Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  Drummer rubs his hand over his beard. “Think you better listen up, Viper. Hear her out, okay?” Having made his suggestion, he leans back in his chair and folds his arms, but his piercing eyes aren’t missing a thing, and the fractional turning up of one side of his mouth suggests it’s a source of amusement to him to see how this all plays out.

  I’ve had hours and hours of the open road to plan what I’m going to say, but now that I’m here, words fail me. Viper shifts in his chair, crossing one leg over the other knee, then clasps his hands behind his neck. As he stares at me vacantly, I see he’s showing me there’s nothing I’ve got to say that will faze him.

  If I address it head on, he’ll deny it. He doesn’t want to listen to me. He doesn’t even seem to like me, particularly. While I gather my thoughts, I glance down at my motorcycle boots, scuffed, well worn, and covered with the dust of the road. Soon, very soon it seems, I’m going to be on my way again.

  “Well fuckin’ spit it out girl, I’ve got better things to do.”

  I can’t help my face twisting as I think about what he could be referring too. Unless one woman a night is enough for him, that is. Clearing my throat, I start. “Do you remember a girl called Sylvie May Redkin?”

  Viper starts to deny it, then creases his brow, and his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes flit toward Drummer, back to me, then back to his prez again. For a second, I think he’s going to deny it, but Drummer raises an eyebrow and gives a slight nod of encouragement.

  “Sylvie. Sylvie May.” As Viper repeats the name, his hands come to his front and he cups one elbow, his fingers sweeping over his brow. Just as I think he’s going to admit it, he shrugs. “Can’t say that I do.”

  I didn’t expect him to outright forget. Maybe it’s not the same for a man as a woman, but I’d have expected him to remember his first time. Now it’s my turn to look at the prez, who’s quietly drumming his fingers against the table as though playing along to some unheard music. Is that how he got his name? He’s looking carefully at us both, poised like a snake waiting to strike. Is he going to dismiss me as a liar?

  Then he surprises me, gesturing for me to continue. “Why don’t you remind him, Sam?”

  Blinking fast, I do. “A barn,” I start softly. “A heap of junk you identified as a Vincent Black Shadow…” I pause, waiting for him to remember. A tensing of his body suggests he does.

  “Nope.” Another shrug and a chin jerk toward Drummer.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I lose my temper. “It was your first freaking time! Not just with Sylvie May, but ever.”

  Drummer chuckles at that piece of information and prompts, “Is it true, Viper?”

  Viper looks between both of us; he doesn’t seem quite sure what to say. Then, at last, he draws in a deep breath. “Yeah, I think I remember fuckin’ a girl in the barn. Didn’t remember the name Sylvie May.”

  “Well, your poor memory might explain things,” I snap. As both heads swing around to face me, I carry on in the same tone, “You forgot a condom that night, too. Let me introduce myself; I’m Samantha Redkin. The daughter of Sylvie May, and the result of your bad freaking memory.”

  Well, I suppose there are better ways to introduce yourself to your father. Viper’s reaction isn’t at all how I imagined it might be. Oh, I’m not so stupid as to think he’d welcome me with open arms, I’d expected some suspicion and disbelief, but what I hadn’t expected was outright denial and hatred. He stands so fast his chair smashes to the ground behind him, making Drummer jump to his feet. Feeling in a vulnerable position, I get up as well.

  Viper’s face has gone red; his hands are clenched into tight fists as he looks from me to his prez. Grateful that Drummer stayed, fearful Viper might have even hit me if we’d been alone, my eyes go to him for some moral support. But there’s nothing there, Drummer’s face is shuttered.

  “Get her out of here, Prez. This is some fuckin’ joke.”

  “I’ve told you the truth.” My anger matches his.

  “No fuckin’ way. I don’t know what plan you cooked up with your bitch of a mother, but you’re not fooling me. You aren’t nothing to do with me.”

