Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  Pulling us to our feet, they lead us at gunpoint up to the clubhouse where pandemonium seems to have broken out. The ATF have cuffed everyone they’ve found; others are being brought down from their accommodations elsewhere on the site. As members and club whores are rounded up, we’re all corralled outside. Inside, I can hear tables being overturned and bottles broken. Fuck, it’s going to be a mess in there. For a second my mind pities the prospects who’ll be doing the cleanup. Or perhaps they won’t. Not if we’re all in prison.

  I grin to myself—well, if I’m locked up as being part of the club, maybe that will mean I won’t be going on my suicide mission after all. Maybe it will be better to become some big dyke’s bitch rather than a rich man’s slave. An ATF officer catches me smiling and drags me away from the men, lumping me in with the sweet butts.

  There’re no old ladies, I notice, but then they went to their off-site homes last night. Being in female company, and in particular, this bunch of females, doesn’t comfort me; I’d rather be with the men. My point proven when the whores sneer at me.

  “The prez will get tired of you soon,” the one called Allie confides to me while looking me up and down. “You’re nothing special. You’ve got no fuckin’ experience.”

  Oh yeah, great. Drum had announced I was a virgin to one and all.

  I just ignore her, instead my eyes search for Drum, and at last I see him being dragged out of the clubhouse. He’s looking for me, an expression of relief spreading across his face as he sees me, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything as he’s bundled away with his men.

  The mood is sombre. I wonder what it is they will find, and what implications it will have for the club. Remembering what Drummer had explained to me, hoping this isn’t all my fault, that the ATF are here has something to do with me. I try to find Drummer again but have lost him in the throng of brothers surrounding him.

  The agent in charge steps forward. “Rick Felis,” he calls out. As Drummer shrugs and gives a jerk of his chin I realise that’s his real name.

  “Ronald Rinter.” Well, that seems to be Peg’s. Now that really doesn’t suit him.

  “Scott Remington.” And that’s Wraith.

  “Jack Sharples.” Blade swaggers as much as a man whose hands are cuffed behind his back can.

  “Todd Bishop.” That’s apparently Dollar. He consults his list again.

  “Dale Norman.” Heart shakes his head and steps forward too.

  “Bring them,” the FBI agent instructs his men. “And her.” He points to me. I turn my head, confused. So far he’s called out the officers of the club, but why does he want me?

  “Er, I’m nothing to do with…” But before I can finish my sentence one of his colleagues roughly grabs my arm. I can hear Drum’s growl from here, but it doesn’t deter the ATF agent, and he leads me inside.

  The seven of us are taken into the room where they hold church. Drum doesn’t waste any time. “Why the fuck are you here? We’re a club for motorcycle enthusiasts, nothing that would attract a raid from the ATF.”

  The agent smirks. “Don’t bother,” he tells the president, “you can’t say anything I haven’t heard before.” He indicates to his colleague, and then says words I didn’t expect. “Uncuff them.”

  As soon as the men are free, each of them takes an aggressive stance. Immediately, two guns are pointing toward them. “Don’t try anything. We’ve already searched in here. Your hidden weapons are gone.” He pauses for a moment for that to sink in. “Right, gentlemen,” another sneer as he labours the word as if it’s a description he doesn’t think fits, “let’s all sit down.”

  Drummer moves to what I suspect is his normal seat at the end of the table; the agents don’t stop him. I see Drum’s hands move as though searching for something, but when he doesn’t find it, he puts his hands flat on the table. The other members seat themselves around him, Wraith on his left with Dollar beside him, Peg on his right, and then Blade and Heart. The FBI agent moves to the other end of the table, taking up the alternative, but equally authoritative position as Drum.

  At last they bother to notice me. “Sit, please, Miss Redkin.” I plant my backside in the chair next to Heart.

  “Agent Rutherford,” he at last introduces himself, “and my colleague here is Agent North.” He allows us a second to process that information. Drum stares at him without making a move to speak; his officers take his lead.

  Rutherford shakes his head, and there’s another smirk. I’m beginning to think it’s his natural expression. Drum’s scowling, his lips are pursed, and he seems a totally different man than the one who made love to me. But this is serious. The future of his club is on the line.

