Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  Scratch barks a laugh, and his hand shoots out to rest on her shoulder, her flirtation seeming to banish any thought of her being a threat. “Well look what we’ve got here, boys. Guess we’re gonna have some entertainment tonight.”

  Get out of here, Marc. Before you see me. You’ll only get hurt. Why the fuck have you come? And even if my mind’s fantasising, whoever she is, she doesn’t deserve what she’s likely to get. Scratch and his men won’t be gentle.

  “Gonna offer a girl a drink first?” She nods toward the bar, and again Scratch laughs, and I watch as he adjusts himself in his pants and then leaves his hand there, gently stroking. “Sure, why not? We’ll let you wet your throat. We’ve got all night, babe.”

  Like vultures, the others are circling around her. “Hope you’re going to share, boss,” Witcher says, and even from here I can make out his eyes glowing with lust.

  “’Course I fuckin’ am. You ever pull a train, babe?”

  The woman shrugs. “Just get me that drink first, and…” Her sexy voice falters. Her eyes have been scanning the room and have fallen on me. Quickly she looks away and completes her sentence. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

  All doubt swept away, it really is her. I hold the little breath I can breathe in, hoping no one else had noticed her pause. But they’re too intent on eyeing her tits to listen to what she has to say. My broken gut clenches. She doesn’t know what she’s walked into, and, I have no idea how she’s going to get out. That she’s here for me is certain. If they discover who she is, she’s going to die along with me for sure. Even in ignorance, I wouldn’t be surprised if they killed her for their amusement. Leave, Marc. Before it’s too late.

  “Ours, babe. The twelve of us.” She must be terrified, but she’s smiling, and fuck me, licking her lips. She has no fucking idea what she’s setting herself up for.

  What’s her plan? Has she even got one? To check I’m here then go for help? By the hungry glances being thrown her way, she’s not going to get out before she’s been utterly broken.

  Having been out of the room, Zip walks past me, sees I’m awake, and gives me a kick to my side. Unable to suppress my groan, my body automatically tenses in an attempt to evade him even though I’m too broken to move.

  All eyes come to me, and Scratch roars with laughter. My suffering and a pretty woman has put him in a good humour.

  Her attention brought to me, she’s unable to ignore the body on the floor. She asks, nonchalantly, sounding completely disinterested, “Who’s that?”

  “One of our enemies.”

  She huffs a laugh. “Well I hoped it wasn’t one of your friends.” Then giggles as though she’s made a good joke. Her face otherwise impassive, as if the sight of a broken man doesn’t affect her at all. In fact, she ignores me and focuses on the biker standing before her. “So…” I pull myself together enough to see her hand going again to his chest, this time tracing the patches on his chest. “Scratch. If you’re the top man here, do you fuck the best?”

  He preens and puffs himself up. “Sure do, babe. And drink that drink up.” Grabbing her hand, he exchanges it for his on his dick. “I’m primed and ready to go.”

  “I can feel that,” she breathes in a seductive voice. She bends over as if to fondle his denim-covered cock. “Are you shy?” she whispers, but loud enough for me to hear.

  Another chuckle. “Have at it, babe.”

  I watch, with a feeling of dread, wondering how this is all going to end as she kneels on the floor and starts to undo his zip. But in a flash her hand changes direction, shooting down to her ankle. She stands fast, her arm around Scratch’s neck, her gun pressed into his temple as she warns, her features now gone from seductive to brutal, “One move and your president’s dead.”

  “He’s mine!”

  As six men burst in the front door, guns raised and ready for battle, I recognise the voice that had spoken. Slick. Christ! What are they doing here? How did they find me? I follow up with the thought, Brother, you’re going to get your final Rock Demon. Either they’ll all die with me—I’m too broken to save—but I can go easily, knowing my brothers have come for me.

  As the sound of gunfire starts, I’m unable to keep my eyes open. I give up.

  Seven months ago, I woke up to the sound of hospital instruments beeping, and now I’m back listening to the same damn sound again. I can’t move and there’s a tube down my throat. For a moment I wonder whether the last months have all been a bad dream, a delusion caused by my injuries when I came off my bike. I hear voices and try to distinguish them. Can I hear Crystal? Is she alive? Has everything been a nightmare?

