Broken Deeds MC: Second Generation #1

by Esther E. Schmidt

My mother snorts. “And I’ve told you many times that if I didn’t do it when you were a kid…I’m not going to start now. But it should teach you to lock the door if you want to get nekkid with your old lady.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I grumble in a whisper while Bee giggles and strolls over to my mother to take Queenie from her.

  “She’s been a doll all day and I wouldn’t have brought her by if Archer didn’t call. I could bring her by tomorrow morning if you two want some extra time together,” my mother offers.

  Bee shoots me a look with the same emotions rising inside me. “Maybe tomorrow. We wanted to have dinner together tonight since everything is handled here. In fact, we’re going home. I have to work tomorrow at the shop so if Bee agrees she could drop her off tomorrow afternoon to stay the night. I’ll swing by to give her a goodnight kiss when I get back from work.”

  “Sounds good,” both Bee and my mother say in sync.

  We all stroll out of my office. The music has turned up and some of the brothers have started to relax with a woman draped over their lap. Ganza is sitting on the couch–typing away on his laptop–and there’s something on his head, but I can’t make out what it is until I step closer.

  My mother stalks up to Ganza and holds her hand out. “Give it here, Ganza.”

  He’s engrossed in his laptop and doesn’t make a peep. Dannon is sitting next to him and grabs the thing my mother is referring to and pulls it before letting go, making it smack into Ganza’s forehead who is now shooting a glare at Dannon.

  Dannon snickers, “This is why we can’t take you places, dude. You’re weird.”

  “It’s functional, keeps my hair out of my face. I found it between the cushions, smelled it first and it’s clean,” Ganza grumbles.

  Dannon keeps staring at him. “I repeat, you’re weird.”

  “Give me my thong back, Ganza,” my mother sighs.

  Both men glance at each other and Ganza rips it off his head as if it’s on fire, throwing it in my mother’s direction the next instant.

  “Why the fuck is he wearing your fucking thong on his head?” my father says as he comes to a stop next to me.

  My mother grins. “You should ask him, I’m just happy I found what I lost last week.”

  “I’m out of here,” I mutter and slide my arm around Bee.

  She giggles and whispers in my ear, “Your mother is screwing with them, it’s not her thong.”

  “I don’t want to know, even if she’s only egging them on. Let’s go home and let this bunch of crazy get some relaxation in their own way.”

  “Prez, a word, please,” Pax says as he steps in front of me.

  Fuck. I was looking forward to dinner with my woman and kid. “Can’t it wait till morning? Maybe Wyatt can handle it.”

  “Afraid not. Baton pulled something and we need to get in front of this shit.” Worry is etched in Pax’s face and I know I have to handle this.

  Bee brushes her lips against mine. “I’ll get dinner started. Text me if you’ll be late or if I have to put it in the microwave for later.”

  “Thanks, love,” I murmur, and watch her sweet ass walk out of the clubhouse with our daughter on her hip.

  “My office,” I tell Pax and spin on my heels.

  Pax steps inside and closes the door behind him. I’m still standing because I’m hoping to handle this quick and follow my woman but when Pax starts, I know this will take a chat with Wyatt before I hunt down Baton and kick his damn ass before locking the dumbass up in the basement.

  A little over a year ago Baton saved the mayor’s daughter. The way he got her out of a bad situation involved kissing the woman in an effort to shut her up. His hands were otherwise occupied–firing his guns–to take out the kidnappers. He kissed her, she kissed him back and grabbed on, allowing him to walk right out along with her.

  Ever since it happened, he’s been a lovestruck fool, and the mayor put him on a no contact list because he doesn’t want Baton near his daughter. Baton might still function but keeping him away from the woman has been hard.

  “He’s stalking her again and I saw him leave after church so I put a prospect on him to see where he went. Three fucking guesses.” Pax sighs.

  “Dammit.” I grab my phone and jab the screen to call Baton, he picks up on the second ring. “Get your ass back to the clubhouse. My office. Now.” I don’t wait for a response but end the call.

