Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “Six fuckin’ years old?” Thor’s shaking his head.

  I nod. “Yeah, the boy’s been through some shit in his life. He’s got an old head on his young shoulders.”

  “Boy did a solid for the club. If it wasn’t for him, we might not be having this meeting today.”

  Slick throws me a chin jerk. “Good fuckin’ kid there, Brother. He know that?”

  “We should all thank him.” Peg looks around. He knows if he hadn’t been warned, and Slick, Mouse, and I hadn’t escaped by ourselves, he’d have been one of the first to put his head in a trap.

  “I want to do more than thank him.” Drum’s emphasis is confusing, and again we give him our eyes. “Kid’s got me thinking. He loves bikes, and thanks to Dart here, will grow up around bikers. Quite likely when the time comes, he might want to prospect for us. Far as I’m concerned, I’d be proud to have him in the club.”

  Hellfire brings his hand down onto the table. “We’re a white fuckin’ club.” He gives a side glance to Mouse, who’s bunching his hands. “You look white, Brother. Hard to tell…”

  I take a sharp breath, knowing how proud Mouse is of his heritage. I don’t have to wait long. “This is an American club, and last time I fuckin’ looked into it, my people were here long before yours.”

  Red starts getting to his feet as though to intervene, but sits down again when he sees it’s not necessary as Drum takes control.

  “Shut! Up!” Drum roars. “We’re not fuckin’ white supremacists, and as far as I’m concerned, our bylaws are years out-of-date. For myself, I don’t give a fuck whether members are white, black, brown, fuckin’ yellow, or purple. What’s more important is I know they’ve got my back. How many of you were in the services?”

  A number of hands go up, including Hellfire’s. Drum’s eyes narrow as he challenges him. “And how many times did a black have your six?”

  Hellfire looks taken aback. “More than once,” he admits.

  “Covered you as good as a white?”

  Hellfire can’t argue. “Sure did,” he replies honestly.

  “What’s the difference to having blacks in the club or in the service then? You saying they can’t be trusted, can’t fight by your side?”

  Now Hellfire shrugs, and slowly a grin comes to his face. “Ain’t saying that at all. Just that we’ve always been white.”

  “And we can’t change that?” Drum strokes his hand over his beard. “We’ve got a black woman and kid at the Tucson Chapter. Don’t want them to feel they are any less than any of the other ol’ ladies and kids we have here.”

  “Don’t bother me none. Long as they’re a good fit in other ways.” Red seems to have no problem with us opening the club up.

  Listening to the debate, I’m overwhelmed that Drum’s going out on a limb, and it’s for my benefit. I hadn’t thought what would happen if Tyler started saying he wanted to prospect for the club. Could even be in just a year or so knowing that kid. I didn’t fancy being the one to say he couldn’t just because of the colour of his skin.

  “So,” Drum begins, looking around the table, “I’m proposing we remove the bylaw that restricts membership by colour. And I’m putting it to the vote. Anyone putting up objections better be ready to explain themselves.”

  I get a few sideways glances coming my way and know what they’re thinking and can’t deny it. By claiming Alex, I’m forcing this vote. I pull the decision book toward me, expecting to be disappointed. But one by one the votes go around the table, and while some brothers think on it more than the rest, eventually it’s a complete round of ayes.

  “So recorded.” Drum bangs the gavel on the table. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, brothers.” He’s rewarded by a laugh.

  Red’s nodding and beaming. “Fuckin’ good move, Brother.” He gives a chin lift to Drum.

  Thor puts up his hand. “When I served my sergeant was a woman—”

  Now there are shouts of derision and exclamations of disbelief.

  Beef is the first to put it into words. “Ain’t having any fuckin’ bitches as members.” His comment is echoed by everyone, albeit in slightly different ways.

  “We’ll leave that to the twenty-second,” Drum says drily. And we laugh once again.

  “Had me a bit nervous for a while there, Drum.” It’s Snatcher who starts us all off again.

  It’s a release of tension, but Drum hasn’t finished the meeting. He points toward Mouse. “Brother, you had something you wanted to say?”

