Broken Deeds MC: Second Generation #2

by Esther E. Schmidt

  Broken Deeds MC:

  Second Generation #2

  By Esther E. Schmidt

  Copyright © 2020 by Esther E. Schmidt All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, places, characters and other stuff mentioned in this book is the results of the author’s imagination. Broken Deeds MC: Second Generation is a work of fiction. If there is any resemblance, it is entirely coincidental.

  This content is for mature audiences only. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence and explicit language offends you.

  Cover design by:

  Esther E. Schmidt

  Editor #1:

  Christi Durbin

  Editor #2:

  Virginia Tesi Carey

  Cover model:

  Matthew Hosea

  Photographer:

  Golden Czermak, FuriousFotog

  Dedication

  For those who need to overcome obstacles thrown in your path…

  Don’t let anyone or anything stop you from doing what you want in life.

  Table of contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  – VACHS –

  I take the last sip of my coffee and throw the cup in the trash. Glancing at my watch I know I have to go or I’ll be late for my appointment to get some new ink. Bee, my president’s old lady, made an appointment for me at the tattoo shop owned by the club.

  I’ve been living in this town for over four months and I’m getting restless. I am itching to get on my bike and just ride; seeking the solitude of the road and the comfort of leaving everything else behind. But I can’t. I’ve given up being a nomad and hoped being a part of this particular Broken Deeds MC chapter would calm the storm inside my head.

  I need to keep busy and this MC handles criminal cases the government can’t close themselves. We’re allowed to use any means necessary to let justice prevail. For months the itch to escape didn’t come but it’s been creeping into my veins more and more these last few days.

  Which is also the very reason I picked up a puppy from the shelter a few days ago. Something to take care of and another commitment to stay put. Archer, my president, gave me a special case to investigate and it’s been helping my brain to focus on other things but it’s still not enough for my nerves to calm and stay rooted.

  Hence the need for some ink therapy. Another thing I do when restlessness creeps through my bones. My arms, back, and chest are covered so I guess it’s time to get a large piece inked on my leg.

  I’ve never met the tattoo artist, nor have I been to the shop. Bee told me Hadley, the tattoo artist, does amazing work and I’m sure she’s right, otherwise the brothers wouldn’t have her working at the shop. The parking lot is empty in front of the shop. I could have parked my bike in one of those spots but I left it parked in front of the coffee shop a few yards away.

  I step inside and a light flashes above me instead of a bell, indicating someone entered the shop. It strikes me as weird but don’t give it another thought as I take in the shop. Loads of space and the walls are filled with frames containing all different artwork. In the corner near the large window is a glass cabinet filled with piercings.

  There’s no music at all and this also strikes me as weird but the woman bent over the counter–engrossed with sketching–doesn’t seem to mind. She must be Hadley, the artist I have an appointment with. Bee mentioned she lived above the shop and would have time to ink me since the others are off and the shop is supposed to close within the hour.

  Her hair is black with purple highlights wrapped in a long braid flowing down her back. It looks silky smooth and it’s so damn long it almost touches her ass. Without looking at me, she lets her hand come up, sticking one finger into the air, as if she’s telling me without words she needs a minute.

  Well, if she’s taking a minute, I’ll allow myself to feast on her features. I might not have a visual of her front but her ass is enough to trigger my brain with a huge list of all the things I’d like to do with it. Those curvy hips are a promise you can hold on and rip through the lust without breaking her.

  Yeah, not a good idea for me to take a damn minute because I’m now packing a boner and I’ve been on a dry spell for years. I’m here for a tattoo, not to get my cock wet, I remind myself, and step closer to the woman.

  “What are you working on?” I question.

  She doesn’t so much as twitch. Okay, maybe she’s engrossed in her work and unable to drag her attention away long enough to give me a reply. I step closer to see what she’s working on. Old school figures, and I have to say, this woman has some mad skills when it comes to drawing.

  “Nice. Did you design it for a client?” I question.

  Nothing. Not one fucking peep. It’s as if she didn’t even hear me and is totally ignoring me. Fucking rude, that’s what it is. But I do realize I know nothing about her and she might think I’m rude for disrupting her work when she signaled to me to hold on for a minute.

  I should have asked Bee for more details but I’m not a very chatty person; I keep my words and social time to a minimum. A fucked-up childhood, years as a SEAL–along with the things I’ve seen and lived through–have molded me into a person who prefers to be left alone.

  The nomad part worked for me to both belong to a family for unity, and simultaneously be by myself without having strings attached. But after a long period of time I felt like something was missing, and I have no clue what.

  I’ve always been drawn to this MC chapter. The way they handle cases and stand above and beyond for justice. Needless to say, when I got a call to switch from nomad to full member of this chapter, I accepted.

  Like I said, I’ve been here over four months and it’s the first step I’ve set foot inside this tattoo shop. I should be nice but I already gave this woman more words than I normally would give any other person during one of my conversations. It’s for this reason I tap her shoulder.

