Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “What’s the point of the fuckin’ club when I ain’t got no ol’ lady.”

  “You’ve got your kid.” Yeah, he’s got a three-year-old daughter, Amy, who he’s consistently refused to see.

  “She’s better off without me. Fuck, let her gramma have her. She wants her.”

  We haven’t told Heart the whole story, it’s too much for him to handle in the state he’s in now. But yeah, he’s right. Crystal’s mother wants the kid, but only to sell her to pay off her debts. She’d started the ball rolling that ended with their accident. It’s only the fact we don’t take out women easily, that she’s still breathing air. I won’t be alone in hoping she gets hold of some bad shit, or overdoses and removes the problem herself. All we’ve said to him is that she’s entirely unsuitable to look after a young child. He’s got too much to deal with without adding that information just yet.

  But I emphasise what’s already been explained. “Heart, she’s so into the shit, she can’t even look after herself.” Yeah, she owes people for the crap she injects into her veins.

  “Well, let the kid stay with the prez and his ol’ lady. They seem to have taken to her.” We’ve all noticed he doesn’t even use the child’s name. And yup, Drummer and Sam have been looking after her, and well. “She needs her dad.”

  Heart sneers and looks down at himself. “Ain’t no fuckin’ good to anyone like this.”

  I don’t remind him she won’t care, that she just needs to know one of her parents is still there for her, whatever shape he’s in. All of us have tried, but Amy, the spitting image of her mother, is the one person he won’t allow into his room. I keep my mouth buttoned up and my thoughts to myself. Better people than me have tried to persuade him. When he’s home, it will be different.

  Pulling a brochure out of my cut, I try to interest him in something else. “Club’s replacing your bike. We’ve voted to get you a new model. Want to have a look at what you could get? Don’t know about you, but the new Low Rider looks fuckin’ ace to me.” His own was totalled as a result of the crash.

  He’s closed his eyes and turned his head, pretending to sleep. I end up flipping through the pages by myself. It’s par for the course. Heart’s hurting so badly, he just lives in his head, unable to move past what he’s lost and get on with his life. If neither the thought of his daughter nor getting a new bike can start bringing him out of his fugue, then I’ve no fucking idea how to get through to him.

  A gentle tapping at the door gets my attention, and I look up to see an unwelcome but familiar face entering. It’s the fucking heat, one of the detectives who has been buzzing around Heart’s accident. Detective Hannah. Her erstwhile dirty partner, Archer, is long dead. Not that she has that intel yet. All she knows is that he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.

  I nod at her and pretend to look past her into the empty corridor. “Detective. On your own today?” I hide my smirk. Oh, we’ve solved the mystery of who ran Heart and Crystal off the road. Archer admitted it himself. But that secret we’re keeping close for obvious reasons, including that Slick shot off his dick before our Vegas brother cut his throat. The cops won’t be finding a body either, Slick made sure of that. Just a few charred pieces of bone, which will take them time to put back together.

  “Detective Archer is unavailable,” Hannah says tightly.

  Oh, he definitely is.

  The new voice has disturbed Heart. He stirs, opens his eyes, and impassively regards the detective. From his expression, I take it they’ve met before and that he’s not particularly pleased to see her.

  Hannah’s viewing him just as intently. She clears her throat. “How are you today, Mr Norman?”

  “The name’s Heart,” he growls. “And how d’ya fuckin’ think I’m doing?” He sneers as his left hand indicates his plastered leg. Painfully, he goes to pull himself up. I go to help, knowing his wincing comes from his broken ribs that are still healing, but he waves off my assistance, grimacing through the pain. I move the button for his pain meds closer to his hand, but he ignores it as if preferring to suffer as penance for being alive.

  Hannah takes a step closer. “I need to know if you’ve remembered anything more about the accident?”

  Accident? Murder more like.

  Heart touches his hand to his head. “Can’t remember fuck-all as I’ve told you already. Last fuckin’ thing I remember was riding back from Tucson with my ol’ lady riding bitch behind me.” It’s impossible to miss the moisture gathering at the corner of his eye.

