Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “Can I help you?”

  As I’d been meeting my boss today, I’ve dressed as neatly as I could while having to accept limitations due to my mode of transportation. I’m wearing black slacks, teamed with a white blouse and black jacket. Over my arm I carry my leather jacket and helmet. I probably look a mixture of things. Putting my motorcycle attire at my feet, I stand tall and smooth back my hair, which is tied into a respectable bun.

  “I’d like to see Mr Herrera, please. Leonardo Herrera.” I add the last, not wanting to be fobbed off with anyone lower than the head of the family.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  I shake my head, get out my police ID and hand it over. She examines it for a second, then turning away places a call.

  When she turns back, she’s got a look of triumph on her face. “Mr Herrera has back-to-back meetings today. His PA suggests you make an appointment for another time.”

  A not unexpected setback, though my identification would normally get me seeing the person I want. Herrera probably considers himself way above the law. “When will he be available?”

  She consults a screen. “Not for another couple of weeks. It appears he’s going out of town.”

  I can’t insist it’s police business, and I can’t make waves. The last thing I need is for my visit here today to be reported back to Sergeant Reynolds. Dismissed, I leave with as much dignity as I can muster, get back on my bike, and point it toward home.

  I get only halfway before half a dozen motorcycles swarm up and surround me. The sight of the Satan’s Devils cuts both reassures and worries me. What are they doing here?

  Boxed in as I am, I’ve no option but to go with them, but they don’t deviate from the route I was originally on, and soon it becomes obvious what they’re doing. They’re escorting me home.

  I’ve absolutely no idea why they’re here or how they knew where I’d be. Perplexed, I drive up to the garage, opening it with the remote. As some of the other bikes peel off, Drummer parks up beside me. “Get your bike inside,” he snarls. He turns to beckon at his VP.

  The garage is a double one, and there’s room for both him and Wraith to park alongside my two bikes. As the door rolls down, all the bikes are out of sight except for that of the prospect waiting outside.

  He pushes me into the house, and I’m still confused, particularly as I feel the waves of anger rolling off the MC president. Okay, so I intentionally lost his prospect, but would that amount to such a crime? His anger is palpable, his cheeks red, his mouth pursed, and his eyes… I suppress a shiver. I’m a police officer, he’s an outlaw. He shouldn’t be able to intimidate me.

  As soon as we’re in the kitchen, his hand grips my shoulder and he swings me around so fast I have to put my hand on the counter to stop myself falling.

  “What the fuck did you think you were doing?” He growls so fiercely I’m afraid of his bite. He grasps my other shoulder, and with both his hands shakes me. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

  My eyes go wide, and I bite my lip, not understanding what I’m supposed to have done wrong. I glance at Wraith, but he’s looking equally furious. Hyde, who’s also come in, looks a combination of embarrassed and angry.

  “You don’t even know, do you?” He releases me sharply and runs his hands through his hair. “I’ve got two options now. Throw you to the fuckin’ wolves or bring you in under our protection.”

  Finding my voice, I point to the front of the house. “I thought I already was. You’ve given me this prison with a prospect as a guard—”

  “Fuckin’ lot of use he was.”

  Flicking my eyes toward Hyde, who’s looking down at his feet, I jump to his defence. “My bike’s got better handling.”

  He waves his hand in dismissal. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? Or have you a death wish?”

  I still don’t know where I’ve gone wrong. “Look, Drummer, I went to see if I could talk to Leonardo Herrera.”

  “And painted a huge great fuckin’ target on your back!” He just stares for a moment. “You were supposed to just stick to looking at the files, not going out investigating yourself.”

  “I didn’t get anywhere. I didn’t speak to anyone. Herrera was too busy to talk to me.”

  “And thank fuck for that!” He looks around as if preferring to look any way but at me, before he turns back. “It’s a volatile situation at the moment. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

  “I’m a police officer.”

  “You think carrying a badge protects you? Christ, woman.”