  “Yeah.” He lifts his chin toward me. “Alex, and her ex. We know Thompson took out a life insurance policy, but not just on her, on himself too, to allay any suspicion. He dies, as they’re not divorced, she benefits and gets a clear half a million.”

  “He’s dead anyway.” The sooner that man stops breathing, the sooner I’ll have my old lady by my side. “Much as I’d like to tear him apart with my bare hands, we need to be clever about it.” I nod toward Drum, and then at Mouse. It kills me I can’t get up close and personal, but his death has got to be arranged so nothing comes back on the club.

  “Another good reason for you going to San Diego,” Drum states. “Once he stops taking in air, that money is sure gonna come in useful.”

  Mouse continues, “Probably not enough, so we’ll have to help raise the rest.”

  Hellfire doesn’t know any of this and looks mystified. “What the fuck you talking about?”

  Now Drum takes over. “That kid, Tyler? We can thank him for what he did, but there’s something he needs more than words. He’s got a fuckin’ death sentence hanging over his head. Fuckin’ sickle cell disease. He needs expensive treatment, which could be a cure and save his life.” He pauses for a moment to let that sink in. “The Tucson club is gonna be doing a poker run to raise money.”

  Now I know Snatcher’s got no kids of his own, or none he’s owned up to that is, but he looks thoughtful as he brushes his hand over his face. “Sickle cell? That’s the thing black people get?”

  “And Asians and Hispanics. But in the US, you’re right. It’s mainly blacks, and they’re born with it.” Alex had educated me on the subject. I give him more info. “Fuckin’ bastard of her ex played the odds. Didn’t tell her he was a carrier. If she’d known, she’d never have taken the risk.” I don’t go into the rest of the details. I’ve given him enough.

  Others go to speak, and the Colorado prez holds up his hand. “Christ. Your woman and kid have been through some shit. And a poker run to help? We’ll be up for taking part. There are some hobby clubs our way who’d be all over that too. Make a big splash, get people to make donations. Yeah, my club will be there.”

  Demon jerks his chin toward his prez. “Haven’t done something like that for a while.”

  “Well it gives us something fuckin’ positive to focus on for once, rather than watching our Tucson brothers’ backs.” This is from Snatcher.

  Ignoring the snide remark, Drum nods his head. “Thank you, brothers. And time’s of the essence. These things usually take ages to plan and we’ve got to work fast.”

  There are a few offers of help for that too.

  Prez gives one of his rare smiles, and I know what he’s thinking. This is the real Satan’s Devils right here. One for all and all for one, just like the musketeers I was named for. It helps remove some of the bad taste left by Snake and his crew.

  “All agreed then? We raise funds for Tyler’s treatment and get the ex’s life insurance for Dart’s ol’ lady.”

  I grin. We’re voting on Thompson’s death. It’s another round of ayes, and I record it. Fuck, this book’s getting near filled up today.

  Raising my hand, I draw attention to myself. “Just one thing, I don’t want Alex to know about the insurance money. Want her to have a genuine reaction to anything that happens.”

  Nods around the table, they all know what I’m getting at.

  Drummer looks pleased, and so he should be. He’s prez of the mother chapter for a reason, and everything’s
gone his way today. He picks up the gavel. “Now, if there’s nothing else?” When we all shake our heads, he brings it down. “Meeting fuckin’ over. Now, Hellfire, Snatcher, Lost, and you, Dart, we’ve got business up in the storage shed. Blade, Peg, you come with too. And anyone else who wants in on this.”

  There’s no doubt in any of our minds that Snake’s remaining hours are numbered. But Drum’s doing this right. Until we take his patch, Snake remains the president of one of our chapters, and all chapters present need to take joint responsibility for his demise. We don’t want the mother club getting a reputation for taking another prez and officer out on a whim. But the way Drum’s handled it, Hellfire, Snatcher, and Red are already convinced, the way they voted confirmed it. Now they just want to see the guilty men with their own eyes.

  There’s not one of the Tucson Chapter who’s not come along. It ends up a bit of a squash as we take our places in the shed, watching the two men who, by their expressions, show they know they’ve got no hope at all.

