Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3 Page 5

  No chance today, though. I grin to myself as I walk out of the clubhouse to where Pennywise, Salem and Hard Token are waiting by their bikes. As had been planned after my chat with Kink, today we’re just going to head out and see where the road takes us.

  Can there ever be anything better than four guys out for a ride? Letting the wind blow away all thoughts other than how good our life is? Nah, not even sex.

  Sunday passes in a whirl of pavement beneath our wheels, good food at a bar we find which we’ve never tried before, and great conversation when we park up and just enjoy the scenery and fresh air for a while.

  I return to the clubhouse renewed and refreshed, my mind circling back to that conversation the night before. Who needs to jump out of a plane or control a sub to put their life back into balance? Riding my bike does exactly that.

  Inside, the MC life just gets better. Patsy, the club’s first old lady, has gotten the club girls under her thumb in the kitchen, and we’re treated to a very passable pot roast. The evening is spent dissecting the day’s ride, playing cards and losing a game of pool to Bones.

  I’d enjoyed my time as a Marine, thought I’d never find anything to replace it, but joining the club has come a close second, and sometimes even tops it. Sure, I’m not flying halfway around the world at the drop of a hat, but neither am I risking my life for a war I care nothing about.

  The ride out was good but tiring, and when I start to yawn and feel my prosthesis rub against the stump which is all that remains of my leg, I bid my goodnights and take myself up to my room.

  Stripping off, I exchange my prothesis for my cane, and ease onto my mattress. Snuggling under the covers, I think I’ve got everything I need in my life. Of course, if I had my way, I’d have two flesh-and-blood legs, but I’ve moved on from regretting the loss of it.

  But maybe there is one thing missing. Turning onto my side, I gaze at the empty side of the bed. What would it be like to find an old lady? Is there really someone out there for me? Someone who’d be there just for me, someone to come home to?

  I don’t want casual. I want to care about a woman and want her to care about me.

  Once, I thought I would find someone, settle down, start a family like everyone else, but as it turns out, it wasn’t to be. First my service career had gotten in the way. I was never home long enough to find anyone. Now, I’m a biker with an extra complication. While I may have come to terms with it, any woman I find has got to be okay with my missing leg. I’m already aware for some, it’s a turnoff.

  Still, if Grumbler can find a woman of his own, maybe there’s hope for me yet.

  Hopefully I won’t have to wait as long as him.

  In the darkness, I grin, moving into the centre of my king-sized bed, spreadeagling my arms and legs, happy that I can hog everything. Maybe there are benefits to sleeping alone. With that thought I turn over and stop thinking at all.

  Monday dawns. I might love my job—working at the auto-shop owned by the club is like working for myself as I take a share of the profits we make—but like anyone else, I don’t particularly like the start of the work week. At the weekends, I can do what I want and when. During the week, I’m at the beck and call of anyone who wants their work done.

  Despite all the years I was a Marine, dragging myself out of bed at the crack of dawn is not my idea of fun. Even though I retain the ability to leap into action as soon as the alarm goes off, it doesn’t mean I necessarily do so with good grace. Wiping sleep from my eyes, I reverse my bedtime routine—piss first, shower, then get myself dressed in some fresh clothes. Yawning widely, I descend the stairs.

  Two of our prospects, Connor and Curtis, are in the kitchen doing their best to cook edible food. Seeing the bacon looks okay, the pancakes just this side of acceptable and the eggs are decidedly iffy, I help myself to a coffee and fill a plate deciding to leave the latter.

  “Morning, Brother.” Wrangler’s greeting me but smirking at the prospects. Being one of their number until a few months back, he’s still getting mileage from his elevated status. Unlike me, he voices his demand and accompanies it with a rap on the table. “Get me a coffee, Prospect.”

  Prospecting being not so far in my rearview, I know how much the pair will want to answer by raising a finger, but like any good recruit, Curtis, his expression remaining impassive, puts down his spatula and fills a cup.

  “You’re up early,” I observe to the new brother.

  “Yeah, Deuce has asked me to take stock at the bar. Thought I’d get it done early and go for a ride.”