  It should. I’m one of the good guys.

  I go into the living room, placing my jacket and helmet on the table by the door. “Drummer, I’m grateful for what you’ve done and the help you’re giving me. But I need to do my job—”

  The sound of machine gun fire reaches me only an instant before Drummer grabs me and throws me on the floor, covering me with his body. I start to shake as the shots ring out. I should have been more careful after the first attempt on my life, but I really didn’t believe I was still under threat.

  It seems an age, but probably could be measured in seconds until the shooting stops, and there’s the sound of a vehicle speeding away.

  “Now will you fuckin’ believe me, woman? Stay the fuck down.”

  But as Drummer gets to his feet, I follow, getting to mine. I can’t cower on the floor, I’m a professional. Wraith and Hyde are brushing themselves off.

  “Fuck, Heart will have his time cut out keeping you under control.”

  And while I don’t understand his explanation, my eyes widen as I look around the room, and then at the glass in the windows, which are incredibly starred but still intact. “Drummer?” I indicate where I’m looking.

  “Bulletproof glass,” he explains, almost absentmindedly. “Heart wanted every protection for his wife and daughter.”

  And thank goodness for that. It’s quite possibly the second time my life has been saved. Realising how close my call with death could have been, my legs start to shake and I drop down onto the couch. Someone tried to kill me. Again. It’s only because Drummer allowed me to stay in this house that I’m alive and unharmed. If I’d had a normal house without such safety features, I could even now be dead or fatally wounded.

  Drummer’s talking fast on the phone. In my dazed state I pick up a few words. ‘Crash truck’, ‘SUV’, and ‘as fast as you can’.

  I’ve got to do something. But Drummer’s quicker and snatches my own phone out of my hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Calling it in.” I look up, confused. That’s exactly what I should do, isn’t it?

  Drummer’s face softens, and he sits down beside me. “You’re in my world now, sweetheart. We have to rely on ourselves.”

  “But my colleagues—”

  “You know any you can trust?”

  He seems to be waiting as I quickly run through everyone in the department. I’m certain they’re not all dirty—surely I’d know?—but eventually I shake my head. Due to my habit of not letting people in close, I don’t go out for after-work drinks with the team, or make time to socialise with anyone. Could I really swear who to report the shooting to with any conviction they weren’t behind it? A rogue tear comes to my eye.

  He notices and wipes it away with his thumb. “It’s not gonna be easy, not for you or for us. But things are changing and fast. We can’t protect you here, that’s for certain. Next time, and there will be a next time, however much you want to deny it, they’ll come better prepared now they know what they’re up against.” He points to the windows, now looking like they’re covered in spider webs, like a stone breaking against a windscreen. “They might stop a bullet, but not a bomb or a grenade. I can’t risk my men to keep watch, so you’re coming to the clubhouse, where we can make sure you’re safe.”

  That’s unexpected, but he gives me no further time to question his statement. “Go pack your stuff, darlin’. The boys will be here soon, and I don’t want
to waste time getting back. Need to get you clear of here before we find out how determined they are to take you out.”

  “I’m on the right track. With the link to the Herreras.”

  “There are things you don’t know, but I’m not discussing it now. Go get packed.” As I walk away to the bedroom I’m still using, having refused to move into the master, I pack up the clothes that I’d slowly been replacing.

  “Drum? I can’t get this all on the bike.”

  He appears in the doorway. “You won’t be riding. We’ll get the bikes back on the truck. You’re a target now, remember?”

  “You going to let my Kawasaki and Suzuki onto the compound?” It’s the first thought I’ve had today that amuses me. I can’t hide my grin.

  He grimaces. “Can’t be as bad as letting in a cop.”

  I might not have called it in, but surely someone must have reported the sound of gunshots? I wait to hear the comforting sirens and official help that must be on its way, but outside the road is silent. The lack of the noise of my comrades responding is what helps make up my mind. I’m not safe here anymore.

