Avenging Devil Part 2: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #4 Read online

  His narrowed eyes show he remains suspicious. “Why use the bitch? You scared of a fuckin’ phone?”

  I let my eyes widen. “Our computer guy has all that shit locked down. I, er, I don’t think they fully trust me. I know they keep track of the numbers I call. Hence, I used her. She’d do anything for cock, man.” I give a lewd sneer. It’s not too much of a stretch. Knowing Susie, she probably would. Could have been Cyn, I remind myself. Fuck, but I hope not.

  Duke considers me carefully. “So you got me here, but I’m in no mood to give thanks. Shouldn’t have had to traipse over half the country to get back what I own. Give me one reason I shouldn’t just let Slit kill you?”

  At least he’s asked. The stakes are sky high, and it’s time I plead for my life. But I’m not one to beg and know that wouldn’t impress him.

  “No reason at all. I suspect your man here is right.” I jerk my head up as I refer to the comment Slit had made about neighbourly concern in Saffie’s apartment block. “Probably no one would give a damn about a gunshot in this building. But there’s a chance they might, and that’s an inconvenience you don’t need if the cops get called and turn up.” I pause for a beat. “Thing is, I’m a man looking for a new club. And I might be just the man you want.”

  “You think so?” Duke snorts and sits forward, his raised eyebrow challenging me. “And what makes you think that?”

  As much as I can with Slit sitting on me, I puff out my chest. “I’m a Marine. I’d still be serving if I hadn’t lost half my leg. I’m a munitions expert, sharpshooter, and can build a bike from fuckin’ scratch with one hand tied behind my back.”

  “Marine, huh?” Duke pulls at his short beard. After staring at me for a moment, he looks over my head. “What d’you reckon, SAA?”

  Another thing learned. Slit is their sergeant-at-arms.

  “We didn’t replace Jude,” the man remarks. “And he’s a Satan’s Devil with no reason to stay loyal.”

  “Good points.” Duke looks at me, calculating. “I don’t tend to trust niggers, nor men who turn their backs so easily on their clubs. And, as you’ve seen, Croak has no problem killing a man with his bare hands. No need to get the cops involved.” He finishes with a kind of ‘there you go’ smug grin.

  I ignore the racial slight, it’s the least of my worries right now. Having the sense this isn’t going well, I decide to stop taking it all lying down. I’m no stranger to working out, have had to compensate for my missing leg, and kind of got hooked on going to the gym. To counterbalance my missing limb, I’ve tons of upper body strength. While I’ve been talking, I’ve also been assessing the weight of the man leaning on me, and I’m pretty sure he’s more fat than brawn.

  Tensing, I bunch my muscles. Rolling swiftly to take him by surprise, I hook my good leg around his, forcing him to stay on the ground. Now it’s me pinning him with my bodyweight as I grab the gun from his loosened grip and turn the tables on him. When he raises his hands, I stand, but keep the weapon firmly pointed at his head.

  “Seems like your sergeant-at-arm’s life is in my hands,” I tell Duke coldly. By now, Duke, Croak and Grit have all drawn their pieces. I’m gambling on how much they value this man’s life.

  “Impressive,” Duke remarks. “Maybe you should just shoot Slit now, seeing as he couldn’t hold you down.”

  “Not many men can,” I respond, continuing to sell myself. “And if you need a new sergeant-at-arms, then I’m your man. Stood in for ours when Grumbler came off his bike.”

  “Can’t see that’s a recommendation, seeing as it’s a pussy club,” he sneers.

  “Yeah?” I find an extra weapon in my arsenal and don’t hesitate to use it. “But it’s a pussy club who was keeping your property away from you, and they’re the pussies I know everything about.”

  “VP?” Slit sounds hesitant, as though he doesn’t really trust Duke to stop me from shooting him. A situation I can understand. I find nothing attractive about him myself, and wouldn’t, even if I wasn’t aware of Saffie’s history.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Duke barks a laugh and holsters his sidearm and indicates the other two men should do the same. “Let the man stand and give him his gun back. You might be a man I could use.” He considers me carefully. “Need to start at the fuckin’ bottom, of course. You’ll need to prove you’re not going to step out on us like you have with the Devils.”

