Xane (Broken Deeds MC NJ Chapter #3)

CHAPTER ONE

– XANE –

I tighten my fingers around the hilt of my knife and swing my arm forward to slice the fucker’s side open with exact precision. I’ve studied the human body, read medical books, and have experimented with torture techniques for years; I know what will cause the most pain and suffering.

Part of the job, being an outlaw biker. Well, the outlaw part is debatable since I’m undercover, along with two of my brothers, and we’re part of another MC who has a contract with the government to solve crime cases by using any means possible.

Which in this case means I have the authority to torture fuckers to death who recently committed a murder.

There’s a smile on my face as I start to roam around with the knife, cutting away his flesh and not caring if I hit the fucker’s lung.

I shove my fingers into the wound and let the knife drop to the concrete floor covered with tarp.

The fucker screams louder, coughs, gasps for air, and it’s all much louder than when I just cut him.

Hooking my fingers around his floating rib, I yank and rip it from his body with a satisfying crack. The fucker’s body goes limp. He’s hanging from the ceiling, bound by his hands, and his toes are barely touching the tarp. Exactly like his buddy hanging next to him.

“Fuuuuck, that’s insane,” Balta, the new prospect, states with a stunned voice.

Ignoring him, I grip the rib and shove my hand back into the dying man’s chest to stab his insides. Pulling my hand out, I keep a tight hold of the rib and walk to the buddy of the now dead man.

Blood is sliding down my forearm and dripping from my elbow onto the ground when I point the rib at the guy and calmly ask, “Are you rethinking your choice to stay silent? Or do I need to start the same treatment I just gave your buddy?”

He eyes my bloody arm and the rib I’m still holding and blurts, “They gave us a thousand dollars each up front. We’d get another thousand when it was done.”

“Who?” I snarl and press the rib against his throat. “I couldn’t give two shits about how much money you got to fuck up your life. Who ordered you to trash that bar? Give me a damn name, asshole.”

“I don’t know, some guy called Keenan...something. We only had a few drinks together. I never saw him before. Please, that’s all I know.”

Keenan. The only Keenan I know in this town is Caleb Keenan. He wouldn’t raise shit like this, let alone approach someone else to do something like this when he has minions of his own to do his dirty work.

A high-pitched cry comes from somewhere inside the house and I freeze.

When another one follows, I turn to Roux, my VP, and snap, “Find out what is making that damn sound.”

Though, I’m pretty sure it’s a damn baby screaming his lungs out.

My eyes narrow at the fucker in front of me. “Why the hell am I hearing a fucking baby?”

“It...it’s Barry’s. His ex-wife dumped the baby yesterday and ran off with her new boyfriend,” the idiot’s voice is trembling when he glances at his buddy...Barry.

“Motherfucker,” I grumble and turn to Neo. “Why the fuck weren’t we aware the fucker had a damn baby?”

Neo shrugs. “Dunno, Prez. Didn’t see one when I watched these two, and when they left and drove around town, they never took it with them.”

I rub a hand over my face before I realize it’s still covered with Barry’s blood.

“Barry hasn’t taken the baby out of the room since his ex dumped it here.” He glances at his buddy. “I don’t think he liked being a father.”

“Fucking hell. What a damn idiot. Some people would do literally anything to become a parent and aren’t graced with a fucking chance. Then there’s this fuckwad who doesn’t deserve a fucking fish as a pet, let alone a tiny human being,” I mutter.

“Please,” the idiot hanging from the ceiling pleads. “We didn’t expect the woman to still be there. I...we...please. It was a mistake. The gun went off by accident.”

I glare at the motherfucker and hear footsteps, indicating someone is coming down the stairs.

“Prez? You gotta come see this, man,” my VP rumbles.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my gun and put a hole in the idiot hanging from the ceiling. Neither of these two fuckers were going to leave the house alive. They assigned their death warrant the second they killed an innocent while they were trashing a bar.

There’s no excuse for what they did, and with the shit going on in this town? I need to make a damn statement to keep the peace. Ever since they killed my father, ran him over to let him die in the middle of the street, I’ve felt the responsibility to follow in his footsteps.

His Last Will and Testament gave me ownership of everything, including club property.

I asked Spence if I could go undercover to solve my father’s case and got the official okay from the government along with it.

The vote for me to take the gavel of my father’s club was unanimous.

Easy if I owned the clubhouse, which they were going to lose anyway due to a huge debt.

I paid it off and followed in my father’s footsteps as the peacekeeper between law and outlaw. The middleman in this town where the folks go when they need the impossible. My grandfather was the first man who held this responsibility.

Back then, my grandfather was considered a notorious gangster who controlled the police force.

My father steered the company, and the motorcycle club he founded, away from illegal to legal stuff.

All while keeping all connections to the underground and law enforcement.

I grew up in this town and might have been a reckless teenager, taking after my grandfather.

My father called me out on my shit, and I had a harsh wakeup call that spurred me to make a selfless decision and leave town. I served my country, and ended up with Broken Deeds MC, working law enforcement. Respecting my father and steering away from my grandfather’s criminal side.