  Wiping a speck of spit off my brow, I do the only thing I can—defend my one proper parent. “My bitch of a mother, as you call her, is dead, you motherfucking bastard! She told me what happened on her fucking death bed.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me, then, eh? When she was still fuckin’ alive, and I could have told her face to face what I thought of her lies?” His meaty palm crashes down on the desk causing it to shudder, but it’s a fine piece of furniture, sturdily made and doesn't even dent. I cringe thinking how badly I riled him. Drummer moves to stand behind me, and I get the strange notion that he’s being protective.

  I try to calm my voice, though I can do nothing to stop my body shaking. “Because she didn’t want to go to prison.” At his surprised look, I continue, “She was nineteen years old, Viper. You were fourteen.”

  His stance not quite so bullish, Viper seems perplexed. “But she was a woman, and it wasn’t rape.”

  “Statutory rape,” Drum drops it in. “You were a minor.”

  Viper actually winks at his prez. “Yeah, well I had it even then.” He puffs out his chest and then seems to remember what I’ve told him was the outcome of that coupling.

  He’s a tall man, almost as tall as Drummer, but broader too. His stomach is just starting to show that middle age spread that affects many men of his age. Suddenly he turns away, walking to the wall and facing it, resting his weight on both palms. Neither his prez or I say anything; we give him time to process the bombshell that I’ve just dropped.

  When he turns back, all his anger has gone. For a split second I start to think he’s going to give me a chance to get to know him. However much I’ve acknowledged this isn’t the hearts and flowers man I’d been hoping to find, however much I doubt I’ll ever have a proper father/daughter relationship with him, he is my dad after all. Now that Mom’s gone, he is the only relative I know of in this world. Having the chance to know him, even if he won’t be able to live up to my ideal, is something I’d jump at. But I’m to be disappointed.

  “Look,” he comes over, his hand coming up as though to touch me, then quickly dropping to his side again, “Samantha? Is that what you said your name is?” At my nod he continues, “You may be telling the truth. But for all that, Sylvie May could have been with someone else after me. Before me, even. How the fuck am I to know? What I do know is, I don’t want no kid. Not even one all grown up like you. I’m sorry, but I need you to go.”

  I’d thought through all his possible objections, knowing he probably wouldn’t believe there’d been no one else for my mother since him. It seems unbelievable, but she had no doubt I was his. I’m prepared for his rebuttal. “We could do a DNA test,” I offer.

  The anger comes back in full force. “I’m not taking no fuckin’ DNA test. It doesn’t matter what it proves. I’m not gonna be a daddy for you. Got it? Now get the fuck out and leave me alone!”

  I don’t move. Despite all my preparation, I hadn’t expected such a forceful rejection—I thought he’d at least speak to me. We stand there, the three of us, frozen like a tableau.

  Then it’s Viper who throws his hands up in the air, mumbling, “I’m fuckin’ out of here!” and exits the office, slamming the door behind him.

  All the air has been stolen from my lungs. I’ve been stupid; I should never have come here. Sinking into the chair behind me, I lean forward putting my head in my hands, trying hard not to cry when all I want at the moment is a hug from my mom. Suddenly it all crashes down—how alone in the world I am—and I recognise just how much hope I’d stupidly been pinning on finding my one remaining parent. So now I have, I scoff at myself, and he’s made it clear he wants nothing at all to do with me. It would have been better never to have known who he was.

  The sound of a throat clearing reminds me I’m not alone, and I glance up to Drummer. I don�
��t know what I imagined his reaction to be, but what I didn’t anticipate was for his face to have gone dark, his thin lips pursed in a scowl. His expression makes it feel like all the warmth has disappeared from the room.

  “It’s late. You can stay tonight. I’ll show you to a room in the clubhouse, but tomorrow you need to leave.” His voice sounds cold, his words spoken almost in a monotone.

  “I’ve got no money, nowhere to go until my replacement cards come through,” I remind him.

  He shakes his head. “Not my problem.” He paces over and I’m forced to look up at him. “Viper’s my brother.” With just those simple words he reminds me exactly where his loyalty lies. Why would I even think he’d give a second thought to me? Bleakly, I nod, knowing I’ll have to go to the bank tomorrow and try to get out some emergency cash, but until my cards arrive, I’m stuck. But that, as he so plainly stated, is nothing that’s going to cause him to lose any sleep.