  I rub a hand over my face and think of a way to handle this.

  “Need me for anything else, Prez?” Pax questions.

  “Nah, you did good to send out a prospect to follow Baton and by letting me know. Go ahead and enjoy the party, I’ll take it from here.”

  “No problem, Prez,” Pax grunts and stalks out of my office.

  I glance at my phone and think of a way to handle this fucking situation. Before I realize what I’m doing, my phone is against my ear and I hear my woman’s voice along with some music in the background.

  “Hey. I’m making lasagna and have two batches, I can easily put one in the oven waiting for you and can heat it up whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks. It might take a while because Baton is at it again,” I grumble. “I just ordered him to get back here and to be honest? What the fuck am I going to tell him this time because I threatened to take his cut the last time if he didn’t back off. He’s putting heat on the club, something I don’t need right now. Dammit, I thought he had himself under control.”

  “He did,” Bee says and I can hear the music slowly fade in the background. “He seemed more distracted the last few days. You haven’t asked him about this yet, did you? I think there’s more to it. Like you said, you warned him and put an ultimatum on it too. He wouldn’t throw his cut away: Baton isn’t like that. Why don’t you let North be there when you talk to him? Hell, Kray too, and your father. Pull the older generation into this, but Archer?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh and rub the back of my neck while I think over what she’s telling me.

  “Baton respects you. He might have spiraled out of control the first few weeks when he saved her and couldn’t get her out of his head, but he has had a handle on his emotions and feelings for months. Let him talk and listen.”

  “Will you be awake if I come home late?”

  There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “I’ll try, and if I’m not…find a way to wake me up.”

  “Count on it,” I croak.

  “Looking forward to it,” she huskily replies.

  Instead of the load of worry I now find myself somewhat relaxed as I place a few calls and wait for Baton to get here. Like Bee says; Baton wouldn’t give up his cut for anything. I’m going to take her advice and let him do the talking while me, his father, North, along with Kray and my own father will listen and then take action.

  It’s going to take a while to deal with this, but knowing what’s waiting for me at home always makes my heart settle. My woman not only has my back, but the whole club along with it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  One week later

  – BEATRICE –

  “Sure,” I grumble. “Why am I not surprised?”

  I stare at the coffee maker and take a deep breath. When I woke up alone this morning, I quickly found out Archer didn’t even make it home last night. I’m not surprised since he’s been busy for seven days non-stop.

  Ever since the Baton issue added to his workload, he barely has time to see his daughter, let alone spend time with me. I’m not complaining; he’s a busy man with a truckload of responsibilities and I knew it the day I agreed to become his old lady.

  But it’s been seven days since we had sex and barely had two days of “normal” before we fell back into a slump. No, it’s more than a slump because I’ve barely seen him for seven freaking days.

  And the worst thing? No one has come to me for help when it involves working on Broken Deeds MC business. And from what I’ve heard–when I head into the clubhouse searching for Archer–Ganza is completely swam
ped with work.

  So, not only is Archer avoiding me, everyone else is too. Yes, I’m being petty since I know he’s not avoiding me, but the day I’ve had since I opened my eyes is making me grumpy and feeling sorry for myself.

  I mean, stumbling into the bathroom, hitting your toe on the threshold, crashing into the wall–face first–isn’t a ‘good morning sunshine are you ready to kick-ass today’ wake-up call. It’s more like ‘you need more coffee to survive another shitty day’. And then I stumble into the kitchen and guess what? No coffee. No. Freaking. Coffee. How is that even possible?

  I hear Queenie and release a deep sigh. Screw everything to hell and back, I need coffee and I’m going to get some right now. Rushing up the stairs I quickly change Queenie, and head downstairs to give her a bottle and rush out the door. Strapping her into the car seat, I get in and drive to the nearest coffeeshop. People shoot glances at me left and right, and I shoot a glare back. What the hell is wrong with everyone today?

