Amy's Santa: Satan's Devils MC Second Generation #1

by Manda Mellett

  It’s close to midnight and the party is still going on. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle, the room is filled with laughter and love, but the more I sneak glances at my oldest daughter, the more convinced I become that something isn’t right.

  A short while later, I watch her walking across the floor, heading in my direction. Xander’s walking beside her, close, but not touching as he’s been all along. Her head’s down, her eyes meeting no ones, her lips aren’t curved up. She looks like a clock that’s wound down.

  “We’re heading up to the suite now,” Xander speaks for them.

  I stand, placing my finger under my daughter’s chin, and raising it so I can see into her eyes. Like before, I notice there’s no sparkle, no excitement, even though it’s Christmas Eve. “You alright, sweetheart?”

  “I’m just tired, Dad. My last shift was long and then the drive here…”

  Plausible excuses. I decide to shelve my doubts until the morning, she looks tired and not up for further interrogation tonight. So leaning in, I kiss her on the cheek. “Goodnight, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then to Xander I tell him straight, “I’d appreciate a talk with you in the morning.”

  He sends me a chin lift. Guess he’s been expecting that.

  Chapter Three

  Xander

  All evening I’ve been watching Amy, surreptitiously checking in with her, asking discreetly and quietly, “Are you doing okay?” It pains me to see the effort she’s making just to keep talking, let alone smiling and laughing. As the night goes on, I see she’s relying a little bit too much on alcohol, when she goes to get more, a word in her ear has her reconsidering. The last thing she needs is to lose that little control she has.

  I know her father has been watching her with dawning suspicion, and a few of the other men of his generation have been casting her glances of concern and giving frowns in my direction, but mostly I believe she’s getting away with the act she’s putting on.

  I wish I could take this pain from her, I hurt on her behalf. It irks me she can’t even relax amongst her family. It seems there’s now nowhere where she can let down her guard.

  Of course I came here with her. She’d been worrying for weeks, trying to come up with an excuse why she couldn’t go home for Christmas, battling with the knowledge of how much her absence would hurt her family and friends. The least I could do is make sure I was here to lend my support. I can balance her or whisk her away if it all gets too much.

  I know, when no one else does, and she can’t admit it.

  I understand when no one else can.

  It’s blatantly obvious, trying to act as if everything’s normal is taking its toll on her. Just after midnight, I suggest she’s had enough. We’ve stayed long enough, no one will think anything of us departing. When her eyes find mine and she nods gratefully, I know I was right. Politely we take leave of her father. I’m not surprised to receive his threat, worded as a promise, to talk with me tomorrow. If Amy was mine, I’d be wary as well and wanting answers.

  “Did I get away with it?” she asks as soon as we enter her suite.

  “You did,” I reassure her. Doubts that she didn’t quite, which is why tomorrow I’ll be facing Heart, I keep to myself.

  “One more full day, then we’ll go home.” She sounds as if she can’t wait for that moment.

  Briefly I close my eyes. I hate that this time she should be enjoying with people who obviously love her is being so marred. She doesn’t deserve this, whatever she thinks, but there’s no point me telling her. I’ve tried over and over again to convince her, but she doesn’t want to hear it let alone allow herself to believe.

  “I’ll go get ready.” She picks up her bag and disappears into the bathroom.

  Patting my pockets, I realise I must have left my phone on the table in the clubhouse. “Amy? Just going back down to get my phone. I’ll be straight back.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back in moments,” I stress.

  Christ, I wish I could do more for her, I muse as I stride quickly down the slope, hating how nervous she is. I reach the clubhouse fast, and go in through the door, then come to an abrupt halt, my lips curving. It seems after our departure, the married men, women and youngsters all went to bed, and the single men have come out to play, out in the open, with women who are scantily clothed. One man’s being sucked off, he looks up and gives me a satisfied and totally unashamed wave. Another is fucking a woman on the only available flat surface, the pool table.

  A third woman, her top off, is leaning back against the man holding her, while another stands in front, his mouth noisily sucking her tits. Her head is thrown back in pleasure.

