Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “O… kay.” Drummer has made his decision. “Slick, talk to the girl, make sure she knows what she’ll be getting’ into. If she’s agreeable, we’ll get her set up in Phoenix. Would be too strange for a Tucson girl to want into their club, but if she’s in the locality and wants to make it with bikers, it won’t look odd.” His fingers rap on the table. “I’ll need two of you fuckers to be close by when she goes in. Get her a burner so she can ring us if she needs help. And she’ll have to tell them all about her mama and pa who’re going to raise merry shit if she doesn’t check in at home.”

  “Pa being you, Drum?” The empty pack of cigarettes gets thrown at Slick.

  “So we stay prepared and on lockdown. Don’t want those fuckers coming waltzing up to our door and finding us with our pants down. Slick will liaise with this girl and see if she’s up for this shit. Tell her she can be a sweet butt and all the brothers will reward her with as much biker cock as she wants and then some.” Drum pauses for the roars of laughter to subside.

  “Too fuckin’ right!” Adam tosses in, the first time he’s spoken at the meeting. Adam is known for being silent and his huge, great fucking Adam’s apple that bobs as if it’s a living thing when he swallows. Throwing him a glance, I see him playing with something in his hand.

  “Me! I’ll make the sacrifice!” offers Beef.

  “Hey, brothers, she might look like the back end of a cow,” contributes Dart. Leaning forward, he extracts a new pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and retrieves his lighter from Bullet.

  “Don’t give a fuck what she looks like. Long as she’s got a mouth and a tight pussy, they all look the fuckin’ same in the dark!”

  Drum glares at Rock, and gradually the table simmers down. “Mouse, you get some of those miniature camera gadgets, and if the girl’s agreeable, make sure Slick’s got them to pass to her. Right, that’s it. Let’s hope things calm down a bit for tomorrow night’s church.”

  Church again, fuck we’ve had a few too many of those lately. But tomorrow’s Friday, so we’ll be back to our regular timetable.

  I watch Dart light up and blow smoke before saying what I know is going to be very unpopular. “Can’t have the hangarounds up tomorrow. If we’re gonna be sending in a fuckin’ Trojan horse, the Demons might be thinking of doing the same thing.”

  Collective groans and moans, but no one says anything, they all know that I’m right.

  “Good point, VP. We can’t be too fuckin’ careful. Make sure everyone knows it’s a closed house. Okay, if that’s it, let’s break up this hen party, ladies.”

  I’ll give it to the prez, he knows how to send us out grinning.

  “Er, Prez. I found this outside.” Adam tosses whatever it was he’d been fiddling with onto the table. We all look at it in stunned silence. My eyes settle on Peg’s, and we both wince. It’s Hank’s fucking gremlin bell. Now I’m not a superstitious man, but the fleeting thought goes through my mind that things might have worked out differently if it had been on the young prospect’s bike that day.

  “Fuck it.” Peg sums it up succulently, and the look he throws me suggests he’s thinking along the same lines as me.

  I don’t want to touch it but know what I have to do. Reaching forward, I pull it toward me, and after holding it in my hand for a second, I put it in my pocket. I nod at Drum. “I’ll put it in his coffin.”

  “Good call.”

  It’s a sombre end to the meeting as we all take a moment to remember the man we’d lost.

  When I finally leave the room, Peg’s waiting for me in the hallway. “That fuckin’ bell.”

  “Yeah.” I shake my head.

  He sighs and rests his hand on my shoulder for a second. Then he straightens, and shakes it off, making a rapid change of subject. “So how did it go with Wheels, you talk to her?”

  Touching Peg’s good arm lightly, I wave him over to a table in the corner, then hold up two fingers toward the bar, alerting Marsh to the fact we need beers. Putting my elbows on the table, I lean toward the sergeant-at-arms, now seated opposite me. “She’s had some shit in her life, Peg. Got married very young, lost her husband a few months later in an explosion on an oil rig.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, well, she made up her mind not to get involved with anyone after that.”

  “So until you, she stayed faithful to a dead fuckin’ man?”

  I bark a laugh. “Quite the opposite! She’s been fuckin’ around, liking the variety.”

