Royally Broken (Royal Bastards MC: Royal Sons CA) Read online

  Royally Broken

  Royal Bastards MC

  Elle Boon

  By Elle Boon [email protected]

  © Copyright 2020 Elle Boon

  All cover art and logos © Copyright Jay Aheer

  All rights reserved.

  Royally Broken

  Royal Bastards Mc

  Copyright © 2020 Elle Boon

  First E-book Publication: 2020

  Cover design by Jay Aheer

  Edited by: Tracy Roelle

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER:

  Elle Boon

  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.

  Royal Bastards MC Series

  Erin Trejo: Blood Lust

  Chelle C Craze & Eli Abbott: Bad Like Me

  K Webster: Koyn

  Esther E. Schmidt: Petros

  Elizabeth Knox: Bet On Me

  Glenna Maynard: Lady & the Biker

  Madison Faye: Filthy Bastard

  CM Genovese: Frozen Rain

  J. Lynn Lombard: Blayze’s Inferno

  Crimson Syn: Inked In Vengeance

  B.B. Blaque: Rotten Apple

  Addison Jane: Her Ransom

  Izzy Sweet * Sean Moriarty: Broken Wings

  Nikki Landis: Ridin’ For Hell

  KL Ramsey: Savage Heat

  M.Merin: Axel

  Sapphire Knight: Bastard

  Bink Cummings: Switch Burn

  Winter Travers: Playboy

  Linny Lawless: The Heavy Crown

  Jax Hart: Desert King

  Elle Boon: Royally Broken

  Kristine Allen: Voodoo

  Ker Dukey: Animal

  KE Osborn: Defining Darkness

  Shannon Youngblood: Silver & Lace

  Royal Bastards MC Facebook Group - https://www.facebook.com/groups/royalbastardsmc/

  Website- https://www.royalbastardsmc.com/

  Table of Contents

  Royal Bastards Code

  Royal Bastards MC Series

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Royally F**ked

  About Elle Boon

  Other Books by Elle Boon

  Dedication

  FIRST AND FOREMOST, I’d like to thank all you amazing readers for loving my Royal Sons and the Royal Bastards enough to want more. I hope you like Keys and Palmer as much as I loved writing their stories. And get ready y’all because shit is getting real as I borrow a few guys from the amazing K Webster’s and again mentioned the amazing guys I borrowed from Bb Blaque. I swear, I love these characters from both ladies world I feel like they’re mine but “sigh” sadly they’re theirs. I hope y’all take a look at each of these ladies books and see what I’m talking about. Rotten Apple by Bb Blaque had The Bishop and F.O.C.U.S and K Webster’s book KOYN has the guys I used, including Koyn, Dragon, Katana, Copper, and Bermuda. Yeah, I used a lot.

  To my amazing team of Beta Readers, y’all rock sooo effing hard. Thank you for all you do to make my books so amazing. And last, but certainly not least, you readers are the best ever. FLOVE y’all soo hard. And last but definitely not least to Jay Aheer for these amazing covers.

  XOXO,

  Elle

  Prologue

  “Did you ever think about ringing the bell?”

  Keys looked over at the man who spoke. “Hell no, man. I don’t even know where the bell is. Do you?”

  His visitor gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. I remember the first day of training when the instructor brought the fucking bell to class. We were all so cocksure none of us would ring it. I was the sixth one to get up-close and personal with it.”

  “You look like you did alright.” Keys stared at the guy in his three-piece suit, looking as if he’d never seen death other than on a TV screen.

  “I decided becoming a lawyer was a better option for me, not to mention safer all around.” He lifted a shoulder. “Do you remember anything about your last mission?” He tapped the manila folder on the table.

  Keys looked at the folder then back at the lawyer. “Nope. I said all had to say to my Commanding Officer. It’s all in there.” He nodded toward the folder, knowing exactly what they were doing. This dude was here trying to make like he was his friend. Keys didn’t have any fucking friends. He glanced up at the camera in the corner. They probably had a couple of psych fucks watching every nuance he made, thinking he would make some move that would show them he was a killer or had somehow killed his entire team. They could watch until their eyes bled. He hadn’t done a damn thing wrong except live. An ache in his shoulder threatened to make him move, but he held completely still. The fact he’d sustained a head injury and three bullets that should’ve killed him was a testament to what he could handle. He’d stayed completely still, even with the lifeless body of his best friend covering him. Keys used the tragedy to his advantage, hiding the fact he was alive when the enemy had swept through their camp. He and TMan had been playing cards when all hell had erupted around them, his friend hadn’t stood a chance as the first bullet had gone straight through his head, hitting Keys in the shoulder.

  “The physician who treated you said you might remember once the swelling went down. It’s been two weeks. Don’t you want to find who killed your friends?”