  I grab my phone, and walk back out into the night, grinning. What I’ve just seen explains a lot about Amy and how she views sex.

  When I return, I’ve either been as fast as I’d promised, or she’s slow, but I’m in time to hear the shower cut off, the toilet flush, and then she comes out demurely dressed in pyjamas and a robe which she discards only as she slides into bed. I don’t miss that she looks relieved I’m back.

  Knowing how exhausted she is, I make short work of my own ablutions, and soon am lying on the opposite side. Her light’s off, mine is still on. I flick the switch plunging the room into darkness.

  “Thank you, Xander.” She repeats the words she said earlier.

  Gritting my teeth and fisting my hands at my sides, now she can’t see, I’m at last able to react like I want to. “Goodnight, Amy.”

  I stay awake until her breathing evens and then follow her into sleep.

  She awakes screaming.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I make sure to keep my distance from her, comforting her with just my voice. “I’m here, it’s me, Xander. You’re alright, Amy. You’re safe.” I can feel her trembling, so violently it’s shaking the bed. “Shush, you’re safe.”

  Gradually her shudders begin to lessen. When I can’t feel them anymore, I hear her say, “Safe?” Her voice sounds so small it tugs at my heart and hurts.

  “Safe,” I repeat, as firmly as I can.

  “Talk to me,” she pleads.

  I settle back with my arms behind my head and think how to get her mind off her nightmare. “How does Christmas day work here?”

  She’s quiet for a moment. Her voice starts weak, but gets stronger as she explains what I should expect. “People exchange gifts in the morning, each family on their own. Then we all accumulate in the clubroom, there’ll be gifts for the single men under the tree. Sam, Drummer’s wife, usually arranges that. Most of the men and the lady’s riding club will be going out on a run after all the presents are open. Dinner will be late afternoon, the normal beef and hams and turkeys.”

  “Turkey?”

  I’m able to hear the fondness in her voice as she enlightens me. “Sophie’s British, though her accent’s starting to go now. She refuses to have Christmas without turkey and all the trimmings.”

  She yawns loudly. Wanting her to rest, I ask no more questions. It’s not too long before the sound of her breathing changes, and she’s asleep. I hope for her sake I’m not disturbed again, but sometimes her nightmares reoccur more than once each night.

  I stir in the morning before her and go take a piss before returning to the bed. My moving must have disturbed her, as she’s wiping sleep from her eyes when I return.

  Still wearing the sweatpants and tee I wore to bed, I lean against the doorjamb leading into the bathroom. “Merry Christmas.”

  A weak smile, but in return she repeats, “Merry Christmas.”

  I know we don’t have the relationship where we exchange gifts, but I couldn’t resist buying something for her, something appropriate for a friend to give. Crossing the room, I reach over into the bag and retrieve the box wrapped in shiny gold paper. Returning to the bed, I hand it to her.

  I hope she doesn’t feel awkward receiving something from me, it’s only a small trinket compared with what I could afford to purchase, but she g
ives an impish grin, reaches into her purse lying on the floor beside her, and brings out a small box which she passes to me.

  Thank fuck I had something for her. It had been touch and go whether I’d buy anything at all.

  “You first.”

  “No, you.”

  I grin. “Together,” I compromise. But though I tear off the paper, I’m watching her as she opens the gift I’ve given to her. Silver, not gold, so it’s not over the top, but it’s a chain with a pendant.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says.

  “The charm is a Hamsa,” I tell her. “At the top is the all-seeing eye. It has various meanings in different parts of the world, but represents inner strength, protection, and good luck. It’s always supposed to warn the wearer of evil.”

  “Too late,” she replies, with a tear in her eye.

  Reaching out, I touch her hand lightly, knowing I don’t want her crying today. “Never too late. You survived.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes,” I say firmly. Then I start to open her gift to me. It’s thoughtful, but as mine was, not over the top so its meaning can’t be misconstrued. I might be a top surgeon, but when not operating, I wear an earring in one ear. She’s given me a new silver stud in the shape of a skull.