  “Part-timer,” I observe, tucking into my bacon. My comment not quite deserved as working with Deuce, Wrangler will often be there until late into the night.

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t rise to my bait. “Deuce is worried some shit’s going missing. Wants me to check.”

  I raise an eyebrow. If he’s right, we could have problems with the civilian staff at the bar. Though that anyone would be crazy enough to steal from the Satan’s Devils begs disbelief. “Let me know if you need help sorting it out.”

  Wrangler shrugs. “It’s likely some of the stock’s just got mixed up, but I’ll let you know if I need anything. Thanks, Brother.”

  When Grumbler was laid up a year back, I’d temporarily taken over as sergeant-at-arms, a role I’ve semi-continued now that Grumbler’s duties are divided between looking out for the club and caring for his pregnant old lady.

  Wrangler gives me a final appreciative chin lift, then drains his coffee and walks out. Taking his lead, I swallow the last of my breakfast then down the remains of my cup. Patting my cut to ensure my keys and wallet are there, I head out to my bike.

  Arriving at the shop, while I’m not late, Gibbs and Ross, a couple of our now-civilian but former-Marine mechanics are already checking through the books and assigning themselves tasks. Joining them, we divvy up the jobs, and soon have our heads down as we work.

  “Grumbler not coming in?” Ross asks after a while, as the time for the man to put in an appearance has passed.

  “You know that,” Gibbs replies with a roll of his eyes. “He’s gone to LA to pick up a part.”

  “He set off early,” I remind them as Ross slams his hand against his forgetful head. “Mary’s got an appointment this afternoon, and he never misses those.”

  “Your old brain injury playing up?” Gibbs asks, but his grin belies any concern.

  “Fuck off,” Ross responds good-naturedly. “I lost an arm, not my fuckin’ mind.”

  I snort, then return to what I was doing.

  Time marches on, and I begin to grow surprised Grumbler hasn’t made it back. He’d planned to leave long before I’d gotten out of bed. Sure, the ride to Los Angeles takes a couple of hours, but he’d set out early enough to avoid the worst of the rush hour. As the hours tick past, I start to worry. Where are you, old man?

  My phone ringing startles me, and I push myself out from under a car. The display shows me it’s the man I was just thinking about calling.

  “Hey, old man. You alright?”

  “I’m good. Need to ask you a favour, Brother.”

  “Anything, Brother, you’ve got it.” He doesn’t even need to ask. I start making my way to the desk, thinking the store might have forgotten what part he’d ordered and gone to collect, and that Grumbler needs the serial number.

  But that’s not what he needs. “Got a nail in my tyre when I was heading back. Had to get roadside assistance to take me to a tyre place, but they didn’t have the one I needed in stock. Gonna be stuck here a few more hours.” I hear a sound in his throat that shows me he’s not impressed. The reason clear as he adds, “Hate to ask this of you, but could you go with Mary to her appointment? I don’t want her going alone.”

  Given the ages of Mary and Grumbler, the odds of them growing a healthy baby are stacked against them, and I hear the undertone in his voice. This isn’t just a normal ‘be there to make conversation to stop her getting bored’, this is a ‘be there in case she gets
bad news’ favour to him. Neither will want to put the appointment off, and under the circumstances, I whole-heartedly agree, Mary shouldn’t be alone. While I don’t relish the task in case the visit goes sour, to be honest, I’m honoured as fuck that he’s asked me. Patsy, the prez’s woman, would have gone like a shot, and she might be better to understand anything pregnancy related. It’s a measure of his respect that he’s made the request of me.

  “Of course, I’ll go, but all I can do is hold her hand.”

  “Not asking you to do more, Brother. She likes and respects you. She’ll be good with you being there.”

  “I’ll do it,” I agree without hesitation.

  “Great. I’ll call Mary. You mind picking her up?”

  That makes me smile. He hates her doing anything nowadays, even getting behind the wheel of a car. I know Mary finds it frustrating, but she tolerates his worrying because the concern comes from his heart. Grabbing a pen and paper, I jot down the details.

