Broken Deeds MC:
Second Generation #1
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:
Alex Michael Turner
Photographer:
Reggie Deanching / RplusMphoto
Dedication
To family and brotherhood.
May you always have someone standing strong beside you.
Table of contents
PROLOGUE
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
PROLOGUE
Thirteen months ago
— Beatrice —
Archer and I have been dancing around each other for years. Always with an invisible but solid line between us we shouldn’t cross. We’re from different MCs. We have rules to live by, and club business shouldn’t mix or crossover. Off-limits; that’s us. But our sizzling connection continued to grow and is undeniable.
I think it’s why I somehow ended up in front of Archer’s tattoo shop a few days ago when I had the feeling of being followed again for the third time that week. Archer didn’t even so much as blink and took control of the situation. And in doing so, he also decided it was time we took the next step on a personal level as well as handling the stalker issue.
Like him, I didn’t need time to think; we were always meant to be together. I accepted his claim and became his old lady, and with it a lot of changes took place. Even more since Archer also just took over the gavel from his father and is now the president of Broken Deeds MC.
Needless to say, the man has many responsibilities and handles different things at the same time. A tattoo artist, president of an MC, solving cases the government can’t solve or get justice for themselves…oh, and let’s not forget he now has a new relationship with me on top of it.
And I don’t want to sound like I’m ungrateful, but the time I’ve been here has gone by fast and I have no clue what’s going on. Add the fact Archer insisted I stayed with him right then and there, it’s been quite the full-speed ahead relationship we dove into headfirst. I’ve enjoyed spending time with Archer but I would like to know if he made any progress with the stalker issue.
Without too much information Archer knew my stalker was Robbie, the grandson of an old lady I visit from time to time since I do some volunteer work for elderly people. Visit them, grocery shopping, or just make sure they’re okay. And when I didn’t hear from her or see her for some time, I was worried, even more when Robbie was there in her place instead.
“It’s been over a week and I have to sleep in my own bed sometime,” I tell Archer in a somewhat scolding tone.
We both know I would love nothing more than to stay here each and every night. Though, all we do is talk and watch TV. Sad to say there hasn’t been much action between the sheets. On top of that, my mother swings by my house early mornings a few times a week and I’ve been getting messages asking why I’m not home.
I can hardly keep telling her I was out for a jog each and every morning. My mother knows how much I hate running and exercise, and my thighs and ass prove it. The easy way would be to let her know Archer and I are now together, and how he’s handling my stalker issue.
Though, that would mean I have to explain we’re together and the stalker part since my parents have no clue about either one. Archer and I agreed to keep it quiet for now and focus on solving the stalker issue first. Because we both know my father won’t take it well to hear his little girl—who isn’t so little anymore—is in a relationship with the president of another MC.
“I need another day or two to wrap it up. Normally we would take action right away, but this case didn’t land in our lap through the proper channels and this Robbie fucker is twisted.” Archer winces and we both know he just slipped up.
He doesn’t need to go through the proper channels. He’s been quiet about the whole stalker issue, and when I ask about it, he simply says he’s handling it. And I did mention the whole no sex thing, right? All of this makes me doubt if he really wants this thing between us to work or if there’s something going on that I don’t know about.
I step closer and jab my finger against his leather cut. “You’re keeping things from me. I should have known with the whole no touching, no kissing, but keeping me locked in this clubhouse anyway. Out with it, whatever it is. Or you’ll see me walking out that door as easily as I chose to walk through it.”
His eyes flare and he wraps his fingers around my wrist to keep me in place while his face inches closer. “There is no walking out on us, Bee. Not now, not ever. We just fucking started. I’m trying not to fucking hurt you, okay?”
“You’re hurting me by keeping things from me,” I throw back just as fierce.
His jaw tics and he swallows hard. Just when I think he’s going to let go of my wrist and leave, he spits out words I wasn’t expecting. “Robbie killed his grandmother. He has been keeping her body in the fridge. The basement is filled with pictures of you, some are images from cheerleading taken years ago. The fucker searched the whole internet and pulled every picture of you he could find. He’s fucking obsessed and a damn killer. Not to mention he’s on the loose. He managed to shake the prospect I had following him. That’s why we entered the house and found his collection and the body. But there’s no trace of him.”
I take a breath to process his words and don’t know what to say, other than, “Okay.”
His forehead scrunches up and he echoes, “Okay?”
“Yeah, well, what else can I say? But I do need a better excuse than ‘I’m out jogging’ so my mother doesn’t activate my GPS to track me down. And I want you to freaking kiss me. Or better yet, I need sex. That’s what couples do, right? Or is it just all the other bikers who screw like bunnies? Wait, do you have a piece of ass on the side, and I’m just the prize in your bed to taunt the other MC?”
