FILTHY SINS_Sons of Wolves MC

by Nicole Fox

  Everything sorted out, he got back onto the bike and drove towards the HQ, the finality of his fate in the center of his thoughts.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Daphne

  Daphne paced back and forth under the lights of the park, the sky ink black above her. She couldn’t believe that she was to do nothing but stand around until Xander gave her the all-clear. Her son was in danger, and she wanted to help. But she knew Xander was right—nothing a girl like her could do against a mob of bikers.

  And there was something about the kiss that Xander gave her before he left. It wasn’t just any goodbye kiss; it was the kind of kiss that you’d give someone if you were certain that you were never going to see them again.

  Does Xander think that he’s not coming back? thought Daphne.

  No, she thought, arguing with herself. There’s no way that he’d just ride off to his death like that, not without saying so.

  But she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that she had about the whole thing. The kiss had been intense, and there was a strange air of melancholy around Xander as he left.

  Before she could give the matter much further consideration, the roar of a bike sounded. Moments later, one of Xander’s crew arrived and came to a stop in front of her.

  “Yo,” he said. “You Daphne?”

  “Yeah,” she said, looking at the man who appeared to her like a bigger, burlier, slightly uglier version of Xander. “That’s me.”

  “Got a call from the boss by way of Xander; says I’m supposed to take you to a safehouse till whatever shit he’s got in mind blows over. Say, you know what exactly he’s planning? Boss ain’t too happy about him, uh, acting unilaterally, in the boss’s words.”

  “Nope,” lied Daphne. “Just said he had some business to take care of with the Devil’s Spawn.”

  “Big man with the big plan,” said the biker. “By the way, I’m Cutter. Me and your boy Xander are tight; I’ll make sure you get taken care of. Climb on, little lady.”

  He patted the back of his seat and Daphne climbed on. Moments later, he was off, the bike roaring through the city streets. As they drove, Daphne couldn’t help but think about these last few days with Xander. Despite the danger that she’d been in, they’d been the most exciting days of the last few years for her. She hated that she felt this way, but now that she was on the back of a bike again, all she could think about was how much she loved it.

  After a time, Cutter pulled up to a small house out in some far-flung part of town. From the outside, it looked like any other run-down little shack, but once they entered Daphne saw that it was well-kept, even a little homey. It reminded her of some combination of dive bar and hunting lodge.

  “Nice place,” said Daphne, looking around.

  “This is one of our designated safehouses,” said Cutter, plopping down on the couch. “Sometimes we gotta hide out for a while if the heat comes down too hard on us. I ended up hanging out at this fucking joint for a month and a half after thinking I got caught on CCTV after a heist a while back. Nearly went fucking crazy.”

  Daphne went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. As she drank it, she looked out onto the front lawn. Now that she was alone, she couldn’t help but think about that kiss that Xander gave her before he left. Just as before, she felt as though there was something ... final about it. And the way he looked at her after; it was like he knew that he was looking at her for the last time.

  “Did Xander tell you about what his plan is with the Spawn?” asked Daphne.

  “Huh?” said Cutter from the couch as he flipped through a magazine. “Said something about getting your boy back, uh, something else about ‘doing what was right.’ At least, that’s what our boss said.”

  “I mean, did he say anything about the specifics of what he was doing?”

  “Let me think,” said Cutter, looking away. “Just something about a hand-off.”

  “But nothing about how he’s planning to give himself up to the Spawn?”

  Cutter’s eyes went wide and he tossed the magazine onto the coffee table.

  “What did you just say?” he asked. “He’s planning on giving himself up?”

  He then rose from his seat and strode over to Daphne.

  “Um,” she said, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “They took his, I mean, our son, and they said that unless he gives himself up without a fight that they’re going to kill our boy.”

  “Are you serious?” he exclaimed. “I was thinking this was some kind of meet-up with a Spawn to discuss terms of final surrender or some shit. No one said anything about any kind of fuckin’ handoff!”

  Cutter turned away and began pacing around the room.

  “This is fucked up,” he said. “That stupid … noble fucker! Doing some kind of lone wolf shit right behind all of our backs.”

  Daphne now felt guilty, as though she’d given up some information that she hadn’t been meant to share.

  “And now he’s sticking you in a safehouse until this whole thing is over and done with. No fuckin’ way.”

  “What should we do?” asked Daphne as she wrung her hands, anxiety running through her body.

  “We’re gonna talk to the boss,” said Cutter. “And you’re gonna tell him every goddamn thing that Xander told you. And we gotta go right fucking now; who the hell knows how much time we have?”