  The crash truck arrives, and as I watch my two bikes being loaded, I feel that my life’s spinning out of control.

  I’d taken up my career as I wanted to work for justice for all. While I had personal experience how the system regularly failed people, I wanted to do my part to make it better. In my previous posting, I’d excelled and received recognition. I’m still not able to understand what’s gone wrong for me in what was supposed to be a fresh start and new opportunity to shine in Tucson.

  Now, rather than working to put these members of an OMG behind bars, I’m not only agreeing to their protection, but I’m going to be accepting their hospitality. It’s getting harder than ever to think of them as criminals and in terms of what my police colleagues would call them, less of an outlaw gang, and as they prefer to be called, a motorcycle club.

  My world’s done a complete one-eighty.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Heart…

  I pull myself to my feet, putting my weight on the crutches. Seven weeks after Scratch tried his best to dispatch me from this world, I’ve had the cast removed, and Peg has been brilliant, coming to physiotherapy with me so he knows which muscles to concentrate on while he works me at home. Those parallel bars that were put in for him after he came back from Afghanistan minus half a leg paying dividends for yet another victim.

  I’d just finished a punishing session when we got the news that Marc had been visiting Herrera. The fear that went through me was unexpected, and I longed to be with them as I saw my brothers mount up their rides and go to see whatever the fuck was going on.

  I’m not much wiser when Peg returns.

  “What’s happening?”

  Peg waves me back down onto the couch and pulls up a chair which he straddles. “We got her home. That’s all I know.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I brush back my hair, now thankfully the shaven side has just about grown more or less equal with the other, or enough so it doesn’t much show. “What the fuck was she thinking?”

  “No idea, man. All we know from Hyde is that she visited her boss this morning, as expected, and then took off on the way back, riding that rat bike of hers like a pro, losing Hyde in the process. Prospect didn’t have a fuckin’ chance to keep up. Thank fuck Mouse was monitoring her phone and knew where to send us in case we needed to claim a body.”

  My gut clenches at the thought. “But she’s alright?”

  “Didn’t speak to her, but she seemed unharmed.”

  “Daddy, Daddy!” a high-pitched voice screams out and then repeats, getting progressively louder. “Daddy!”

  My thoughts are interrupted as my daughter runs up to me, being caught in Peg’s arms before she knocks into me. “What did we say, Amy?”

  She pouts as she looks up at him. “That Daddy’s got poorly legs.”

  “My arms are okay.” I reach out and she runs into them. Her smile of delight as I pull her onto my lap still triggers a pang of guilt inside me. I’ve been back over a month now, and she still seems surprised and delighted every time she comes into the clubhouse and sees me still here. Sam and Drummer have been great. Until I’m healed, I’m staying with them up at their house, helping with Amy as best I can, first from the wheelchair, and now the crutches.

  “What you been up to, Trouble?”

  She purses her lips, just like Crystal used to do when I annoyed her. More used to it now, the familiar expression makes me want to laugh rather than cry. “My name’s not Trouble. It’s Amy.” I kiss the top of her head, wondering how it is I’m so lucky to have this miracle with me, a part of my wife that I’ll protect with my life. I can no longer understand my reasoning when I pushed her away, but constantly vow I’ll never leave her again. There’s nothing more precious than this little girl.

  She’s holding out a piece of paper. Taking it, I turn it this way and that. Okay, she hasn’t inherited her mother’s artistic ability, or if she has, there’s no current sign. A frown comes over her face as she turns it in what is apparently the right way up and tells me, “That’s your bike.”

  “Of course it is.” I’d been trying my best to do some work on it yesterday, getting help from Slick to give it a service, itching to be able to ride it again. My bike now, no longer Adam’s.

  Peg, who’d disappeared while I’d been admiring the masterpiece, comes back in. “Drummer’s called.” Whatever he’s heard I can see by the way his brow’s pulled down that it isn’t welcome. “Your place just got shot up, Heart.”