  But it doesn’t stop Snake from trying. “Look, running drugs will bring good money into the club. I’ve got connections with the cartel. I can get good shit.”

  As Hellfire raises his chin toward him, Drummer nods back and lets him have his say. “I don’t want that shit in my club.”

  Red spits on the ground. “Seen what drugs can do. Don’t want to be a part of any of that.”

  Snatcher agrees. “That shit’s for assholes. Not for this club. Brings the law down on us fast. Don’t know what you were thinking, Brother.” He snarls out the last word as though it’s left a bad taste in his mouth.

  “But the money—”

  Drum looks incensed. “Run your fuckin’ club properly and you can bring in good money legit. You just have to fuckin’ work at it.”

  Peg steps up to Poke, his counterpart in the SoCal club. “Always shied away from honest work, didn’t you, Poke?”

  “Honest fuckin’ work? We’re a one-percenter club.” Snake can’t understand the other prezs’ views.

  Drum’s face twists. “Yeah, we’re a one-percenter club. So you know what’s coming, don’t you?”

  “Are you putting us out bad?” Snake sounds hopeful.

  “Gone too far for that. You had your eyes on the mother chapter. If things had gone down differently, you’d have started taking us out. How do you expect this to end, Snake?” Without giving him a chance to tell us the answer that must be written on all our faces, Drum turns around. “Peg, Blade. Get him down.”

  As our sergeant-at-arms and the enforcer do what he says, the rest of us form a circle. Yeah, he’d aimed to take down the Tucson club, so this is personal, and we all want a part of what’s going on. Red, Hellfire, and Snatcher, along with their VPs, also find themselves some space.

  Snake’s a president, he knows what he’s got coming, but he stands in the centre bravely with his shoulders pulled back.

  “Strip him of his patch, Peg. We’ll burn the cuts later.”

  The first real emotion I’ve seen from Snake is sadness as his worn leather cut is taken off his back. To make a point, Blade takes out his knife and one by one strips all the patches off, the one saying his name, the one denoting him as president, and the San Diego chapter patch on the back. Finally, he removes the centre patch bearing the Satan’s Devils’ logo.

  As his colours are destroyed, the defeated man visibly slumps. He no longer looks like a man in charge.

  Peg gets the full-strength brandy we keep on hand here, and Blade gets the blow torch to light. I turn away, swallowing to keep the bile down as the smell of flesh burning thickens the air. I have to give it to Snake, he makes no sound as his large Satan’s Devils tattoo is burned off his back, taking with it some of his long hair. The pain must be unbearable, but he’s got more to come.

  When Blade steps away, Drum makes the first punch, straight to his face. Snake reels back and spits teeth onto the ground. Deferring to the presidents, Red’s next, and a blow to his chest is accompanied by a cracking sound. By the time the higher-ranking officers have taken their shots, Snake’s no longer standing. When I get my kick in, I don’t know or much care whether he’s still breathing or not.

  When everyone’s taken their turn, Drum gets out his gun and finishes him off with a possibly unnecessary shot to the head.

  Poke’s been watching. His eyes rolling wildly in his head. When Peg and Blade step up to take him down, he shouts out, “Just shoot me, please. For God’s sake. Shoot me!” The last words are a scream as he’s pushed into the middle of the circle.

  How this man ever made sergeant-at-arms, I’ll never know. Instead of accepting his punishment stoically, he’s crying like a bitch, begging for mercy as his colours are shredded. He screams as the blow torch is lit. But no one feels any mercy as the reek of burning skin once again fills the air. Like his now dead prez, this was the man who would have condoned Alex’s rape by Fang and Gator, and if their plan had worked, Slick, Mouse, and I wouldn’t be breathing, and other members of the club sent to find us dispatched to their maker as well.

  Prez takes the first punch, and one by one my brothers step up. When it’s Slick’s turn he steps back and aims a kick right into his balls. I suppress a smile when Slick winks at me. It takes time as we all lay into the traitor, and when it comes around to me, Poke is no longer able even to twitch.

  When we’re done, Drum raises his gun one final time. The bullet fires and it's done.