  I decide to tease him. “Any particular kind of cotton wool I should take with me to wrap her in?”

  “Fuck off, Brother,” he growls. “And let me know anything she might not want to tell me.”

  How would I do that? Mary’s hardly likely to share information with me that she wouldn’t give him. I settle for reassuring him I’ll let him know anything I find out.

  “Shiny side up, Brother.” I end the call.

  By the time I’ve finished with the car I’m repairing, it’s time to head out. Riding my bike back to the clubhouse, I swap it for the club’s SUV, then make my way to Grumbler’s house. As soon as I draw up, a figure runs out.

  “Hey, Niran.”

  “Alicia.” I pull Mary’s teenage daughter in for a hug. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “I am. I just popped home to pick some work up.”

  “She was bored and wanted an excuse to drive her car.” Mary’s waddling out, looking every bit the glowing pregnant woman that an ignoramus like me would expect. She’s six months now and has a decided baby bump, slacker muscles due to her age and previous pregnancy, or so Grumbler had told me. Being a gentleman, I’d never ask.

  “Well, I’m off.” Alicia runs back to her mom and gives her a peck on the cheek. “Let me know how it goes.”

  “Kids!” Mary exclaims, but she’s got a big smile on her face. “Sometimes I think I preferred it when I drove her everywhere, and when she wanted to come home, had to go and pick her up. Now she appears when I’m least expecting her.”

  I chuckle as I catch her gist. “That cause you and Grumbler problems?”

  “It has.” Mary laughs loudly. “Alicia has said she needed to bleach her eyes. Now if she comes back unexpectedly and finds his bike here, she sounds her horn to warn us.”

  The old man’s obviously still got it in him. I start to wonder about the ‘lunches’ he pops home for. Guess it’s more that he’s working up an appetite rather than getting his hunger assuaged.

  Mindful of the time and having had timeliness drummed into me by the Corps, I prompt her, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got my purse and all I need.”

  I like Mary, have from the first moment I met her. She’s got a strength that comes from suddenly finding herself alone in the world and having to cope with bringing up a rebellious girl angry at the world after losing her father. I’d personally witnessed Alicia being more than a handful at first, but when Grumbler had pulled her out of a mess, she’d grown to respect her stepfather. Nowadays, I see a new maturity in her, and put it down to both Mary and Grumbler. It wasn’t what I would have expected. Who would’ve thought a confirmed bachelor biker to take so well to being a dad?

  As I help Mary into the SUV, I think how much Grumbler’s looking forward to having his own child, even though they’re both old enough to be grandparents. I sincerely hope that today’s appointment is simply a confirmation that everything’s heading in the right direction.

  Mary settles into the seat with an oomph, and a rub of her hand over her stomach. She looks at me ruefully. “I don’t remember it being this hard. Now I get worn out so easily.” She waits until I’ve started the car before she adds, “I’m very grateful for the company, Niran, but I could have gone on my own. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than cart a pregnant woman around.”

  “Hey, I’m just here to settle Grumbler’s mind.” I wave off her thanks as I get into gear, turn and pull away smoothly.

  For a moment, we drive in silence, then a sideways glance shows her biting her lip.

  “You alright?” Am I driving too fast? Is she car sick?

  “I’m fine.” She offers a brief smile. “These appointments are always worrying, just in case they find something wrong with the baby.”

  I’m an idiot. I should have guessed it was that. I try to be reassuring. “I’m sure they won’t. You’re doing everything right, aren’t you? Eating well, resting and all that?”

  She chuckles. “As if I could do anything else with Grumbler looking after me. He made me give up work, you know that? Still, I don’t deny it’s nice to not have to worry about things. Though I do get bored, it’s good being able to take a nap whenever I want.”

  I know all that. I also know if she hadn’t done it voluntarily, Grumbler was going to speak to her boss. Once that man takes something on, he’s all-in. He’s determined to do everything he can for this pregnancy to have a healthy outcome, for both mother and child.

  We fall back into a comfortable silence for a while, the only voice being the instructions uttered by the GPS. When we arrive at the hospital, Mary still seems concerned. When I’ve parked and helped her out, I offer her my arm.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I try to impress on her.

