Ezekiel
“Carnage Creator” Ford.
Brother of the Royal Bastards MC.
Brutality incarnate.
A lone wolf.
The one they call in from the dark when they need shit done—and there’s no one
better for the job than me.
I have a tainted soul, oil black, and hungry for bloodshed.
The world is a cesspit. I give zero fucks about it, and it gives zero fucks
about me, so when some mafia prick with a vendetta toward our club tries to
torture me for sport, the last person I expect to come to my rescue is a small
female with a sassy attitude and a death wish.
She’s a complication, burrowing her claws deep into the layers of my fucked-up
psyche.
Part of me wants to keep her there, drench her in the very essence of who I am
until she’s nothing but a weeping mess, craving the relief only I can give her.
She’s bringing my walls down, showing me maybe there’s some good in the world
after all. Until my brothers find us and it’s not me they’ve come for—it’s her.
She’s not who she’s been pretending to be.
She’s the devil dressed in the tight-ass skin of a bitch I’ve become addicted
to.
I don’t care who has to bleed for me to keep feeding the habit:
My brother.
Our enemies.
Her.
If she’s not in my bed and on the back of my bike, she’s not going to be on
anyone’s.
Don’t miss our reviews of other books in the Royal Bastards MC: Little Rock, AR
series!
For book one, Animal, click HERE.
Book
3
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Another bar. Another drink. Another job.
Shifting my gaze around this hovel, a grim line tugs at my lips. The floors are sticky. The mirror behind the bar is cracked and missing pieces. There’s a fucking dog that looks like a rat licking out of a man’s beer glass on the bar top. Cigarette smoke fogs the air, and the reek of piss invades my nostrils. I got a text to meet a brother here. My gut instinct tells me I’ve got the wrong place. This shit hole is in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and looks like it’s run from the cast of The Hills Have Eyes. Lights flicker toward the back where a pool table is situated, making it impossible for anyone to fucking use it. I’ve been in some hell holes, but this one takes the cake.
Finding a table, I begrudgingly sit my ass in the torn-up booth. The green leather seat looks like Freddie Kruger got into a fight with it, half the insides pushing through tears.
A couple guys in the booth next to me share a pitcher of beer while hashing it out in a heated conversation. A barman who looks ready for the grave hobbles up and down, clearing shit away. A man propped up by the bar is either passed out or dead.
I’m about to text the bastard and check if this is the right place when a woman walks in from the back, making me pause. It’s like someone dropped a diamond into a pile of dog shit. A pretty little piece so out of place immediately sends up red flags. Her dark blonde hair spills down her back, ending at a perky ass crammed into a pair of jean shorts. Her face is innocent all for the pouty red lips that scream, “Insert cock here.” Her tits bounce with her movements as she slips behind the bar.
Our eyes clash across the room, her brow puckering as she nods to the barman. He gives her something, and she saunters toward me. Dumping her ass in the seat opposite me, she places a shot in the center of the table between us.
Her pouty lips part, concern drawing down her brows. “You’re a bastard,” she breathes. I half expected her to be toothless—something that would make her fit in here—but she has a full set of pearly whites.
“A little too soon to be determining that. That’s usually reserved for after sex.” I smirk, but she doesn’t even twitch.
Tough crowd.
“A royal bastard,” she clarifies in a hushed whisper. Reaching forward, I take the glass and knock it back as she reaches for my arm to stop me. “You shouldn’t have come,” she says, slightly shaking her head and shifting her eyes to the men in the booth next to us.
Was this a setup? My thoughts melt like plastic over a flame, the room expanding then shrinking in quick succession.
“What the fuck did you give me?” I slur. Fuck. She drugged me. I knew she was a huge red fucking flag.
Shannan
– ☆☆☆☆☆
Carnage is the third book in the Royal Bastards MC: Little Rock, AR series
written by Ker Dukey, but this is a multi-author world with many more books
within it.
Ezekiel Ford is known as Carnage, because he creates carnage whenever he is
needed. He is a brother of the Royal Bastards but goes wherever he is needed,
more nomad than not. After receiving a message to meet at a bar, with one drink
he knows he's been set up.
Ruby shouldn't care about her mom seeing as her mother has never cared about
her, but when she needs to pay off her mom's debt, she unexpectedly finds
herself serving a drink in a bar to a brother of the Royal Bastards.
Ruby and Ezekiel find themselves saving each other in the most unexpected of
ways. The sparks were instantaneous and so explosive. I loved everything about
this read. I love getting a glimpse of the Royal Bastards MC and past
characters anyway I can, it is always a plus for me. I can't wait to see where
else this MC can go.
KER DUKEY is an international bestselling
author based in the United Kingdom.
Genres include: Dark Romance, Psychological Thriller, New Adult Romance,
Romantic Suspense, Mafia Romance, MC Romance, and more.
With over forty titles published, her books have held multiple #1 bestseller
banners, have had rights sold to numerous countries, translated in
multiple languages, and have been adapted into audiobooks.
In addition to being an author, Ker is an annoying wife and a mother of three
children + one dog (who thinks he's human). She has a passion for reading and
binge-watching crime documentaries.
Find her on social
media, where she loves interacting with her readers.
Connect with Ker
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Website ~ Goodreads
Facebook
Group: Dukey's darKER souls
Hosted by
Reviewers on the Wicked Reads Review Team were provided
a free copy of Carnage (Royal Bastards MC: Little Rock, AR #3) by Ker Dukey to
read and review for this tour.
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