Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “Agent Rutherford,” I call out. When I get his attention, I jerk my head to the side. He takes the hint and leads me a distance away. When we’re out of earshot I explain my concerns. “There are more women who’ll be coming here. Three ol’ ladies and the sweet butts too. Leave some of my men behind to protect them. Please.” I’ve never begged in my life, but I’m begging now.

  “This all your men here?”

  Quickly I look round, they are. Every fuckin’ one. “Joker and Lady are new, just arrived from Las Vegas. They shouldn’t be caught up in our shit. And there are two prospects, leave them at least.”

  I look to the sky and heave in a deep breath; please let him listen to me. Rutherford turns to stare at the group of men, guarded by agents awaiting his next instruction. “Release the prospects,” he calls out, “and the two we didn’t have on our list.”

  I can’t warn them; I can’t tell them what’s going down. I have to leave them here to fight a battle they’ve no chance of winning. Am I leaving them here to die? Even though I won’t be here, I know they’ll do what they can to protect the club, even if it means risking their lives.

  Again, I plead, this time with just my eyes, but Rutherford jerks his chin and pushes me toward the group. But I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Stay on lockdown,” I call out. “All the women to stay in the clubhouse.” Sam will know what she has to do, I have to rely on that, and the other women won’t be going down to the shop. If I can keep my brothers up here, it might avoid blood being shed, or any of the other women being taken.

  My shout causes the unnatural silence to shatter. As I watch my men being pushed toward the transport, suddenly mayhem breaks out as they struggle, shouting out their protests as the hard reality of what they think is happening hits them. Then a lowboy trailer pulls up, men jump out and start to load up the bikes. My brothers start pushing and shoving, complaining bitterly as they see their rides being impounded.

  “What the fuck?” Beef calls out. “They’re takin’ the bikes, Prez?”

  Rutherford waves his warrant in the air, as I respond, my anger, which isn’t forced as I see strangers manhandling our rides, “They’re searching everything.”

  And then it’s our turn. Peg, Wraith, and I are pushed into the back of a truck and cuffed to the side. It doesn’t take long after that, and soon we’re leaving the compound, going out through the gates and leaving life as I know it behind.

  Can I trust Devil? Casting a quick glance at my companions, seeing their faces set, their jaws clenched, I know they must be thinking the same. Have we been fucked with? Could they have tricked us and this be for real? It certainly feels like it is.

  The only comfort I have is that all the ATF agents seem to have come with us. They hadn’t left any to continue the search. We’re an outlaw MC, of course there would have been something for them to find had they looked hard enough. But now that we’re out of the way, what’s to stop them going back? Have I just breathed my last breath of freedom?

  Sharing worried glances with my VP and sergeant-at-arms, knowing we’re all wondering whether we’ve been played, we sit in silence for about an hour before the vehicle comes to a halt. The doors are flung open.

  Fuck, that man must move like a ghost. I hadn’t even seen Devil leave the compound, but he’s gotten here before us. He’s the one climbing inside and uncuffing us. As soon as my hands are free, I rub my wrists to get the circulation back, noticing the blood from my earlier ineffectual struggles. Damn ATF. They certainly made it feel real.

  Devil notices my action and his mouth twists. “Sorry about that, Drummer, but we had to make it authentic.” He points behind him to where the agents have my men corralled. “You can speak to your men, but once the bikes are unloaded, make sure they know they’re not to take off.” I notice that the first lowboy trailer is pulling in with half a dozen bikes strapped onto it. I also get the chance to look around at where they’ve brought us to. We’re in the middle of nowhere, outside a rundown barn. It looks like the type of place where they might have kept cattle, but obviously has been disused for some time.

  Seeing my brothers are still wearing their steel bracelets, I cock a suspicious eyebrow at Devil. “Not going to keep them like that, are you?”

  “Let’s see the mood once you explain.” He nods toward Beef, who’s looking particularly angry. “Punches might fly when they realise they’ve been set up.” He points toward the building. “Let’s get inside, out of the way.”

