Broken Deeds MC: Second Generation #2

by Esther E. Schmidt

  If he’s trying to yank my chain, he needs to try harder. Hadley is captivatingly gorgeous, but I remember her father mentioning the first time I had her in my arms how she wouldn’t let any other man come close. We instantly connected and both felt it, it’s why claiming her felt natural.

  I know we’re solid and it’s why I give him my middle finger of the hand my property patch is inked on. “Nice try, asshole. You have an appointment with Baton.”

  A bark of laughter fills the air a moment before his bike comes to life.

  “Later dude,” he bellows as he speeds off.

  I shake my head and step inside the clubhouse. A handful of brothers are hanging around the bar and there’s one woman dressed for some action from one of them, though none give her the time of day. Her smile perks up along with her tits as she takes a step in my direction. My hand curls into a fist, giving my freshly inked skin a pull as I hold it up.

  Her face instantly falls but she quickly nods and heads back to the other guys. That’s another thing this MC is known for; respect our rules or get the fuck out of our way. This goes for everyone, but for the women who want to have a fun time, there’s an extra set of restrictions; you have to respect the old ladies and the bikers who claimed them.

  Arrow strolls out of the kitchen and notices me. He points at my hand. “My sister?”

  “Her artwork, my claim,” I tell him with pride.

  He grabs my cut and drags me to him. Slapping my back a few times he whispers in my ear, “Treat her good or end up six feet under in twelve different places.”

  “Understood, brother. But unnecessary. Your sister and I collided for a reason. I carry scars you cannot see and pain stings like a fucking bee when you least expect it. It’s one of the damn reasons I was a nomad, nothing soothed the ache. Until her. She fucking grounds me. Two days. I’ve only known her for two days but hell, one fucking moment was enough for me to know I didn’t need a shitload of time to make up my mind. She’s mine. So, you see, there’s no need to threaten to kill and chop me up, brother. She’s beautiful in her own way and with it touches my life in a way no one has been able to. And believe me when I say no-fucking-one will take that way.”

  His grin is earsplitting. “Good. Come on. Prez is waiting in church with Ganza, Rack, and Dannon. He’s even called in Austin from Areion Fury MC. Fuck, I love working with this dude, he’s fucking magic when it comes to details. He has a photographic memory and is practically a walking encyclopedia. He knows a lot, and then some…and then some more.”

  My interest is peaked as we stroll inside church.

  “Shut the door,” Archer grunts.

  Arrow handles it while I take a seat next to Ganza. I notice a new face across the table and hold out my hand.

  “We haven’t met. I’m Vachs.”

  He stares at my hand and lets his gaze slowly hit mine. “Austin. I could shake your hand, and it is the polite thing to do, but I won’t. I never do, makes me feel uncomfortable to know where some people let their hands wander before giving it to another person. Freely tossing a load of germs around is not my thing. Never will be.”

  “Well, Austin. Thanks for making me aware never to offer someone my hand ever again.” I shake my head and mutter, “Fucking hell, that’s pretty nasty when you think about it.”

  “Tell me about it,” Arrow huffs. “The last time he made a remark about nuts on the bar. You know, how guys go for a piss and handle their dicks, not wash their hands, and come back to grab a handful of nuts.”

  “Okay, enough already,” Archer groans. “Every damn time the fucker is here he ruins shit by spilling facts, we get it. It’s exactly the reason I asked him here and also the reason I offered him to switch his Areion Fury cut for a Broken Deeds MC one since he fits in here way more.”

  “Shoving your boot up my ass while kissing it, always the polite one, Archer,” Austin mutters, making laughter flow through the room. “I’ll keep the offer in mind, though. Appreciate it.”

  Archer lifts his chin. “Let’s get to business.” He leans to the side and grabs a large bag. Placing it on the table as he unzips it and shows us the contents. “The key led us to a storage locker where this money was stashed. No wonder Fraser said he’d pay for the damage. Ganza, explain what you found on the USB stick Hadley found hidden in her kitchen.”

