Tick Tock, Boom! (Royal Bastards MC: New Orleans, LA, #8)

by Crimson Syn

both my mind and my dick. "Mr. Barrero?"

Jose.”

“Okay, there’s a member of the Hellbound Lovers heading your way. Where are you?” “At the port.” “I want you to walk to Decatur Street to the Cafe Du Monde. You wait for him there. His name is Gunner. He looks mean as fuck, but he’s a sweetheart. I promise he’ll bring you home to me.”

Scarlett was the Old Lady of Wolf Stone, President of the Hellbound Lovers MC. A club

We worked with anyone willing to lend muscle. The Death Row Shooters. The Hellbound Lovers. Smaller clubs from out west and from the Gulf. Coy, Hound’s son, ran the crematorium, so when the day finally came that we got our hands on Rancid, there wasn’t even a second thought.

Brimstone and Cipher had gone back up to Washington, returning to the roots they had left behind. Brimstone retired as a decorated Fire Chief, settling into a quieter life,

knocking. Cipher slipped back into his role as a detective, gray at the temples, badge worn

Guardian, Colt’s old man, lived in the house a few miles down from the clubhouse. Didn’t say much, but his presence was constant. December, his Old Lady, was practically family. She wrapped Jameson in a hug so tight the first time she saw him back, I thought she might break him in half. She’d always been a mother figure, and seeing the boy who once sat on her kitchen counter now running the club... that meant something. Hart had relocated to Cali with his Quiver, and Virgil followed, said he was done with death, left the demons behind. Passed the Chaplain cut over to Hellsing. The kid was a strange one to say the last. A wiseass with eyes

Saddle stood like a statue behind Jameson, his presence as firm as the steel in his spine. Said he'd never leave that kid alone again, and he hadn't. He wasn’t back full-time as VP, had a horse ranch down South in Lafayette, and was living quietly, mostly cause if not, his Old Lady would have his head.