  Realising the offer of a room for the night is, under the circumstances, probably more than I could have hoped for, I nod. “Thank you. I’ll stay the night, then I’ll get back on my bike.”

  Chapter Five

  Drummer…

  Viper’s my brother. If he doesn’t want to know his daughter, then he’s the one I’ll be backing all the fucking way, even though it’s obvious they don’t need a DNA test to prove their relationship. During the exchange between father and daughter, it was as plain as the nose on your face that they swam in the same gene pool. Certain mannerisms—the red spot on the cheeks when they became angry, the wave of the hand in dismissal, and their eyes—they’re a perfect match. Their chins mirror each other, slightly pointed, giving both their faces a heart shape. Yeah, though I’ll admit to having had some before, once I’d seen them side by side, there was no doubt in my mind. Sam is telling the truth.

  His reaction wasn’t what surprised me—fuck, what man wants to find out years later that he’s fathered a child? But the vehemence of his rejection did. As I show her to a room, I mull it over in my mind, wondering how I would have behaved in the same position. Part of my offer to give her somewhere to stay for the night isn’t just out of the kindness of my heart, but to allow him some time to get over the shock. Once he’s slept on it, Viper might feel differently, and at the very least, want to talk to her. Even in the short time I’d known her, it’s clear Sam’s a fucking treasure wrapped up in a beautiful package and a great bike mechanic to boot. What man wouldn’t be proud to have produced someone like her? No, I will give him some space to think on it. He might just come to regret his hasty dismissal.

  Pointing the way, I lead her down a corridor, stopping at an open door and putting my head inside quickly to check it’s relatively clean. Then I leave her, her palatable sadness damping down the arousal I felt for her earlier. Whatever my earlier intentions to sink my cock into her tonight were, there’s no way I’ll try to take advantage of her now. I can’t even consider it; I’ll back a member of my club against a stranger any day.

  Leaving her to get settled, I return to the clubroom, my eyes flitting around, seeking out my brother. I’m not surprised to find Viper sitting alone in the corner, a bottle of Jack beside him. Collecting a glass from Marsh, I go to join him.

  As I approach, he looks up with an unexpected look of utter desolation on his face. He pours himself another shot, downs it, pours another, and only then deigns to speak. “She fuckin’ gone?”

  “It’s late, Brother. I’ve given her a room out back. I’ll make sure she’s out of here come morning.” I don’t understand why, but Viper looks like Sam’s revelations have completely destroyed him. Okay, it was an incredible piece of news to receive out of the blue, but the intensity of the effect it’s having confuses me.

  The Jack doesn’t even seem to be taking the edge off; he’s showing no sign he’s feeling it. His head moves side to side in dismissal. “It can’t be true, Prez. And even if it is, I want nothing to do with her. She’s got to get gone. Fuck!” Wiping his hand across his face, he repeats it, “It can’t be true.”

  He turns back to the bottle, remembers his manners sufficiently to fill my glass, then puts his head in his hands. Fuck me; I suppose it must be a lot for a man to take on board. Maybe he just needs some time to let the news sink in. Hearing something like that would likely blow a man’s mind. Having an adult daughter turn up out of the blue? Well, at least she’s long past the age when she requires support.

  Viper’s wallowing in his misery, and I want to do something, anything, to pull him out of his stupor. “Fourteen, eh?”

  I’m not sure I’m going to get a response, but I give him a moment, raising my glass and downing the contents, then replenishing it from the bottle. When I give up on any rejoinder, he looks up, one side of his mouth twisted up.

  “I was a mature teenager.”

  “You must have been,” I chuckle.

  “I told her I was nineteen and she believed it.”

  So now he’s admitting it. “You do remember then?”

  “Doesn’t everyone’s first time stick in their mind?” Now he smirks.

  Yeah, he’s right about that. But I have no fond recollections of mine; I’d barely lasted a minute, something I’d rather forget. Eyeing him, I wonder what else he’ll admit. “You know that Vincent she was talking about? Well her mom, Sylvie May, bought it for her, for her sixteenth birthday. Sam restored it herself.”