  I shrug. “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m stepping into. But have no doubts, I’ll prove myself.”

  Now released, Slit walks over and speaks into Duke’s ear. Duke grins and in a way I really don’t like. He chuckles and turns to me.

  “Slit’s just reminded me it’s time to get moving, Boy.” He chuckles when he uses the slight. “Just in case those Devils of yours have more backbone than you’ve described and start trying to locate their missing member.” Which is obviously what I’ve been hoping, of course, but luckily Duke can’t read my mind. “Bring the bitch and make sure she does nothing stupid.” He tilts his head to one side, as if wondering whether I’m going to obey.

  I have to. I have to jump to his every command as though I really am a new recruit desperate to prove myself. If only I could take her and run. But having given Slit his piece back, I’m unarmed and faced with four men wearing guns.

  I harden my voice, and even smirk, an expression of which I know Duke will approve. “I’ll keep her quiet.” Knowing she’s going to hate me, or even more than she already does, I walk straight over to her and jerk her up roughly by one arm, ignoring her wince as I must have touched a bruise. “You gonna behave?”

  “Fuck you,” she spits.

  I could admire her spirit, but Duke wouldn’t like it. Knowing what’s expected, I twist the arm I’m holding painfully behind her back. When she yelps, Duke looks on in approval.

  Never, ever have I hurt a woman before. My own behaviour sickens me. The only justification I can use is that at the end of the day, keeping her safe is all that matters. And I’ve achieved my first objectives—to stay alive and at her side.

  “Behave, bitch,” Duke tosses at her. “You, my little socialite, are coming home where you were always meant to be.”

  She makes a valiant effort to struggle out of my grasp, but I’ve got hold of her with a tight grip. She kicks my ankle but gets the prosthetic instead of flesh. I shake her and say sharply, “Fuckin’ behave, woman.”

  “Fuck you! Fuck all of you,” she spits out again.

  Saffie, I’m so fucking sorry. We should have protected you from all this. But outwardly, I laugh as though I find her tussling with me amusing. Inwardly, I’m hoping like fuck the Satan’s Devils will figure out what’s wrong and come after us. Until then, she’s only got me to protect her, and I can only do that if I stay alive. Which means doing anything these fuckers ask, even causing her harm if I have to, though I’d be dying inside.

  She’s kicking and screaming, but in this block it won’t matter. Nevertheless, once outside the apartment, I stoop, elbow her in the stomach, making her breath leave her in a whoosh, and toss her up over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Once again, I get Duke’s smirk and sharp nod.

  This time she doesn’t take into account my prosthesis, nor does she relax or do anything to make my life easier. She kicks out, tries to bite, and does anything to make my task difficult. While harbouring an internal sense of pride and hoping my leg will stand up to the punishment, carefully I make my way down the stairs.

  I’m praying someone will open their door and see this situation is all kinds of wrong, that a woman is being kidnapped right off her doorstep. But of course, no one interferes, and the only shouts of disapproval I hear are those directed at Saffie, telling her to keep her screaming down.

  Even the drug dealers seem to be absent, and the parking lot is empty except for vehicles. To my disappointment, no Devils are waiting in sight. Not that there’s any reason they should be, but I’d been optimistic. There is, however, a big truck. Slit speeds up to get ahead, then opens the door and points me to the third row of seats, the ones with no doors beside them. Then Grit sits in the middle row along with the Kid-murdering-Croak, and Slit takes his seat beside Duke in the front.

  Grimacing, feeling it like a kick to my stomach, I notice Kid’s bike beside mine, waiting patiently for its owner who will never return. I’ll avenge you, Kid, I silently promise him. I’ll make them fucking pay. I’ll make them regret the day they were born and every day of their life since. It’s a vow to a dead man, but one I’m determined to keep.

  “I hate you,” the woman beside me whispers, her voice hoarse from the shouting which had had no results. She spits in my face.

