XANDER (The Caine Brothers Book 2) Read online

  Copyright 2016 by Margaret Madigan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Formatter: E-Book Builders

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Margaret

  About Margaret

  Contact Margaret

  For The Reader

  For my fans.

  Xander Caine stood watch while his buddy, Dude, plowed another fist into the deadbeat’s face. Dude’s other hand held the guy up by a fistful of shirt, and probably chest hair and skin.

  “What do you think, Killer,” Dude asked. “He learned his lesson yet?”

  Xander had long ago accepted the nickname the rest of the club had given him. With a last name like Caine, the connection to killing and murder was inevitable, so he’d become Killer, despite never having actually killed anyone.

  “I don’t know. Hank, how do you like having the shit beat out of you?”

  “Don’t call me Hank,” the deadbeat said, spraying spit and blood as he spoke.

  “What are we supposed to call you?” Dude asked. “Shitface? Douchebag? Fuckwad?”

  Hank sucked a loud, long snort of snot and blood and spat the wad at Dude. The slime hit him on the cheek and rolled down to soak into his beard.

  Dude made a gagging sound in the back of his throat and Hank snuffled a laugh, pretty damn proud of himself for making the enormous bearded giant queasy.

  Not nearly as amused, Dude slapped Hank open-handed across the face. It made a loud crack in the confined space of the tiny duplex living room. “Keep your filthy slobber off me, asshole,” Dude said, turning to wipe his cheek on his shoulder.

  “Name’s Bug,” Hank said, the ‘s’ sound whistling around his split lip.

  “Okay, Bug,” Xander said as he left his post by the front window, not really worried about anyone catching them beating Hank. Who’d care? “You enjoying having the shit beat out of you?”

  “Had worse,” Hank said. He probably had, and as far as Xander was concerned after what Hank had done to his wife, he deserved a lot worse.

  “Then maybe we’re not done yet, after all. You want me to take a turn, Dude?”

  “Naw. I’m just warming up. I’m gonna enjoy squashing this bug.”

  Xander shrugged as Dude cocked his fist and drove it into Hank’s already-broken nose for a thud, with a crunch finish.

  Hank’s head lolled to the side and his eyes rolled up into their sockets.

  “You knocked him out,” Xander said.

  “He deserved it. You saw his wife. I’m just getting started. I could do this all night.”

  “I hear you, brother. I’ve got no patience with pricks who pick on women and kids.”

  “Or animals,” Dude added.

  Xander headed for the kitchen, kicking a pizza box and empty beer cans out of the way as he walked. He didn’t find any clean cups—big shock given that the place was a shithole. Hank wasn’t really the tidy type. He was probably used to the wife keeping the place clean, but given her injuries, Xander doubted she’d be doing any cleaning in the near future. If she had half a brain she’d dump this piece of shit and move on. Even if she didn’t, Hank needed to learn this lesson.

  Xander filled an empty beer bottle with cold water and returned to the living room. Dude had dropped Hank on the floor in a heap, so Xander stood over him and poured the water from shoulder level into Hank’s face. It splattered everywhere and after a few seconds Hank finally clawed his way back to consciousness, sputtering and flailing.

  Dude hauled off and kicked him in the gut and Hank oofed the air from his lungs and curled into a fetal position.

  Hank heaved a deep breath. “What the fuck is this about?”

  “You really have to ask?” Xander asked.

  “Yeah, man. What’d I do?”

  Xander squatted beside Hank. He grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Hank’s head back so he’d see Xander’s face clearly. “Somebody thinks your wife’s suffered enough. It’s time you to learn how to treat people.”

  “This is because of Lily? Shit, man, she fell, that’s all.”

  “One more word outta you and you’re gonna fall, too,” Dude said. “You’ll fall a real long way. They’ll have to scrape your ass up with a shovel.”

  “So the Huntsmen are what, the fucking Equalizer? I hit Lily a couple times you come and beat me?”

  “Something like that,” Xander said. “You hit Lily, we hit you.”

  “Well aren’t you guys a bunch of fucking white knights? Avenging worthless bitches? You save puppies and kittens, too? Help grannies cross the road? I bet you even got fucking Superman underoos under your leathers.”

  Hank spat the words in a frenzy. He had to be high on the adrenaline, though it didn’t really surprise Xander. Men like Hank didn’t respond to being beaten. It didn’t scare him because he was right, he had been beaten worse and short of killing him they couldn’t hurt him enough for him to learn anything. Men like him lived to prove they could survive this kind of shit. It was probably why it didn’t occur to him that he shouldn’t beat his wife. Jail wouldn’t do anything, either. He’d thrive in prison, one way or another.

  But every man had a weakness, and Xander suspected Hank’s was pride.

  “Lily finally had enough of you, asswipe. She knows the cops won’t do anything, so she came to us,” Dude said.

  “I ain’t afraid of being beat up,” Hank said.

  Jutting his chin to prove his courage, Hank dared Xander to hit him again. As tempting as it was, he chose a different punishment.

  “You’re right, Hank. Your skull’s too thick to learn anything just by being hit, so let’s try a different approach,” Xander said. “I’ll even give you a choice.”