  “I told you to leave.” That’s the prez.

  “Not until I know he’s alright.” Hell, that’s Marc.

  I feel crushing disappointment that I hadn’t been imagining my trip around Arizona and California without Crystal behind me. Hearing Marc’s voice shows it wasn’t a dream. I lost my wife a long time ago. The brief moment when I thought my grief had been imagined crushes me when I realise everything was real. Crystal’s dead, and has been for eight months.

  “He’s going to be fine. You heard what the doctor said.”

  As memories come rushing back, I don’t know how I’m still breathing, believing I would have died in that clubhouse. While Crystal might still be gone, to my surprise, I’m glad to realise I am still in the land of the living. Trying to control my swiftly changing emotions, I make an effort and open my eyes.

  I’ve heard her voice so many times on the phone, sometimes business like, often sympathetic and supporting, and then, that last night in the lair of the Demon Sons, seductive and alluring. But I’ve never before heard her squealing with joy like a child at Christmas.

  “Heart! You’re awake. Thank God.”

  Drummer leans over me. “I’ll get the doctor in. Don’t try to speak, you’re on a ventilator for now.”

  For the next few moments there’s a flurry of activity. At last the tube’s removed from my throat and I’m given some ice cubes to suck while the doctor catalogues my injuries. My weakened left leg has been broken and set, the right femur’s been fractured as well. All things considered, I’ve escaped life-threatening injuries. My dislocated shoulders have been put back into place, a total of four ribs are cracked, and numerous stab wounds which will leave interesting scars have been stitched up, including one on my face. Oh well, I always was too pretty.

  My broken fingers have been set, but I’ll always have one missing. I reckon I can get on without it, and it’s not as though I’ll ever want to put a ring on that finger again.

  Once the pain relief pump’s been explained, completely unnecessarily—I am well used to using that—the head of the bed has been raised at my request, and the medical staff leave us alone.

  After swallowing a few times trying to get moisture into my dry mouth, I rasp out the words, “How long this time?”

  “We found you yesterday evening.” Prez sounds concerned.

  At least I’ve not been out of things for a month, but it explains the level of pain I’m experiencing. “Everyone okay?”

  “If you’re talking about the Devils, everyone’s fine. Blade took a bullet to his leg, but he’ll recover, and Peg got a knife in his arm, but it’s only a scratch. As for the Demons, they’re all dead.”

  I manage a grin, though my face is swollen. “Did you make them hurt, Prez?”

  “Did what we could, Brother. At first we were outnumbered, so had to take them out fast. Marc kept Scratch occupied until Slick could get at him.”

  “Painter and Witcher?”

  “The VP and SAA?”

  I notice Marc’s looking away. “We took care of them the same way as Scratch. Down in the basement.”

  Marc glares at Drummer. “You kept me away from that.”

  “Plausible deniability.” Prez glares, then his eyes soften. “Couldn’t have saved Heart without your help. You did good.”

  “I killed one of them.” I
notice she’s biting her lip. Fuck me, a cop going in on the Devils’ side and taking out rival bikers? That’s some serious shit.

  “Self-defence, sweetheart. It was you or him.”

  She shrugs, but it looks like she’s having difficulty handling it. Then her eyes land on me again. “Hate to see you in a hospital bed again, Heart, but I’m so happy to see you alive.”

  Not as happy as I am. “How the fuck did you find me?” My voice is becoming hoarser. Marc passes me another ice cube to suck.

  “That was down to Marc, here. Seems you and she have gotten friendly.” Drummer’s eyebrows draw down, showing how little he thinks about that. “But thank fuck you did, it saved your life. She raised the alarm you were missing, and Mouse tracked your last location using your phone.”

  My narrowed eyes find Marc’s. “You put yourself in danger by coming into the clubhouse.”

  “I put myself in danger every day on the job. Wasn’t anything different. And Drum needed info as to who was inside.”

  “You…” My voice breaks as I remember. “You offered yourself.”