  Stoically, I wipe the spittle away as the words echo inside my head. She can’t hate me as much as I hate myself.

  Not my fault, though, thinking about who actually betrayed her. It had to be Susie, that jealous, manipulative bitch. My mistake was not jettisoning her from the club long before I had. But I had had no idea just how badly she was going to fuck up, nor how twisted her mind really is. Or, it could have been Cyn. Am I blaming Susie, as I don’t want to think my sister would be so cruel? Whichever, I’ll be finding out. And whoever it is, I don’t give a damn she’s female. For what she’s done, she deserves death. Even my sister.

  Duke and Slit exchange words in the front seat, but quietly so I can’t hear what they’re saying. I suspect we’re heading back to Nevada, but I’m curious as to how we’re getting there? Are we driving all the way?

  What’s become obvious is that they didn’t bike down. We’d been wrong. All of us had been assuming they’d make the grand gesture and ride their motorcycles. No wonder we didn’t get warning that the Wolves were on the move.

  Still, it’s a long drive. Maybe there’ll be
an opportunity to escape, or at least get Saffie away. If we make a stop for gas, or at a rest stop, I’ll lull them into a false sense of security, then make my move. It will take last-minute planning once I see what I’m working with, but I’m resourceful, and certain I can make it work.

  But our route takes us out of the city in the opposite direction from the road I expected. An hour later, their reasoning becomes obvious as an airfield comes into sight, not unlike the one which houses our compound. But this one’s very much in use.

  Okay, so my initial plan’s a non-starter. I swallow down my disappointment. A Marine is always prepared to work on whatever presents itself. I eye my surroundings with care, scanning for someone who might recognise some sort of distress signal, but there are few people around, and those that are don’t seem bothered by a truck steaming toward its destination, a plane ready for takeoff. A sight, which for some reason, has Saffie tensing. Does she not like to fly?

  When Duke draws up alongside it, she screams out, “That’s my father’s plane!”

  Looking back over his shoulder, Duke snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good of him to lend it to us, wasn’t it? But then, you are his only daughter, Sapphire.”

  The bored looking pilot is waiting and doesn’t blink an eye when I drag a struggling woman out of the truck. A mechanic is making final checks, and he too, ignores the sight. Being a distance from the rudimentary terminal, I resign myself to the truth. Whether or not we want to go, Saffie and I are headed to the lair of the Crazy Wolves.

  Chapter Two

  Grumbler

  “You doing okay?” Gently, I place my hand against Mary’s face, wondering the same thing I do every day. How the fuck did I get so lucky to have this woman as my wife?

  Nuzzling into me sleepily, she murmurs, “I’d be better if your son wasn’t using my bladder as a trampoline.”

  I chuckle. “Need help getting up, Momma?”

  “Nah. I’ll be okay for a few more minutes. You go and do your stuff, old man.”

  “I’m your ol’ man, and don’t you forget it.” Leaning over, I give her a kiss, pausing to lay my hand against her swollen belly. The baby’s certainly lively this morning. My son. My heart feels full to bursting at what my life has become. A gorgeous woman by my side wasn’t something I’d ever expected. Add on the promise of a child in just a couple of months’ time, and everything’s just about perfect.

  Or will be.

  The pregnancy is going well, but nothing in life comes with a cast-iron guarantee. Both my age and Mary’s are against us. So far, we’re beating the odds, but there’s a long way to go before we hold our baby, and still time for things to go wrong.

  “You get off to work, Grumbler.”

  Assessing her, I see no adverse changes. Her pallor is what it should be. Her eyes, though bleary with sleep, are bright and alert. If I had the slightest fear something wasn’t right, I’d stay right here with her. It’s the same mental checks I go through each morning.

  “For heaven’s sake.” Mary lightly punches my arm. “Stop worrying about me.”

  Hmm. Perhaps I’m not so circumspect about my morning inspections as I thought I was. “Anything—”

  “If anything changes and I don’t feel right, I’ll call you, okay?” She rolls her eyes.

  It’s the same reassurance I need from her each morning so I can feel at peace during the day.

  Swinging my legs out of bed, I rest my head in my hands.