  The question was asked casually, but there was no doubt it was supposed to make him feel something. He’d been trained to not show weakness from the time he was a kid. The SEALs had only sharpened those skills, making him a trained killer. Of course, he didn’t tell this suit that or show those watching. Nope, he sat straight, back against the hospital bed with his arms resting on the sheet while he stared at the man, blinking every five seconds, which was a second longer than the average person.

  “Silas, help me out here, man. I only want to find those responsible for killing the men, your team, but we need your help.” He held his hands up as if showing Keys.

  He wanted to snort at the man. He hadn’t been called his given name since the first day at BUDS training. “Look, if I could remember what the fuck happened I’d be the first on a plane back there.” O
f course he knew that was a lie. Medically discharged was his new label. He was officially out. Out of the military, a place he’d found somewhere he belonged, the team he’d called brothers, gone. Now, he was alone again, and he needed to regroup. Keys didn’t know who had betrayed them. Their location had been secure; their mission wasn’t dangerous, this time. Hell, they’d been helping the community not swooping in and fucking shit up.

  “We done here?” he asked, keeping his voice level. If anyone was looking at him, which he knew there were probably a half a dozen fuckers watching, they’d see a relaxed soldier.

  The lawyer glanced toward the camera, then back at the folder. “You don’t care about being discharged?”

  “My time was up. Besides a medical discharge isn’t a bad thing. I got a metal plate in the head, a couple more scars to add to my body, and a bullet lodged in here to keep for a souvenir.” He pointed at his shoulder. “Not like ringing the bell before even getting out of training,” he said, waiting to see if the suit flinched. If he’d truly wanted to be a SEAL, his dig would’ve made him flinch or made him react in so

  me way. Nothing. Yeah, he probably had a notebook on how to rattle the cage, or befriend a man. Dumbass, you don’t become a friend with a SEAL by sitting across from them.

  “That’s it for now. You planning on sticking around base while you heal?” He looked toward Keys’ chest.

  He didn’t move a muscle, except to blink and breathe as if pain wasn’t wracking his body from the wounds he’d sustained. “Sounds reasonable.” Keys didn’t say anymore, let them think what they wanted. His discharge papers from the hospital were already signed. He was waiting for the whole wheelchair shitshow to be brought in so he could leave.

  “Good, good.” He picked up the folder, tapping it on the table again. “Well, I guess that’s it then. If we have any other questions, we’ll be in touch.” He stood up, chair scraping loudly.

  Keys nodded, looked at the hand the other man held out, then at the camera. Whoever was there watching could suck his dick, but again, Keys kept all emotion from his face and body language. With a nod toward the unseen observers, he shook the man’s hand firmly, knowing he hadn’t expected Keys to have any strength after a couple weeks of being laid up in a hospital bed. After the door slid shut behind him, he sat there in silence. Finally, he turned to the side, swinging his legs over, getting to his feet. Folded on the chair was a black shirt and cargo pants along with a pair of socks and boots. He didn’t waste time going to the bathroom to dress, modesty wasn’t a thing in his world. Once he was clothed, he stared at the camera again, still not showing any discomfort. The door slid open; his chariot having arrived. He looked at the wheelchair the nurse had brought in. “Can I walk beside that thing?” He gave her a charming grin.

  “Afraid not. Come on, I’ll make it fun.” She waved toward the chair.

  Keys picked up his bag of stuff since he’d already packed before the suit showed up, sat down in the fucking chair, and plastered a smile on his face. “No wheelies.”

  “I make no promises.” The door slid open as they came to it, and then he was being pushed out. He didn’t fidget or change his breathing pattern as they rolled toward the elevator. During his stint in the hospital, he’d walked the hall a few times as part of his rehab or whatever the fuck they’d called it.

  “Is someone picking you up?” She asked.

  Keys figured it was a normal question. “My cab should be outside.” He knew there would be one waiting since this was a busy area. At the lobby, she stopped just outside the revolving doors, giving him the opportunity to get up. “Thank you for the ride.” Keys didn’t give her the chance to protest his actions. Moving toward the exit, skipping the spinning doors, he grabbed the handle and pulled, exiting without a word, without looking back. As he walked outside, he wondered what the fuck he was going to do with his life.

  Silas DeMarcus had died in that jungle with his team. The man walking out wasn’t him, hadn’t truly been in years. He’d been their weapons and computers expert, the one who could hack into computers anywhere at any time.

  Outside the building, he flagged a cab down, getting in without looking left or right. Out of habit, he went on the notion he’d have a tail.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Keys looked at the traffic ahead. “Can you get us lost in the flow of all this shit, and then I’ll decide?”

  “Sure thing, mister. You running from your wife or girlfriend?” he asked pulling into traffic, signaling as he did.

