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“We love you too, honey,” Gavin said, leaning in to gently kiss her lips and then giving Myles the same attention. He wasn’t sure how one conversation with a club buddy about his lifestyle could lead to him being so ridiculously content, but here he was, facing down his future with two people he’d never be complete without again. And as far as Legends went, his had a damn good ending.
The End
I hope you loved Legend, Genesis, and Gavin’s story! Now, buckle up and get ready for another Royal Bastard! Caught in Spider’s Web (A Halloween Novella Royal Bastards MC: Huntsville Chapter Book 12) is coming soon from K.L. Ramsey!
Spider
Spider sat in the beat-up old truck that he used when he was working undercover. He hated that heap of shit. God, what he wouldn’t give to have his bike, but he couldn’t give too much of his real-life away—not with the group of assholes that he was working with. They were the worst of the worst and there was no way that Spider would let any of his true identity out for them to see. He saved riding his bike for days when he knew that he was going to be alone or at least able to fly under the radar. But since the new chain of command was in town, taking over where Chains left off, that wasn’t going to happen for a while now.
What he really wanted was a home-cooked meal and a hot shower—and God, he’d kill to be in his own bed for a night. Instead, he was stuck sleeping in his crappy old truck, waiting for orders from the new leader of the Ghosts. Hangman wasn’t the most pleasant guy to be around, and Spider usually avoided him at all costs. But when the Ghost’s new leader asked for him specifically, he had no choice but to say yes.
When he took this assignment, going undercover for the CIA to bring the Ghosts down from the inside, he knew that he was getting into bed with the devil. He just never knew that removing one devil led to a few others popping up in their stead. Since he had been working undercover, the Ghosts had lost four leaders. Hangman was just the next one up for the job, and Spider wondered what his new so-called boss would have him doing before the end of the night.
Spider caught the shadow outside his truck door, and before he could react, Hangman was standing outside his window, holding a gun to his head. “How about you tell me why you’re just sitting here?” Hangman asked. “You were supposed to meet me at the warehouse.”
“That’s not what I was told, boss,” Spider drawled. He was sure that he hadn’t gotten their meeting place mixed up, but he was dog tired and there was always the possibility of a screw-up. He prided himself on always having his head in the game and never fucking directions up. It was what had kept him alive this long, living in two very different worlds. He never felt fully present in his real life anymore. Hell, he had spent so much time undercover with the Ghosts, he forgot that his other life even existed at all.
“I don’t give a fuck what you thought you were told,” Hangman spat. “Slide over, I’m driving,” he ordered, opening the driver’s side door to Spider’s ancient truck. He didn’t argue, sliding over the bench seat to the passenger side of the truck and buckling his seatbelt into place.
“Where are we going?” Spider asked.
“Back to the fucking warehouse, where you were supposed to be in the first place. We have a new shipment of women being delivered tonight and it’s time for you to earn your paycheck.” Shit—the last thing that his CIA operative told him was that the deal the Ghosts had made, to bring in more women to sell at auction, had been killed.
“You’re getting another shipment?” Spider asked, trying to keep up.
“Yeah, and I need you there to help with them. I know how much you love to babysit our new captives,” Hangman said. Spider fucking hated taking care of the new women that they’d kidnap and bring in for auction. They were all terrified and he had to play the part of the asshole who mistreated them. He hated every fucking second of it if he was being honest. The whole process made him sick, but it was also what kept him going, trying to bring down the Ghosts without getting caught.
“Yep,” Spider agreed, “I just hope that some of them are lookers this time. The last batch wasn’t really my taste.”
“I don’t pay you to fucking taste the merchandise,” Hangman growled. That was a good thing and the only way that Spider stayed under the radar. If they were expected to handle or “Taste” the merchandise, as Hangman said, he would be found out for being a mole because there was no way that he’d be able to bring himself to do that to one of those poor women.
“Got it,” Spider agreed. “No tasting the merchandise. So, how long will they be at the warehouse?” he asked. As long as Hangman had the cells full at the warehouse, Spider would be expected to stay and guard them. If he got lucky this time, they’d be there for more than a few days and he’d be able to get a message to his operative at the CIA. He’d love to finally bust the Ghosts for human trafficking and be able to move on to a new case. It had been over two years that he had been with the Ghosts, and he was beginning to get restless.
“A couple of days and then, I’m thinking of having you move them for me,” Hangman said.
“You want me to move them?” Spider asked. He had never been given such a responsibility before. Hangman usually used his upper guys to move the goods—men who had been with him before he was even a Ghost. He trusted those men and honestly, he had no reason to trust Spider. He shouldn’t trust him because if given the chance, Spider would have his asshole boss behind bars in seconds flat.
“Yeah, Butch is unavailable, and I need you to take the lead on this one,” Hangman said. Shit—Butch was his right-hand guy and if he was off doing another job while the CIA did their raid of the warehouse, they’d never catch all the top players. He’d be the one in charge of the merchandise which meant taking out Hangman would be for nothing. Sooner or later, Butch would take his place and the cycle would continue. Spider wanted to ask Hangman why him, but that would do him no good. Questioning the boss was never a good idea and would probably end up with him dead in a ditch somewhere. That’s what happened the last time he questioned his boss. He ended up having to stage his own death, letting his MC brothers think that he was dead for over a year, to be fully initiated into the Ghosts. He had to prove himself and becoming a literal ghost was the requirement.
“You good with that, Spider?” Hangman asked.
“Yeah, I’m good with it,” he lied.
“Great, now let’s haul ass over to the warehouse. I want to get there before the truck arrives. You’ll need to count and assess the girls while I pay the guy.” God, he hated this fucking job, but sooner or later, he’d get his break and bring down Hangman and the entire Ghost organization. He’d just have to be patient, which was not his strong suit.
“Sure, boss,” Spider agreed.
Amelia
Amelia Goodwell wasn’t sure how she had ended up in the back of a truck full of other women, being taken in the middle of the night, but here she was. The last thing she remembered was dancing the night away with her best friend, Sandy, at their favorite little nightclub in town. Her town was so quiet usually that the one nightspot on Main Street really drew a crowd on Friday nights. She and Sandy were supposed to stick together, but she never imagined that she should have her friend follow her to the ladies’ room. But going alone was her biggest mistake ever and one that she wasn’t sure that she’d live to regret.
She looked around the truck at the other women’s faces, noting that she remembered some of them from the club, but didn’t really remember any of their names. The one thing she was sure of was that Sandy wasn’t in the back of the truck and that meant that her best friend would be involving the authorities to help track her down. It was the thought that she held onto that gave her hope as she spent countless hours bouncing around the back of the truck full of women.
“Where are they taking us?” the scared-looking woman sitting next to her asked. She had been crying for most of the ride—something that Amelia felt like doing herself, but she was practical when it came to things like that. She knew that crying would do her absolutely no good.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
A woman sat up in the corner of the truck and moaned, grabbing her head. “I think someone put something in my drink,” she slurred. That much was very clear to Amelia. She felt like her skull was going to split open and every time she tried to focus, her stomach roiled in discomfort, and she felt about ready to puke. She had never personally been roofied before, but she was pretty sure that this was the way that it felt.