  It’s me, I know. My mood has blown to shit and I now realize I might have dressed Queenie but I didn’t so much as brush my hair or dress in normal clothes before I went out the door. Whatever; I need coffee to function and that was lacking on this already crappy day.

  Thankfully I’m back in my car and take a sip of my espresso while shooting a loving glance at the other cup which contains a caramel latte. Yes, I ordered two different coffees, don’t judge, I need it.

  After a few sips I sigh in contentment, feeling a little more human. Glancing in the rearview mirror I notice Queenie has fallen asleep and I now notice my own face. Leaning forward I touch my cheek and wince. Shit. I knew it hurt when I stumbled into the wall but I didn’t think I hurt myself this badly.

  Damn. No wonder people were staring at me, they might have thought I’d needed the coffee to get over the fact someone kicked the shit out of me. Glancing down I cringe at the way I look with my sweats, rumpled shirt and oh my God, I’m not even wearing a bra.

  Putting the coffee down, I cover my face with my hands, quickly pulling them away because my face is hurting, dammit. I can’t even cry or block the world out for a moment. I barely manage to swallow a sob.

  It’s just a shitty day, I mentally scold myself. Breathe through it and put it behind you; clear your head and focus on the positive.

  “My brain can go screw the positive because I’m feeling like shit and I look even worse,” I whisper growl.

  A tiny scream rips from me when there’s a knock on my window. It’s Austin, Pokey and Orianna’s son who is now a biker of Areion Fury MC, just like his father. I’ve known Austin all my life since we grew up in the same MC. I slide down the window and turn my head toward him.

  “You okay? Motherfucker, what the hell happened to you?” he growls and cups the good side of my face. “Did he do that to you? No, he wouldn’t because he knows we would fucking kill him.”

  He reaches for his phone and I’m sure he’s either going to call my dad or his president. Great, let’s add two MCs going head to head to this already screwed-up day.

  “Cool it, Austin. I did this myself, okay? I stumbled and walked into a wall.”

  “That’s what most abused women say. Don’t try that shit with me, Beatrice. Take a look in the rearview mirror and check out your face and the little kid in the backseat. Don’t risk either one of your lives, and tell me the truth. Archer wouldn’t do this…but what I’m seeing I’m not believing either.”

  “I just fucking did, Austin. I just noticed my face when I finally got my coffee because when I woke up alone for the gazillionth time, since Archer is working non-stop. And I’m un-freaking-useful since no one asks me for any help. Did I mention how Archer told everyone a freaking week ago they could ask me for help? Did anyone? Noooooo. And when I went into the bathroom this morning, I fucking stumbled over the threshold and faceplanted into the wall. Nice, right? But wait for it…I went downstairs to get coffee and there wasn’t any in the house. None. I quickly took care of Queenie and ran out with her to get me some coffee because I really fucking needed it to survive the day, Austin. Then to sit here in my car, and realize with the first sip of coffee, that my face is black and blue and I’m not even wearing a freaking bra. To say I’m a mess and to give me a damn minute to pull myself together is a tiny understatement of the year. But then again, I might be back to full function once I’ve had my coffee.” Rattling all of it out I now realize how petty it all sounds.

  Another sob escapes me and I want to cover my face again but dammit, it hurts.

  “I can’t even hide my freaking face in my hands to properly feel sorry for myself,” I whisper growl and let the tears slide over my face.

  I watch through blurry vision how Austin thumbs his phone for a few more seconds before he shoves it back into his pocket.

  He opens the door and orders, “Get out of the car, Bee.”

  “I have to get home.”

  “Yeah, right. As if I would let you when you’re like this.” He leans forward, into the car, and grabs the keys from the ignition. “Out,” he repeats.