  “Something like that,” Keys agreed, lifting his cellphone so he could look through it to watch behind him without turning around. Several vehicles back, he noticed a sedan bobbing and weaving. Sure, it could be nothing, but he’d stayed alive by being careful. “Can you take this exit right here?” he asked, knowing the driver would need to cross two lanes and possibly piss a couple other drivers off. He held a hundred dollar bill up he’d pulled out when he’d gotten in. The two long-ass weeks he’d been laid up gave him enough time to get his go bag delivered to him. They’d trained him well.

  “Yes, sir,” he agreed, jerking the wheel hard. If Keys hadn’t been braced he’d have fallen over.

  With the phone still held up, he saw the sedan pass by, the driver probably cursing a blue streak if they were indeed following him. “Hop back on up here would you?” Keys indicated the on ramp on the other side of the exit they’d taken.

  Keys knew it was risky especially with the chance there was more than one tailing him. Paranoid maybe, but he didn’t survive this long without being cautious. Fifteen minutes later, he instructed the driver to take another exit. He was good at starting over. At eighteen he’d done it. At thirty he’d do it again with money and skills he’d gained in the last twelve years.

  “Right here.” He tapped the window.

  After passing another hundred through to the man, Keys got out, lifting his hand as he walked away. Keys hustled to the nearest bus stop, making it in time just as the bus pulled up around the corner. In his black T-shirt and cargo pants, he fit in with the myriad of other passengers.

  He sat back. Stop after stop, he rode as passengers got on and off. At the last stop, he got out and began walking. Night had fallen, and the neighborhood was one of the worst in LA. He didn’t look at anyone as he made his way to where he was going. Hell, there wasn’t a single person he passed who was more dangerous than he was. A chain-link fence with barbed wire on the top came into view, two snarling dogs greeting him. “Hey, how are my friends?” he murmured, unlocking the gates with his key. He shut and locked the gates behind himself, petting the two hairy beasts walking beside him.

  “Look what the dogs drug in.” The sound of a shotgun being cocked had him stopping in his tracks.

  Keys looked up at the old man standing on the rickety porch outside the trailer. “Hey, Burt. Just came to collect my stuff.” Keys stood with his hand on one of the dog’s head, the other he held ready to pull the knife strapped to his side. Old Burt might hold the gun at the ready, but Keys was pretty sure he could get his knife out and in the man’s throat before the bullet could find its mark.

  “Why don’t you come on in for a minute?” Burt asked, holding the door open.

  He’d gotten real good at knowing when things were off in a situation. Nothing was setting off his inner sensors telling him there was danger. He gave the dog a scratch, lifting his chin toward the gun. “You gonna put that away?”

  “Ah shit, sorry.” He brought the gun down, popping it in half. “I’ve had some trouble lately.”

  When he’d met Burt several years ago, Keys had given him a loan so he could keep his junkyard where he’d been renting space for his stuff. Calling it his personal belongings seemed wrong since there really wasn’t anything too personal about cash, and electronics, mixed with clothes and shit you could replace. No, personal meant things you cared about. What he did care about was Burt losing the place, so he’d given the old man the money he needed
so the city couldn’t take the place from him.

  “What kinda trouble?” Keys asked, walking in after Burt, looking around the small but clean living room.

  Burt walked into the kitchen area that held a fridge, small stove and table for two, opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. “Oh, some punk ass kids messing with the gates trying to get my babies here mad enough the city will come and take them away.” He popped the tops off both bottles then handed one to Keys.

  “Thanks.” Keys took a long swig. “Why would they do that, the city I mean?”

  Burt guzzled half his beer, sitting down heavily in his chair. “Damned if I know. Those two are like little lambs with more bark than bite.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that, but he wasn’t going to argue with Burt. They finished their beers, then Keys stood. “Thanks for the beer and for letting me keep my shit here.” He shifted toward the door.

  “Where you heading?” Burt asked from his spot, wiping sweat from the bottle.

  Keys cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  Burt pointed the bottle toward him, moving it up and down. “Anytime you’ve ever come here, you looked different. You’re still wearing similar clothes, but you never said you were taking your shit, which leads me to think you’re heading somewhere.” He drank the rest of his bottle. “Don’t got many folks I consider friends, but you, you I do.”

  Huh, Keys hadn’t thought Burt would put him in that category. “I don’t know yet. Guess I’ll decide when I get there.” He’d rebuilt a Harley; the old bike was probably worth a pretty penny, but it was his pride.

  “Well, if you don’t have anywhere in particular you gotta be, I got that extra place in the back. It’s not much, but it’s clean like this place. I don’t abide by no drugs. Women, you can have them if you want so long as they don’t mind my dogs. That is if you want to stick around until you figure out where you want to go.” Burt got up, dug inside a canister on top his fridge. He turned with a set of keys.