I’m not facing Archer. Well, clearly I am, but the way his face is filled with anger and emotion it’s clear I’m standing in front of the president of Broken Deeds MC. And he’s more than pissed off. I should take a step back but deep down I know he won’t ever hurt me.
A knock sounds on the door followed by Wyatt’s voice, “Pres, we need you.”
“I’m busy,” Archer snaps, not making a move and keeping his eyes locked with mine.
“You want to talk to me. It’s the thing we need to handle and can end right now,” Wyatt presses.
Archer releases a string of curses. “VP,” he snaps. “I need for you to handle this for me. I have to focus on my old lady. She’s my number one priority.”
“You got it, brother. And you’d want to know that your hunch was correct,” W
yatt replies and adds with a solid vow, “Open and shut, I’ll make sure this ends today.”
“Thanks, VP,” Archer says and takes a menacing step closer to me.
It doesn’t matter if our noses are almost touching or if his eyes are liquid fire. He doesn’t scare me, not one bit.
“You don’t want me keeping things from you?” I’m sure the growl in his voice is thrown in there to taunt me.
“Whatever you throw at me, I can handle it,” I tell him with determination. “I was born and raised in an MC, Archer. You know this.”
“A different one than ours, Bee. You’re the president’s old lady and that’s for good reason. But this shit is too fucking personal. You heard Wyatt tell me my hunch was correct, right?” He waits for me to nod before he continues. “That’s because I suspected Robbie would break into your home and wait for you there. And I was right.”
Relief floods my veins. “They found him? It’s over?”
“Dammit,” Archer snaps and starts to pace.
He comes to a stop in front of me and grumbles, “You’re missing the point, Bee. He was in your house. Your home.”
“But you have him now, right?” I press, needing to know Robbie is taken care of.
“The open and shut indicated he walked into our trap, and there’s no way out. He stops breathing today.” His eyes are assessing my every move.
If he’s expecting me to freak out over his “he stops breathing today,” comment. Well, boo-freaking-hoo, that’s not me.
“I’ve never been one who expects everyone to sugarcoat things. I surely won’t expect it from you. I’ve heard and seen worse. That’s MC life. Our life. The good, the bad, the raw, and the ugly while family is always there to support and have your back no matter what. And I know you have my back no matter what. But that also means we talk about what’s going on so we can actually lean on one another.”
“I should have known you could handle it. Dammit, my mother is one of the strongest women I know but you . . . you’re magnificent,” he croaks and takes my face in his hands.
“I don’t know about that since it freaks me out that he was in my house. I’m not going back there. I’m moving in with you.” I shrug and give him a sheepish grin.
He shoots me one in return. “Not a problem, I wasn’t going to let you leave anyway. And talking about you moving in, I found a solution to your father having issues with us hooking up.”
“We’re already hooked,” I mutter. “What’s your brilliant plan?”
“It was something that popped into my head when I was talking to Kain earlier.”
“And?” I press.
“I’m gonna knock you up. We’ll get married and there won’t be anything keeping us apart then.”
I have to blink very slowly as I process his words. “The thought that popped into your head was to pop something into my womb. Brilliant, Archer.” I shake my head and snort a laugh, but he’s not laughing. He’s looking at me with such intent I have to swallow at the desire flooding my body.
“You’re serious?” I croak.
“As a fucking heart attack.” His lips cover mine and all I can do is surrender to the way he dominates my mouth in an all-consuming kiss.
CHAPTER ONE
Present day
– BEATRICE –
Punch, punch, hard. Punch, punch, hard, I mentally chant as I let my glove-covered hands land punch after punch on the dummy in front of me. Left. Left. Right. My breathing is choppy and you could say I’m working out to lose all the weight I’ve gained during–and after–my pregnancy, but to be honest…I’m just blowing off steam.
Getting a model-like figure isn’t in the books for me. My hips, thighs, and ass have always been curvy no matter my diet and activities. I gave birth to a beautiful little girl four months ago and my belly is no longer flat but a bit round to add to the curvy package deal my body consists of.
A stark contrast of the woman with the tight red skirt–barely covering her ass–who is staring at me. One of the hangarounds single bikers like to use for a quick round of fun. That’s putting it nicely since those bikers like to address it as an easy lay or a fuck, good mouth pounding, whatever.
I fire off another round of punches. I should feel sorry for the dummy, getting the brunt of my anger while I should be talking to my old man. I have frustrations. Issues. Hell, I don’t know what I have but I’m angry and not feeling like myself.
