Page 3 of Xander (Soulless Outlaws Motorcycle Club #2)

Xander

The slow burn of the amber liquid in my old-fashioned glass flowed down the back of my throat.

I enjoyed the burn like I always did.

Loving the feel.

I was still alive.

Still alive after so many things have tried to remove me from this land.

Land that was made of dirt.

Was that why I was still here?

Because I was nothing but dirt, too?

Those were the only thoughts that circled around in my mind for the next few hours.

Until the front doors to the clubhouse banged open.

Grimm came storming in.

His face was an unreadable mask.

Like it always was.

But what I noticed that was different... was the blood that covered him.

The vein that pulsed along the column of his throat.

Fuck me.

“Fucking Christ, get a hold on him,” Grey growled.

I looked over at him and lifted my brows, same as the rest of my brothers.

Was he fucking serious?

Fucking get a hold of Grimm? He has met the man... right?

“Uh, VP? Last time you told us to hold him down, five of us ended up at the hospital, two of us were shot, and nine of us were stabbed.” Khal said.

Grey opened his mouth, but it was Nuke, our president, who lifted a brow and asked, “And. Your fucking point?”

Khal scoffed, “That is my fucking point.”

“Last time I checked, this fucking club isn’t made of a bunch of fucking pussies. Or was I fucking wrong?” Nuke asked,

I sighed, then sent up a prayer to the man above that we wouldn’t lose a brother after all of this was done.

I moved to his left, Kettle to his right, and then we both nodded.

Grimm was six-foot-five, three hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle. He was a beast.

I was six-foot-four, two hundred and eighty-five pounds of pure muscle.

Kettle was six-foot-three, two hundred and ninety pounds of pure muscle.

Together, we should be able to lock him down.

Should being the keyword here.

We both tagged out of his arms and held on as tight as we could.

He thrashed between the two of us.

I felt like shit for touching him, something he totally didn’t fucking like.

Doc moved in then and inserted a sedative into his shoulder.

One, two, three, Grimm dropped like a stone.

My arms locked in place; my back groaned with the effort of holding him up, my thighs shook, but I stood firm.

Nuke moved to take one of Grimm’s legs, while Grey moved to take the other.

And the four of us walked down the hall with three hundred and twenty pounds of dead weight.

Wolf got his bedroom door open, and then we maneuvered him into his room.

It took three good swings to get Grimm onto his bed.

And the moment we released his weight, almost as if it had been choreographed, the four of us let out a groan.

Doc moved in behind us and said, “Since he’s sedated, I’ll get him cleaned up.”

Kourt, one of the club girls, moved in then and said, “I can help.”

Nuke growled at her, “No. You’ll try to fuck him so you can be the one girl to brag about that shit. Get the fuck out.”

A softer voice sounded from the doorway, “I’ll help,” Minnie said as she moved into his room.

Nuke grunted.

We all left his room so Doc and Minnie could get Grimm cleaned up.

If he woke up covered in blood, we would have a repeat of the past fifteen or so minutes.

And nobody wanted that.

I followed my brothers down the hall and to the main part of the clubhouse.

With the windows open, the crickets were singing their own song.

The bullfrogs were croaking in tandem.

Tamber, another one of the club girls, had just refilled my glass of whiskey, and I took a long pull from it when my phone beeped.

I pulled it out and eyed the screen.

Balls To The Wall Text Thread

Nuke – Church 6 hrs.

Grey – Copy.

Me – Got it.

Kettle – K.

Saint – Got it.

Jury – Got it.

Wolf – On a mission.

Khal – Got it.

Merlin – 10-4.

Doc – Got it.

Doc – I’ll tell Grimm when he wakes up.

I tossed back one more swig, then stood, stretched, and headed out to my bike for a ride.

For some reason, one I couldn’t explain, riding my bike always helped to loosen the tension that seemed to never leave my entire frame.

And when riding didn’t work.

Alcohol didn’t work.

Fighting didn’t work.

I was fucked.

Sure... I had thought about fucking it out of my system, but after watching my mom and what she endured, I vowed to never treat a woman as though she were nothing but a hole to slide my dick in.