  “Now, tell me where you don’t want us to search.” It’s a strange question.

  “That approach work for you?” Drummer’s steely gaze stares down the table.

  Rutherford shrugs. “Not tried it before, but then I haven’t had to.” He looks around the room as if there could be contraband hidden from sight. “But then, it’s not a normal situation.”

  The door opens and another man steps in. He’s got a cap pulled down over his face, which he now removes. As his features are revealed, Drum gets to his feet. “Devil,” he breathes. “Might have fuckin’ guessed you’d be behind this.”

  This is the man who wants to serve me up as a sacrificial lamb?

  “What’s all this about, Devil? You set up this raid?”

  Devil’s got a jagged scar running from the edge of his eye to the side of his mouth, giving his face a twisted expression. When he attempts to smile his face screws up even more. He’s got a possibly unintended but definitely evil look about him as he answers the MC president, “Not a raid, Drummer. Well, not a real one at least.”

  Now Drum directs his glare at Rutherford. “You even ATF?”

  The agent gets out his badge and flashes it. “Sure am. It’s the real deal. But I meant it, you’ve got a one-time pass on this, Drum. Tell us where you don’t want us to look and we’ll steer clear. You helping the feds out with the slave trafficking ring? Well, in return for that we’ll give you a chance to clean up whatever dirty acts you’ve got going on.”

  Drum flashes a look at Wraith, and they have some conversation using shrugs, grunts, and raised eyebrows. Eventually Drum turns back to the agent. “Don’t have anything to hide.”

  I suppress a small smile as I translate their unspoken interaction. Whatever they have, they believe they’ve hidden it so well the feds won’t find it.

  Rutherford does bark a laugh. “Reckon if we checked those confiscated weapons, we’d find a fair few without serial numbers.”

  Drum raises and lowers his shoulders, shrugging off the remark, then leans forward. “Now why the fuck don’t you get down to it? Devil, you’ve got some plan in mind. Wanna let us in on it?”

  Devil moves to the table and pulls out a chair, he nods across at me, his gaze assessing as though he’s wondering what all the fuss is about. “We’re trying to accomplish three things here. First, we want to use your club to stop the transport.”

  “Already know that,” Drum grumbles. But Dollar, Heart, and Blade look surprised. Drum nods toward them. “Sam’s got herself noticed by a slave ring. The feds want to use her to infiltrate the group, and us to stop them.” His succinct summing up leaves them with their mouths open, but his stare stops further comment.

  Rutherford complains quietly, “It’s unethical.”

  Devil looks at him sharply. “We’ve been through all that.”

  I wonder about Devil and the company he works for, and how he can seemingly direct the ATF, who in turn seem to be working for the FBI.

  “Secondly, we want to make it easy, but not suspiciously so, for them to take the girl.” Before I can protest at being referred to in that way, he points at me. “That’s you, Sam.”

  “And lastly,” he continues, “we want to surprise them.”

  Drum’s tapping the table, an uneven rhythm. “Go on.”

&
nbsp; “The ATF will ‘arrest’ some of you.” He puts the word ‘arrest’ in air quotes. “They’ll ‘impound’ your bikes.” He uses his fingers again for emphasis. “That gets a bulk of you out of the compound, and we can move you to where we need you.”

  “You’re going to let us ride out of here? What we going to do, follow your SUVs?” Drummer shakes his head as if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

  “No,” Devil replies seriously. “We’ve got transporters coming to take the bikes. The word’s out this is a RICO sting, and the ATF will be doing a thorough search.”

  “Word?”

  “Somewhere the system’s got a leak.” It’s Rutherford who answers this time, shifting uneasily in his seat. “Every time the feds think they’re one step ahead of this gang, they end up trailing behind. That’s why this part has got to look real. Whether they’re getting into our systems or someone’s talking…”

  “All your men here today in the know? Can they be trusted?”

  “No. At the moment they think it’s the real thing. That’s why we’ve got to put on a good show and make it believable.”