  Ganza presses a button on a remote so he can work with a split screen, his laptop now shows the information blown up on the white wall.

  “There’s a load of information and it involves a few bank accounts. One of those clearly is a slush fund. And when I did some digging, I noticed–”

  “Wait a fucking second,” I grunt and pull out a piece of paper I shoved into my back pocket this morning. It’s a bank account I wanted Ganza to check out, but this is too damn weird.

  I hand it to Ganza. He glances at it and back to me. “Where did you get this? It’s the same account.”

  My eyes slide to Archer, since I’m working on something only he knows about.

  Archer instantly understands and announces, “What is said here stays in this room.”

  Grunts of agreement flow and I start to explain, “I’ve been looking into the two incidents involving the mayor’s daughter. When I went through some financial shit tied to his campaign, I noticed some transfers which raise a few flags. I wanted Ganza to see if he could find out some more details about the bank account flowing huge amounts of cash to fuel his campaign.”

  Ganza turns the paper. “It’s the slush fund account. This can’t be a coincidence. Even if the mayor hired Fraser’s company to be his accountant, it still wouldn’t add up.”

  “Unless my gut instinct is right and this fucker is dirty,” Archer growls. “Ganza, continue with the information we found after we did a little research. This will give us some more dots to connect.”

  The image on the wall shifts with one press of a button and a man appears. Ganza starts to explain, “This is Gene Bricks, Fraser Roshaney’s partner. They had an accountant company for over six years until Fraser ended up in jail. Gene died two days ago in a car accident. I’ve pulled the reports and glanced through them but nothing seems to stand out. Now, back to their company…the slush fund shows these two were skimming from the top. We found more than a few irregularities which indicate these two were laundering money for someone. Besides doing this they were embezzling little bits at a time and sliding them into other accounts.”

  “Either the one they have been stealing from finally caught up to them, or Fraser killed Gene now that he’s out of prison,” Archer states and points at the bag filled with money. “Skimming money off the top and having it secretly stashed away in a locker gives one hell of a motive. Not to mention, it’s an escape to disappear along with a USB stick with proof for leverage. Austin, I would like for you to check if the accident Gene was in was in fact an accident or if he had a little help in dying. Rack and Dannon, dive into those financial records and try to flag anything weird that catches your eye. Ganza is going to dig a little deeper in backtracking accounts and shit.”

  “How many of us are going to be at the shop when Fraser is going to be there?” Arrow questions.

  Archer rubs two fingers against his jaw, thinking for a few breaths before he replies, “More than a handful. But I need to make it seem as if it’s just two or so. Maybe have a few of the older generation and young prospects sit in the waiting room, pretending to be customers in line for some ink.”

  “I don’t want my old lady there when this fucker comes poking around,” I grunt.

  “Agreed,” Arrow says, backing me up.

  Archer sighs. “It’s her house, not having her there might seem weird.”

  “She’s my woman, I’ll be there. Nothing weird or questionable about it,” I snap.

  My prez raises an eyebrow at me and I know I shouldn’t have snapped. I mutter “Sorry,” underneath my breath.

  “I checked and she has back to back appointments. We’ll leave her door open so t
he fucker sees we’re all business as usual and nothing is out of place. Since some of this shit is happening on property owned by the club it becomes a fuck-up if things go wrong. I want this handled as transparently as fucking glass and everyone involved writing their reports fully detailed.”

  Groans and complaints flow through the air. Nobody likes paperwork and I’ve heard it wasn’t necessary before Archer took over as president. But he’s smart to make everyone fill out their actions and have every step documented. Safer for the club and everyone else involved.

  We go over a few more details and Ganza tells me he will get back to me as soon as possible about the bank accounts and the transfers. Somehow the mayor is involved in money laundering or his campaign is fueled by some shady as shit people. It would explain why his daughter was kidnapped and also had a stalker.

