As we kiss under the sign, the guys are taking photos on their phones.
He hands me the helmet and glasses once more, and now we’re heading off again. I’m expecting to go back to the club, and guessing there’ll be a party, this time one I’ll really enjoy. The new weight of the ring on my finger is a constant reminder that I’m now this man’s wife. It seems unbelievable.
But we don’t go back to the Vegas compound. Instead we stop at a steakhouse. Going inside, we’re shown to a function room. There’s a dance floor and a DJ who’s currently playing bland music. A table’s been set up at the top where Slick and I sit, Drum, Wraith, Sophie, Sam, with Amy on her lap then Jayden next to her.
The rest of the brothers settle down at the side tables. I’m in a complete state of bewilderment, unable to believe we’re the stars of this show, or that along with the wedding Slick’s arranged a reception. I couldn’t say what I ate, but I think it was delicious.
Drum stands and gives a speech, I try to listen. He makes us double up with some of the things that he says. Then my man, Slick, stands, and, well, he’s just amazing. I fall in love with him all over again at his flowery words. And then crack up as he starts to get crude and makes a throw-away comment that only I, Rope, and Cuff would understand. My face burns.
When the rattle of silverware dies down, a freaking cake’s wheeled in. On the top, a pair of bikers riding a Harley. What else could I have expected?
“Take a pic, Slick,” I say, nudging him, coming to my senses, knowing I want to remember this day for ever.
Slick laughs and points at Mouse, who’s got a camera in his hand. I hadn’t noticed him recording everything. When I catch his eye, I give him a little wave and he lifts his chin in return.
After the cake’s cut with the normal entertainment and then passed around, the DJ puts on a record and invites Slick and I to dance. As Paul Weller starts singing, You do something to me, my eyes start to water, and I relax into Slick’s arms and gently sway with the music. God, is it possible to love this man anymore?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Slick…
Ella’s got my ring on her finger, and she’s in my arms. I’m surrounded by my brothers. I’m on top of the fucking world. Nothing could be better than this. Absolutely fucking nothing. Not even riding my Harley.
We’re taking centre spot, dancing to the music, and I’m holding her body so close to mine. I love her so fucking much, and she’s become such an important part of my life I’ve no idea how I lived without her. And soon, if I have my way, she’ll be carrying my child. She’s mine. My old lady. My wife.
With more than a little help from Drum and the rest of my brothers, we managed to get everything set up in record time, luckily getting a free spot at the wedding chapel which does Harley weddings, and finding this venue with an available function room. The girls were on board as soon as I’d told them, and even Jayden had managed to keep it a secret.
And the fuck if it hadn’t all gone so smoothly, that was just the icing on the fucking cake. Talking about cake, where the fuck did that come from? I suspect it was probably Sam’s doing, perhaps with some help from the local old ladies. Now I truly know anything can happen in Vegas.
When Ella appeared in that sexy-as-fuck dress, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to keep my hands off her during the ceremony. Speaking of which… I let my hands wander down and cup that cute ass, which is all mine, not giving a damn who’s watching. Yeah, so what? I’m fondling my wife. I’m allowed to. No one fucking else is touching her. Ever. My cock starts swelling at the thought of her in my bed, every night. For the rest of our lives.
The song comes to an end, far too soon. I could have held her forever. I’m not ready to let her go. I’ll never be able to let her go. Raising my eyes, I see Peg talking to the DJ. Uh-oh.
When the blistering sounds of ELO’s Roll over Beethoven start to scream out, I have to laugh. Trust Peg to liven things up. Drum comes onto the dance floor and, fuck it, they’re all getting up. Wraith’s gently twirling Sophie, carefully making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, and all the other brothers are boogying out with their old ladies, and those without women are dancing by themselves.
Ella gives me a grin and pulls back, and now she’s shaking her fucking booty. I’d never seen her dance, and wow. I realise I’m standing still in the middle of the fucking dance floor looking like an idiot just watching her shimmy to the music. What a sight! And she’s all mine!
She reaches out her hand and pulls me in to her. Coming back to myself, I take the lead. We’re dancing together. From the flare in her eyes she likes the moves I’ve got too. Fuck, I can’t wait to get her under me tonight.
Now she’s dancing with her sister and then with the rest of the girls. Fuck, Satan’s Devils know how to choose their women. They’re twirling and bopping, what a sight for sore eyes. Even Amy’s jumping around and hey, that three-year-old’s got the dancing talent of her mother. I hope Mouse is filming this shit.
Someone puts a beer in my hand. I’ve never been happier in the whole of my life.
I’m just lifting the bottle to my lips when the music stops, abruptly switched off in mid-beat. Automatically my hand goes to rest on my gun.
Drummer steps up to the mic, tapping it once, twice, the sharp amplified sound shattering the mood.