***

I drove along the bayou, my headlight shining.

Catching amber eyes.

Catching green eyes.

Catching orange eyes.

There was no telling what kind of animals were out and about this time of night.

But I did know one thing.

I felt at peace with them.

Just then, about thirty minutes later, I turned down a long road, and road it to the end.

Then I eyed the old Victorian that stood there.

It was weathered and torn.

Much like my very own soul.

I’d always wondered what a home was supposed to be like.

And it wasn’t until I had walked into Saint and his old lady, Ophelia’s home, that I started to understand the meaning of the word home.

Some might say that a home is a place where your heart resides.

With the people who fill the four walls.

But maybe... it isn’t that.

Maybe home is with the one person who feels like home.

Was that even possible?

***

After Nuke banged the gavel, letting us know that Merlin’s niece was coming in a few days, we all stepped up to get the clubhouse up to par.

As if it wasn’t already up to par for Soraya.

***

It was a few days later that I entered the clubhouse after getting a call from Nuke.

I walked by the club girls and ignored their eyes.

Then I made my way over to Nuke.

He lifted his chin, “Grimm is out. Kettle is out. Saint is out. I need your brand of expertise.”

I nodded.

Then I followed him out of the clubhouse and to the shed in the back.

Then waited as he lifted the trap door and followed him down the set of steps.

Once we reached the bottom, my boots landed on the cement floor.

My eyes immediately zeroed in on the drain in the center of the floor.

Then I looked up at the man who was hanging by his wrist.

I took off my kutte, placed it on the metal table to my left, and rolled up my sleeves.

Then I moved to the cabinet in the corner and selected my tools.

A hammer.

A knife.

A wrench.

An impact.

And a blow torch.

“Don’t you want to know what he did?” Nuke asked.

I eyed the man who was hanging there and ignored his silent pleas for help, which I could read in his eyes.

A rag or something was shoved in his mouth so he couldn’t speak.

Then I looked at Nuke.

“Not particularly,” I said.

Nuke grinned, “Welp. I’m going to tell you anyway. See, this motherfucker thought it wouldn’t get around that he impregnated a sedated girl in the mental ward at the hospital.”

At his words, I felt it.

That all too familiar tingle, trailing through my blood.

I nodded.

Then I moved to the man, reached up, and pulled the rag from his mouth.

I smirked, “I want to hear you scream. Gets my dick hard.”

Then I lit the torch and proceeded to set his pants on fire.

He was screaming then.

Music to my fucking ears.

Once his pants were nothing but smithereens, I tagged the water hose and blasted it on his body to stop the flames.

He had passed out.

Well... I got something that will wake your ass up.

I tagged the impact, moved to his little dick, thankful the impact already had something attached to the head of it.

Then I proceeded to insert the head of the impact into the entrance to his dick and pressed the button.

Yeah boy.

His scream?

I’d say that woke him right the fuck up.

***

Everyone walked in then and eyed my handiwork.

I grinned.

Didn’t matter that I was covered in blood.

Didn’t matter that I probably had bits and pieces of him on my body.

Another piece of shit was gone from this world.

***

I popped my knuckles as I got ready and warmed up.

Tonight was fight night.

We did this every couple of months with a few neighboring MCs.

We were able to let off some steam.

And when my name was called to fight against Wrath MC, Alabama chapter’s very own SAA, Thrash, I smirked.

He winked.

And then... we went at it.

Fucker had me in a headlock that I got out of, then I had him in an armbar that he got out of, and when we started to just swing fists, both of us were still standing, bruised and bloody; it was called a draw.

He lifted his chin, and I did the same.

Rematch. Definitely.

Cross was called out, he was warming up in the make-shift ring we had set up... and when they said his opponent was Grimm... he vaulted out of the ring, shaking his head.

Grimm simply smirked.

Havoc had nothing on Kettle.

Sure, he gave it his all, but Kettle wiped the floor with him.

He needed to finish growing up.

And I knew... in a few years, he could take Kettle.

***

I told myself that I was glad that life was stagnant...

That was before she walked in... I shouldn’t have jinxed it.

Well... maybe I should have... cause what she brought?

Pure utter fucking perfection.