  As we start to disperse, leaving the clean-up and burial to the prospects under the watchful eye of Peg, the events and outcomes of the meeting hit me with the force of one of the blows the two dead men had received. I’ve claimed Alex as my old lady, now I’ve got to convince her I’ve done the right thing. And in addition, that we’ll have to delay starting our relationship, as I’ll be leaving Tucson tomorrow.

  As my brothers saunter away from the club, going off to drink, fuck, or both—individual coping mechanisms of their choice for what we’ve just witnessed, the brutality which brings primitive urges to the fore—I don’t follow them. I’m feeling it just like they are, but it’s not alcohol or a whore that’s on my mind. I peel off, and rather than going down to the clubhouse, go to spend the limited time that I have left with my old lady.

  We’ve spent most of the day in church and dealing with the aftermath. Evening’s falling as I enter the bloc and see Alex getting Tyler ready for bed. I stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame for a moment, seeing with fresh eyes what I’ve just claimed as my new family. I’m going to be proud as fuck to be a dad to that special kid. Whatever his colour, I’m going to step up and be a better father than that bastard Thompson ever was, and do what I can to ensure he gets the treatment he needs to live a normal life.

  Neither of them notice me as Alex tucks him in, then takes out a book and starts to read. I’m staying quiet, just listening to her sexy voice and enjoying the sight before me. But I give myself away by chuckling as she starts to mimic the animals in the book she’s reading from. Giving me a quick grin, she shoos me away with a wave of her hand and nods at her son. Tyler’s noticed me too and now appears wide awake.

  “Sorry,” I mouth, and then go back into my room. The quicker she gets him to sleep, the sooner we can talk.

  I’m sitting on my bed with my legs comfortably splayed, my chin resting on my hands when she eventually comes in. I’ve spent the time thinking through the implications of having an old lady, knowing I’ll have to organise getting her a patch. It makes me rock hard to think of fucking her wearing just my cut saying ‘Property of Dart’ on the back. I never expected to see those words, but now that I’ve committed in front of my brothers, there’s no turning back.

  Holding out my hand, I invite her to come across to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “A little bit sore, but I’m healing at last.”

  Thank fuck for that. I thought we’d have more time, but tonight’s got to be goodbye.

  Twisting my body, I take her face in my h
ands, look into her beautiful eyes, then lower my head. As my mouth touches hers she opens for me, and I sweep my tongue inside. I take control, kissing her harder than I had the night before. It’s almost like she doesn’t know what to do. Placing my hand on the back of her head, I hold her to me and take time getting to know her taste. When at last I release her, her lips are swollen.

  Leaving my hand where it is, I wrap my fingers into her hair. “Alex,” I start, not knowing quite how to proceed.

  “Dart,” she replies, a little smile on her face as she mocks me.

  “Vixen.” I grin and then grow serious. “I’m done fuckin’ whores. Won’t be going there again. Ever.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep… When we’re finished…”

  “I’m keeping this one and we ain’t never gonna be finished. Don’t want no other woman but you, Alex.”

  She’s shaking her head. “You can’t say that. You don’t know… We haven’t…”

  “Don’t matter. And I’ve had a taste. You’ve already spoiled me for anyone else.” As she widens her eyes, I tell her the rest. “I’ve claimed you. Told my brothers I want you as my ol’ lady.”

  She rears back in surprise. “What? Dart, you said you couldn’t make a commitment.”

  “Been doing some thinking. Decided I’m not running from this. Want us to be real, doll. Want my patch on your back, and you in my life.”

  She obviously doesn’t know what to say. “Tyler…”

  “Tyler will be my son, babe. Our boy. And I promise I’ll be the best dad he’ll ever know. Hey, I might make mistakes, but I’ll never hurt him, or you. This sickle cell thing? I’ll be right there beside you, fighting for his life.”

  “Dart!” Her hand covers her mouth as she hears the totally unexpected words. “It’s too fast, too much. Too soon. You said—”

  “I know what I said, and I was an idiot. Not gonna chance losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hey, we’ve been friends for a while, haven’t we? Can’t think of a better fuckin’ basis to take this to the next level.” Lifting her hand, I place it to my denim-covered but clearly rock-hard dick. “You do this to me. No one else since I met you.”