  Another sigh rips from my body and while I get out of the car I suddenly feel like a complete idiot.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Austin snaps. He lifts my chin with his finger and pins me with his gaze. “Everyone has shitty days and everyone has a breaking point. It doesn’t diminish the strength one possesses or the way they handle their shit. You need time to catch your breath and for sure as fuck you need your coffee. You and I are going to have a little chat because for the life of me I don’t know why you haven’t reached out to anyone. You have two MCs filled with people who care and are there for you. One call to a prospect would have either gotten you coffee right from the clubhouse or he would have gone out and get any special coffee you would want. You could have also gone to Lynn, Diamond, any one of those old ladies living close. Hell, you could have gone to your parents, or to my clubhouse, or called me for that matter. Get it?”

  “My point, Austin,” I sigh in defeat. “I could have, but I’m having a shitty day.”

  The sound of a biker nearing catches my attention.

  “You called Archer?” I ask in disbelief. Shame overwhelms me. “Like I said, Austin, I was having a shitty day and I’m overreacting.”

  “I didn’t call Archer,” Austin states as I watch Pokey park his bike right next to my car. “I called my dad. We’re going to let him take care of Queenie while you’re going to help me.”

  “Help you? But–” I start to sputter but Austin holds up his hand to stop me.

  “Hey, Dad. Can you take Queenie for the day or drop her off at Dams’ place? Bee offered to help me with something and we’re going to handle a few other things along with it.” Austin throws my keys in his direction and Pokey snatches them right out of the air.

  Pokey’s gaze slides over my face and lands on Austin. Something passes between them and he suddenly says, “Sure thing.”

  Austin reaches inside my car while I quickly kiss Queenie’s sleeping face. He wraps his fingers around my upper arm and guides me toward his car while handing me my coffee. Austin opens the door for me and it takes a moment for him to slide into the driver’s seat.

  He hands me a black raincoat and a cap. “I’m heading to a crime scene and you’re going to tag along today. Your job is to observe, sip coffee, answer my questions, and give me your thoughts.”

  Austin has his own company. He takes a wide variety of cases and you could say he’s somewhat of a private investigator. But you could also hire him if you think your business partner is lying or if you think your husband is cheating on you. And in some cases he’s asked to be a consultant in police matters. I know for a fact Archer has hired him a few times when he needed a keen eye.

  I feel my lips tug with a tiny smile. “Your brilliant plan to turn my shitty day around is to watch you work while I give comments and sip coffee?”

  He shrugs. “More or less.”

  I take a sip of my delicious coffee an
d release a deep breath, liking the change he’s offering. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Austin grins and starts the car. I’ve helped Austin out a few times in the past. Austin–like his father–has a photographic memory. He’s brilliant in his own way, though it’s a struggle for him in other ways. He gets bored easily and being this smart–since the man feeds his brain with any information he can come across–makes him stand out among others. Mainly because Austin isn’t afraid to speak his mind and it makes him a bit of a know-it-all.

  Watching Austin work is soothing the turmoil inside my head. When he’s walking through a crime scene he rarely talks, though I know for a fact it’s loud in his head, but I let him do his thing. He did mention he wanted my help but he doesn’t need it.

  But what I needed was the simple fact of being around a friend. A friend who handles everything with precision and rarely thinks he’s wrong. And he wasn’t wrong with knowing exactly what I needed today.

  It’s late afternoon when we stop at a diner to grab something to eat. I’m still wearing the huge black raincoat and cap–allowing me to hide my crappy appearance–when we order burgers and fries.

  “Thank you for today,” I tell him in all sincerity.

  Austin rises one of his eyebrows. “For taking you along to a fresh crime scene? The dead body did it for you then, huh?”

  We lean back to let the waitress place our food in front of us. I cringe as I glance at my burger and tell Austin, “I’m sure it was the maggots crawling out of his mouth.”

  Austin chuckles. “That’ll do it. But you’re welcome to join me any time, Bee.”

  “You’re only saying that because I don’t answer the questions you ask out loud to yourself.” He really doesn’t ask for answers, it’s more him trying to think things over but a lot of people talk to him during his brain process and it annoys the shit out of him.

  “You know me too well,” he says and shoves a fry into his mouth, checking his phone for the third time since we got here.

  “Finally found a girl?” I ask and point at his phone.