  “Fuck!” I can almost hear Crystal’s voice in my ear as I cover Amy’s ears just a little too late. “Prez and Marc okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks to your over-the-top security. Fuck knows what Prez is thinking, but he’s bringing her back, along with her fuckin’ plastic bikes. Wants me and some brothers to give them an escort and the prospects to take the crash truck for her rides.”

  I’m reeling from a raft of emotion. First fear that she would have been hurt were it not for my desire to keep my family safe, and second, a leap in my heart that I’ll see her again. Having let my brothers down so badly, I’d done as asked and hadn’t even picked up the phone to call her. But I’d missed talking to my friend, missed listening to her and hearing her tell me about her day and those fucking bikes. I missed her encouragement, never quite successful in putting her completely out of my mind. Now I’m eager to see her again, and if I could, I’d tan her hide for getting herself into such trouble that the Satan’s Devils are having to rescue her.

  What the fuck will this mean for the club?

  Slick’s old lady’s sister, fifteen-year-old Jayden, comes over. When she holds out her arms, Amy wriggles to get down. I mouth thanks. Jayden’s been fantastic, she’s got a way with kids, and when she’s not in school she’s been helping out with the babies too. I’d found there’d been changes around the club. The room next to the gym that we hadn’t done much with has been converted into a nursery.

  “You going to help bake?” Jayden crouches down to Amy’s level.

  “Cookies?” The teenager laughs and takes Amy’s hand. “You and your cookies.”

  I grin. Amy’s happy to be taken away. For a second I have a pang that she’ll never be baking with her mother, but have come to accept what’s done can’t be changed. This is my life now, and Amy’s. Slowly I’m learning it is possible to move on.

  “Head’s up, Heart. Prez is ringing Sam to get a room prepared. She’ll be staying in Dart’s old suite.”

  That’s next to mine. Well, if I’m not up at Drum’s house. But it makes sense. Dart’s the VP at San Diego now, so his room’s unused.

  “When we get back, Prez wants everyone in church. Can you send a group text? Should be back in an hour or so.”

  I can do that. I nod as he leaves, then take out my phone and draft a quick text to the group, then take a note of the replies. It’s just under sixty minutes later when
I hear the sound of engines cutting as my brothers park outside. Grabbing my crutches I ease myself to my feet, then stand in the middle of the room, anticipating her arrival. Then thinking I’m looking too eager, change my mind and make my way into church.

  What would I say to her? How would I act? This woman who’d come to mean so much to me, and who saved my life—not once, but twice? Right now I’m so angry with her, I’m not sure I could control my temper. She should have been safe. If she’d just kept her nose to herself. You can’t get all the bad ones, Marc. Not by yourself. But even without the facts, it’s already perfectly clear that’s what she’s trying to do.

  I’m also irate she’s involved the club. Prez isn’t, and neither are I nor my brothers, the type of men who’d knowingly leave a woman hung out to dry. If she was anyone else, it wouldn’t matter, but she’s a cop. Now she’s going to be here on the inside of a one-percenter club.

  I take my seat, drop into it wearily, and lean my crutches up against the desk. One by one my brothers walk in. When Prez appears, he gives me a hard look.

  “Who’s not here?”

  I wave to the empty seats. “Joker and Lady are out on a run, everyone else said they’re coming. Road had something to finish up at Angels.” After I fucked up my chance and Road was patched in, he was given the job of running Satan’s Angels, our strip club.

  Drummer kicks his chair out, sits down and leans back, resting his foot on the table. His hands toy with his beard. “Rumour mill working?”

  Some nod their heads, some only just arrived shake theirs instead.

  Prez looks directly at me. “We all knew Heart cosying up to the po-po could come back and bite us, and Detective Marcia Hannah tugged the tail of the tiger today. After visiting her sergeant and hearing news that she still couldn’t do her job officially, she tried to see Leonardo Herrera.”