  What seemed to Daphne like seconds later, the two of them were back on Cutter’s bike and tearing down the city streets, Daphne’s heart pounding all the while. She was certain that Xander had all the angles worked out, that he was going to get Jack and Xander back unharmed a little later. But seeing that one of the men in his crew had no idea what sort of plan he had in mind, Daphne now feared for Xander’s life.

  After about fifteen minutes, Cutter pulled up to a dive bar covered in neon lights, a row of mean-looking bikes parked out in front. Cutter killed the engine, grabbed Daphne’s wrist with his giant hand, and pulled her into the place.

  “We got a serious fucking situation!” shouted Cutter as he led Daphne through the crowd of bikers in the bar. “You guys get fucking ready to move out at a moment’s goddamn notice!”

  The bikers all looked up from whatever they were doing and froze in place.

  “What’s the fucking deal, Cutter?” demanded one of them. “This better not be some Chicken Little bullshit!”

  “It’s Xander!” he shouted as he led me towards a door in the back of the bar. “I think that stupid fuck’s going on a suicide run!”

  “What?” shouted the same biker.

  Daphne noticed that as soon as Xander’s name was mentioned every biker in the place gave his full attention.

  “Just wait here!”

  Soon, the two of them were in a back office and seated in front of a large desk, a grave-looking man who introduced himself as “Grayson” seated on the other side. Daphne could tell by the man’s serious bearing and air of calm authority that he was the man in charge.

  “Now,” he said in a low, calm voice. “I want you to tell me everything about what’s going on. And keep in mind that this is literally a life-and-death-situation.”

  “Okay,” said Daphne, taking a deep breath and trying not to let her nerves get the best of her.

  She told him everything. All about meeting Xander at the bar, not knowing who he was. She told him that they used to date way back when, and why she’d left him. She told him about Jack, and how Xander hadn’t known that he was a father. She told him that Xander had been protecting her from the Spawn for the last few days. And she told him about the strange feeling she’d had when Xander had ridden off to get their son back.

  “I thought you looked familiar,” said Cutter. “Xander must’ve shown us a picture of you a few years back when you were dating.”

  “So,” said Grayson, folding his hands on his lap and sitting back in his seat. “Our little Xander’s a daddy.”

  “Is … that a problem?” asked Daphne.

  “Not at
all,” said Grayson. “I’ve got two girls myself. Fatherhood’s got a way of making a man settle down, not make stupid, rash decisions—for the most part, that is. But when the kid’s life is on the line … fuck, I don’t even want to know what the fuck I’d do if one of these Spawn motherfuckers threatened my baby girls.”

  He shook his head and looked away, as if trying to dismiss the thought so he could approach the situation with a clear head.

  “He said he’s going to the Spawn HQ,” said Grayson, confirming the information to himself. “Then we’re going to provide some backup—whether he wants it or not.”

  “Do you think he’s putting himself in danger?” asked Daphne, her voice frantic. “What do you think he’s doing?”

  Grayson raised his hand in an “easy, now” gesture. Daphne couldn’t help but feel a little calmer, and she realized that there was a reason why this man was the one in charge.

  “No clue what that wildman fucker’s got in mind,” he said. “Knowing your kid’s in danger has a way of making a man crazy; he probably doesn’t even realize what the fuck kind of mess he’s getting himself into. But we’re going to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Now, you two—come with me.”

  Grayson rose from his seat and strode out of the room. Cutter and Daphne followed him out, and soon they were back in the main room of the bar. Grayson then reached down to the jukebox that was currently blaring raunchy rock music and yanked the cord out of the wall. A still silence fell over the men once they saw just who’d stopped the music, and they turned to Grayson respectfully.

  “Listen up!” Grayson said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the room. “One of our brothers is about to get himself into some serious shit! Xander Fuckin’ Ricci went off and decided to confront the last bit of the Devil’s Spawn all by himself! Now, are we gonna let him have all the fun?”

  “No!” shouted the men, and Daphne could see that they were already hyped up for whatever Grayson had in mind.

  “Then kill your fuckin’ beers and follow me!” said Grayson, making a sweeping motion towards the front door. “And get ready for a goddamn brawl—tonight we’re gonna stomp out those Spawn fucks for the last time!”

  The men let out a cheer and all rushed towards the front door at the same time.

  “You,” said Grayson over the noise of the men hurrying out, his finger pointed at Daphne. “You stay here until this all’s over and done with. This shit ain’t no place for a lady.”

  “No way,” said Daphne. “I let Xander get away once already, and there’s no way that I’m going to let it happen again. And that’s my boy out there.”

  Grayson appeared to think the matter over.

  “Cutter!” he said finally. “You keep an eye on this one. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  “You got it, boss,” said Cutter.

  As they left, Cutter turned to Daphne.