  “She’s a whore?”

  “No more than any of us. Nothing worse than I’ve ever done, using someone just to get some release.”

  He’s shaking his head, looking a bit disgusted, but fair’s fair. We take what we can get from whatever willing women we find, who are we to criticise someone else doing it just because they’re a member of the opposite sex? “You okay with that?” He sounds dubious.

  “Don’t see any problem with it. I’m no fuckin’ hypocrite.”

  He’s quiet for a moment as he considers it. “As long as she’s got a tight pussy, I s’pose.”

  I toss him a glare. “Don’t go there.”

  He laughs, the fucker. “So all’s sorted then?

  “I fuckin’ hope so.” Marsh delivers the beers, and I take a large swallow then wipe my lips on the back of my hand. “She’s feeling guilty she brought all this to our door, Peg.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Shit happens. We agreed to give her protection. If it wasn’t for that bitch Chrissy, she’d have been safe here. Isn’t Wheels’ fault.”

  “The Demons might have come knocking in any event. Sheer fuckin’ luck they took the contract.”

  “That reward was too darn attractive. Should have guessed he’d look for her in Arizona since she flew into Phoenix.”

  “Yeah, we underestimated how fixated this St John-Davies guy is on her.” I think for a moment as an idea occurs to me. “What if I get her out of here, take her somewhere he can’t find her?”

  Peg’s head moves side to side, my off-the-cuff plan not sitting well with him. “You’d have to steer clear of any of our other chapters, first place they’d look. Don’t really know where you could go and be safe. Hey, you got company.”

  Not sure what he’s talking about, I turn my head to see Sophie coming into the clubroom on crutches, her face creased with the effort. When she catches my eye, she smiles and continues our way. Peg stands like the gentleman he is and pulls out a seat for her. I take hold of her crutches as she eases herself into it.

  Peg avoids any mention of our altercation by the gate. “You’re lookin’ good there, darlin’.” He nods at her crutches so she knows what he’s talking about.

  She thanks him and reaches out her hand to take mine. I place our entwined fingers on the table. I’m making a point for all to see and feel a sense of elation when she doesn’t pull away. Then her eyes flick around the room, settling for a moment on little Amy, who’s playing with her dad, and the other old ladies who are drinking coffee around one of the other tables. She turns back to me.

  “Look at this.” She circles her hand to take in all the room. “It’s ridiculous, everyone here because of a threat to me. I know you don’t want me to leave, but I feel so guilty being here.”

  Peg glowers, and suddenly he’s the sergeant-at-arms, not the friend she’s come to know. “We talked about a lot of things in church, but not one of the brothers suggested the solution was for you to go, Wheels. So just suck it up. You’re here under our fuckin’ protection, and that’s where you’re going to fuckin’ stay. I don’t want to hear another word about you leaving else you’ll be sounding like a fuckin’ ungrateful bitch!”

  It wasn’t just what he said, but the way in which he delivered it. Wheels pales as his words sink in, and I hope to goodness that she’s going to let it drop now. But she doesn’t. “I don’t understand why,” she says, quietly.

  He’s still frowning, but his face has softened. “Because you’re one of us now. You’re with Wrait
h, aren’t you?”

  When she nods, confirming it in public, I feel like we’ve crossed the final hurdle.

  “Too fuckin’ right, you’re mine now,” I growl. Oh to hell with it. I scoop her out of her chair and onto my lap. Putting a hand on each side of her head, I gaze into her gorgeous, bright and sparkling eyes, and though it might be wishful thinking, it looks like a shadow has gone. Almost reverently, I touch my lips to hers, and then apply more pressure, pushing my tongue inside. Her perfume assaults my nostrils and a rumbling comes from my throat as I fist my hand in her hair, pulling her closer. The taste, the scent of her, driving me crazy.

  “Looks like Wraith’s got himself an ol’ lady!” Peg announces loudly to the whole room.

  Ignoring the shouts and hollers, I lose myself in her. Not letting go of her hair, I loosen one finger and hold it up. As the comments get more ribald, we at last come up for air. She’s laughing, and her smirk shows me she’s going to fit in here. I don’t know if she’s thought all this through or whether it’s sunk in yet, but this is her home, and where she’s going to stay. Forever if I have my way.