  “What have you discovered so far, Detective?” I probe. It would be useful for the club to know how far they’ve gotten.

  She looks from my brother to me. Heart doesn’t seem at all interested. Even when we explained what had happened and that the man who caused Crystal’s death has been dispatched to meet Satan, he seemed to focus on the loss of his wife rather than the punishment meted out to the perpetrator.

  Just when I don’t think she’s going to speak, she sighs. “We’ve tracked the vehicle down to a rental agency, seems the person who rented it used a fake name and papers.”

  Doesn’t surprise me. The Herreras, the crime family in Tucson to which Archer had a distant connection, wouldn’t find it difficult to create a false identity.

  “Oh, and we found the vehicle. Burned out.”

  “No evidence?” I ask, hoping that Archer had left fingerprints. We all know, and that includes the detective in front of me, that he was a dirty cop, but proving his involvement in what happened to Heart is going to be impossible. He’d only admitted it to us. Then we made sure he wouldn’t be saying anything at all.

  The detective shakes her head. “No. No fingerprints.” When I think she’s finished, she continues, “But we got a description from the rental agency.”

  She clams up. It would be to our benefit if they find evidence it was Archer. Perhaps knowing his culpability, they wouldn’t be too concerned when they eventually identify what’s left of his body. Literally burying a cop on the make would be easier than going through the rigmarole of taking him through the courts.

  Hannah tilts her head to one side and once again tries to engage Heart. “I’m pleased to see you conscious. I hear you’re going to make a full recovery. I expect you’re looking forward to being with your daughter again.”

  Oh fuck. She did not just go there, did she?

  Gasping, Heart leans forward and points a shaky hand toward her. “Pig, I suggest you stay out of my fuckin’ business. Your job’s finding out who killed my fuckin’ wife, and you can keep your filthy nose away from anything else.”

  For a moment, she looks taken aback and then a fleeting look of sympathy comes over her face. “I’ll keep you informed as to what progress we’re making.” As Heart gently lays himself back, unable to escape the groan of pain, she gives a stiff nod, then turns and walks out the door.

  “Fuckin’ cops,” Heart grumbles and closes his eyes once again.

  After a while, gentle snores begin showing that this time he’s dozed off for real. I try to make myself as comfortable as I can on the hard chair and think about Hannah’s visit, smiling to myself as I realise this is one of the few times that a brother’s actually told the police all he knows. We’ve asked him ourselves, but he really has no recollection of the Ford F-250 hitting his bike. Can’t recall seeing it at all. His last memory is of Crystal’s arms wrapped around him, speeding along an open road. That he has no recollection of seeing her broken body on the ground has got to be better than remembering everything and reliving it over and over again in his nightmares. He must have fought hard but been unable to prevent the bike leaving the freeway, and I can only imagine the panic and fear he would have felt. Thank God for small fucking mercies that he’s got no memories at all. I hope the detail never comes back.

  Eight hours later, and Blade’s entrance marks the end of my shift. Heart being asleep meant the time had passed with no further conversation. My muscles feeling seized, I stand and stretch, then give o
ur enforcer a similar update to the one Beef had supplied to me. We exchange sorry shakes of our heads. I update him on Hannah’s visit, and once that’s completed, at last I’m free to leave. While we’re all elated to see Heart physically improving, I walk out just like Beef had done after spending time with him, head down and dejected.

  Outside the autumn sun is shining, a pleasant temperature, not as harsh as it is in mid-summer. Monsoon season has passed, making it one of my favourite seasons to ride. Starting the engine, I point my bike toward the clubhouse, more than ready to go home, using the miles and the time to give the breeze a chance to clear sombre thoughts from my head and the condition of my injured brother from my mind. But when I arrive at the clubhouse, where I’ve been is obviously written on my face. It’s an expression we all seem to wear when we come back from visiting Heart.

  Drummer, our president, standing at the bar, notices and waves me over. Jekyll, one of our prospects, puts a beer into my hand. After a quick look at me, Drum nods to the top shelf where his best whisky is kept. Declining ice with a shudder, but grateful to have something stronger, I pick up the shot glass, knocking the spirit back in a couple of swallows.