  “I’m still willing to give hitting him a chance,” Dude said. “I bet I could change his mind about being afraid.”

  Dude’s expression hinted at kidding, but he looked pretty willing to kill Hank if Xander let him.

  “How about we try something else, first? If I’m wrong, you can come back and work on him some more.”

  Dude’s nod conveyed his disappointment, but he’d let Xander have his way for now.

  “So, Hank. How about this—are you going to the Lone Star Rally this weekend?”

  Hank’s expression turned suspicious, or at least Xander thought it did. It was hard to tell through the swelling and blood. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Then here’s your choice: You apologize to Lily in a public way at the rally, and swear you’ll never hit her again.”

  Hank grunted. “What’s my other choice?”

  “Seriously?” Dude asked, taking an ominous step in Hank’s direction. His steel-toed book couldn’t have felt too good driven deep into Hank’s gut, and Dude looked ready for another round.

  “Second choice is we take you to Rosie and have her tattoo something obnoxious and permanent on your face,” Xander said.

  Dude snickered. “Oh, that could be fun. How about ‘riding the Hershey highway’? Or douchebag? Or wife-beater?�
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  “Fuck you,” Hank said, bloody slobber dripping down his chin.

  “We’ll leave that option open for now,” Xander said. “Your last choice is the best, I think. Prez might be interested to know you’ve been skimming profits, using product, betraying the club.”

  Hank’s eyes went wide with fear. Bingo. He yanked his hair from Xander’s grip and scuttled on his butt backward across the floor, as if putting distance between them would make the threat go away.

  “Prez’ll never believe it,” Hank said, his voice hoarse with the fear that he knew Prez would believe every word of it. Maybe Xander had accidentally hit on the truth. Xander would have to store that little bit of information for possible future use. Any dirt on the rival Ravagers, and especially anything he could use against Prez, made him happy.

  “Prez is a paranoid prick. He’ll believe anything he hears, even if it’s a flat out lie,” Xander said.

  Hank had backed himself against the wall and sat with his knees pulled up to his chest. He ran his hands through his greasy hair in a gesture of desperation. He didn’t like any of his options. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll apologize to Lily. But that bitch don’t care if I hit her. I swear. Every time I do, she leaves, but she always comes back. So she’s gotta like it, right?”

  Dude apparently disagreed, because he crossed the room in two big steps and grabbed Hank by the front of the shirt again. He dragged him up off the floor so his toes barely touched the carpet. He jammed his face within an inch of Hank’s. “I swear to Christ, if you hit her again, I’ll break every bone in your hands and arms, and when they heal I’ll do it again. You apologize to her, and swear in front of everyone at the rally you’ll never hit her again. You got it?”

  Real fear of Dude finally filled Hank’s eyes.

  Xander tapped Dude’s shoulder. “Okay, man. Our job here’s done. Let’s go.”

  Dude glanced at Xander then back at Hank before dumping Hank to the floor where he crumbled in a whimpering heap. “Piece of shit,” Dude muttered, then spit on him for good measure, before marching for the door.

  “See you at the rally tomorrow,” Xander said. He threw Hank a two-fingered salute before closing the door behind him.

  Dude had already climbed on his bike and started it up. Xander slung his leg over the seat of his own bike, and kicked it started.

  “I think that went well,” he said, grinning at Dude.

  “I wanted to kill him.”

  “That would have solved one problem, but created a shitload more.” Not that beating up a member of the Huntsmen’s biggest rivals wouldn’t cause enough trouble as it was. Xander figured if it had been anything other than domestic violence, Mel, the Huntsmen’s president, would have turned down the job because the target was a Ravager. But given his dedication to that particular cause, he apparently thought it worth the risk. “This way, our pal Bug has just enough rope to hang himself.”

  “Let’s just hope he does.”

  “I’m almost looking forward to this weekend, now.”

  “Don’t lie. You hate rallies.”

  “Yeah, I do. But I feel good about this one for some reason.”

  Back at The Outpost Xander and Dude parked behind the bar and headed for the back door.

  “Looks like everyone’s already here,” Dude said.

  “Yeah. Guess our little side job took longer than we planned.”

  They entered the back hall and the sound of a room full of male voices struck Xander first thing. He couldn’t help a smile. These guys were his family of choice. He loved his ‘real’ brothers—the rest of the Caine boys—and nothing could ever come between him and his blood, but the Huntsmen were the brothers he’d chosen for himself, and he was just as loyal to them as if they shared his blood. They all understood each other and shared a common love of the biker life.

  Dude grinned, too, and headed for the meeting room.

  “I’m going up front for a drink. You want something?” Xander asked.

  “Yeah. Bud Light.”

  Xander hid the cringe he felt at Dude’s choice. The beer snob in him stemmed from his upbringing. Coming up with an uber-rich family had embedded certain tastes in his DNA that he had a hard time shaking. He took a lot of ribbing for it from the rest of the Huntsmen, but for the most part they accepted him as one of their own, despite knowing if he wanted it he could have access to enough family money he’d literally need a bulldozer to shovel the shit into a truck.