  Rutherford comes up as the agents start shepherding everyone inside, out of the heat of the sun. “We weren’t followed,” he tells Devil. “And everything including the bikes are clean. We’ve swept them for bugs or trackers.”

  My brothers are vocal, questioning our location. As they expected to find themselves locked in cells, I can understand their confusion.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Rock yells out.

  “Get inside and I’ll explain,” I shout back, and circle my hand over my head, a signal that they’re all to follow me as I walk into the welcoming shade.

  In the barn they gather around, expressions ranging from fear and worry to outright rage and indignation. They’re looking to me to give them something that will make sense of the day. Knowing it’s probably not going to go down well, I take a deep breath. “We’re working with the FBI.” Immediately there’s a chorus of questions as well as defiant shouts and objections.

  Slick spits on the ground. “We’re fuckin’ what?”

  “Shut the fuck up and listen!” Peg barks, loudly. His expression, normally reserved for making our enemies cower, is now directed toward his brothers. “Give Prez a chance to speak.”

  As the murmurings and protests start to simmer down, I raise my voice. “The feds want our help to stop a slave ring.” My opening words cause a few jaws to drop and eyes to open wide. Before they can comment I continue, “The motherfuckers are after Sam. We need to work with the feds to stop them.”

  Another round of ‘what the fucks?’ and I wave at them to settle.

  Viper’s looking around, his eyes wide and staring. “Then why the fuck isn’t she here with us?”

  This is the part that’s going to go down very badly. “Because we’re letting them take her.”

  As Viper steps toward me, I mentally thank Devil for having the foresight to leave his cuffs on, otherwise I think he’d try to kill me. “You fuckin’ letting her be taken to be some bastard’s slave? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Spittle flies as he speaks. “Prez, we can’t do this. We gotta get back, protect her. There’s fuck all of ‘em left to save her at the compound. She’ll be completely exposed.” I don’t respond, my face remains impassive, letting him continue until he runs out of steam. He pauses, but only to gather enough breath to shout in my face. “What the fuck have you done?”

  He’s only giving voice to my uncertainty that I’ve chosen the right path but acknowledging my own indecision won’t help. I glare at him, my cold eyes narrowing, my mouth pursed. Tall enough that I can loom over him, I stare him down. “I’ve listened to Devil and the feds, Viper. I’ve taken into account what we’re up against. If there was any other way, I’d have taken it. And Sam agreed, she knows exactly what’s going on. I’m not fuckin’ happy about it either, Viper. But this is our best way of protecting her.”

  Oh, there’s huge fucking holes in the plan that I now explain to my men, while Rutherford goes around unlocking their cuffs. Much of what we’re doing will be on the fly. We can only hope at the end of it we’ll have saved the club and Sam.

  After the agent has freed my brothers, he says something I can’t hear to Devil, shakes his hand, then gathers up his men and leaves. I watch the black SUVs and the lowboy trailers trundle off down the track. It appears we’re now on our own.

  Devil’s glancing at that watch of his, and then he tries to make an exit unnoticed. But I’ve seen him, I’ve had my fucking eyes on him the whole time. Pushing through my throng of brothers, I stop him with my hand
on his shoulder. It’s a bit like trying to stop the Titanic, but I’m a big man too.

  “Where are you going?” I growl. His eyes flit sideways, and I can see he doesn’t want to answer. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? You got an alert.” His watch, as I know, can do all manner of things as well as tell the time.

  He looks at me darkly. I glare back. For a moment, we stare each other down. In the periphery of my vision, I see Peg and Wraith come up to flank me. Outnumbered, he gives in. “They’re at the compound. About to take Sam.”

  “And we’re still fuckin’ standing here?” I remember my promise to Sam; I’d be behind her all the way. “Get the bikes,” I snap out to my VP and sergeant-at-arms.

  Holding up his hand, Devil stays me. “I’ll let you know when and where, Drummer. You wait here for now.”