  Peg rubs his chin ruefully. “You want us to put up a fight.”

  Rutherford grins as though he’s looking forward to it. “Certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Not you, perhaps,” Wraith butts in. “You’ve got the guns.”

  Drummer taps on the table, his head tilting to one side. “Still don’t understand why you need us. Surely you can get a trusted team together to stop the transport?”

  Again, Rutherford looks uncomfortable and glances toward Devil who answers for him.

  “This isn’t the first time the Human Trafficking Task Force has tried to take down this particular ring, and every time they’ve been tipped off. Changed their routes, or…” he pauses and throws me an apologetic look. “One time they abandoned the trip. Ditched the women first.” He pauses and runs a hand over his face before continuing in a sombre tone, “Dead. We don’t want to spook them again. So only a trusted few working within the feds are aware, keeping this low-key. That’s why we’re using the club, Drummer. We can’t risk a sniff of what we’re up to getting out.”

  Drum regards him, carefully processing what’s been said. After a moment he responds, “Alright. I’ll buy that, for now. We’re in. And Sam’s in. How’s this gonna work?”

  Devil lifts his chin toward Drum. “We’ve brought the GPS tracker with us. We can get that implanted now, and the earpiece. I’ll show you how to activate and use that, Sam. Batteries good for thirty hours, so make sure you leave it until the last moment before activating it. Okay?”

  It’s getting serious now. Whatever’s going to happen has already started rolling and I’ve lost my chance to back out. When he’d mentioned women ending up dead, I definitely had a few second thoughts. But now that he’s back to practicalities, I manage to stop the protest escaping my lips. Although it might not show, I’m shaking inside. I manage to give him a small nod to let him know I’m still, if reluctantly, on board.

  Devil continues to explain, “With your men gone, Drummer, the compound will be vulnerable. I reckon they’ll come and take you then, Sam. We believe they’ve got eyes on this place, it’s how they knew you were riding out yesterday. They’ll seize the opportunity and make their move soon. Definitely before you can get people from other charters here.”

  Drum points at Rutherford. “They already know about the raid? Before they saw it happening, I mean.”

  Again, the agent looks uncomfortable. “If it’s like the fed’s previous stings, I think we can take it as a given.”

  “How do we know you're fuckin’ clean, and that you’re not working for them?” Drum’s still suspicious.

  “I’ll vouch for him.”

  As Devil gives his assurance, Rutherford waves him away. “I saw the tapes of the interviews with the girl who escaped in Paris…” he pauses, and looks at me. “No woman should have to go through what she did. I might not like outlaw motorcycle clubs, but I like what those bastards are doing even less.”

  I lower my head, then, when I look back up, see all eyes are upon me.

  “You can back out, Sam. It’s not too late.”

  You could hear a pin drop in the silence. I know half the table would support me if I changed my mind and do all they could to keep me safe, the other half would throw me to the wolves. I look Devil straight in the eye and bite my lip. “What are the chances of success, Devil?”

  He nods slowly. “Good, Sam. I won’t pull wool over your eyes and say it’s one hundred percent safe; things can go wrong. But I’ve looked at the plan this way and that, and not only do I think it’s the surest way of putting a stop to this ring, but it’s also the best, and the only route, to keeping you safe.”

  I can’t see any other option. “I won’t back out.” My eyes leave the scarred man’s face, and I turn to Drum.

  His steely eyes blaze into mine as if he wanted me to say something different, but at last, his eyes crease and his face softens. “We’ll be close. All the time, Sam. I promise you.”

  Peg growls. “You better bet we’ll fuckin’ be right behind you.”

  “We won’t let you down, Sam.” Wraith adds his assurance.

  Blade and the others still seem to be in shock but have understood enough to give their own commitment to helping to keep me safe.

  It should make me feel better. It doesn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drummer…

  I don’t fucking like it. It doesn’t feel right. We’re a club of brothers for a reason, our women are there to be fucked and protected, and in some cases, cherished. We don’t ask them to fight our battles or involve them in the business of the club. We are not misogynistic, though the title caveman might apply. Yet here’s my woman, someone who rides as well as the best of us, who can take a bike apart and put it back together again, being sent out to do what I’d label under any circumstances as a man’s job. And it fucking feels wrong.