  Peg’s still sitting there, smirking at us. He’s got his phone in his hand and holds it up to show me the screen.

  “You were fuckin’ timing us?”

  “Yup. Should have taken bets on it. Quite a record you set there, VP.”

  Sophie bats his arm. “Peg! How could you?”

  “Any takers for how long they’re gonna disappear for?” Christ, Slick’s getting into the act now.

  “Three hours fifteen!” Adam calls out, though he’s not taken his eyes from the game he’s currently battling with.

  Sophie’s face is glowing red, but she’s not upset at all, and in fact, she’s laughing so hard she’s hiccupping. I decide taking some personal time is a fuckin’ good idea. Standing, I go to lift her into my arms, but Peg stops me.

  “Six o’clock, Wheels. Meet me in the gym.”

  “She’ll be too tired to exercise,” I tell him, grinning.

  “Not if you do all the work,” he replies, his eyebrows waggling up and down suggestively.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sophie…

  Despite Wraith’s reassurance, the feeling of guilt remains that I’m the cause of the club being on lockdown, but to be fair, it must be in my head as no one makes any comments to make me feel that way. If anyone, it seems to be Chrissy who draws their ire. She betrayed the club after all, and most of the blame gets apportioned to her, but I can’t shake the feeling that deep down I’m responsible.

  Life goes on. Every morning Peg has me working to build strength in my legs and to get my balance until it gets to the point when I can walk a few steps confidently without using the crutches. Despite recent events, my confidence is returning along with my independence, and I can feel the old Sophie starting to emerge. I’ll never get my leg back, but my man doesn’t give a damn, and that’s all that matters to me. There can’t be many men in the world prepared to put up with a one-legged woman.

  Being an official old lady has raised my status in the club, and now I have a role to play. Along with the other brothers’ women, I help plan, organise, and cook for Hank’s funeral, and with Wraith, make sure the prospects have prepared as many of the guest rooms as possible. I’ve been warned there’ll be many people from out of state who’ll need to be fed and housed.

  This morning Wraith had presented me with a cut of my own, and at first I was taken aback to see what is known as a ‘property patch’ on the back. But having gotten used to the other old ladies proudly wearing their cuts which, in their world was akin to a wedding ring, tears came to my eyes as I realised it signified how much I actually mean to Wraith, and the woven words, ‘Property of Wraith’, give me a warm feeling. He’s given me strict instructions to wear my cut at the funeral—that way the men from the other chapters will know I’m taken.

  I’m happy that Hank will have such a good send-off. I’m still grieving over his death, but as I remember my conversations with him, I hope that somehow, he was able to see how much he was respected by his brothers. The men give the prospects hell, but deep down they’re already members of the club, especially one that had proved himself like Hank. The young man had no parents or siblings to mourn him, yet there will be hundreds of people to send him on his final journey. That was what he’d been looking for—a family where he belonged. I can only hope that somehow he knows that he found it.

  A week after that terrible night I ride behind Wraith―who’s now fixed a more comfortable passenger seat on his bike and a sissy bar so I feel more secure―in his position at the front of the procession just behind the president, who in turn is following the hearse. Up ahead is a police escort, but no one’s out to cause trouble today. Peg’s up beside us with Blade and Dollar behind him, and then the rest of the Tucson chapter. The way to the graveyard is lined with what must be a hundred men on Harleys from other chapters, all revving their engines as we pass. The sound is deafening and, I hope, loud enough to get through to the dead.

  The funeral itself is a simple one. After the coffin is lowered into the ground in one of the plots reserved for the Satan’s Devils, I take out the single rose that I’d carefully kept safe under my jacket and throw it onto the coffin with tears in my eyes. Thank you, Hank. Thank you for protecting me.

  Then, leaning on Wraith’s arm, I pick my way carefully across the grassy ground and back to the bike, and we make the return journey, followed by the masses of bikes back to the clubhouse, once again escorted by the police, there to make sure there’s no trouble along the route.

