Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  The prez shakes his head, when he speaks it’s through gritted teeth. “We don’t know anything. I’ll take a couple of the brothers and run out there in the morning and see what we can find. The citizen who called it in didn’t see it happen.”

  “I’ll come with.” If this was done on purpose, the motherfucker who did it will pay.

  As Drum jerks his head in recognition of my offer, Blade comes over, followed by Dart, and both nod at Drum. “We’re going for a smoke. Wanna come, Slick?”

  Having only just gotten here, I need a second to get my head around what’s going on. But as I open my mouth to refuse the suggestion, a man in a white coat appears in the doorway.

  “Family of Crystal Norman?”

  Brothers stand up, or at least give him their attention. Drum takes the lead, his hand circling around. “That’s all of us.”

  “That’s me,” a new voice interrupts.

  From my vantage point by the doorway I see the doctor’s been followed by a middle-aged woman. She’s scruffily dressed, a woollen cardigan wrapped around her that’s seen better days, dirty and worn with burn holes from cigarette ash. Her hair’s in a mess as if it hasn’t been brushed, and her face is pinched, her lips thin. I immediately dislike her.

  “I’m Crystal’s mother,” she states as I finish making my inspection.

  “Right, er…” The man, who I assume is a doctor, looks flummoxed.

  “Any news, you tell us together.” From the sneer on his face, Drummer cares about as much about the newcomer as I do. If she’s not an addict, I’ll eat my fucking hat. The doctor pushes back his hair, at a loss for what to do. He glances down at the woman and wrinkles his nose. Yup, he’s caught a whiff of her too. I feel fleeting amusement expecting he’s wondering what’s worse, a roomful of bikers or this distasteful woman.

  “Crystal,” Drum prompts, using the voice no one with any sense would argue with. “How’s she doing?”

  After a quick nod to show the prez’s encouragement has worked, the doctor looks down and composes his face into the one he probably always wears when delivering sad news. When he peers back up he tells us, “I’m sorry to inform you that Mrs Norman didn’t make it. There was excessive bleeding on her brain. We did what we could to relieve it, but she died on the operating table.”

  There are female gasps and cries of despair, bitter denials from my brothers. I put my hand against the wall to hold myself up. Crystal? No! There must be some mistake. He must be wrong. My eyes go to Drummer, and then to Blade and Dart. The expressions on their faces must match the one on mine. Crystal? Dead? I ate the breakfast she cooked only this morning. Shaking my head in disbelief, I look behind the doctor to the woman who’d introduced herself as Crystal’s mother, quickly realising there’s far more emotion in the room than outside in the hall.

  “You could have told me that on the phone,” she sneers, “and saved me a trip down here.” As she glares at the doctor she continues, “What about that piece of shit with her? He dead too?”

  His eyes widening, the doctor turns around. “Ma’am, we contacted you as you were on her records as her family. We need someone to identify the body.”

  “I’ll do it.” I don’t know why I jumped in, but I had the sudden feeling I should be the one to do that service for my club brother, not this woman who clearly hadn’t been distressed at hearing the terrible news.

  The doctor looks sharply at me. “And you are?”

  “Heart—Dale’s brother.” For me it’s true in every sense of the word.

  “Ah, her brother-in-law. That will be acceptable.” He nods and seems relieved. I don’t bother to correct his erroneous assumption, doubting he’ll probe further. It’s clear he’s not too keen to spend longer in this woman’s company either.

  “What about her husband, Dale? Any news of him?” While Crystal’s bitch of a mother had asked the question in a different way, Prez wants the answer we all need to hear.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not treating him. I can’t tell you anything.”

  Fuck. It’s bad enough to lose Crystal, the vibrant young mother who not only loved and cared for her husband and daughter, but all of us in the club. To think, I’m never going to see her cheerful, smiling face again. The thought tears me inside, and I’m not ashamed to say I feel my eyes leaking. We can’t lose Heart as well.

  Suddenly Crystal’s mother pushes in through the door, squeezing past the doctor and pushing Drum aside. She marches into the room and stands in front of Sam and points to the sleeping child in her arms. “I’ll take the brat.”