It’s because you’re still adjusting to being a mom. It’s because you two got together and put everything on lightning speed. It’s because he took over as president of Broken Deeds MC at a hard time while starting a relationship with you. He’s a busy man. There’s a lot going on you don’t know about.
I’ve heard, and told myself, every damn excuse and reason why I’m struggling and yet nothing sounds or feels right. And yes, I’m struggling. I’m not afraid to admit it’s all me. Also due to the fact Archer seems to be oblivious. And to be honest? I don’t even have a clue why I’m this angry and frustrated all the damn time.
“There you are,” a voice from right beside me says, scaring the crap out of me and making my punch slide free, almost clocking the one who interrupts me.
Archer dodges my punch effortlessly. There’s an appreciative grin sliding over his face as he steps closer. Desire like wildfire is dancing in his eyes, reminding me it’s not him, it’s me and that thought saddens me.
“Archer,” the bitch with the tight skirt and function of an easy lay screeches like nails on a chalkboard. “Can I have a word, please?”
Oh, right, now I remember…It’s not me; it’s the everlasting demand around here, and Archer feels he has to constantly carry the weight solely on his shoulders. Ugh. It is me because I’m selfish.
He’s the president of an MC who secretly handles cases the government can’t seem to close. They are allowed to use any means necessary to bring the criminals to justice. He does have a large responsibility to guide this process correctly, and handle the MC along with it.
And let’s not forget our daughter who he spends time with. He’s also a tattoo artist, he owns a tattoo shop along with a few others where he works a few days a week. And yes, then there’s me, his wife, his old lady, the mother of his child and the one who takes care of everything else concerning our family.
Sadness hits me again because I am complaining about feeling neglected, not important, second…hell, fifth or sixth place on his list of priorities. When the hell did I get so needy and uncertain? I know the first week in our relationship he called me his number one priority, and I know deep down I still am.
Maybe the dragging routine of handling everything myself and not having a job the way I used to, to feel needed, or be an asset makes me overthink everything. I used to help my mother with computer stuff. Hacking, programming, finding information and cracking codes, anything surrounding computers I considered a challenge.
When I moved in with Archer, I left my laptop behind with my mother; it had Areion Fury MC information on it and the laptop technically belonged to my mother.
Dammit. A sigh rips from me. Maybe I need to buy one to put my brain to work, or volunteer to do little things for elderly people again. Hell, I’d try anything to shake this negativity I’m feeling.
Archer curses and grumbles, “I’ll be right there, Cora.”
He wraps his fingers around the back of my neck to pull me close and places a soft kiss on my forehead–not minding my sweaty skin–as he says, “Every damn time I have a few minutes to spare, something else pops up. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever,” I grumble.
For the first time I can’t even manage to hide my damn frustrations. And it shows because Archer instantly pulls back and gives me a worried look.
“What’s wrong?” His brow furrows.
Crap. He’s always ready to face the world, and here I am…not even capable of uttering one single word to answer a simple question I don’t even know the answer to.
“Nothing. I need a shower, I’m beat.” I step away from him and bring one of my hands to my mouth and start to rip at the Velcro strap in an effort to take off the gloves.
Glancing toward the exit I notice Cora who is glancing at me with a satisfied grin. Great. Nothing more perfect than feeding a gossiping bitch who likes to start trouble at every turn. When and where did I start to lose a grip on myself?
“Move,” I snap.
Cora purses her lips. “No need to throw your sexual frustrations at me, Bee.”
As good as she is with faking orgasms, she now fakes being hurt by my snap. Or maybe she’s internally laughing at me and will shove her tits in Archer’s face next. Fucking hell, my emotions are all over the damn place.
“Go wait in my office, Cora,” Archer snaps and I hear his footsteps follow me.
Knowing he won’t give up I turn to face him. “Seriously, Archer, go handle whatever Cora needs to talk to you about. I have to head over to my parents’. Your mother has Queenie, I’ll pick her up when I’m back around dinnertime.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re reciting shit you need to do but not why you’re reacting this way. What’s going on?”
My shoulders sag and too tired about everything I simply say, “It’s nothing, I must be coming down with something. See you tonight, okay?”
I lean in and place a kiss on his cheek. Yep. A kiss on the cheek from me…his lips on my forehead…quite the difference from heated kisses, tongues fighting, hands all over the place the first few months of our marriage. I guess having a baby goes with a lot of changes since we haven’t had sex in months.
I don’t wait for a reply but resume my escape, thankfully he lets me go. What other choice does he have? There are issues waiting for him to handle. Unlike me since my agenda consists of taking care of Queenie and the house. Like I mentioned, maybe that’s it…I need a change of work to occupy my brain or I’ll keep overthinking everything.
Broken Deeds MC: Second Generation #1 Page 1