  That makes his eyes widen. “That slip of a girl rebuilt it? No way. It was a fuckin’ piece of shit. Little more than a rusty frame and a smattering of broken parts.”

  Jerking my chin up and down, I confirm it, “So she says, yeah. Well, that’s her story. It’s outside. She rode it here from Washington.” He gives me a look of utter disbelief, but I can see I’ve sparked his interest, which has got to be better than seeing him wallowing in despair. It gives me an idea. “Wanna come see it?”

  I can almost see the wheels working in his head as he considers my question, probably wondering whether looking at the bike might get him more involved than he wants to be. But finally, curiosity gets the better of him. He gives a nod, and a “Yeah, why not?”

  As if in an orchestrated move, we both drain our glasses and stand. Viper leads the way out to the front of the clubhouse and looks along the line of motorcycles backed up against the wall. When his eyes light on the gleaming machine, he moves quickly forward until he’s standing right in front of it. Then he just stares. A few seconds later, he can’t help himself and his hand reaches out and starts lovingly stroking along its lines.

  “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers reverently.

  Like its owner. The thought goes through my mind, surprisingly not just in a sexual way. If I had a daughter, I think I would feel blessed to have one like Sam, so attractive it almost hurts to look at her, and capable of restoring and riding such a beast? Fuck, if Viper thought differently, he might think he’d won the fucking lottery.

  “She rode it all the way from Washington.” I reiterate what I already told him. Having my brother’s back includes making sure he doesn’t make a mistake, one that he might regret if he thinks more about it. If she disappears from his life tomorrow, fuck knows if he’ll ever be able to trace her again. Something tells me she’ll get back on that bike and just keep riding. It’s what I’d do if I were in her place.

  “A little girl like that? Christ, these take some starting! Let alone riding.”

  Which reminds me of the way she stamped down on that kick-start earlier, her whole body weight behind that practised move.

  “It’s a good bike for long distance riding.” Viper’s walking around it. “But the brakes and steering take some handling.” He knows his bikes, and apparently, has been lusting after this particular Vincent since he was in his teens. Now he crouches down, examining it more carefully. “It’s a C model. Well ahead of its time. It had a top speed of one hundred twenty miles per hour. I wonder if it still does that?”

  “I reckon it would.” Sam had res
tored it with so much love I’d bet money it was very well tuned.

  His hand now traces the V-Twin engine. “It’s only nine nine eight cc, but it’s fuckin’ beautiful, isn’t it?”

  It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t bother to answer.

  Then he stands up again, his face falling as his thoughts return to his dilemma. “Means fuck all. Her mom got muddled is all. There’s no fuckin’ way I could be her father.” He brushes his hand down over his face, and I swear I see moisture glimmering in his eyes.

  “Do you want me to call Sandy? Have her come collect you?” Viper won’t be riding tonight; now that the Jack’s caught up with him, he’s not steady on his feet. It makes sense to offer to get his ol’ lady to come and fetch him home. They’ve got a house down Tucson way, though there’s always a room for him to crash here if he wants it. My thought is that he’d like to be gone so he doesn’t bump into Sam in the morning.

  His vehement reaction, as he turns and snarls, startles me. “Keep Sandy out of it.”

  I pull myself to my full height, I’m the prez after all, and however he’s feeling, he needs to remember and respect that. But something’s eating at him. Instead of toning it down, he grabs my cut with both his hands, something I’d normally never allow, but one look at the desperation in his eyes stays my immediate, and what was going to be a very violent objection.

  “Sandy must never know. Keep this between us, please, Prez?” he pleads. “Don’t tell the others. Please. Make up some story, anything. But don’t let anyone know what relationship she’s claimin’ with me.”

  Wondering how I’m going to explain a lone woman when she emerges from her bed and not mine in the morning, one look at his facial muscles, taut with tension, I comprehend just how much the right answer means to my brother, even if I don’t understand why. He’s shaking, his eyes wide. Fuck me; he’s absolutely terrified someone’s going to find out.

  Doing the only thing I can, I give him the reassurance he needs, “It’s your story to tell, Viper. If you don’t want it shared, no one’s gonna fuckin’ hear it from me.”