  She spins around like a blade cutting through thin air. Damn. This woman has reflexes many men I’ve met would be jealous of. I should take a step back due to the fury swirling in her eyes as she holds her pencil as a weapon.

  But, fuck. I’m rooted to the ground as if I’ve finally found the foundation of life. Her almond shaped, blue eyes are captivating. Eyebrows indicate her black hair isn’t natural but she is in fact a blonde, cute as fuck button nose, cherry colored pouty lips, and a soft spray of freckles scattered over her nose. A damn stunner and I could kick my ass for not swinging by here sooner.

  “Bee called you and said you had time to ink me,” I tell her and the woman’s eyes slide from my lips to my patch before they lock on my mouth again.

  A monotone, “Yes,” rips from her throat and I wonder if her staring at my mouth has anything to do with the flaming need rising inside me to taste her. The way her eyes dilate, it’s obvious she likes what she sees standing in front of her.

  I slowly lean in and right when she closes her eyes–to fall into the moment our lips would meet–my brain is alerted with a screech of tires. I glance over my shoulder and see a car heading right for the shop.

  There’s only a fragment of a second to think but instinct automatically kicks in as I grab Hadle
y and head for the back room on the left; out of harm’s way. The sound of glass shattering erupts and the engine of the car is still revving when I have Hadley safely plastered against the wall, my body covering hers.

  The sound of bullets being fired rips through the air and I release a string of curses before I palm my own gun. Glancing down I expect the woman to be panicked but instead her eyes flame with anger as her gaze dances between me and the door.

  She pushes me slightly off and starts to frantically wave her hands. I have no clue what she’s trying to do, but I suddenly realize she didn’t react to me earlier because she didn’t hear me. Hadley is using sign language; she’s deaf.

  Her eyes are fixed on my lips and I hope to fuck she understands me when I tell her, “A car drove right into the store. Someone fired off five rounds. Stay here.”

  She nods and I risk a glance into the shop. There’s only the sound of some debris falling from the ceiling due to the impact with the car. Whomever was driving the car and firing off rounds has left.

  “What the fuck just happened?” I grumble to myself and look at the devastation.

  I sense someone coming up behind me and a quick glance over my shoulder lets me know it’s Hadley. I should be angry she’s not staying put but when she grabs the hem of my cut and stays behind my broad back, a sense of satisfaction fills my veins how this woman seeks me out in the middle of this fucking turmoil.

  Turning slightly, I wrap an arm around her while keeping my gun palmed in my other hand. I drag her close and feel her fingers sliding over my body to embrace the hug I’m giving. Her cheek is pressed against my chest and I inhale deep, letting her scent fill my lungs.

  “It’s okay,” I rumble. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  I know she probably won’t be able to hear me but by the way she tightens her hold she knows very well the words vibrating through my chest were to comfort her.

  I hear bikes rumble and the first brother I see rushing toward the shop is Depay. He’s one of the first generation. If I had to guess I’d say he’s nearing fifty, but the dude has been an EMT firefighter for most of his life and is still in good shape.

  The man is also inked all over, including his face. A face that’s now edged with worry and fear. What the hell? I’ve never seen fear on this man and he’s the epitome of strength and raising hell when needed.

  “Is she okay?” he questions and then it hits me.

  I’ve heard him mention his daughter once or twice and the way he’s reacting, I’m guessing I’m holding her in a protective embrace.

  “She’s fine, not a scratch on her,” I tell him.

  The fear on his face is suddenly replaced by menace as the man asks with a sharp snap, “Mind telling me why she’s letting you hold her if she’s not hurt?”

  “Don’t you see the fucking car right next to you? Part of it is in the shop ’cause some fucker thought it was necessary to park it in here and fire a few shots along with it.”

  Hadley pulls back–probably feeling the anger in my words–and glances at me before she turns her head.

  Depay turns his head away from us as he says, “She never lets any man come close, let alone touch her. Be honest, fucker, and tell me the truth.”

  His head spins my way again as he narrows his eyes. I now understand why the man turned his face away from his daughter.

  “Pretty convenient to talk behind her back, eh?” I snap.

  Soft fingers slide over my chin, drawing my gaze down to Hadley. She pierces me with a confused look and I realize she wants to know what her father and I are talking about.

  “He asked why you’re letting me close,” I tell her and face Depay.

  Brother or not, father or not, her asking me with words or without; I don’t like hiding shit, even if the meaning behind it is done with good intentions.

  I expect Depay to give a remark, but all I’m getting is a shit-eating grin. Archer, our Prez, comes rushing in, curses flowing from his mouth. Wyatt, our VP, beside him along with Ganza, Arrow, and Baton.

  “What the fuck happened?” Wyatt grunts and glances over the destruction.

  I regretfully let go of Hadley and take a step in their direction. “Right before it happened, I heard tires screech. The fucker didn’t hit the brakes but took a sharp turn and headed straight for the shop. I barely managed to get Hadley into the back room and right after I heard shots being fired.”

