Chapter One
“ I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
Kendrick grinned. His younger brother Jeter slid his hands around Vittoria and bent her backward. He looked into her eyes before kissing his new bride, much to the delight of the onlookers filling the cathedral.
The priest cleared his throat as the kiss continued a little longer than most he’d probably officiated. However, the man just married a fucking Royal MC brother and the daughter of a former mafia man. What the fuck did he think he was getting into?
Kendrick shifted his feet, crossing his hands slightly in front of his body so the priest’s eyes were on him. He held the other man’s gaze for a long moment, letting him know it was in his best interest to chill the fuck out. A red hue stained every inch of skin above the ceremonial collar. Father Totton gave a slight nod.
Jeter lifted both himself and Vittoria. When they turned to face everyone, Kendrick followed suit. He looked over toward the woman on the other side of the aisle. Since Vittoria moved to California, she’d formed friendships with the wives and ole’ ladies of the MC. The one they’d paired him with kept looking toward the aisles as if nervous. He made a mental note to reassure her that she was safe with him. Hell, once they finished taking pictures and the damn dance his new sister-in-law insisted they do, he had zero interest in her.
Jeter and Vittoria moved down the stairs, which he took as his cue to take his place behind them. He held his arm out for the maid of honor. She blushed as she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. Kendrick, being the gentleman his mother groomed him to be, walked slow enough that she wouldn’t trip in the four-inch heels she wore. Behind them, the others followed until they reached the long hall that led outside.
“Congratulations, brother. Vittoria, you look absolutely stunning. Are you sure being chained to this deplorable human for life is what you want to do? You know, my jet’s on the runway and ready to roll at a moment's notice?” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
Jeter slugged him on the arm, then pulled him in for a hug.
“What the hell? Don’t give her any ideas, man. I’d chase her down to the ends of the earth.” Jeter mock growled.
Vittoria laughed and patted Jeter’s chest. “No need to do anything crazy. You’re stuck with me for life.”
“Crazy’s his middle name, sorellina.” Kendrick kissed Vittoria on the cheek again, eliciting a warning grunt from his brother.
It seemed like hours had passed before they’d finished taking pictures.
“My fucking face hurts from smiling,” King growled. The president of the Royal MC stood with a scowl, looking like he wanted to shoot somebody.
“Oh, stop it. You look sexy as fuck. I am having all kinds of fantasies right now.”
Kendrick watched King’s ole’ lady blink several times, worried she was having some sort of seizure.
“What the fuck are you doing, woman?” King growled.
“Who me?” she asked, pressing her hand against her chest, trailing her finger between her cleavage. Kendrick realized the woman was trying to seduce her husband. Fuck.
“I’m taking mental pictures, my love.” Ayesha licked her lips. The action snapped King’s restraint as he eliminated the space between the two and tossed his wife over his shoulder, making her gasp. A loud thwack echoed around the small room.
“Do you think they’re gonna fuck in the church?”
Kendrick glanced at the man who’d spoken. “He’s your brother by blood. What do you think?”
A door slammed shut, followed by a woman squealing, letting him know that King and Ayesha would likely do just that.
“I gotta go see the priest and pay him for his services. I’ll see you at the reception, yeah?” he asked, jerking his head toward the door the duo had entered.
“I’ll wait for them to finish and make sure we get there together. My ole’ lady is already there with the kids. He owes me one.” Duke leaned against the wall and kicked one leg over the other as he pulled his cell phone out.
Upstairs, he went to find Father Totton. His leather-soled shoes thunked softly with each step he made. As a good Catholic, he stopped and dipped his fingers in the Holy Water Font and made the sign of the cross before continuing forward. He scanned the pews, admiring their grandeur yet preferring St. Michaels in Chicago. The old church survived the Chicago fire in 1871, unlike many structures.
At the door leading to the rectory, he could hear the soft swish of cloth. He lifted his arm and gave two firm knocks, waiting for Father Totton to answer. The swishing stopped. Kendrick could picture the man holding his breath with one hand on his chest.
“Father Totton, do you have a minute?” he asked, letting the other man know he couldn’t hide like a child.
A couple of seconds passed, and then the door creaked open.
“What can I do for you, young man?” Father Totton asked.
Kendrick allowed a smile to form. “Ah, you can do nothing for me, Father. I don’t like men on their knees sucking my cock or taking it in their ass. Is that what you’re worried about? Do you think I will find all your naughty secrets like those other men of the cloth back in Chicago were found to have?”
He wasn’t a man who was morally black or white. Shit, most days, red ran wherever he treads. His life wasn’t for the faint of heart. But it was how he chose it to be.
