Realising their precarious position, they become reckless and attempt a retreat. The sniper rifles keep firing, and more bodies drop.
Then, all goes silent. It takes me a moment to realise there’s no one shooting back.
Down the track a plume of thick black smoke billows high into the air, one of the trucks must have caught on fire. That’s just what we didn’t need. Although we’re a long way from Tucson, a reason the original fire at the complex took such a strong hold, that won’t stop people we don’t need interfering coming to investigate. I start turning my mind to the cleanup.
“All clear!” Blade shouts.
Cautiously, I wave Dollar out from his hiding place and stand up. Blade comes over, grimacing as he sees the blood streaming down my arm. “Prez?”
“I’m okay, where’s Tongue?”
“Here, Prez.” He’s limping, it looks like he’s taken a bullet to his leg.
“Tongue, get yourself up to the compound and see Doc. Blade, Dollar, you’re with me. Let’s get the bikes and see what the fuck is going on.” I pause as I see two men approaching. “Hey, Red, Snake! Thanks for your help.” Red reaches my side; I clasp his hand and hug him to me. “Your men okay?”
Red nods. “One took a bullet, but he’ll live.”
“I owe you one, man.” I nod toward Snake, who waves away my heartfelt words of gratitude.
“Least I could do, Drum, after that fuckin’ fiasco with Buster. Man, I’m sorry about that.” He clasps my hand, then notices the blood. “You okay, Drum?”
“Just winged me. Red, Snake… We couldn’t have done this without your help.”
“Satan’s Devils stick together, Drum,” Red says, slapping my back. He eyes the black smoke rising into the air and puts it together with the faint sound of sirens that can be heard in the distance. “That gonna cause a problem?”
Yeah, it fucking could. “Best get down there and do what we gotta do. Blade, Heart, all you fuckers. Come on!” I wave my men to me. Wasting no time, we extract our bikes from the tumbled-down stables, and with our Vegas and California brothers riding bitch behind us so we can take them back to their rides, we proceed carefully down the road, keeping our eyes out for any attackers we might have missed. The smarting in my arm means I can only just hold the throttle with my right hand just enough to twist it, but for now the adrenaline’s deadening the pain.
The sound of engines reaches us as Devil and the others appear. Quickly counting up, I see we’ve lost no one. We’ve successfully stopped them getting to the compound, and for the first time, I feel the relief flood over me, together with a sudden wave of weakness that we’ve kept Sam safe. I shake off the light-headedness, knowing my work is far from done.
Devil jerks his head indicating the direction behind him. “We’ve got a couple alive if you want them?”
Lifting my chin toward him in thanks, I agree we’ll take the prisoners. And this time, whatever information we extract, we’ll keep to ourselves.
Peg walks up, cocking his head in the direction of the faint siren noises that can be heard in the distance. “We need to get these fuckin’ bodies out of sight and fast.”
Using my left hand, I hunt out my phone. “Wraith, it’s done.”
I wait for him to have his own moment of reprise. It means his old lady’s safe too. Then I interrupt his questions. “Got the law coming. Send the tow truck. We’ve got trucks and bodies to move. I need everyone down here. Now.”
Red’s nodding. “We’ll help.” Without further delay, he turns to his men, giving them quick and precise instructions as I look around wondering how the fuck we’re going to hide the signs of our fight. The first truck has blown out tyres, the second and third smoking heaps, the last two are at least driveable.
But Satan’s Devils know how to work together, all being brothers no matter what chapter we’re from. We’ve got body bags filled, moveable trucks driven to the compound, and one of the burned-out heaps towed as well as prisoners escorted to the storage room in very short time. And without a moment to waste as the wail of sirens are getting louder, growing close fast.
Wraith tears off his t-shirt, binding my arm and shoving a fleece at me. Despite the temperature being in the hundreds, I put it on, hiding my wound, hoping the blood won’t seep through. A welcome crack of thunder echoes from above, rain starting as heavy spots, quickly increasing to coming down in sheets.