  “What?” Sam’s arms tighten around Amy. “No. No way. She stays here with us.” Sophie moves closer, looking prepared to physically help the prez’s old lady keep hold of the child should the woman try to take her by force.

  “I’m her grandmother. Her mom’s gone, so she belongs with me.” These are not caring words. She sounds cold and callous.

  “Her dad is still alive. Until we know anything fuckin’ different, she stays with us.” Drummer’s voice is low but fierce. He’s going to allow no argument.

  The raised voices have woken the kid. Amy looks up, her eyes bleary, little fists come up to rub them. Pain slams into me once more. How the fuck do you tell a child, just turned three, that she’ll never see her mother again? Gazing up at Sam, Amy cries in her innocent high-pitched voice, “Where’s Mommy? I want my mommy.” Well, even if she doesn’t understand what’s going on, her distress isn’t surprising, she’s in a strange place at a time she should be asleep in her bed.

  Sam’s at a loss what to say and just shakes her head.

  “Your mom’s gone. You’re coming with me.”

  “Gramma?” She might recognise her grandmother, but from the way she snuggles further into the protection of Sam’s arms, she clearly doesn’t have much liking for her.

  Seeing the woman standing her ground, Drum steps close enough to wrap his hand around the scrawny arm of Crystal’s mother. “Her parents left her in our care, and that’s where she’s fuckin’ staying. At least until we know what’s happening with Heart,” he growls menacingly. I nod my head, he’s made the right call. Letting that sweet little kid go with a woman like that? No fucking way. There’s something off about her, and I don’t just mean what I can smell.

  With narrowed eyes, Crystal’s mom silently challenges the prez. It’s a battle of wills and, as I expect, Drum wins. She looks around and must see she’s outnumbered. With a sneer, and a mumbled, “You haven’t heard the last of this,” she turns on her heels and leaves. I swear the air in the room becomes easier to breathe as soon as she’s gone.

  I watch as the doctor, still standing in the doorway, follows her with his eyes as she disappears down the hall. After a few seconds, he turns back and lifts his chin approvingly toward Drummer. Then, addressing me, says, “I’ll get someone to let you know when Mrs Norman’s been taken to the morgue. I’d appreciate you identifying her formally.” With that, he leaves.

  “What the fuck was all that about?” Blade’s shaking his head.

  Before anyone can answer him, the door opens again, and this time two people step in. Neither of whom I’ve ever seen before, but their air of suspicion immediately gives them away. It’s the heat.

  Drum’s on the uptake as quick as myself, and from the stiffening of postures around the room, we’re not alone. As they walk in, their eyes glance warily around. The prez steps forward, immediately taking charge. “Drummer, President of the Satan’s Devils.” Then he waits.

  “Detective Archer,” the man starts, then indicates his companion, “and Detective Hannah.” He pauses for the information to sink in. “There was an accident tonight out on the highway. A fatality and severe injury we understand. Members of your gang were involved.”

  “We’re a club not a gang.” Drum’s eyes blaze in response. “That’s not news to us. Why the fuck else d’ya think we’d all be here?”

  The man, I take an immediate dislike to, the woman, Hannah, he’d called
her, well, maybe I’m influenced by the fact I wouldn’t kick her out of bed, or not too fucking fast, but she looks okay for a pig. She looks sympathetically at the women, who are crying, and when her eyes fall on the child her face softens.

  It’s the female detective who speaks next, taking the lead. “Well, Drummer, we don’t know much at the moment, such as whether there was any other vehicle involved. We need to find out if it’s a case of reckless driving or whether there could be a charge of manslaughter or murder. We’re here as a courtesy to inform you we’ll be investigating. It will help us to know any information you might have.” She pauses and looks around. My brothers and I stare back with shielded expressions. She nods slowly. “Anything you may know could assist as we try to piece together what happened. We’re taking this seriously. A young woman has died today.”

  Fuck, that’s all we need. Fucking law investigating us.

  When Archer opens his mouth, I know I’m right to be concerned. My eyes half close as he says with a sneer, “Yeah, we need to know what enemies your, er, club’s got.”