  “I knew Drummer and his boys were outside. The most important thing was getting to you. I needed to check what was going on, how many we were up against.”

  “We’d have still come in gun’s blazing, even if they’d moved or…”

  Killed you, I finish in my head. A corpse is what I expect they thought they would find. I still can’t quite believe I’m out of that hellhole. I lie back closing my eyes, pain making me press the button, and immediately I start to feel woozy.

  Sometime later I awake, and now both Wraith and Drummer are with me. My eyes flick around to find Marc, but she’s not in the room. She’s probably gone for a coffee or something. Something’s niggling at me. While I feel some clarity, the drugs are still preventing me from thinking straight. Scratch’s image, holding something…

  “Where’s my stuff?” I croak out.

  “Got your cut right here.” Wraith holds it up. And fuck me, I don’t know how they’ve done it, but my rightful patches are all back in place. A warm glow goes through me as the VP continues, “Fucker’s hung it up at the back of their bar. Oh, and this was with it. It yours? Didn’t seem to be like anything they’d have.”

  Fuck me, he’s holding the Christmas snow globe in his hands. I don’t know why it causes me such relief, but it does. The sight brings a small smile to my face, and Wraith decides to lighten the mood.

  “Haven’t you had enough of hospitals, man?” The VPs shaking his head, but there’s a gleam in his eyes confirming he’s pleased to see me.

  “What can I say? I seem to have a fetish for having my legs in casts.”

  Drummer’s pacing the room, but pauses to chuckle at my response. “Fuck it, Heart. You’re gonna have to be more careful and keep away from men trying a kill you. Medical expenses are fuckin’ adding up.”

  I hold out my least damaged hand and try to bump fists with Wraith. “So fuckin’ glad to see you, VP, Prez. I really thought my number was up.”

  Pausing his steps, Drummer scrutinises me. “Heard there was a time you’d have preferred that.”

  Marc’s been talking.

  He reads my mind and interprets my scowl. “Cop walking into the club bold as fuckin’ brass? Comes with some story about you? Had to find out why she knew where you were and that you were missing. Wouldn’t let her get away with just half facts.”

  I turn my head to the side, embarrassed my brothers know how low I’d sunk, and so terribly sorry for the things I did that made Drummer banish me as he had.

  “Sending you away wasn’t the best thing, I recognise that.” His hand sweeps down his head and settles on his beard, his mouth drawn down.

  “You did what you had to do for the club.” I swallow and ask the question that haunted me on the road. “What happened to Tinker?”

  “You can thank Dart’s woman, Alex, for sorting her out. She and her had a long conversation, said you were in a bad place. Tinker returned to work. But I tell ya, Heart—”

  “It will never happen again, Prez. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I haven’t been near a woman since.”

  He turns to examine me. “Except for Marc. You seem to have been cosying up to her. And fuck me, that’s a fuck of a handle for a bitch.”

  Wraith huffs a laugh. “Rides like a man, though. Handled that big rat bike no problem. Left us at the starting gate.”

  Drummer takes a second to focus his eyes on the VP before turning back to me. “Gonna need to have words about exactly what your conversations entailed. But I tell you this, it ends, now, Heart. Whatever it is between you. No one-percenter club can have law enforcement on the inside. You know this.”

  “Nothing between us but a few chats on the phone. She kept me sane, Prez.” I understand what he’s saying, but it doesn’t mean I like it. There were times on the road I just kept going to hear her voice. Drummer’s taking my lifeline away, but perhaps I don’t need it anymore, now I’ve again got my brothers at my back. Nevertheless, it still hurts me in the gut. I’ll miss her.

  “She needs to get out of your house, Heart. I’ve told her to go. Don’t want there to be any relationship between her and the club. None whatso-fuckin’-ever.”

  I sharpen my eyes. “My house is secure, Prez. She needs somewhere to go where she can be safe. Someone’s already tried to kill her.”

  Drum pinches the bridge of his nose. “I get what you’re saying and accept you owe her a debt. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have known you were missing, and from the state we found you in, not too far a stretch to think you’d already be dead. I’ll get onto finding her somewhere else and help out with the security.”