  Her squeeze on my bicep tells me she hopes that I’m right. So do I. Suddenly, the weight of responsibility settles on me. What if there’s a problem? Grumbler should be here, not me. I now understand why he moves heaven and earth to be with her. He would if he could. But he can’t, and I’ll just have to be an adequate substitute. Straightening, I pull my broad shoulders back. I got this. I can handle it.

  After she checks in, we go to a waiting room. Far from my fear I’d be the only man, most women seem to be accompanied. Mary picks up a magazine and starts to flick through it, while I settle back on a chair and surreptitiously eye the others waiting, occupying myself by wondering about their backstories. Some of the couples look lovey-dovey and excited, some look bored as if they’ve been through it all before. Of the unaccompanied woman, only one’s showing a small baby bump. It would have gone unseen had she not looked so thin she could be undernourished. My eyes move on and then back, seeming to be drawn to her. Her hair is blonde and short, which seems at odds with the dark hue of her face. She’s not tanned, but has a naturally deeper toned skin, brown eyes and almost black brows. I surmise her hair colour is due to dye, but is that advised during pregnancy? Well, what the fuck do I know? I’m hardly qualified to give advice or criticise.

  I pull my eyes away, but soon they slide back again. She’s not a young girl, thirty or so, perhaps? She’s certainly not affluent. Her clothes are clean but cheap. Surreptitiously, I look but spy no ring on her finger.

  She’s sitting quietly, not reading, but her hands are smoothing over that baby bump as if reassuring the child inside. Her teeth worry her lip, and she keeps glancing toward the reception desk and looking nervous. As I watch, she takes out a tissue and dabs at her eyes.

  I find myself wanting to know her story. Why’s she here alone? Does her man not care about the baby? Or, is he not in the picture? Strangely, she pulls at something inside of me, making me want to hold her close. If a woman ever needed caring for, it’s her.

  Fanciful much? The excess of hormones must be getting to me. I laugh at myself, unable to believe I’m drawn to a pregnant woman. If I wanted a woman with a baby, I’d prefer to put one inside her myself.

  “Ms Jones?”

  The woman who caught my
attention stands and follows the nurse. But still, after she disappears, I find myself thinking about her. Has she a man? Has he abandoned her? Is she wanting for money? I can’t understand why, but something about her calls to me.

  I’m still thinking about her when the nurse reappears.

  “Mrs Winslow?”

  Mary comes to attention by my side. Standing, I help her out of her chair, and then wait undecided, not knowing what’s expected. Should have asked her before if she wants me to go with her.

  As if she can read my mind, she tells me, “I’ll be back shortly.” She steps away, hesitates and turns back. “Would you like to come in and see the sonogram?”

  Knowing Grumbler would kill me if I see any of Mary’s feminine parts, I give a rapid shake of my head, raise my hands palms up in front of me, and say hurriedly, “That’s okay.”

  She giggles as though she knows exactly what I’m thinking and what her man is like. “I’ll be covered up, well, except for the bump and that’s hardly sexy.”

  Yeah. I do a quick rethink. Perhaps I should be there. It’s then they’ll see if anything’s wrong, isn’t it? I’m here as my brother’s proxy. It takes me a mere second to decide before I give her a sharp nod.

  Before she disappears, she has a word with the nurse, who listens carefully, and then addresses me, “I’ll come get you in a moment, Mr Simpson.”

  To entertain myself, I pick up the magazine that Mary had been reading. I start flicking through, not really focused on what I’m reading which seems to be all about fashion during pregnancy, but it bides the time until I hear my name being called.

  I’m led into a doctor’s office where Mary’s lying on a bed, her top pulled up but decently covering her breast area, and a blanket over her hips. I stare at her pregnant stomach, unable to recall seeing one in reality, only in movies or photographs. With curiosity, I notice her skin is already stretched taut. When I realise there’s a real baby in there, it takes my breath away. Of course, on one level I’d known and accepted it, on another, clearly not. I’ve never gotten up close and personal with a woman’s ripe body before.