  I see Drummer take a deep breath before he gives an honest reply, “We’ve no enemies that would run a brother off the road.” Yeah, we had in the past, but not recently, or none I can immediately think of. My brow creases as I wonder whether there could be someone gunning for us. Could Heart have upset someone we don’t know about? It seems unlikely. For a biker, he’s a mild-mannered man.

  But even if there was, we’d handle it ourselves and not give any intel to the cops. Our methods of retribution would be quicker and more permanent than theirs.

  Hannah’s lips thin as she turns to her companion, and I get the impression there’s something on which they don’t agree. After staring at him for a second, she nods toward Drummer and passes him a card. “If you can think of anything that can help, that’s where you can contact me.” As Drum puts it in his cut without looking at it she adds, “Mr Norman’s motorcycle is in our shop, we’ll be assessing the damage.”

  “You’ll let us know what you find?”

  She points toward his chest and the pocket he’s just secreted the card in. “My number’s on there.”

  Interesting.

  My phone rings as the police leave. Fuck, that thing’s getting a workout tonight. Taking it out, I see there’s no number displayed. I hover my finger over the disconnect key and then have second thoughts. With all the shit going around it’s best that I answer. Going out in the hallway, half watching Archer and Hannah retreat, I answer. “Yeah?”

  I grow cold as I recognise the voice, and it’s the last fucking straw I need tonight. “Fuckin’ get off the line, bitch. I’ve got nothing to say to you. I don’t fuckin’ care whatcha got going on. I’m not helping you with fuckin’ nothing.”

  I end the call fast, leaning my forehead against the wall. Why, after all this time, is that bitch contacting me now? With Crystal gone and Heart’s life hanging in the balance there couldn’t be a worse fucking time for her to get in touch. Does she want to come crawling back to me? She’s got no fucking chance.

  Footsteps approaching have me turning fast. Fuck, this place is busier than downtown Tucson at rush hour. It’s another damn doctor approaching. I step back inside, leaving the doorway free in case it’s our room she’s heading for. And it probably is, everyone else has made a beeline for it.

  She acknowledges me with a tired smile as Drum crosses over. It looks like he’s met her before. “Doc, any news?”

  Her face looks grim, and I close my eyes. Not him too. No. That would be too much to fucking take. Not Heart. I can’t lose my brother.

  “Mr Norman’s still with us,” she starts, and when I glance over at what at first sounds like a positive update, I see she looks exhausted, lines on her forehead, her eyes reddened, cheeks flushed. “We lost him, but managed to bring him back.” As she pauses, she brushes back a strand of hair that’s escaped from her bun. “I won’t lie to you, it was touch-and-go for a while, and he’s got a long way to go if he even manages to make it out of the woods.” Her face looks full of sympathy as she adds, “I’m sorry to say this, but you should be prepared. He might not make it.”

  Dismissing her warning with a wave of his hand, as though he knows Heart will pull through, Blade asks, “What we dealing with?”

  She lifts her shoulders. “He’s got a broken leg and a broken ankle on the same side. Fractured ribs, he lost a lot of blood, and we had to remove his spleen. But it’s the head injury that’s worrying us. We’ve got him in an induced coma for now, and we’ll keep him under for a couple of days while we try to reduce the swelling. When we bring him round, we’ll be able to tell a bit more.” Breaking off, she looks around, her eyes taking us all in. Unlike the receptionist earlier, there’s no judgement in her face. “Look, I can see the love you all have for him, and I assure you we’ll be doing our best.”

  “Whatever it takes, Doc.” Drum’s hand brushes down his face, coming to rest on his salt and pepper beard. “Bring in consultants, don’t worry about the cost. Transfer him to a specialist unit if you need to. The club will pay whatever.” Murmurs of agreement meet his pronouncement.

  A quick quirk of her lips, she replies, “That’s good to know, Drummer. We’ll bear that in mind. For now, I assure you he’s in the right place. We’ll know more… when he comes round.”