  I grab hold of his jacket. “You’re fuckin’ going nowhere without me. I’m coming with you. And so are…”

  He gives me a hard look, then seeing I’ll take no argument and that holding out against me is wasting time, relents. “You can come along, but your VP will stay here. He can bring the men when it’s time. If you all go back to the club, it announces to everyone that today’s raid was just a ploy.”

  I throw a look at Wraith, he doesn’t look particularly happy about it but nods in response. “We got this, Prez.”

  “We’re going to lose them if we don’t hurry.”

  That’s all Devil needs to say to spur me on. I follow him as he strides off toward a van with blacked-out windows. I slide into the passenger seat as he takes the driver’s side. The dashboard is full of equipment. Devil waves an imperious hand. “Don’t touch anything. It’s tuned to her frequency.” I presume he’s talking about the radio gadget in front of me. Well, I’m hardly going to want to choose a music station when all I want to hear is what’s happening to Sam.

  Then he points to something else, a GPS tracking unit, but more sophisticated than that found in a normal car. “She’s on the move, about half a mile away from here. If we keep to that range, we should be able to hear everything.”

  But the compounds more than half a mile away, surely? “We were driving much longer.”

  “Took the roundabout route. Needed to be close but had to make sure we weren’t followed.”

  I look around the van. “This vehicle wasn’t part of the raid.”

  “No, we wanted to make sure they didn’t clock it.”

  Reaching out his hand, Devil turns up the radio. There’s nothing to hear but the rumbling engine sound of the vehicle they’ve used to abduct Sam.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sam…

  I’d watched Drummer back out of the office, memorising every detail of his face until I couldn’t see him anymore. I’d tried to sound brave in front of him, even while I was scared as hell inside. Am I doing the right thing? Well, there’s a question mark hanging over me, but the plan to get the men away from the compound had to be the right one. I know Drummer would put his life on the line to save me, and if they tried to take me by force, he, and others, could have been killed.

  I’ve never thought of myself as a coward, but I’ve never had to face anything like this before. What if they can’t save me? Oh, that’s alright, I’ll just end up as a rich man’s toy.

  “We’ve got this, Sam.” A comforting voice from a terrifying looking man tries to reassure me.

  Dragging my eyes away from the empty doorway, I face Devil. “Have you, have you really? I know you’ll do your best, but…”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you to put yourself at risk if there was any way around it, believe me on that. We’ll get you back, Sam. Have faith in your man. He’s not going to let anything happen to you.”

  It’s the encouragement I wanted, but even I can see the flaws in the plan. I make myself remember they’ve already kidnapped other women, and if there’s a chance I can do my part to break up the ring and save them, I’ve got to take it. Pulling my shoulders back I stand taller, pretending a confidence I don’t feel. “How should I play this?”

  Quickly he explains and then slips away, and I’m left alone.

  Walking out into the eerily quiet clubhouse is disconcerting. There should be prospects behind the bar, bottles clinking, men laughing and joking. The old ladies should be around, or at least the sweet butts, but the place is empty. The unnatural stillness makes me shiver. But, hang on. There are voices outside, voices arguing. Not everyone has gone.

  I step through the door and find Marsh and Roadrunner, the two prospects, and the two new members, Lady and Joker.

  “What the fuck do we do now?”

  Joker’s pulling out his phone. “Well, I’m gonna call Red. Fuckin’ unbelievable. We transfer to a club that’s under a fuckin’ RICO indictment.”

  Marsh’s eyes open wide, and he exchanges worried glances with Roadrunner. “You gonna walk out on the club?”

  Angrily, Lady kicks at a stone on the path. “There ain’t no fuckin’ club!” he shouts. “What the fuck d’ya expect us to do?”

  “Hang around until Drummer and the others get back.” Marsh is nearly pleading. “The feds didn’t find anything, so they got nothing to hold them on.”

  Joker and Lady exchange glances. No one’s noticed me yet.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll ring the ol’ ladies, tell them the news. There’s no point them coming to the compound.” Marsh seems to be taking responsibility as though he’s a fully patched member. And if Lady and Joker bail, he and Roadrunner will be the only brothers left. Or so he thinks.