  “I love it,” I tell her. And I do.

  “Thought you’d like it as an act of rebellion.”

  “I’ll wear it in staff meetings,” I promise her. “It will go down well along with me saying I spent Christmas with an outlaw MC.”

  She giggles. It’s a great sound and I have to force myself to refrain from kissing her. Picking up my bag, I indicate the bathroom. “Just going to get freshened up. Or do you…?”

  “You go first. I’ll doze for a while.”

  When I’m showered and dressed, I notice she’s sitting up examining the necklace I bought her. I smile. Seems like I’ve chosen right.

  “Want me to put it on for you?”

  In reply, she lifts her hair, giving me access to her slender neck. I fasten the clasp for her, seeing it drape beautifully above the rise of her chest.

  While she’s in the bathroom getting ready, I replace the stud in my ear, grinning a little. It’s hard to tell what it is unless you’re up close.

  “I was going to buy you a heart, but thought that would be a bit girly.”

  “It’s perfect,” I tell her. “It will remind me of this walk on the wild side.” Not that I’ve seen anything worse than bikers getting drunk and noisy up to now, ah, mustn’t forget seeing them in action late last night. I think it’s best I don’t let on what I saw, so nodding toward the door, ask, “You ready to face everyone?”

  Her teeth worry her lip. “Not really. But I’ll try.”

  I draw in air and let it out in an exasperated sigh. Not at her, but at what’s made her like this. “You’ll be fine. They’re your family. No one here is going to hurt you, you know that.”

  “I’m strong. I can do this. I can survive.” She repeats the mantra I’ve made her learn.

  “Too damn right.”

  “Just get today over with, then I can go home.”

  I press my lips together. Yeah, she can escape, but go back to half a life? I really don’t want that for her. But she has made steps forward, I remind myself. Though it might not seem like it to her, she’s not the complete mess she’d been three months before. That Amy wouldn’t even step out of her apartment.

  The clubhouse is full of delicious breakfast smells. Amy seems to follow the aroma of bacon, and we make our way across the room slowly exchanging Christmas greetings along the way. Amy gets approached by everyone, she’s seems fine when the women give hugs, relaxed with her father. Then Zane, I think it is, puts his arm around her briefly and she goes tense. When she starts to pale I step up, pulling her into my side and away from an exuberant kid in his early twenties. I can feel her violently trembling, so guide her quickly through the kitchen and on outside to the backyard.

  “Christ, Amy.” I shake my head. “I didn’t realise…”

  She bows her head, placing her hands on her knees and breathing deeply. “Thank fuck you got me out. I was starting to go into a panic attack.”

  “No one,” I remind her, sternly, “no one puts a hand on you without your permission. Everyone in there wants a part of you, Amy, it’s for you to decide what you want them to have. Not for them, or anyone to just take.”

  “But they’re my family,” she protests. “They should be able to hug me without me freaking out.”

  “Tell them,” I say, circling back to my favourite solution. “Amy, just come clean. You can’t go on like this. You’ve got a whole Christmas dinner to get through. You need support. Tell your dad.”

  “Tell her dad, what?” I swing around fast to see Heart and the older man called Drummer standing right behind me. Guess Amy’s rapid departure from the clubhouse hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Amy’s slowly walking backward, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes shooting to me, a wealth of pleading in them.

  “Amy?” says Heart. “Sweetheart?”

  Another woman pushes past Drummer and runs over to Amy, trying to take her in her arms. I stiffen and start to go over, when Drummer puts his hand on my arm, his fingers curling around and digging in. “Sam was that girl’s mom for months. She’ll be fine.”

  I shake off his touch, wanting to make sure for myself so I close the distance between us.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Heart’s come up behind me. “’Cause I want to know what’s up with my little girl. Will someone fuckin’ tell me?” His voice is getting loud, and Amy’s shrinking into herself.

