“Well, ain’t this a damn clusterfuck?” The entire Royal Bastards Detroit Chapter has gone to hell in a handbasket and as the new VP, it’s my job to clean up the fucking mess. Like I don’t already have enough going on. While Silver, our Prez, is damn near comatose, locked in his office, and our newest and most valuable tracker, TBone is MIA, I’ve gotta figure out how in the fuck to manage a club by myself. BDSM has never been my strong suit, but the responsibility has fallen to me, and I’ll make damn sure this club isn’t run into the ground. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, Queenie and Kourtney have my nuts in a vice, and while I want nothing more than to tie them both to me, permanently, Queenie has made it quite clear that’s never going to happen. The Royal Bastards and my brothers are my home, but Queenie and Kourtney do things to me that can’t be explained. I’d blow up the fucking world and lay it at their feet if they asked me to, but if I have to make a choice between the two, the club, or my girls, I’d rather put a bullet in my brain.