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Prologue – Grim
“Barb ain’t answering her phone,” Bulldog complained as he shook his head. “She said she was gonna make a decision today on whether or not she was leavin’ that asshole.”
I shrugged, knowing she wasn’t ever gonna ditch his controlling ass. “Bill manipulates her. He’s been doin’ it a long time. She doesn’t realize how bad it’s gotten.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I know.” Bulldog was anxious and I didn’t blame him.
I was anxious too. Barb was the widow of our brother Boone. He’d been killed protecting his family and the RBMC. We promised to watch out for his wife and kids and keep them safe. Couldn’t help but feel like we failed. Bill was an abusive dick.
If he touched those kids, I would beat his ass. He’d answer to the club.
Didn’t matter if he was a nomad with the Bloody Scorpions. No one fucked with the Royal Bastards.
“I think we should ride by the house,” I suggested, feeling my stress level rise. What if he was hurting them now?
“Yeah, let’s roll.”
The ride didn’t take long. We pulled up and parked our bikes across the road to avoid confrontation if Bill was in a mood. I didn’t worry too much until I could hear a commotion coming from the inside of the house.
“Leave us alone, you asshole!”
“Ian!” Willow’s little voice followed her brother’s.
Fuck!
Bulldog beat me inside the door as we walked straight into a nightmare. Furniture was turned over, the rugs bunched over the hardwood floors. A lamp had been knocked over and was broken in several places, the pieces scattered along the floor. The place was dirtier than the last time I was there, and it didn’t make sense. Barb was a good mother.
My head swung as I heard a squelching sound and found Ian Braxton, the oldest of the kids swinging a baseball bat. He’d hit Bill at least a couple of times from what I could tell, and the big man was on the ground, not moving. Willow was whimpering, her feet tucked underneath her as she clutched at her favorite stuffed bear. She was shaking and calling out for Ian.
Bill’s head was trickling blood as well as the side of his face where a nasty bruise was beginning to form. The bat slid from Ian’s fingers as we approached and he glanced up, momentarily confused. He hadn’t heard us before now. Too pumped with adrenaline, I would guess.
“You okay, son?”
He nodded, backing up until he reached Willow. She stood and hugged her brother’s waist, her small frame trembling. Bulldog bent down to Bill, checking for a pulse. He didn’t find one.
I held up my hands since the kids seemed spooked. “Name’s Grim. I was a good friend of your father’s. Boone and I were close. You look like him,” I observed as Ian stared right into my eyes.
That boy was fierce and fearless. He was just as hardball as his father.
“He was a badass,” Ian announced.
“Sure was,” I agreed. “You seem to be taking right after him.” I ticked my head toward Willow. “Good job protecting your sister. That’s how it should be.”