“Excuse me? You can’t come in here talking to me...like that,” he sputtered. Father Totton’s face had turned beet red. His pupils appeared blown. Hell, if Kendrick gave two shits, he’d worry the man was going to stroke out.
“Listen, I’m not here to be your judge, jury, or executioner. However, if you have some skeletons in your closet, I suggest you clean them out before the Reaper comes calling. Feel me?” he asked.
Sweat beaded on the priest’s forehead, dripping down his temples. Kendrick hadn’t known before entering the man’s chambers that he’d encounter a man with secrets. Kendrick didn’t know what those were, but he’d ensure someone found out.
“Yes. I understand. Is there anything else?” He shuffled on his feet.
Kendrick watched the artery at his neck throb. The last thing he wanted to do was give this fucker money. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out an envelope, looked at his hand, and tapped the thick envelope against his other.
“This is for the church. A token of gratitude for their services today. My brother and his bride appreciate the church and you for providing the place to perform their wedding ceremony. I trust you’ll handle the paperwork that needs filing, so they’re all legal and shit?”
Father Totton swallowed audibly and nodded. Kendrick held the white envelope out. His fingers gripped it tighter as the bastard reached for it.
“Remember what I said about cleaning out your closets before it’s too late.” With those parting words, Kendrick spun on his heels and left the sweating, shaking man in his chambers.
Andre, his righthand man and unofficial bodyguard, stood outside the door. The man stood at least two inches taller than his own six feet three inches and had thirty extra pounds of pure muscle. If Kendrick were to guess, he’d say Andre had to be at least two hundred and seventy pounds without an ounce of fat. However, he moved as silent as a ghost.
“How long have you been there?” he asked his friend.
“Long enough to know you’re going to have me send his information to our guys.” Andre’s deep baritone held no inflection. It was as if he were repeating the weather to a neighbor instead of talking about a possible sexual predator.
They were nearing the church exit, where they both stopped, dipped their fingers in the holy water again, and made the sign of the cross before leaving.
“Everyone has already left for the MC compound except the two of us. Do you want to go there or return to the rental?” Andre asked. He stepped outside the church first, scanning the surroundings.
Kendrick let out a sigh and moved around Andre. “The clubhouse, of course.”
Andre grunted. His friend didn’t want to go and party with a bunch of people he didn’t know.
“Hell, going to a wedding reception should be a prime opportunity to get laid, my friend. All those women getting drunk and wishing it were them who got hitched.”
“Exactly why I hate weddings. I don’t want one of them to get any ideas because I danced with them, took them to the bathroom, and fucked them, or heaven forbid, I actually spent the night with them. Imagine if they suddenly get it in their minds that we have a future beyond the one night of mutual pleasure. Nope. Not me. I’ll go, stand by the door, and watch with my dick strictly in check, zipped in my pants with orders to stay down no matter how tempting it might be to salute.”
Kendrick shook his head, gripped Andre’s shoulder, and shook him. “You have issues.”
“Hello, pot said the kettle,” Andre said. “Get in the SUV so we can roll. I got some idiots to watch.”
Kendrick released Andre. “Last I checked I was the boss. Don’t push me, Andre. I’m not in the mood for a pissing contest.”
Andre raised his arms in the air. “No disrespect. I apologize. It’s just...you know I hate all this pomp and shit. With your wedding that—didn’t happen, I had time to prepare.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Dre.” Kendrick put his hand on Andre’s shoulder again, hating his carelessness. The big man didn’t show emotions often, making one think he had none. Yet Kendrick knew he had a deep well within him.
“It was a long time ago,” Andre said, dismissing Kendrick’s words. With the fluidity of a much smaller man, Andre sidestepped Kendrick and went around to his side of the SUV, getting behind the wheel.
The drive to the MC clubhouse took little time. Kendrick watched for updates from his businesses back home while Andre stayed silent. When they were five minutes from the turnoff, he broke the silence. “If you want to return to the rental house, I can stay in one of the rooms at the clubhouse. King knows we traveled from Chicago to be here and offered us a place to crash. I’ve heard they renovated them all to his ole’ lady’s standards. Not sure what that means, but I can put up with it for a night.”
Andre glanced at him, a grin tipping his lips. “You mean you can rough it for a few hours?”
Kendrick flipped him off. “I have been known to do so.”
A deep belly laugh came from the other side. “Shut up, asshole. I am fine. If I were going to have a mantrum, it would’ve been during the wedding. A little reception won’t hurt me.”
Kendrick exhaled and let it go. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me because some woman tried to climb you like a tree.”