The final burned-out truck is being hitched onto the tow truck as the first police car comes up and slows when he sees me waving him down. Wraith comes and stands beside me, Slick continues the business of fixing the tow to the truck.
“Officer, can I help you?” I speak loudly to make myself heard over the rain.
Getting out of their cars, having put on wet-weather gear, the police officers surround us. Most of mine, and Red and Snake’s men, have gone ahead to the compound to get dry and so our large numbers don’t make us look suspect.
One of the officers indicates the truck and says in a voice laced with distrust, “We saw the smoke from Tucson. What’s been going on here?” His eyes are narrowed, and he waves a couple of his men to start poking around. There’s not much to find; this truck’s the most badly burned out, and all the bodies have been removed.
It’s my job to allay his suspicions. Still mounted on my bike, I lean forward casting my eyes upwards for a second, waiting for the loud rumble of thunder to fade. “Fuck that was some show wasn’t it? Poor fella.” I stop to indicate one of Snake’s men who’s stayed behind, now minus his cut, and looking like any other concerned delivery driver. “He was driving in to make a drop, and the darn truck got hit by lightning.” God must be on my side, as another brilliant flash streaks across the sky, with almost simultaneous thunder following, showing the storm is right overhead.
The officer’s eyes widen, and he tut-tuts before he speaks. “Storm’s only just started.”
I huff a laugh and give a shake of my head. “Not here, Officer, been going on for a while. Reckon it’s heading Tucson’s way now.” A story that would be hard for him to discount.
Snake’s man comes over, he’s wringing his hands. “I was lucky to get out, sir. All of a sudden, poof. Whole damn truck went up.”
The officer clearly doesn’t believe us and walks around the truck. “What were you carrying?” he asks, the question sounds casual, the tone he asks it in is not.
“Gas. For the shop up at the compound.”
Devil comes up to join us, swinging his arm over the San Diego man’s shoulders. “Poor bugger,” he starts to explain. “Soft top on the truck, lightning must have shorted the electrical systems.” He points to a hole in the asphalt. “Went around the car and into the ground. Rear wheels hit the hole, must have caused a jolt and the gas cans fell over. Then, boom.” He throws up his hands. “Big shock to us all, as to you, I expect.” Well, the pothole was caused by a grenade, but Devil’s explanation should hold up.
Again, the officer’s eyes narrow, and he seems taken aback at Devil’s English accent. “And you are?”
Devil passes him a business card. “Jason Deville,” he identifies himself. “A security consultant. I’ve investigated fires before, helps with prevention. I’m assisting Mr Drummer here with security for his club’s businesses.”
The officer turns as the fire chief comes up alongside and asks his opinion. “What do you think?”
Looking at me, a challenging look in his eyes, the fire chief shakes his head. He sounds sceptical, but admits as he replies, “I’ve seen stranger things. Unlikely, but possible.”
Now the officer calls the men who’d accompanied him, and who’d been poking around. “Find anything?” he asks them.
One shrugs. “Story seems as though it could fit.”
Another adds, “Can’t do much unless we take the truck in. It’s riddled with bullet holes.”
The officer in charge spins around back to me. “How do you account for that?” his voice snaps accusingly, as now he thinks he’s on t
o something at last.
Now it’s my turn to look nonchalant. “Boys will be boys, Officer. The truck’s a write-off, the gas all burned up. Putting in some target practice, that’s all.”
He doesn’t believe me and sneers. “Your boys must need it if they have to use a target as fucking big as that.”
“There’s nothing to see here, Sheriff.” Devil uses his most commanding voice.
The officer doesn’t want to give up. “I’d like to come up to the compound.”
“Not unless you’ve got a warrant.” I deny him permission, but pleasantly.
He shakes his head, water cascading off his raincoat as he does so. He’s got nothing to go on and he knows it. He might be suspicious, but there’s nothing to back up his doubts.
“Lightning strike, eh?” He turns to Snake’s man, masquerading as the truck driver. “Seems you’re a lucky man.”