  Archer and I ride back to the tattoo shop on our bikes while some of the older generation is heading there with a van. We have about an hour or so before Fraser will show up and it’s enough time to plan some things to have everything set.

  Once inside the shop I stalk straight to Hadley’s room and glance inside. Hank is right next to her on the floor, leaning against one of her legs. He sees me and trots my way, making Hadley glance up from her work.

  That’s why I wanted Hank with her, an extra pair of eyes for her to have to watch what’s going on around her. It’s not about hearing shit, it’s about having some form of backup.

  I squat down to give Hank some attention. After a few breaths I stand to walk over to my woman, not caring if she’s inking some young fucker on the thigh who is sprawled on the table in front of her in just his briefs.

  I simply cup the side of her face and lean in to capture her lips with mine. And when I pull back her eyes are still closed, lips puffy, and the little sigh of pleasure flowing from her is one stroking my heart. I rub my thumb over her jaw and she blinks to collide her gaze with mine.

  “Stay here and work while me and my brothers handle everything, okay? Hank stays with you.” She nods at my words and I let her get back to work.

  I glance over my shoulder to see Hadley give Hank a hand gesture. We’ve been starting to train him using signs, though I also use my voice. The little man is smart and picks things up very fast, or the little fucker just has a soft spot when it comes to Hadley since he listens to her and is practically glued to her leg with adoration ever since he stepped foot in her apartment.

  “Waiting room is filled with brothers. We’re all set,” Archer whispers underneath his breath.

  It’s still early but I notice Fraser across the street, acting like a rabbit crossing a field filled with predators. I elbow Archer and lift my chin in the direction of the window.

  “Hmmm. He’s a skittish fucker for good reason. Maybe we need to squeeze him for information after he goes for the urn in the hidden space.”

  “Let’s see if he goes for the urn first. Then you could ask him about the money, his partner, and their company and clients they had. Mention something about checking him out, offer help if he needs some,” I suggest.

  Archer keeps his eyes on the door Fraser just walked through. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Archer,” Fraser states as if he’s known Archer for decades.

  “Fraser,” my prez replies. “Lead the way and show me what you were so anxious to snatch from here with your insane actions.”

  Fraser bobs his head as if his life depends on it. “Yes. Again, I am sorry for everything. Like I said, I’ll pay for all the damage. I didn’t see any other choice when you guys turned me down the first time. My girlfriend and I had a pet and even if it’s just some ashes to some, it’s all I have from her.”

  “Didn’t you kill your girlfriend?” I question.

  Archer snorts, muttering, “Subtle, Vachs.”

  “I didn’t murder Jana. Someone else did,” Fraser says with so much anger and determination it almost makes him sound completely innocent.

  “The one who took the murder weapon with him?” Archer questions, and with it makes it clear we know more details about him.

  This fucker just thinks we own this building and we’re letting him retrieve something, but I guess Archer and I decided last minute to turn the tables and see how he reacts.

  “Yes,” he snaps. “I was supposed to be in a meeting that day but I decided to go home early and swing by her place. She was dying when I got there. I heard someone go out the back door and I ran after him. He came out of nowhere with a chain and tried to kill me too. I could barely defend myself. He ran off and I headed back inside to Jana but she already blew out her last breath and before I could call the police, they were already there cuffing me and accusing me of murdering the woman I loved.” A sigh rips from him. “Look, I didn’t come here to be judged. Truth is, I want to collect the urn with our cat’s ashes so I have one piece to remember her by since everything was lost over the years. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s still there since she told me she hid it in back of the kitchen cabinet underneath the sink.”

  “Why would she hide something so personal?” I question. “Everyone else puts an urn on display to remember and honor their animal.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly think to ask when she was bleeding in my arms and the fucker who attacked her just ran out of the house so I was busier with chasing him,” he huffs and shifts on his feet. “This was a mistake. Just…can you check if the urn is there? I’d appreciate it and be out of your life for good since I’m planning on leaving town today.”

  Archer glances at me and I’m wondering the same thing and also know we can’t let him leave town.