  “Looks like you’re gonna see some shit up close and personal,” he said as they climbed onto his bike, the sounds of engines revving to life all around them.

  Daphne thought back to the night she’d seen Xander beat the man, wondering just why she’d felt then as though she had to flee, but now she was going right into the fray.

  I guess love has a way of changing a person, she thought.

  “Let’s ride,” she said, wrapping her arms around Cutter’s stomach.

  “‘Atta girl,” he said, gunning the engine.

  Moments later, Cutter and the rest of the Shadow Hunters were on the road, their bikes in formation like some kind of chrome flock of birds. And though Daphne was scared, all she could think about was how much she was ready to see this all come to an end. She was ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Xander

  Xander’s stomach tightened as he spotted the Spawn HQ in the distance. He clenched the handlebars of his bike, trying to let the growling of the engine blot out his thoughts. But it was no use—he couldn’t shake the fact that he was going to his execution.

  You’re doing it for Jack, he thought, gritting his teeth. Nothing else matters but keeping him safe. Not even your own life.

  The squat little building grew in the distance, and soon he was there. No one was outside, but the rows of bikes parked out in front made it clear that he wasn’t alone. Xander parked, killed the engine, and dismounted his ride.

  The place was quiet—too quiet for Xander’s liking. The air was so still that he could hear perfectly the soft squish of his boots on the ground.

  “I’m here!” he shouted out into the silence. “Scar! Where the fuck are you?”

  But there was no response. He glanced around for any sign of Jack, but he saw nothing. He found himself wondering if this was all some kind of set-up, some way to make him look like a fool, some way to taunt him by showing just how easy it was to get him to jump at their beck and call.

  Before he could give the matter too much thought, however, the door to the HQ opened, and out came one biker after another. Xander stood firm, staring down each man as he exited. He recognized most of the men as the remnants of the Devil’s Spawn; they were the easiest to pick out, as each of them took their turn glaring hard at Xander, the man who’d been instrumental in breaking the back of their gang. Each of them seemed to have one thing on his mind, that being what exactly they’d do to Xander if they could get their hands on him.

  About two dozen men came out in total, the group a mix of the Spawn and the new group that they’d allied themselves with. And just when Xander found himself wondering where Scar was, the man stepped out from the darkened interior of the bar and looked at Xander with a pleased expression.

  “There’s our man,” said Scar in his thin voice, his dark, sunken eyes scanning over Xander. “Pat him down.”

  A pair of men rushed over to Xander and checked him for weapons.

  “You told me to come unarmed, so that’s what I did,” said Xander. “Now, show me that the boy’s safe.”

  A wicked little grin formed on Scar’s ugly mouth.

  “In time,” he said. “Right now I just want to savor the fact that I’ve got the man who was responsible for causing me so much fucking grief right by the balls. I mean, I could do whatever I wanted with you right now—I could take you in back and let my boys take turns torturing you. Plenty of my men would just love the chance to get a little payback for the men you killed.”

  “I could just shoot you in the gut, let you bleed out in the dirt like a hog while you cried out for mama. That might be fun to watch. Hell, I could carve up that little rugrat right in front of you, give you a little taste of what it’s like to have the tables turned on you.”

  “You so much as lay a hand on him—”

  Xander’s voice dripped with rage. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to pull Scar’s throat out with his bare hands.

  “Calm down, champ,” said Scar. “I haven’t quite decided what I’m gonna do, but I’m leaning towards just going with our original arrangement. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not happy with having you helpless right in front of me.”

  Scar slipped one hand casually into his pocket and began strolling back and forth.

  “Quite a little move you and the rest of the Hunters pulled on us; really got the drop on our little crew. And I heard you and the rest of the boys didn’t waste any time in having yourself a little party the night you put half of our crew in the morgue. But now that the golden boy’s here, I’m thinking that making a little example out of you for the rest of the Shadow Hunters will send a nice message about getting too cocky for their own good.”

  Then, suddenly, Scar pulled a large chrome pistol out of from behind his back, pointed it directly at Xander and approached him with long strides. Soon, he was right on top of Xander, the gun pressed to Xander’s forehead. Then he pulled the trigger.

  Xander winced in anticipation of the shot, but it never came. Once he realized the gun was empty, he took in a long draw of breath through his nose.
>
  “Look at mister tough guy,” said Scar. “I was hoping for at least a plea for your life. Maybe I will have to torture you a little—after all, what’s the fun in killing an enemy if he doesn’t beg for his life at least a little bit.”

  “Show me the fucking boy,” said Xander, his voice firm. “And he’d better be fucking alive.”

  Scar raised his eyebrows.

  “Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed the two-dozen armed men behind me who all want a little piece of you to keep as a souvenir, but you’re not really in a position to be demanding anything, my friend.”