  When Mary had first gotten pregnant, it had come as a shock to us both. At forty-seven, she was pushing the limits of conceiving naturally. Despite being warned of what might lie ahead, we’d decided to let nature take its course. If the baby was meant to be, we’d be happy. If not, well, that was the way the cards would fall.

  Despite being more tired than she had been during her first pregnancy eighteen years ago, Mary’s been happy and healthy, and all the checks show the baby is just where he should be.

  That things could go wrong had been brought home to us recently after a chance meeting with Saffie.

  Saffie’s seventeen years younger than Mary, yet she had to terminate her pregnancy when her baby had no chance of being born to live any kind of life. Being faced with the horror of what could go wrong has been hard on both Mary and me, forcing such problems into the forefront of our minds.

  Saffie was devastated when she lost her baby, and who could blame her? But hearing about her from Niran, who’d witnessed her pain, had brought home exactly how hard it would be. However pragmatic you think yourself, however much you think your eyes have been wide open the whole time, means fuck all when it actually happens.

  If Mary loses the baby, or fuck it, if I lose her, I don’t know how I’d survive.

  “You’re thinking too loud,” Mary grumbles, as she manoeuvres herself over onto her other side. “Go to work.”

  I pat her arm, then get to my feet, and in preparation to do as instructed, start my morning routine.

  With Mary in the hospital, my brothers give me some leeway. It’s late in the morning when I’m walking into the auto-shop which I kind of manage on behalf of my club, the Satan’s Devils MC. I say kind of, because we’re more of a team, with no one actually being termed the boss. I suppose it’s my age that gives me the rank.

  I bump fists with Snips and greet our civilian employees—all vets who we give a helping hand to by giving them a job, and who repay us in spades. Two of whom, Ross and Gibbs, are at the coffee machine.

  “Grab one for me, will ya?” I request, walking past.

  “Sure, Grumps.”

  Grumps? “You fuckin’ what?” I spin around, only to see Ross doubling up and pointing his finger at Gibbs.

  “Wasn’t me.” He singsongs like a child.

  Inwardly chuckling, I show them my finger.

  I drink my coffee made just the way I like it, then do a stock take, checking we’ve all the parts we’re likely to need, ordering where we’re running low. Then I go give Ross a hand tracking down a fault of a newer model car. Diagnostic tools are okay, except when they give vague results. Sometimes I wonder whether Token should be working here, as it’s more often computer work than mechanical nowadays. Give me an old-fashioned engine and I’ll be satisfied.

  I suppose it must be a couple of hours later that I realise Niran’s not come in. It’s not that we keep strict working hours—members share the profits, so we all put in the time—but Niran’s a creature of habit, and normally appears at the day’s start.

  “Hey, anyone heard from Niran?”

  My shouted query addressed to no one in particular gets only shrugs of shoulders or the odd, Dunno, in response. So thinking it’s best to go straight to the horse’s mouth and call him, I take out my phone.

  Damn. It goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, Brother. Give me a shout, yeah?” Message left, I put my phone away.

  “Grumbler? That exhaust come in for the Indian?” A head appears around the office door.

  “Give me a sec, Gibbs. I’ll go check.”

  It seems that it hasn’t and should have been here yesterday. I waste a good few minutes on the phone to the supplier chasing them up.

  Ending that call, my phone chimes with another. Picking it up, I expect to hear Niran and answer accordingly. “’Bout fuckin’ time, Niran—”

  “Nah, Bro. It’s me, Token. I now suspect you won’t be able to help me. I’m trying to track down Niran. I take it he’s not there?”

  “No, and I’ve been trying to call him myself.”

  “Damn phone of his. Battery’s fucked. I keep meaning to give him a new one.”

  I know all about that. I’ve heard Niran moaning about it enough. “Whatcha want him for? Can I help?”

  “I got some info for him. Shit he might want to know.”

  “Like?”

  “Like get your ass over to the club if you want to find out. I think I need to bring Prez in on this.”

  “Wanna tell me the headlines?” I drum my fingers against the top of the desk.