SUTTON STOOD AT THE bar with her best friends Tiana and Lux, both of whom were ole’ ladies to members of the Royal MC.
She loved the men and women of the MC. After rescuing her several years ago, they’d made her feel welcome, never giving her pitying looks like her family and old friends.
“Hey girl, what’s that look for?” Lux bumped her hip.
She shook her hair back, making an effort to banish thoughts of her past and the family who’d been blood. “Nothing, I was just wondering when the wedding party would arrive. I’m starving,” she said. Her stomach made a rumble, giving credence to the lie.
Tiana narrowed her eyes as if searching Sutton’s face for any telltale signs of dishonesty. Good gracious, her friends were like human lie detectors. “Did you skip breakfast and lunch again?”
“I ate a granola bar this morning,” she argued.
“By this morning, do you mean before six or after nine?” Lux asked.
They knew her too well. She worked at the hospital doing twelve hour shifts. “I cannot tell a lie. Oh look, they’re here.”
A commotion near the door halted their conversation, giving her a reprieve. Thank fuck. For the next half hour, the wedding party filed in and spoke with others in the space. Her hunger became a dull ache as she laughed with a group of ladies when they talked about men and their antics.
“I can’t believe you defiled the church like that, King.”
The words came from Lennox, Duke’s ole’ lady.
“Oh please, he’s a defiler of all things. Hell, if the urge hit him, he’d have taken her in full view of the priest with zero fucks given,” Duke muttered.
“I can’t believe you just said that. I wouldn’t do any of the sort. Besides, it wasn’t in the church, per se. I mean, it was the basement. So technically, it was underground, which wouldn’t that mean it’s not actually the church?” Ayesha asked, blinking quickly.
“What the fuck are you talking about, and what are you doing with your eyes? The last time you did that, you said you were imagining him naked or some shit, which led to the two of you fornicating in the church basement. See how I said church before basement.” The VP and Ayesha’s brother-in-law looked like he was having difficulty keeping a straight face while speaking.
“I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to, Duke,” Ayesha said, turning toward the bar.
Sutton’s bullshit meter was pinging hard the second she saw Ayesha’s face. The President’s ole’ lady winked as she walked behind the bar and grabbed a beer from the cooler like she had done it a time or two before twisting the cap off with practiced ease. When she tipped the bottle to her lips, King made a low rumble like he was in pain.
“I swear to all that’s holy, you two make everything fucking sexual,” Duke grumbled.
“That’s what she said,” Lux said, clapping her hands together.
Sutton rolled her eyes, still wondering when the fuck they’d get to sit down and eat when the door opened again. A massive bear of a man entered. His presence felt heavy as if he’d just as soon kill you than talk to you. However, the man behind the serial killer brute captured her attention. Good god almighty decided to create perfection in one man, and it was him.
She’d seen gorgeous men in real life and on television. Hell, Los Angeles was full of men who did nothing but work out all day, tan, and spend more time and money on beauty products than she ever would.
He had to be maybe six-two or six-three, which meant that when she wore her highest heels, he’d still be several inches taller than her—at five feet eight, finding taller guys had been a struggle throughout high school. She’d been called giraffe, lady long legs, stilts, and one of her favorites, lamppost—the assholes.
“Who is that sexy beast?” Sasha asked.
Lux looked at Sutton, then at Sasha. “Aren’t you in a relationship with Benny?”
“I call them expirationships. They all have expire at some point. Benny’s might’ve moved up a bit,” she said with a tinkling laugh.
“Well, until you actually break that shit off, keep your dick skinner away from that guy or any other one here,” Lux said slowly as she moved in front of Sasha to block her view. “The last thing we need is Benny getting into a fight while he’s still a prospect with that guy over you.”
“I don’t think it would be much of a fight,” Sasha muttered.
“Sasha, get your ass back to work, girl. It looks like the entire wedding party has arrived. That means we can start setting up to serve dinner.” Chris, the caterer, barked orders like a drill sergeant, and Sasha was like everyone else, falling in line with whatever she told her to do.
Once Sasha and Chris disappeared behind the doors to the kitchen, Lux muttered something too low for Sutton to hear.
“What was that?” she asked her friend.
“She gets on my last nerve. Women who come here know the score, and they know who they can and can’t fuck with. A brother who has an ole’ lady is off limits. It’s not like that at some clubhouses, but King has made it clear that’s one of the Royal MC rules. You come here; you sign an NDA, and if you want to be a club bitch, you sign a contract. In that contract, there are rules and regulations. She’s signed one and still acts like that, and it pisses me the fuck off. She and Benny came together, but when you become a Prospect, you can’t have an ole’ lady.” Tiana blew out a breath.