  Once she’s given her final agreement, things start to move fast, leaving me with the impression we’ve cut the brake line on a runaway train. Devil gets out a pack, and within seconds and with only a muffled yelp, he implants the GPS tracker in Sam’s neck, explaining it might form a small sore spot, which she can brush that off as a gnat bite if it’s spotted. Next, he gets out the tiny earpiece device and demonstrates how it works.

  He stares at her for a moment, checking to make sure she’s comfortable with her instructions, then without further delay he looks up at Rutherford and gives him a nod. “Over to you, now.”

  I should have expected it, but when he starts cuffing my brothers’ hands again, I realise all too quickly it’s time to say goodbye. When he gets to me, I evade him, crossing to Sam and taking her into my arms, inhaling the scent of her hair, desperately hoping it isn’t, but knowing there’s a chance it could be for the last time, and wanting to store everything about her in my memory. Silently I vow I’ll protect her with my life, and if I have to, I’ll sacrifice mine to save hers. I stare into her eyes for a moment, and then my mouth plants on hers. She holds me as if she doesn’t want to let me go. We kiss as though we’re never going to get a chance to be close again.

  “Time, Drummer.”

  Ignoring Devil’s quiet but firmly spoken reminder, I put my mouth to her ear. “You’re fuckin’ mine, Sam. You don’t take unnecessary risks, and you come back to me. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  A muffled sob, and there’s a hitch in her voice as she replies, “I’m coming back, Drummer. I’m coming back. You take care too, you hear me?”

  We’re still standing close, our bodies touching as Rutherford cuffs my hands behind my back. Then he’s pulling me away, and I’m leaving her, alone, unprotected, and ready to be stolen from me. It’s against everything I am, everything I stand for, to leave her that way.

  “No!” I suddenly roar and spin back around, knocking over a chair. “There must be something else we can do
. How can I fuckin’ trust you?” Peg and Wraith are looking at me for direction, we might not have our hands free, but we’ve head, legs, and feet as weapons.

  “No.” Sam repeats the word I’d spoken. “Drum, no.” She’s standing there, so brave, her head held so high even if I can see the tears glimmering in her eyes. “It’s got to be this way, Drum.”

  I stare at her, wondering how she can be so fucking strong. Understanding if she can do this, then so must I. Rutherford walks me backward and out of the door. My gaze lingers, trying to imprint her face on my mind until she disappears from my view.

  I’m dragged outside where my men lie cuffed on the ground. As I watch them get to their feet under the ATF agents’ instructions, it’s like all the oxygen has been sucked from the air and I’m finding it hard to breathe. This isn’t right. I’m the fucking president of the club. I protect my men; I protect my woman. My hands uselessly try to escape the cuffs, metal biting into my wrists as I try to escape. How can I do this? How can I leave her to face fuck knows what fate? For the first time since I joined the MC I no longer think my brothers are mad for committing to an old lady, and they’re stealing the one woman I might consider making that pledge to before I could even tell her how much she means to me.

  “She’s brave and resourceful, Prez.”

  I shake my head at Wraith’s words. “But will it be enough? Fuck, what happens if we can’t rescue her?”

  “That’s not an option. We’ll get her back.”

  “Unharmed? What if those bastards…”

  Peg growls, “They won’t touch her. That would lessen her value.”

  He’s talking about her as if she was a prize heifer. “She’s priceless, to me,” I snarl.

  Under the unwavering stares of the agents, my brothers are getting to their feet, standing, complaining, and casting sideways glances at me. They all think this is real. And while it guts me and I hope they’ll forgive me later, for now, in case anyone is watching the compound, it’s what I have to let them believe. Watch their suffering as they think they’re on a one-way trip to prison. I look down at my feet, hating that I can’t give them solace. Prison isn’t safe, not for the likes of us. Heart, Viper, and Bullet are looking bemused, clearly worried out of their minds. They’re thinking about their women we’re leaving behind…