  “The businesses?” Roadrunner asks. “I could cover the strip club. Fuck, once this gets out, who knows what panic there’ll be or what staff we’ll lose.”

  “Sandy manages the restaurant; I’ll tell her to keep on with that and perhaps give you a hand with the strip club?” The two prospects nod in agreement with each other.

  Making a mental note to tell Drummer later how impressed I am with how they’re stepping up, I use the opening they’ve given me. “I’ll keep the shop going. It’ll be slow, but we want something for them to come back to.” As they will do, and sooner than these men think, but I can’t let on.

  Joker’s eyeing me up. “Of course, there is one benefit, there’re three sweet butts and Sam. I like those odds.”

  I don’t. “I’m Drummer’s woman,” I tell him firmly, even though I’m not quite certain of my status, wanting to knock those thoughts on the head right now.

  Once again, he looks me up and down, a leer appearing on his face. “There are prison rights, you know?”

  Giving a shake of my head, I rise to the bait. “And what the heck are they?”

  Lady grins. “When an ol’ man’s inside, the other brothers can see to his ol’ lady’s needs if you get what I’m saying?”

  “Oh no. You—”

  “Messing with ya, darlin’,” Joker interrupts me, his face twisting in an approximation of a smile. “Just fooling around trying to lighten the mood.” Then he turns to the others, wavering. “Look, I’m not planning to jump ship, but I’m out of my depth here. I’m still going to speak to Red. See what he has to say. Fuck, this has been one motherfucker of a morning.”

  “Think we’re lucky to be fuckin’ breathing free air,” Lady puts in. “Hate to think of our brothers chained up in cells.”

  “We need to get protection on them inside.” Joker’s all serious now. “They won’t be safe without. Red can help get that shit organised.”

  I want to stay and talk with them, but I know that’s not where I’m meant to be. I want to reassure them that everyone will be back in their right places soon, but I can’t say a word. “I’m going down to the shop. There’ll be a lot for me to manage, so I best make a start. There’re customers expecting to pick up their cars after the weekend.”

  “I’ll be down later, Sam. Help out until I have to go to the club.” Roadrunner seems to have forgotten all about his planned race today.

  I discourage him. I don’t
want anyone hurt. “You’ll have enough on your plate. Let me work through the most urgent stuff, and I’ll shout if I need a hand.”

  My legs are already shaking, my hands sweaty and it’s getting harder to breathe. Not wanting them to suspect anything, I turn and make my way down to the shop feeling like a lamb going to the slaughter. If Devil is right, the slavers will have had eyes on the compound and will have seen the ATF leave. I reckon they won’t waste any time, wanting to get me out before reinforcements can arrive.

  I wheel my treasured bike to the rear of the shop and cover it with a tarp, not knowing when I’ll be seeing it again. Then I make my way outside, noticing no one had locked the gates when the ATF had left. Feeling like it’s too much of an invitation, I go across to close them, and see a van heading up the road. Oh, shit. Is it time already? Are they coming already? Quickly I activate my earpiece and replace it in my ear. Then, completely innocent, I do what anyone not connected to the MC would do, I stand in the gateway, the barrier half closed, and wait to see who wants to come in.

  “Better get that gate closed, darlin’.” Oh no, it’s Roadrunner, and he’s getting his gun out of his waistband while rushing to help me slide the heavy gates closed. I make a fuss of fumbling and not being able to shut my side, allowing the van just enough time to speed up and come through.

  There’s no doubt they’ve come for me. Roadrunner pushes me behind him, giving me hurried instructions to run to the shop, lock the door, and ring the clubhouse. But men have surrounded us before I can move.

  One, who I recognise, steps forward. “Well, if it isn’t Wrench. Fancy seeing you here.”

  He was a customer at the shop in Washington, a man who always had something going wrong with his car, and so incompetent at fixing it himself that he always seemed to be in the shop. A jovial man, or so he’d seemed; he was friendly with all of us mechanics. It dawns on me that he was only coming around over the last few months, but had gotten in tight with Jake, one of my fellow workers. That must be where he got his information.