  “How is he today? Any mention of Amy?”

  Sadly, I explain, “I tried, Prez, but he’s adamant he won’t see her. Fuckin’ shame for the kid. She doing okay?”

  Drum turns and points to where his pregnant old lady, Sam, is playing with the little girl. “Kids are resilient, she’s settling in with us fine. But she needs her father, and Heart needs to see her.”

  That he does.

  “Hannah came sniffing around.”

  “Oh? She got anything?”

  “Nothing at all. ‘Cept they may have a description of the fucker who rented the Ford.”

  Drum taps his fingers against the bar. “Could be interesting if that matches Archer. ‘Bout time they put the clues together.”

  I nod. My thoughts exactly. “We gonna make a move on Clyde? Heart still doesn’t know she’s a problem.” Susie Clyde was Crystal’s mother, and as far as I’m concerned should be in the ground for her sins.

  “Want Heart to be part of that decision. We’ll set him straight on what she did when he’s in a better state of mind.”

  I suppose that’s the right thing to do. Turning around, I survey the room, freshly painted and with all new furniture. There’s no doubt it’s freshened the place up, but the reason for the redecoration is something else that fucker Archer was responsible for; he and his cop friends had destroyed the place using a trumped-up search warrant. As I’m glancing around, I see the sweet butts are just coming in, and a good fuck might be just what I need to clear the last few hours from my mind. I nudge the prez and indicate Paige. “Think I’m gonna give her a try.” She’s been here a couple of months now, but to date I’ve not been with her.

  His sympathetic eyes meet mine, and he gives a quick nod. “Yeah, go get laid, Dart.”

  He turns back to take a sip of his drink and I wonder how he deals with his pent-up emotions now he’s restricted himself to an old lady. Sure, the fucking’s probably good, but having no variety? My eyes fall on the other new girl, Diva. I’ve already seen they’re both up for threesomes. Having two girls service me tonight will surely bring me out of this funk that I’m in. Drummer used to be up for multiple partners before he tied himself down.

  Before I move off, having gestured toward the girls I’ve chosen and received their eager nods in response, I ask him, “How can you cope with having just one pussy, Prez?”

  He swings around and a smile comes to his lips. “Ain’t the hardship you’re thinking, Dart. One day you’ll find the one, and she’ll be so good that you’ll never want your cock to go anywhere else.”

  I laugh and shake my head so violently my long hair comes loose from my bun. “Ain’t no one girl alive could satisfy me, Drum.”

  His lips remain curved as he replies, “Perhaps you just haven’t found the right one yet.” He pauses and points around the room, indicating the whores ready and waiting. “There are girls you fuck, and girls you make an ol’ lady.”

  I chuckle, not persuaded in the least. I’m still moving my head left to right in negative dismissal as I walk away, going over to the Paige and Diva, who stand and enthusiastically link their arms with mine. Within moments, we’re in one of the crash rooms, clothes scattered over the floor, and I’m lying flat on the bed while Diva sucks my cock into her talented mouth and Paige sits on my face. God, this is the life!

  Tomorrow I could go with another of the club girls, or perhaps one of the hangarounds who come to our parties. A different experience every night. No siree, I’m never going to find a woman who’s got everything I want in one package. Uh-uh.

  After I’ve come in Diva’s mouth and in Paige’s cunt, I’m totally drained. Having ensured both girls have been satisfied, I send them away and, too tired to go up to my suite, settle down to sleep where I am.

  My last thoughts before my eyes close return to Heart. When we thought we were going to lose him, it wasn’t only me who felt the loss, he is my best friend after all, it affected us all. Some of the soul went out of the club. Heart was our conscience. Heart was a lover, a peacemaker, though he’d fight alongside any brother when needed.

  Heart, Crystal, and Amy were our resident family, their love for each other making all of us smile, cheering us up on the darkest of days. When he came round, I thought at least we now had him back. Damaged for certain, that was a given. It’s hard for anyone to deal with the devastation that comes with losing a mate. But what none of us expected was he’d be totally broken.

  That man in the hospital bed? I don’t know him at all.

