Broken Wings Read online Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty (Royal Bastards MC – Louisville KY #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Royal Bastards MC - Louisville KY Series by Izzy Sweet
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
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“Probably pissed as fuck at me,” I say with a grunt.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard about you givin’ her the boot outta the office, Coy. I was gonna talk to you about that. The skanks and sweetbutts knew you weren’t exactly an available bachelor before Allie came back, but you bein’ a dick like that…”

Again, he shakes his head at me in this big brother way, like he’s disappointed in me, but doesn’t say anything else.

He’s right.

I’ve been pretty fucking good about keeping my distance from the skanks and sweetbutts except for occasionally blowin’ off steam.

When Allie left, I died.

I didn’t move on. I fucked my way through a couple strip clubs to try and heal in the beginning, but that shit didn’t work. I wouldn’t let anyone get close to me like she did again. The moment I got even a whiff of them thinkin’ we were more than a fuck, I dropped ‘em.

“Think this will cause any issues in the club?” I ask him.

Shrugging his shoulders, he says, “No. I don’t think anyone will think you did this, but it’s gonna scare the fuck out of the girls.”

“Alright, let’s see what Harry has to show us. Fuck, this might not even be Snowbird,” I say while getting off my bike.

“Coy, I love you like a little brother so I’ll be honest with you right here and now,” he says as he walks beside me.

“What?” I ask.

He points down to the gremlin bell taped to his kutte. “You’re not that fuckin’ lucky.”

“Jesus, you superstitious fuck. Gremlins ain’t gonna fuckin’ kill our girls,” I say with a roll my eyes.

“Just sayin’, you ain’t the luckiest bastard on the block.”

I grin. “Yeah, well, I got my ol’ lady back, so at least that’s goin’ for me. And I got a son, too.”

He snorts at me. “Fuckin’ sucker. You got a family package right out the gate. You’re gonna end up in a cage, fast.”

Shaking my head, I stop next to Sheriff Jones, who is standing off to one side of the crime scene.

“Harry,” I say with a nod to him.

“Coy, this shit ain’t supposed to be happenin’ in my backyard, much less right on my fuckin’ doorstep,” he snarls out at me from behind his thick mustache.

“No shit, Harry. What the fuck happened?” Grem asks before I can snap at the pissed-off Sheriff.

Harry sighs. “Got an anonymous tip that somethin’ was up with this car. Caller said it smelled like somethin’ was dead in the trunk.”

“How anonymous?” I ask.

“It was a burner phone, most likely,” Harry says. “We sent a squad car out to check around nine this mornin’. When the Deputy arrived, he checked the car out, saw the trunk was popped but down.”

“Any idea who owns the car?” I ask as I look at the late model Buick.

Harry reaches up to push his hat back and wipe at his forehead. “Stolen out of New Albany. Went missing ‘bout a week back.”

“From anyone noteworthy?” Grem asks.

Pulling his hat back down, Harry shakes his head. “Just an older retired couple. We can poke around and see if we can catch when the car crossed the toll bridge, but that’s gonna bring more heat onto this.”

I shake my head. “Not a good idea right now.” Then I look to Grem. “Let’s get this over with. Harry, show us what you found.”

“Coy,” Harry says, all the anger gone from his face. “This ain’t gonna be an easy one to see.”

“How bad is it?” I ask with a knot forming in my stomach.

“Bad. Whatever they did, they made sure she hurt before she died. Only thing they didn’t touch was her face, I guess. There was a bag of that damn heroin shit right next to her head,” Harry says.

“Heroin?” I ask, my blood instantly fucking boiling through my body.

“Yeah, small baggy of it. Coy, you and your daddy know the rules. No drugs in this town, we made a damn deal.” Harry shakes his head in disgust.

“It ain’t us, Harry,” Grem says.

Ignoring them both, I duck under the police tape and head over to the back of the car. A couple of deputies stand with their backs to the trunk, and the county coroner is leaning inside, taking photos.

Fuck. This one ain’t gonna blow over easily.

“Jerry,” I say to get the coroner’s attention.

Standing up to look at me, he shakes his head. “Might not want to look in, Coy. This ain’t the kind of thing you want to see.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “She was part of the club.”

Family is a sacred thing in this world, especially in a motorcycle club. Doesn’t matter if you’re blood or not, we look out for and take care of our own.

Even if she was a sweetbutt.

Jerry steps away from the trunk as Grem comes up beside me, murmuring something about hoping we didn’t eat breakfast.


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