Since I’ve returned to my hometown, I’ve been trying to retrace my father’s steps to hopefully find out what got him killed. Who did it will be my next target. Meanwhile I’m trying to save this goddamn town, because they think the peacekeeper is gone.

Some shops have closed and sold off their property to quickly move out of town. It’s a fucking mess all around. Crime rates have gone up, and the tension is pliable on the damn streets.

Simply taking the gavel and showing my face around my hometown doesn’t automatically give me the respect of the community.

Hell, I’m still trying to weed out the club brothers to see who’s loyal and who wants to stab me in the back.

The only two I fully trust are Fawkes and Roux, both are undercover with me and also belong to the Broken Deeds MC NJ chapter.

For now, we’re working on one case at a time, and it’s why I’m standing in these fuckers’ basement.

Someone is stirring shit in this town and is making it difficult for me to focus on my father’s death.

And he’s the one behind it all and is doing it to throw me off or wants to end me to take over this town.

The baby is still screaming upstairs, and it pulls me from my mind and into the here and now.

“Goddamnit,” I grumble and follow my VP up the stairs.

When I take another flight of stairs, I can smell what I’m guessing my VP called me up here for.

Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I tell him, “Call Remmer and let him handle the cleanup in the basement. Do not mention the baby, got it?”

Remmer is our government contact. He’s the one who can basically make miracles happen when we’ve run into shit we can’t deal with or needs to be handled without our interaction.

“What are you gonna do with it?” Roux asks.

Releasing another deep sigh, I tell the only person I trust in our club, “Don’t call the baby an it. He or she is a tiny person, a human being who didn’t asked to be thrown into this damn mess.”

My VP winces. “The baby is a he. I know ’cause he’s not wearing a diaper.”

I nod my head at him. “Handle Remmer and tell the others to head back to the clubhouse. I’m going to drop this baby off at the clinic myself.

I don’t want this shit sticking to him for the rest of his life.

If his mother dumped him, and his father killed a woman for a lousy grand?

No.” I point at the baby and glance in his direction as I continue, “This kid deserves a...oh, for fuck’s sake. ”

Instant hate fuels my decision even more. It’s a shame I already killed the fucker because the sight before me wishes I’d made him suffer some more. The baby, who looks a few weeks old, is lying on the floor surrounded by his own filth and whatever was already in the room before he was dumped here.

I stalk into the bathroom and turn on the tap to fill the sink with piss-warm water. Glancing around, I find a clean towel and a cloth.

“You’re gonna bathe him?” Roux asks, curiosity lingers in his voice.

Shooting him a glare, I snap, “The little man didn’t ask for shit and still he’s rolling around in his own feces while it’s burning into his skin.”

“Dude.” VP rubs his neck. “How can you torture a man without so much as a sliver of emotion on your face...besides the creepy as fuck grin...and then totally flip your shit when you see this? To be honest? It’s a bit disturbing, man.”

I turn the water off and walk to the baby to scoop him into my arms. It’s hard to ignore the stench and even harder not to gag. Fuck.

“Right and wrong, good and bad, there’s a fine gray line in the middle of everything, Roux.

The only way to stay sane is to walk that fucked-up line with your head held high.

Now, call a prospect to get here with a flatback and load up my bike to bring it back to the clubhouse.

Be sure to handle the rest I ordered you to do.

I’ll be out of the house within five minutes and will be back at the clubhouse once I’ve dropped off the kid, understood? ”

“Yeah, Prez,” VP rumbles and I hear him leave the room to call Remmer before he goes down the stairs.

I quickly clean up the baby and wrap him in a blanket. There’s nothing here for the little man. No diapers, no cream for his red as fuck butt, no nothing. Finding another towel, I make sure the kid is warm and toasty before I head out of the house.

The clinic is only two blocks from here.

I hope Angie, the medical receptionist, is still working there.

I’ve known the woman all my life. Well, minus the decade since I left my hometown, but my father always kept me up to date about everyone.

Angie is in her mid-sixties, stern, well respected, and a woman with a heart of gold.

It’s late, and I know they’re about to close by the time I get there. Thank fuck I see someone stepping out. Though, as I watch the woman with delicious curves, I know she’s closing up.

I call out to make sure not to freak the woman out as I come up behind her. “Wait before closing, please.”

The woman has the keys in hand and turns to face me. I’m momentarily stunned as my mind is thrown back into my past. Familiar blue-green eyes hit my blue ones. Her heart-shaped face, big eyes, pouty lips, and long dark hair, which is pulled back into a braid, are all the things I vividly remember.

Fuckin’ A. It’s Zora Pierson. The girl whose mother babysat me, allowing me and Zora to grow up together until we were teenagers who went head-to-head at every damn turn. Turning to young love...childhood sweethearts.

The first and only woman I ever loved and hurt by leaving without a word...

for the right reasons in my boyish mind.

Fuck. Seeing her now? I was a stupid motherfucker who should have been selfish.

Yet, no one can change the past and regrets are useless.

My chest painfully constricts, reminding me how this woman still manages to throw me off-balance.