All the men step up. All eyes upon him. All of us ready for the call to action.
The prez rolls back his head and wipes his hand over his beard. He shakes his head as he stares out over the club.
“Sorry to interrupt the proceedings, but you need to hear this. Fuck…” His voice breaks with emotion. As I tuck Ella into my side he continues, “I thought nothing could top this day, seeing our brother Slick and his ol’ lady tie the official knot. But fuck…” He shakes his head as though he can’t believe what he’s going to say. “I won’t draw this out. But, please, take a glass.”
Surprised, I notice waiters walking around with trays. I take a champagne for me and pass one to my wife.
Drum surveys the room and picks up his own glass. “I’ve just had a phone call.” He pauses, and you could hear a pin drop as we wait to hear what troubles are on their way.
He takes a deep breath and again turns his head from side to side. “Can’t fuckin’ believe what I’ve just been told…” He pauses. Just spit it out, will ya? After clearing his throat, he continues, “I’ve just had word from Road, who’s at the hospital. Heart’s conscious and fuckin’ lucid.” The prez’s voice cracks on the words I’d given up all hope of hearing.
After a brief moment of silence as the incredible news sinks in, a deafening wave of roaring sweeps through the room. Men stomping their feet and cheering, women screaming with joy. Heart’s back with us? Un-fucking-believable! Best. News. Ever. Only rivalled by Ella saying yes.
Prez taps the mic to get our attention. “So raise your glasses everyone. To Heart! And, of course, to Slick and Ella.”
Feet are stomping, hands thumping on tables, and thunderous roars that crash and roll through the function room.
“Heart! Slick and Ella!”
“Slick and Ella! Heart!”
Drum’s watching me, he lifts his chin and gives me an exaggerated wink while beaming toward Sam. Immediately I know what that means. Amy’s getting her dad back.
I couldn’t imagine anyone getting a better wedding present.
My brother is coming home.
Targeting Dart
Satan’s Devils #4
Copyright
Published 2017 by Trish Haill Associates
Copyright Manda Mellett
Cover Design by Lia Rees at Free Your Words
(www.freeyourwords.com)
Formatted and re-edited by Maggie Kern @ Ms.K Edits
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book reviews.
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br /> www.mandamellett.com
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Warning
This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual, abusive and violent nature. It is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.
Author’s Note
Targeting Dart is the fourth in the Satan’s Devils MC Series.
While this book can be read as a standalone, it picks up on a story that began in Slick Running, and which will be continued in the fifth book, Heart Broken. To get the full benefit, I advise you to read books 3, 4, and 5 in the right order.
If you’re new to MC books, you may find there are terms that you haven’t heard before, so I’ve included a glossary to help along the way. I hope you get drawn into this mysterious and dark world in the same way I have done–there will be further books in the Satan’s Devils series which I hope you’ll want to follow.
If you’ve picked this book up because, like me, you read anything MC, I hope you’ll enjoy it for what it is, a fictional insight into the underground culture of alpha men and their bikes.
Cast of Characters - Arizona
Officers
Drummer – President
Wraith – Vice President
Heart – Secretary
Dollar – Treasurer
Peg – Sergeant-at-arms
Blade – Enforcer
Mouse – Computer Expert
Joker - Road Captain
Patched Members
Beef
Bullet
Dart
Lady
Marvel
Paladin
Rock
Slick
Shooter
Tongue
Viper
Prospects
Hyde
Jekyll
Road
Old Ladies & Children
Carmen (Bullet’s)
Sandy (Viper’s)
Crystal (Heart’s): Amy
Sophie (Wraith’s)
Sam (Drummer’s)
Ella (Slick’s)
Sweet Butts
Allie
Diva
Jill
Paige
Pussy
Deceased Members
Adam
Buster
Hank
Cast of Characters - San Diego
Officers
Snake – President
Lost – Vice President
Token – SecretaryTech
DJ – Treasurer
Poke – Sergeant-at-arms
Salem – Enforcer
Blaze - Road Captain
Patched Members
Bastard
Bones
Brakes
Crow
Dusty
Gator
Grumbler
Kink
Pennywise
Rattler
Scribe
Shark
Smoker
Snips
Tinder
Prospects
Dave
Lloyd
Niran
Sweet Butts
Candy
Eva
Pearl
Tits
Deceased Members
Bird
Stickler
Chapter One
Dart…
I suspect I’m not alone in disliking hospitals with a vengeance. First off, it’s the smell, that odour of disinfectant that permeates the air and from which there seems no escape. It invades everything you’re wearing, so no matter what you do, it’s impossible to shake the aroma that lingers even when you leave. Pain, sickness, and death are all around, and whether or not any effort’s been made to brighten up the décor, it does little to help raise your mood.