With a wide grin spreading across his face, and brushing water off his face, the Californian replies, “That I am, officer. That I am.”
With one last disbelieving look, the lawmen get back in the cars, and thank fuck, drive away.
I turn to the good actor, and at last, have a chance to ask his name. “Marvel?” I question once he’s enlightened me.
He chuckles. “Can’t help that I like comics.”
I don’t give a fuck why he got his handle and shake his hand firmly. “Thanks, man, we owe you one.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “Most fun I’ve had in years. If this is what it’s like here in Tucson, perhaps I’ll put in to transfer.”
“Can’t guarantee we’ll always have this much excitement, but if you’re serious, I reckon we’d be lucky to have you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sam…
I’d tried to hide my worry from Drummer, not wanting to burden him with my concerns on top of everything else he’s got on his plate today. I’ve no idea what he’s got planned, but it’s likely it will be dangerous. It’s easier to shake off the thought that more harm could come to me than the idea of him getting hurt, or worse, if I never see him alive again. I was right to send him off with a clear mind so he can do what he has to do without being worried about me.
But it’s hard to pretend and, as I make my way up to the house where the women are staying, difficult to get myself into the mindset where I’m going to be able to conceal my anxiety from everyone else.
Focusing on what I’m going to do when I get there, I try to rehearse in my head exactly what to say. Do I just walk in there and announce that I’m now Drummer’s old lady, like that makes me the queen or something? Not for the first time, I wish I had more experience of dealing with women. Now, if they could discuss how to rebuild an engine, I’d be on much firmer ground. I run through the groups I’ll be facing, the dozen rescued women and the old ladies for starters. How’s Sophie going to feel? Wraith’s woman? I’ll be treading right on her toes. She was top woman up to now. And the sweet butts? I don’t even want to think about them.
The house comes into sight, I straighten my back and invoke my inner mom, or memories of her when she was goading the guys in the shop back home into line. Oh, she could be fierce when she wanted to be! Carefully schooling my features, and as confidently as I can, I open the door and immediately duck as something comes flying across at me. Looking down, I see it was a scrunched-up paper cup.
“You cretins! You wankers! What the bloody hell made you say that?”
Cautiously I take a step forward and see Sophie, her hands on her hips, shouting at Beef and Joker. Joker’s holding his hands out in supplication. “She asked me how big I was—”
“She meant how bloody tall you were, you tosser! She didn’t want you to offer to show her your dick!”
I look around, expecting to see a traumatised woman quivering in expectation of further abuse, but what I find is a pretty twenty-something with auburn hair with her hand over her mouth trying to smother her laughter. The other women range from a slight quirking of their lips to outright grins. Noticing my entrance, Sophie looks across at me and winks, immediately making me understand she’s got a good handle on the situation. Despite the very English insults thrown his way, Joker doesn’t look at all put out. And neither does he look contrite.
“Look, I can show you the goods and prove it.” His hands go to the zip of his jeans.
Cries of ‘no, put it away’ and ‘oh God, not that’ come from the women, and a few more give an actual laugh. He’s putting on a show for them, and at the very least taking their minds off their predicament.
I decide it’s time for my input. “If, in the unlikely event I’d like to see your cock, Joker, I think Drum would cut it off if he knew you’d been waving it around.”
“Fuck, Sam. Didn’t see you there.” He pretends to do up the zip he never took down and removes his hands smartly. “Prez would have my balls.”
Amongst the laughter, a couple of strange looks are thrown at me by the sweet butts. Jill, Allie, and Pussy are huddled together with a couple of the new women, who seem to be taking their lead in not joining in with the general air of amusement. Their slight air of detachment presumably aimed at putting them above the rest.
Jill smirks as if letting on she knows precisely what size Joker’s cock is. And she probably does, probably had it in every orifice a time or two, even in the short time he’s been at the club. But I’m not here to judge. In the hierarchy of the club, the whores have their place, and it’s time they know mine.