  “You got it.”

  Dude gave him a thumbs-up and dove into the meeting room.

  Xander followed the hall past the office, storerooms, and restrooms out into the bar itself. Mel had established the place decades ago as neutral territory for all Houston bikers. Hard and fast rules that all bikers were welcome—nobody was excluded—and a list of rules of honorable behavior made the place one of the most popular in the city. Everyone checked their disputes at the door, or they didn’t come in.

  Xander headed for the bar. Daisy, one of the bar’s more popular bartenders, shot him a gorgeous grin.

  “Hey, Killer,” she said, her voice a sultry tease.

  Xander noticed movement from the corner of his eye in the mirror behind Daisy. A female head had come up from staring into her drink, and her face shone in the mirror. Xander found himself staring at her mussed pixie cut of dark hair, haunted eyes, full lips, long slender neck, and narrow shoulders. Some electric thing stabbed at his heart—and cock—when her eyes met his and widened as if in shock; as if she felt the same damn thing.

  “You okay there?” Daisy asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  He dragged his attention back to her, and pasted an insincere smile on his face. “I’m fine, Princess. Dude wants his usual and I’ll take a Kosmos.”

  She went to the cooler and pulled out a cold-sweat covered can of Bud Light and dropped it on the counter in front of Xander, snickering as she did. “You know, you’re the anomaly here, right? I can’t keep us stocked with Bud Light, it flies outta here that fast. Your fancy shit sits on the shelf collecting dust. Not to mention, I have to special order it.”

  She popped the cap on his bottle of Shiner Kosmos and placed it next to the can on the bar.

  “Yeah, I can only fix one person’s bad habits at a time. I’m still working on Dude. And I drink enough Kosmos it shouldn’t collect dust.”

  He grabbed the bottle and saluted her with it, taking one more glance at the sexy little brunette before spinning on his heel and heading back to the meeting room.

  Inside, Mel held court at the front of the room. Xander slipped in and grabbed the seat between Dude and Chico.

  “What’d I miss?” he whispered.

  “Good of you to join us, Killer,” Mel said. “Glad my Road Captain could finally show up.”

  All eyes shot his way. A lesser man might flinch under that much attention, but Xander didn’t think twice about it.

  “Dude and I were out on a job. It ran a little long,” Xander said.

  “How’d it go?” Mel asked. The bar supported the club, but Mel had also quietly set up the side business to deal with problems in the biker community that law enforcement either couldn’t or wouldn’t touch. He never advertised and nobody outright acknowledged it, but everybody knew if you needed help you went to Mel and he’d make sure you got a fair shake.

  “We came to an understanding. We’ll see if he holds up his end tomorrow at the rally.”

  Mel nodded. Enough said. “Speaking of the rally. We were just talking about expectations.”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Xander said, waving his beer in a ‘please continue’ gesture.

  Sweeping his gaze over the crowd, Mel gave them all a stern ‘if you fuck with me I’ll have your colors’ look. “Have fun, do whatever shit you want, but remember, you represent the Huntsmen. Everything you do reflects on the rest of us, so act accordingly.”

  Murmurs of agreement circulated the room, and looks were exchanged that said everything
from ‘I’ll hurt anyone who hurts the club,’ to ‘better keep our plans on the down-low.’

  “If you gotta fight, then fight, but the Ravagers are going to be there this weekend. They’re off limits. We’ve had peace for a while now, and I want it to stay that way. Any of you guys break that peace and you’re fucked. Got it?”

  Every last one of them nodded agreement. Nobody wanted to screw that up. Brawling was one thing, but the Ravagers were serious enemies—between the drug running and other shit they were involved in, they were the complete opposite of everything the Huntsmen stood for. Mel had finally negotiated peace with Prez—their president—and nobody had the balls to break that.

  Not for the first time, Xander wondered what the hell it was between Mel and Prez that fueled their feud. He had no problem setting Hank straight, but it was bound to lead to trouble and—technically—broke the peace Mel was so interested in keeping.

  Xander didn’t think any of the guys would do anything bad enough at the rally to hurt the club, but rallies could get wild—one of the reasons he avoided them. He didn’t go for that kind of crazy.

  “Who’s heading over to Galveston today?” Mel asked.

  Most of the guys in the room raised their hands, including Dude and Chico. Xander planned to leave tomorrow and get there as late as possible.

  “Killer?” Mel asked.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. The rally officially opened tonight, but he’d be fine if he missed it. “Got some business to finish up tonight.” He had plenty of things to choose from to keep him busy.

  “Fine. Don’t be very late tomorrow. Chico, you can stand in as road captain today.”

  “You got it,” Chico said.

  They spent another twenty minutes talking club business and the finer details of housing and other events at the rally.

  When the meeting broke up, most of the guys wandered out to the bar or out back to head for the rally. Mel called Xander and Dude over. Chico tagged along.

  “How’d the job go?” Mel asked.

  “Killer wouldn’t let me kill him,” Dude said. He nearly pouted about it. “Guy needs to be dead.”