  “That would ease my mind, Prez. I owe her my life.” My eyebrows draw down in a frown as I realise how big a part she played in my rescue. “She’s saved me twice.”

  I’m about to reach for the pain pump when something else occurs to me. “You need to talk to her, Drum.” Christ, he’s going to lose his shit when I tell him this. “She asked me if Slick had anything to do with blowing up Lucas Herrera’s house and killing Archer.”

  “You fuckin’ what?” His voice thunders, making my head pound, and he takes a step closer. “That right fuckin’ there is why we don’t talk to cops. She been doing some digging?”

  Wraith’s on his feet and running his hands through his hair. “How the fuck did she come up with that? What were you saying to her, Heart?”

  Now both my VP and Prez are staring at me as if I’ve betrayed the club. I raise my bandaged hands as though to ward them off. “Look, listen to me. She was trying to get justice for Crystal. Turns out, the word is Archer died a hero, they want to give him a posthumous commendation for some trumped-up reason. Before someone threw a bomb through her window, she was looking through the files because she thinks her sergeant and partner are dirty.”

  Drum’s shaking his head. “How the fuck did she come up with Slick’s name? We did it clean, left nothing for them to fuckin’ find.”

  “Fuck knows, but here’s the strange thing. She’s been told the bomb that killed Archer was the same one that was used at her house. The suggestion was that both she and Archer must have crossed the same people. And one of the suspects is the club.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Heart. Why am I hearing this now?”

  “Because I’ve been a bit tied up,” I spit out in frustration. “I told her Slick had nothing to do with her house being bombed.”

  “Too fuckin’ right. But how have they come up with a match between the two explosives?”

  Fuck, I hurt. Still my hand hovers above the pain pump, but I refrain from pressing it. “I think she’s in danger,” I say as forcefully as I can. “She’s been digging too deep and stepping on someone’s toes. Cops would know how to make a bomb that’s a match.”

  “She’s a cop.” Wraith lifts his chin toward Drummer. “Club needs to look after its own. If she’s in danger from her own people, she’ll have p
roper channels to go through.”

  Drummer leans his head back and stares at the ceiling. “VP’s right. Sorry, Heart. I don’t see what else I can do. Club and LEO have to stay separate. No question about it. We owe her, so I’ll see she gets settled, but can’t go much further than that.”

  I make one last plea before succumbing to the morphine. “I owe her,” I repeat. “She’s safe where she is, and the house can’t be traced back to the club. I won’t be going there ever again. Couldn’t stand to place a foot in it.” My eyes meet his, in return he just stares.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marc…

  I heard Drum loud and clear when he told me I have to leave Heart’s lovely house. The place that’s helped me feel safe and secure. The out-of-the-way home where no one could find me. Now I’ve got to rent somewhere myself and have my name and address listed on records.

  Parking the Suzuki next to its stablemate, I leave the garage and enter the house via the door that connects to the kitchen. My head feels heavy, two days of hard riding having taken their toll. Sure, Drummer told me to me to find new accommodation, but that means I’ve got to pour over available and affordable places to rent, and that’s not going to happen overnight. I’m not going to pack and move out when my only option is to live on the streets like someone who’s homeless, even if that is what I am. Surely even he must realise it’s going to take me some time to sort out somewhere new.

  It’s not that I don’t understand or appreciate his reasoning, but for the past few months, Heart’s been my friend, and I’ve not really thought of him as a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang. But now he’s being accepted back into the fold, if I want to hold on to my job, I do need to keep my distance. If he let anything slip, it would be my duty to report it.

  But I didn’t do my duty in the Demon Sons’ clubhouse.

  I condoned, by default, what I suspected was going on in the basement. They had hardly taken the men down there for a friendly chat. Haven’t I already crossed that line? How can I be a good cop if I let things like that slide? Or even be prepared to go into a situation with guns blazing. I killed a man and watched others murdered in front of me. The first time I’ve ever pointed and used a gun in earnest against a living breathing human being. But it saved Heart.