As I swallow, trying to summon up the right words, it’s Sophie who comes to my rescue. Making her way cautiously through the bodies taking up all seats available and some spilling onto the floor, she comes over to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “Hey, everyone. We’ve got a new queen. Drum’s claimed Sam as his old lady.”
Hoots and whistles from the men, looks of disgust from the whores, and various glances of surprise from the other old ladies. Sandy is first to react, coming over and hugging me tight.
“So this means you’re staying here. For good.”
Pulling her in close, I nod my head. “Reckon it does, Sandy.”
She’s beaming at me. “Viper’s going to be so pleased.”
“Welcome to the family.” Crystal’s the next to come over, taking Sandy’s place and planting a kiss to my cheek. “Never thought Drum would settle down.” Stepping back, she holds me at arm’s length, as though assessing if I’ve got what it takes to be the club’s first lady. What she sees must satisfy her, as she nods, then moves away, scooping up Amy in her arms. She stage-whispers to the little girl, “Maybe more friends for you to play with in time.”
I note Sophie’s blush, but not for long, as Sandy screams, “Grandbabies! Yeah!”
Now it’s my turn to go red. “Bit too early for that,” I respond while wondering whether there’s one already in the making. With all this support around me, it occurs to me that I really wouldn’t mind.
“Now you’re going to have to let me have a go at your hair sometime.” Carmen’s input makes me laugh; she’s mentioned my hair before. Never having been a girly girl, I don’t bother much with it, keeping it long as it’s easy to tie back out of the way.
“Not sure about that,” I tell her in reply, as she too comes up, holding me close for a moment.
“Congratulations, Sam. Drum’s been waiting for someone like you. You’ll centre him.”
I thank Bullet’s old lady.
Now that that’s out of the way, it’s time for me to take charge. Recognising my new elevated position in the club, some of the captured women are looking at me in anticipation, while others are continuing their own conversations. The club whores are sniggering amongst themselves, two of the newcomers listening to them attentively. Motioning to Sophie to stand beside me, and pulling myself up to my full, not very impressive height, I clap my hands. A few fall silent, but not all.
Beef puts his hands to his mouth and lets out a loud whistle. As eyes are drawn to him, he poi
nts at me.
“Ladies…” I circle my hands to show I’m addressing myself primarily to the women who were taken captive. “I’ve got some good news. Today is the last day you’ll need to stay here.” I might be crossing my fingers behind my back, but they’re not going to know that. “The FBI will want to talk to you, and presumably give you the support you need to help you get home.” I break off to let that sink in, examining the expressions on the faces surrounding me, which range from hope and elation to despair.
The woman I’d become friendly with, Monica, puts up her hand. “None of us have any money and only the clothes you’ve provided to us. What will the FBI do about that?”
I nod, well aware they possess only the borrowed clothes they’re standing in. “As you heard from Agent Haughton yesterday, there’s a special task force that deals with human trafficking. They know full well you need clothing and possibly even housing. If back home, wherever home is, you’ve got bank accounts, jobs, family, or friends, they’ll help you get there safe and sound. If not, they’ll help you start afresh.”
A few of them nod. I think rapidly. From what Drummer had said, the FBI had left us in the lurch, so in my view, the Satan’s Devils owe them nothing. “If you don’t want to go with the feds, the club will help you get home.”
“They’ll want to interrogate us, won’t they? But is there anything we could say that would help them?” Monica seems to be their mouthpiece.
I sincerely hope not. By the time I see Drummer again, I hope all the ringleaders will be dead. “To be honest, I think they know all they need to know.”
“I’d rather go straight home,” a young girl with a cute round face pipes up. “I don't have family, but I've got friends who’ll help me until I get my life back on track.”
A couple of others agree.
“Why don’t you all take some time to decide what you want to do? While we,” I indicate the old ladies and point at the sweet butts, “get this place tidied up and start some lunch? After we’ve eaten you can let me know what you’ve decided, and we’ll make it work for you.”
Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1 Page 67