  By now I’ve learned the full story of how the Satan’s Devils came to acquire the compound where the club is based, and today they must be thankful for it. The large clubroom which used to be the reception of the old resort opens out into a huge dining room, and after that, there’s the patio area where barbeques have been set up and are now scenting the air with tantalising smells of burgers and other goodies cooking. It’s a lovely day today, with temperatures heading into the eighties, or as I still have to do the conversion, the high-twenties Centigrade. The prospects have cleaned and refilled the pool, and splashes tell me there are already a few people taking advantage of it.

  Music is playing and space has been cleared for a dance floor in the clubroom. I’m in the kitchen mixing up a bowl of coleslaw to take outside when the container is taken from me as an arm snakes around my waist, and I know it can’t be Wraith as I can see him chatting to a member of another chapter outside. Wearing my cut clearly designating me as belonging to my bearded biker, I’m not too disturbed, but swing around to see who it is.

  “Peg! You startled me.”

  In his gruff voice, he tells me, “You owe me! And I’m here to collect.”

  My brow furrows as I try to think what on earth I promised him, but can’t think of anything, so my eyebrow raises in question. “What?”

  The sergeant-at-arms gives, what for him, passes as a smile. “Your first dance.”

  Dance? I cock my head to the side. A raunchy heavy metal tune is playing, and there’s no way I’d be able to boogie along to that, I’d lose my balance and fall on my arse for sure. Narrowing my eyes, I’m just about to tell him when that song finishes, and while not a slow ballad, the next song is at least something we can shuffle too. As Peg holds out his hand, I start to grin, realising he’s planned it. My fingers loop around his and he gently pulls me into his arms. I recognise the tune playing, it’s Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Man’s Job’.

  “See,” he starts with a smirk, “I told you I’d get you up and dancing.”

  Listening to the words, I narrow my eyes. “This song, really?”

  He laughs. “So? I like The Boss. Anyway, just fuckin’ with Wraith.” And then he’s singing along, “Loving you’s a man’s job, baby, loving you’s a man’s job.”

  I laugh. For a moment we dance together. I’m not too sure that description fits the swaying and lumbering that we’re doing,
but it’s so much more than even just a few weeks ago, and something I thought I’d ever be doing again. Now I’ve become thankful for even the little achievements I make each day. I curl my hand around his head and bring it down so I can reach my lips to his cheek.

  “Thank you, Peg, for everything you’ve done. I don’t know where I’d have been without you pushing me.”

  “We all need a little help, sweetheart.” Suddenly, his eyes crease, and he gives a laugh. “Reckon your man isn’t too happy with me.”

  “What the fuck, Peg?” comes a holler.

  Suddenly my dance partner is wrenched away by a very angry Wraith, and I stumble and have a problem getting my balance.

  “Wraith!” I yell, to get his attention.

  His fist is pulled back ready to hit Peg, but luckily my scream distracts him, and he reaches me before I fall onto the floor. “Fuck, babe. I’m sorry. You alright?” His eyes stare into mine. “What the fuck you doing letting Peg put his hands on you like that?”

  Why shouldn’t I dance with another man? While being amused at his possessiveness, it also makes me angry. “Why shouldn’t I? He’s the one who made it all possible.”

  “I don’t like seeing you in another man’s arms.” Wraith gives his explanation with a small smile. “Even one of my brothers. And ‘specially this fuckin’ song.”

  “That first day, when he forced me to start exercising, he told me he’d have my first dance with me. I didn’t believe him then as I couldn’t see this day coming,” I explain, my eyes narrow, not appreciating his jealousy.

  Now Wraith understands, and he smooths his hand over his beard as he makes his apology. “Oh darlin’, I’m sorry I got annoyed. But I’d like to dance with you too. You know I always like you in my arms.”

  And I like being in his. As Peg steps away with a smirk, Wraith takes his place, and we gently move to the music. Then I get the devil in me. My man’s holding me tight, he’s not going to let me fall. Holding up my arms, I wave them in the air, leaning back and shaking my hair out. I get a feeling of elation. This is the old Sophie! Wraith’s laughing and getting into it—he turns me around, I bend toward the floor. All the time he’s holding me secure and I love every minute. I love him.