  “Change of plans,” Archer states. “Vachs, grab him. Wyatt, bring the van up front. We’re going to take him somewhere to have a little chat.”

  Fraser’s eyes widen and I grab him by his collar at the same time he wants to make a run for it.

  “Not going to happen, buddy,” I tell him and drag him toward the door.

  Time to get some more answers.

  CHAPTER SIX

  – HADLEY –

  I throw the ball across the backyard of the clubhouse–like I’ve been doing for a while now–and Hank rushes after it. Not with the same enthusiasm he had when we started, but he’s still enjoying it. My father showed up at the tattoo shop and told me Vachs asked him to pick me up. He wanted us to spend the night at the clubhouse.

  Growing up in this place was heaven. Even if the first few years of my childhood sucked. My mother died when I was very young and since she never told my father she was pregnant, he didn’t even meet me until I was four. I lived with my grandparents at the time.

  You can imagine how they were hesitant to have my dad in my life. Him being fully inked, even on his head. An EMT firefighter at the time, a biker, and someone who didn’t know ASL and wasn’t even aware he had a daughter, let alone a daughter who was deaf.

  He fought hard for me. He also met his current wife around the time I came into his life. Better yet, she saved me when I stumbled into water in the zoo. It’s how they met. I’ve heard the story many times growing up. It’s as if our family was meant to be; thrown together by one incident after another. Kinda like Vachs and I.

  But where Vachs doesn’t know ASL, Diamond did because of her brother’s hearing issues and growing up she became my second mother. Growing up in an MC, I had my place as the daughter of one of the brothers.

  And when I became old enough to live on my own, I took my chance when Archer bought the building where the tattoo shop is and asked if I could move into the apartment above the shop. Even if there’s a house built especially for me behind my parents’ house.

  Seeing we were going to be partners and Archer becoming the president at the time…it was out of the question he would live there himself since he has a house on club grounds too. It made sense for me to live above the place I worked.

  Me being the hermit I am, I’ve stayed away from the clubhouse for a long time. But I agreed to come here
today, mostly because I saw from a distance how they took Fraser out of the tattoo shop without going upstairs to retrieve the urn. I’m curious by nature and can’t wait to question Vachs about it when he returns.

  When he returns. I’ve been waiting for hours and it’s already dark. Hank plunks down and I guess it’s time to go inside. I clap my hands to draw Hank’s attention. He jumps right up and trots toward me. Walking to the door, I can’t help but smile to see Hank following right beside me; he’s such a good boy.

  We only have to go through half of the hallway and take the door on my left to get to Vachs’ room. Still no sign of Vachs. No text, no message from anyone else, nothing. I have no clue what time he’ll be back and it is getting on my nerves. It shouldn’t, but the way he left–dragging Fraser out of the tattoo shop–does make me worry.

  Vachs placed a tiny foot bench in front of the bed, allowing Hank to easily jump on and off the bed. Like now, he jumps right up and plunks down, totally beat from chasing the ball. I grab my sketchpad from the bag I packed and take my pencils over to the bed.

  Deciding I need a quick shower, I head for the bathroom and take my time to wash up. I feel much better when I stroll back inside the bedroom. I take one of Vachs’ shirts since my father brought Vachs’ duffle bag along too.

  Staring at his bag makes me question if my father planned this. Also, because Archer mentioned how my dad wanted Vachs to be the one who watched over me when Fraser hit the store and went inside my home. And now I’m right here, at the clubhouse, where they wanted me to be in the first place.

  Is what we have real? I know it feels real for me but maybe he’s following club orders. No. It’s my insecurities doing the talking. A man wouldn’t simply claim me because my father says so. I’ve seen the way he looks at me and stands up to fight for me.

  I release a shaky breath. My mind is playing tricks on me. With everything going on it’s a lot to deal with. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves and kill some time by sketching a tattoo for a client who is scheduled to come by two weeks from now. I always work weeks ahead of time; less stressful.