  Hadley is suddenly pulling my cut and holds out her phone, pointing at the back and then the ceiling. There’s a camera feed she’s showing me and it seems like it’s from a house security system.

  “Motherfucker,” I snap. “This was a distraction. Someone is upstairs, in her fucking house.” I cup the side of Hadley’s face. “Stay here.”

  I glance at Depay and he points at the back. “Stairs are behind that door, they lead right up to her apartment.”

  He takes a step toward his daughter while I spin on my heel and head into the direction of Hadley’s home. Arrow is right behind me and punches in the code to open the door to her house. We rush upstairs and I’m palming my gun, aiming it straight ahead as I scan my surroundings.

  Arrow points at the open window. I give a sharp nod. The fucker might have fled the scene already, but I’m not taking any chances. Arrow heads for the window, palming his own gun, as I make my way to Hadley’s bedroom. After a few minutes I’ve checked every inch of her home; no one else is there.

  Arrow comes back inside through the window. “No one in sight, but I’m pretty sure the fucker went in and out through this window using the fire escape.”

  I glance around with different eyes this time–instead of scanning for a threat–I take in the interior and personal items.

  “It doesn’t seem like anything is missing or trashed. He probably didn’t even have a chance to walk around since the alarm was triggered and the second it did, we headed up here,” Arrow says.

  His eyes go over my shoulder and he starts to sign.

  There’s no need to see who’s behind me, but dammit… “Does everyone know ASL?”

  Arrow snorts. “She’s my sister. So, yeah I know how to communicate using signs, but every biker of the first generation learned it, and their kids too since we all grew up together. You’re new, and Hadley doesn’t come around the club as much, so you wouldn’t know about it. Our father was the one who started it and we all want her to feel normal and right at home.” He shrugs as if it’s some sort of explanation.

  “Someone could have fucking told me,” I snap, somewhat agitated I didn’t know about her or her lack of hearing. I know it’s bullshit. But I also can’t help but add, “And newsflash, brother…normal is a standard and overrated. Therefore she is normal, just like you and I. Everyone has a little fucked-up in ’em we need to work around.”

  From the corner of my eye I notice Hadley and she’s smiling at me. Fuck. She probably read my lips.

  “You think she’s normal, huh?” Arrow narrows his eyes, suspicion suddenly evident and the brother in him rising up to protect his sister.

  Fucking asshole. He should have ditched the “want her to feel normal” comment.

  “Enough,” Depay grunts. “Did you see him?”

  “No.” Arrow points at the window. “He went in and out through there. Sis, can you look around to see if anything is missing?”

  Hadley bobs her head and glances over the living room and heads for the bedroom.

  Archer steps closer. “I called a few guys, they’re going to be here within the hour and start repairing the damage to the shop. It might take them a few days, though. I’m pretty sure we can work around the damage to keep the business running since the rooms aren’t damaged. I don’t know about Hadley staying here by herself, though.”

  “Agreed,” Depay snaps. “The car crashing into the shop and firing a gun was a distraction to keep everyone focused on the shop. If it wasn’t for Hadley’s security system, we wouldn’t have noticed someone was up here. You guys heading up spooked the f
ucker, but something very shady is going on.”

  “Do we have a good visual of the fucker?” I ask.

  Archer nods. “Probably. We can take it off the security feed.”

  Depay starts to sign and I notice Archer wince and Hadley coming back into the living room as she shakes her head and starts to furiously sign back. Fucking hell, the first thing I’m going to do is learn a few things to at least catch some of the shit they’re saying.

  Though the hard snap of her monotone voice is loud and clear for everyone to understand when she says, “No.” Her eyes land on mine with a pleading look.

  “What’s going on?” I automatically ask, and it pains me to realize she can’t fucking talk to me since she doesn’t use her voice and I don’t understand ASL.

  Arrow sighs. “She doesn’t want to stay at the clubhouse for the next couple of days and she won’t stay at our parents’ house either.”

  “What if we put a prospect on watch and a brother inside her house to keep her safe?” I offer.

  “That would work. I’d rather have her at the clubhouse, but–”

  Hadley jumps in front of Archer and signs.

  Archer’s eyes hit mine. “You’re staying here to keep watch. Head for the clubhouse to gather a few things, enough to stay at least a few days.”

  I release a grunt. Letting my gaze slide to Depay and Arrow, I expect them both to object with Archer’s order but the both of them are wearing freaky grins. I shake my head and leave to get my things from the clubhouse.

  Good thing I parked my bike further down the road or it would have been trashed by the fucker driving his car into the shop. My mind wanders over the reasons why anyone would do such a thing and realize all of this might be a direct link to Hadley since it was her home the fucker went for, the hit on the shop was just a distraction.

  I straddle my bike and hit the throttle. Time to dive into this shit because I won’t rest until I know who would want to get to–or harm–this gorgeous and intriguing woman.