other to what I want . . .” I called over my shoulder on the way the stairs, “to be away from you. See how easy that is. Show yourself out and don’t come back.”

My heart had been ripped out too many times. I left it on the floor at her feet. It was her turn to carry the burden of what she’d done.

It takes two to tango.

Now, she’s dancin’ alone.

5

Sleeping in the Fire

I sat in my office, chewin’ on the words I said to her. There was more behind them than there had been all the other times, but even I wondered if they’d stick. Fuck that two-faced bitch! Fuck me for sittin’ on the other side of that confessional. FOCUS and Nixx were still in L.A. and I knew I could always go back and maybe hang for a while. Business could be done from anywhere, and there were places all across the country where I could find Bastard brothers to help steer my mind away from Gingersnap. Maybe I can bounce between Grim and Azrael in Nevada at Tonopaugh and then LA.

Fi. Fuck pet names and bullshit!

My head was already on super stalker mode and I could almost feel in my gut it was gonna be worse than the last time. Tellin’ her to leave was one thing, not draggin’ her back was totally different. I’m not above kidnappin’ and she hadn’t even been gone for an hour. Shoulda just kept her locked in my office and rode away to leave her in quiet contemplation. Eventually, maybe, she woulda given up. If those damn vows were a physical thing, I woulda smashed ‘em to shatter pieces and dust. I won’t be a hired dick, but I’m lettin’ a nun control me worse than any porn director ever could. All she seemed to want from me was my cock and the bullshit confession for wanting it.

I’m better off.

I needed to cut her loose.

You’re full of shit. Go get on the bike. Bring her back by force.

Those thoughts kept goin’ through my mind like speedbumps—slow, jolting, and a motherfuckin’ pain in my ass. Somehow, I ended up fallin’ asleep and by the time Casket barged in, the music for dayshift was pumpin’ downstairs.

“Jetlag kickin’ your ass? I gotta cure for that.”

I peeled my head up off the table and shot laser beam eyes at him. “You are aware of my history, no? Five Points and me broke up a long time ago. We ain’t gettin’ back together either!”

Methamphetamine was one way to stay alert, aware, and not give a fuck about the fact that I was starvin’ when the church kicked me out on the street. Dealin’ for the club kept me safe and spun out like a top. I took care of their needs; they took care of mine. At first, they were just the Catholic Church in leather vests in my head—takin’ care of and makin’ me beholden to them. When I saved the president of the chapter from findin’ his intestines emptied on the floor at his boots it was a different story. That’s when I found my true callin’—to be a Royal Bastard for life. It wasn’t because anyone was makin’ me feel guilty about what they did for me and they did a lot by helpin’ me get clean. It was because I finally found a home and family. I never knew I needed that shit until I felt it, and I’ll be buried in my cut, no matter what the rules are on that.

Fi is harder to kick than meth.

“No, ya jackass! I meant coffee . . . just made a fresh pot. You know I keep my hands clean from that Five Points shit! My name is not Rattler.” Casket picked up the phone and summoned a girl to bring the entire carafe to my office with a couple mugs.

“Sorry, bro’ . . . I know you’re clean with that shit. I’m just on edge.” I pushed back from the desk and looked for my smokes. “I had a really bad fuckin’ night that rolled over into what will surely become a massive day in Hell.”

Casket shook his head, lowered it into a hand, and looked back to me. “Lemme go out on a limb here, but did you go lookin’ for the nun last night? I could see that look in your eyes, man. Step away from the edge. You know ya gotta. What the fuck does that bad habit got over you, anyway?”

A waitress brought in the pot of coffee and poured some for us. I zoned out at the monitors, tryin’ to think of how to respond. How the fuck do you explain the razor blade emotions like I got for Fi?

“I dunno, man . . . she’s not the only cherry I ever busted. Hell, not even the first. She’s the only one I ever gave a fuck about, though.” I