  The slight pause shows she was thinking if. My breathing falters. Heart. Heart’s not only a member of the club, but an officer, our secretary. He’s the one who’s always there behind us giving silent support. He got his name for his gentleness, his generosity. As Crystal would have said, he’s got a big fucking heart. If his own stops beating, it will create a hole so big it will take us a fuck of a long time to recover.

  The loss of any one of us would hit the club hard. But if we lose Heart? Some of the soul will go out of the club.

  Chapter Four

  Four months ago

  Ella…

  In the seven days between meeting Slick that evening and him returning to pick me up, I must have rethought my impulsive decision a hundred or more times, not at all certain I’m cut out for a career in espionage. Entering enemy territory and infiltrating the club of the Satan’s Devils’ rivals? That’s just not me. But it’s difficult to back out as Slick keeps in touch by regularly calling, his wry humour and deep velvety voice resonating through me, helping me keep my resolve. When he emphasises how grateful he and his club will be, I can do nothing but lie and assure him I haven’t reconsidered. Then when I put down the phone, I have more second thoughts. But as time passes, it becomes too late to back out.

  All too soon, Slick’s plan gathers a momentum all of its own. Before I’m anywhere near ready, I find myself packing a bag, giving a mumbled excuse to Tilly to explain my absence for a few days, and opening the door to Slick. The first thing I notice as he leads me out to an SUV is he’s not wearing his black leather vest with the colourful patch on the back.

  It strikes me as significant. I’ve never seen any of the club’s members without one before. Pointing at him I ask, “Where’s your vest?”

  He laughs, his rumbling chuckles having the predictable result. “It’s called a cut, darlin’, and I’m driving a cage today. The club would fine me if I disrespected our colours and wore my cut while I’m driving.”

  “A cage?” My eyes narrow, it sounds like he is talking a different language.

  “A car.” He sighs. “Come on, it’s a two-hour drive to Phoenix, we can talk on the way. Seems like you’re needing a bit of biker education before you go into the Rock Demons’ club.”

  Buckling up the seat belt, I settle in to enjoy the journey. Listening to his deep tones washing over me is no hardship at all. Trying to remember everything he’s telling me is a little more difficult. “Okay, so there’s a president, officers, and non-ranking members. And prospects who do the drudge. Got it, I think.”

  My ignorance has been showing, but he’s been patient with his answers. There’s so much to le
arn. Their way of life seems so very different, the strict hierarchy and rules alien to me. But by the time we get to our destination, I feel about ready to take a test.

  While I’m nervous about the end game, I’m also excited about what seems like a mini-vacation. I’m going to have a couple of days in an apartment I don’t have to share with anyone else, and where the furniture is clean, if not new. I wave away Slick’s apology for the sorry excuse for a car they’re providing. As I’ve never owned one, having any vehicle to myself even if it’s only a heap, and just for a short time, feels like I have true independence at last. In Tucson, I borrow Tilly’s if she’s not using it when I need to go out. Which means I rarely have the opportunity to drive.

  Slick drops me off, hands over the necessary keys that I’ll need, then quickly leaves. As I watch his taillights disappear, I feel a moment of loneliness, and concern returns as to what I’m doing. Treat it as an enjoyable break. Following my own good advice, I decide to make the most of it and, going inside, get unpacked and settled in. Noticing the cupboards are empty, I venture out into what he’d assured me is a relatively safe neighbourhood and, with the money he gave me, I buy food. Returning home, I cook a half-decent meal for myself. I wash up my own plates and pans immediately afterwards.

  For those first few days I’m happy. Slick stays away, not wanting to risk being seen visiting, but checks in by phone. As far as I know, he’s holed up in a nearby motel.

  The time on my own passes quickly. Too quickly. Come Friday evening I’m a bundle of nerves as I doll myself up, slapping on more makeup than I usually wear. I open the bags of new clothes that I’d bought and put on the sluttiest things I can find. A short skirt that’s almost indecent, and a tight top without a bra. When I lean over to look in the mirror while applying bright red lipstick, my boobs spill out of the top. Just the right look I’ve been trying to achieve, but one I’m not entirely comfortable with.