  Chapter Two

  Alex…

  Celine covers her mouth and leans toward me, whispering conspiratorially from behind her hand. “See those two men at the bar? I’d give them both at least an eight and probably darn near a nine.”

  Only vaguely interested, I turn to see what my sister has pointed out, and it only takes a second before I’m agreeing with her assessment. “For whites, they’re okay.” And my, that’s an understatement. The two tall men are stunning, particularly the one on the right. He’s got his dark hair tied up in a man bun, and when he turns my way, his features are aquiline with well-defined cheekbones. His stance and bearing show he’s all man, almost too much for one woman to handle. As I watch, he laughs at something his companion has said, then slaps him on the back, drawing my attention to the strange leather vest that he’s wearing. “That one’s not bad. But what’s he wearing?”

  Celine narrows her eyes. “The threads show they’re members of the Satan’s Devils,” she tells me. “It’s an outlaw motorcycle club based here in Tucson. Have you not seen them around?”

  I haven’t, no, but then I haven’t been here that long. Then I latch onto something she’s said. “Outlaw?” Now intrigued, peering up through my eyelashes, I risk another glance at them.

  “Yeah, they live outside the law. Or that’s the word.”

  “Criminals?”

  “Christ, girl. Don’t cha have bikers where you come from?” As she picks up her glass and drains it, I think about it. No, I don’t think I’ve come across them before, not unless I’ve been driving and had to put up with a group of motorcyclists splitting lanes, making me ultra-careful to keep to my side of the road. Tilting her drink toward the bikers, she continues, “There are rumours they kill people and bury the bodies.”

  “Kill? Who? Anyone?” I can’t help shifting nervously and shrinking back into my seat.

  She throws me a disparaging look. “Jesus, Alex. What stone did you crawl out from under? No, not random peeps. Just people who cross them.”

  Making a mental note not to do anything to upset them, I risk another look, trying to assess just how dangerous they are.

  Celine must see that’s she’s made me nervous and gives a little laugh. “They’re just rumours, Alex. If they were criminals, don’t cha think the cops would q
uickly be along to arrest them?”

  They certainly don’t look like wanted men standing at the bar and enjoying a joke.

  “And they own this place, The Wheel Inn, or so most people believe. That’s why they’re here, I expect. To check it’s running smoothly and to keep trouble away.”

  Which they’d have no problems doing just by their presence. You’d have to be mad to take on big, tough men like them. Something about them being tattooed and dangerous, I’m ashamed to admit, sparks my interest. What would it be like to have one of them in your corner? Or in your bed? Especially the one with his hair in a bun. God, I bet he’d know what to do to keep a girl satisfied. Mm mmm.

  Celine resumes the conversation. “I think they’ve gone or are trying to go legit. They own a number of businesses in Tucson…” She breaks off and looks at me with a gleam in her eyes. “Hey, girl, that’s a thought. They own a strip club.”

  I shrug, having absolutely no idea where she’s going with that comment.

  “Yeah,” she carries on enthusiastically, “that could be an idea for you. You’re desperate for a job, aren’t cha? I doubt they’d be worried if you didn’t want to give them your social security number.”

  It was the wrong time to take a sip of my drink, as I now spit it out all over the table, and my resultant choking fit has the bikers and everyone else in the vicinity, spinning around to look at me. Feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks, I grab hold of her arm. “What the fuck you talking about? Me? Work in a strip club?”

  “Babe,” she looks at me as though addressing a child, “you’ve got no real work experience to offer. What’s the one skill you have got?”

  Suddenly, I regret telling my sister as much as I had. There were definitely some things I should have kept quiet. But she’s right. Having run away to Tucson with little more than the clothes on my back, the money I had managed to bring with me was fast running out. I’d be unable to rely on her generosity for very much longer and needed to earn enough to pay my way somehow or other. It’s not that I haven’t been looking for work, I have. But either I’m not wanted as I’ve no resume to offer, or if someone was willing to give me a chance, I baulked at having my name officially entered on employment records. I may be overly cautious. Ron might not even be trying to find me, but if he is searching for me, I don’t want to make it easy for him.