  Ignoring her dad, I speak to her quietly, “Amy? Your dad wants to know what’s wrong. I think it’s best that they know. Then they can help.” If they can understand. If not, we’ll leave and I’ll take her home. Back to her apartment where I’ve stayed for three months.

  Her eyes flick to mine then behind me to where Heart and Drummer stand, arms folded and waiting for someone to give them an explanation. Suddenly she slumps in Sam’s arms. “I can’t,” she insists.

  Heart steps forward, he looks like he’s making an effort to control himself, but his voice has become more even. “Whatever it is, Amy, we can sort it. Whatever’s happened won’t cause us to look at you differently. You’re still my daughter and I love you whatever it is.”

  I see her back straighten and know she’s making an effort. She pulls away from Sam. “Everyone will be busy in the kitchen,” she tells us with a fake smile. “I’ll go and help.” She almost runs to get away.

  When I start to follow her, Heart holds me back. “You and I,” he tells me in a voice that threatens murder should I disagree, “need to talk.”

  “My office,” says Drummer. Then he shakes his head. “Well, Wizard’s.”

  I’m sandwiched between the two of them as I’m marched back into the clubhouse, Drummer pausing only to shout to the prez that he’s going to borrow his space. He gets a cheerful wave back. Well, it’s Christmas morning and everyone’s in a good mood except for me, Amy, and the two men beside me.

  Drummer walks in and sits behind the huge desk with a flag carrying their insignia behind it—the devil with a scythe hovering over three demons. It’s an enlarged image of what they wear on their patch. If I’m honest, even to a big man like myself, it’s intimidating. I don’t need the reminder to remember, these men belong to an outlaw MC. Not the sort of people you’d cross.

  Heart points me to a chair in front of the desk and takes a second for himself.

  “Like old times,” he says ruefully to Drummer.

  “Like old times,” Drummer repeats. Then his eyes sharpen and he gets down to business. “Right, come clean, Xander. We know something’s wrong with Amy. I want to know what it is, and what we can do to help.”

  “And if that involves putting you in the ground, I won’t hesitate to do it,” growls Heart.

  One look at his face shows he’s making no idle threat
, but he’s making it toward the wrong person, what I’ve got to tell them will hopefully redirect his anger.

  “You’re fuckin’ my daughter, and she’s clearly not happy. What the fuck is going on, Xander?” Heart’s face is tense.

  I press my fingers to my brow, wondering whether it’s my story to tell. But I’ve got to correct at least one assumption. “I’m not fucking her,” I tell him, while wishing I was. If only for her sake, as it would prove her recovery.

  Heart’s eyes widen and he exchanges a look with the man behind the desk. “You’re sleeping with her,” he accuses. “The prospect tidying up said you only used one bed.”

  Seems like nothing’s a secret here. “Sleeping with her, yes, but not having sex.”

  “Is that her problem? You won’t give it up? You fuckin’ gay or something? Not that we give a damn, only as far as it affects Amy.”

  I huff a mirthless laugh, then look at her father, and give it to him straight. “I sleep with her so I’m there to help her through her nightmares.”

  Chapter Four

  Heart

  On the surface there’s not much to dislike about the man sitting in front of me. He’s not one of us, he’s a civilian through and through which makes me naturally suspicious. On the plus side, he’s polite, well mannered, and overtly no threat and apparently a successful man in his field. There’s a steel to him though, no doubt about that.

  If he’s the reason my daughter is unhappy, however pleasant he seems, I’ll be carrying out my threat, and he won’t be leaving the compound alive, or at least, unscathed.

  The words he’d said filter through my brain. He stays with her because she has nightmares?

  “What nightmares? What’s caused them? Has something happened to Amy?” I rattle off the questions I want answered.

  “How did you get involved with her?” Drummer asks. He focuses his steel-grey eyes on Xander, and I watch the man squirm. I know exactly how it feels to be subjected to that death stare. “Why are you the one she turned to for help? Okay, so you’re a doctor and she’s a nurse, but we know you don’t even work at the same hospital. Did your paths cross because you’re in the same profession?” We know that because of the research Wizard had done.