Of course, it’s better to be here as a visitor rather than an inmate, but that brings its own challenges, particularly when the patient I’ve come to see is very inaptly named. Heart could more properly be called an ‘impatient’, fed up of being confined to his bed, and visibly suffering under the burden of the news that was delivered to him shortly after he regained consciousness. He’d been in a coma for almost a month.
It’s not particularly easy visiting with a man of action who’s used to being out riding his bike but is now immobilised with one leg badly smashed up and broken ribs. Couple that with someone who has been told he’s lost his wife, and you’ve got one angry, devastated man whose emotions swing constantly like a pendulum. My club, the Satan’s Devils MC, is determined never to leave him on his own, even if spending time with him is becoming an increasingly uncomfortable and soul-destroying task.
Tonight I’ve drawn what’s become known as the short straw, and it’s my turn to keep him company for a while. As I exit the elevator on his floor, I’m mentally trying to prepare myself for the ordeal ahead. Don’t get me wrong, I love Heart like a true brother and not just in the club sense. We’d joined at the same time, prospected together, and formed a strong bond while we were having all manner of shit thrown at us. But now he’s changed. Oh, he doesn’t look or sound any different, it’s just he’s not the same man that he was before the accident. Last time I was here, I barely recognised him.
I rap gently on the door and, as Beef steps out, ask in a low voice, “How is he today?” while hoping against hope, I’ll be told there’s some improvement. I’m not asking for a medical update, his body’s healing alright, it’s his mind that’s still got a long way to go.
Beef shakes his head, and I pull back my shoulders, prepared to be disappointed. “Bad, man. The doc’s talking about letting him out at the weekend, but there’s no fuckin’ way he can deal with coming back to the clubhouse and Crystal not being there.”
Beef’s words are not unexpected. Nevertheless, I’d hoped to hear differently. Closing my eyes, I press my hand against the wall, lowering my forehead to rest on my arm. Fuck, not only has Heart got to cope with his debilitating physical injuries but his mental anguish on top of everything else.
Just four weeks ago, everything was normal. Heart was riding back from a visit to Tombstone, an enjoyable afternoon out with his old lady, when they were deliberately knocked off their motorcycle. The incident leaving my brother fighting for his life, a battle which proved too much for his wife, losing hers on the operating table shortly after being admitted.
They’d had to sedate him when he was first told the news and, as much as I love my brother, I’m grateful I wasn’t the one who had to break it to him and watch him go to pieces. Now, a week later, he’s still not pulled back together. The man behind the door is a different person to the one that set off on that ride with his old lady.
“How we gonna do this, Beef?” On top of his loss, Crystal’s bitch of a mother buried her daughter without waiting for Heart to regain consciousness, taking away his chance to say his final goodbyes. While I’ve never experienced a love like Heart and his old lady had, having seen their relationship from the outside in, I know how distressing this must be for my brother.
Beef, named for the fact he looks like a fucking bull, shrugs. “No fuckin’ idea, Brother. Fuck, it’s hard for everyone. We all miss Crystal being around. But Heart? This has darn near destroyed him, man. He loved her so fuckin’ much.”
He did. If ever there was a match made in heaven, it was theirs.
There’s nothing I can say. Sure, we’ve lost brothers before—only this past year we’d lost Hank, a prospect, and Adam, a fully patched member—but losing a woman we all adored has affected every member of the club in a different way. It’s so much worse for him. Heart’s not just lost a friend; he’s lost his soulmate. Already, I’m wondering if it’s even possible he’ll be able to ever recover. Up to now, he’s certainly showing no sign. Beef pats my shoulder, a g
esture given in solidarity as though to support me through the hours when I’ll be here. Then he strides off down the corridor in the direction that I’ve just come from, his head hanging low. Visiting with Heart is always depressing.
Taking a breath and then bracing myself, I enter the room, seeking any change from the last time I was here. There’s not much. Heart’s leg’s still in plaster from his hip to his ankle, but the bandage has been removed from his head. Having been shaven to treat the wound, his blond hair on one side is at last growing back, but short and stubbly, the other side left long. Inanely, I wonder whether he’ll get it all shorn off to match, but how his hair is styled is probably the least worry on his mind.
Eased off the pain medication, his eyes for once look sharp and bright as they track my approach, a change from the slightly dazed look he had before. I pick up the chair by the side of the bed and turn it around, then sit astride it, my arms leaning on the back, and my chin resting on my hands. Neither of us speak.
When the silence gets too grating, I’m the first to break it. Nodding at the crutches he’s obviously been given to use, I start, “Beef tells me you’ve got your ticket out of here. In a few days you’ll be home, Brother.”
His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. “Home? I ain’t got no fuckin’ home.”
It’s not the first time he’s snarled at me, but I ignore it and remind him, “You’ve got us, your brothers. You’ve got the club—”
Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1 Page 109
