A round of ‘what the fucks?’ or other variations on the same theme echo through the room.
Drum kicks down his foot, pulls his chair in, and leans his elbows on the table. “Someone shot up the house we’re letting her stay in immediately afterward. I was with her. We were saved by the bulletproof glass Heart installed.”
“That’s why you brought her back?” Blade’s frowning. “Wondered what the fuck she was doing here and why you hid her toys.”
A small smile plays at Drummer’s lips. “Yeah, she wasn’t impressed when we put her plastic two-wheeler shit behind the shop. I might have led her to believe we didn’t want her contaminating our rides. But if anyone comes calling…”
“I’ll get them tarped up and out of sight.”
Prez nods his thanks to Blade.
“Where’s she now?” Slick’s lighting up, and this time it takes more of an effort to turn down the offered smoke.
“Got Sam and the other old ladies setting her up in Dart’s suite. Hyde’s with them, and with a warning if he lets her out of his sight again he’ll never get patched in.”
“Never did like the fucker,” Slick growls.
“Not having a discussion on Hyde now, Slick. Know you had problems when he first arrived. Give him a few more months.”
“Doubt any of us could have kept up with her. That Suzuki all but goes horizontal around corners.” Marvel gives his support.
Drum raps on the table. “Friday we were discussing what the fuck’s going on with the Herreras. Mouse, any more news?”
Mouse frowns. “Yeah, Prez. Heard chatter the takeover is going ahead. Leonardo will take retirement, and his son, Javier, is stepping up. Doesn’t stop there, some of the older lieutenants will be ousted too.”
“Out with the old, in with the new. How does this affect us, Prez?”
“No idea, Peg. No fuckin’ idea. But my gut feel is, I don’t like it. I respected Leonardo, know nothing about the son at all. I don’t like being in the fuckin’ dark.”
“His son wasn’t there when we met with them. When we were shutting down the child grooming ring.”
“Noted that at the time, Slick. Either he was being sidelined, or he doesn’t share the same views as his father.”
A fucking bad time for Marc to try to get a meeting with the man at the top. She was lucky to walk out of the building alive. But they almost got her pretty soon after.
Wraith seems to be studying his hands, which are clasped in front of him on the table, his face fixed in a frown. Suddenly he looks up. “Should we ask for a meeting once the dust settles?”
The prez covers his face with his palms. After a moment, he draws them down, pulling at the skin under his eyes. “Not sure about that. Until Slick’s issues, we never met face-to-face, never had to. We’ve managed to coexist without stepping on each other’s feet.”
Slick’s scowling. “You don’t reckon Javier was part of the child grooming stuff?”
Fuck me. I hope not. Amy and Jayden were targets.
“That’s too much of a leap for right now, Slick. But we’ll keep the possibility in mind.”
Paladin looks like he wants to add something. Drum stays him with a raised hand. “What I do want to discuss is our immediate problem. The fact we’ve got an enemy in our camp, and how we’re going to deal with it.”
Beef and Rock murmur something to each other, then Rock looks at me. “He caused the problem, he deals with it.”
Prez raises an eyebrow in my direction, but what he says next isn’t what I expected. “What we have to acknowledge is, if Heart hadn’t gotten involved with Marcia Hannah, both he and her would probably be dead.”
“Complete the job. Problem solved.” With an evil grin, Blade points his knife toward me.
“Asshole,” I spit back.
“Shut up!” Prez waits. “Right, Heart.” He’s got my attention, those steely grey eyes looking straight into mine. Then he pronounces in all seriousness, “You’re gonna take full responsibility for her. Just like her being your ol’ lady.”
Grabbing my crutches, I pull them toward me. In my shock and horror, I misjudge, and they go crashing to the ground. I manage to pull myself up by balancing my weight on the table. “No fuckin’ way.” I’m shouting. “Prez. No fuckin’ way. Only ol’ lady I ever had or want is gone.” As he doesn’t flinch at the strength in my voice, I lower it and speak in a more reasonable tone. “I can’t do it, Prez. I can’t disrespect Crystal.”
“Hey, you get to fuck her, you lucky bugger.” Tongue grabs his junk. “I could do that.”
Before I can voice that I’ve no desire to fuck anybody, Prez glares that glare—the one that normally means you’re about to be dead—and Tongue, thank fuck, shuts up. “If she’s treated as an ol’ lady she doesn’t get to know club business.” His voice rises and gets louder toward the end. “Is that fuckin’ understood?” He lets that sink in before adding, “She’s law enforcement, and no one here should forget that. We’ll hold you accountable, Heart. You have to own that. You stick to her like glue, vet what she sees and what she does.”
“Prez, I can’t, I simply can’t.” He might not actually be telling me to take her as my old lady, but even using the words in the same sentence as her name makes me see red. That’s Crystal’s title.
“You can, and you will. You got involved with her, you brought this on the club. Now it’s down to you to make sure it doesn’t hurt us.” His stare fixes me again, and I can’t argue with what he’s said. He nods when he realises I know I’ve no argument to offer. Except that I don’t want an old lady. “We’ve put her in the suite next to yours. Whatever arrangement you want to make will be between the two of you. But you watch her, make sure she doesn’t poke her nose anywhere it’s not wanted. She’ll be trying to find out whatever she can.”
“Doesn’t have to be a cop to do that, Prez. Being female is all that’s required.” Slick’s glum look suggests Ella is inquisitive, but Viper, Bullet, and Wraith’s sighs seem to agree.
How the fuck am I going to do this? Treat another woman as my old lady? How long does Drummer think this farce needs to continue?
“As normal, we need to vote in an old lady.” His eyes stare at us one by one. “In this case, we’re agreeing Heart takes responsibility for Marcia.”
There’s not much enthusiasm, and a few uncertain looks are thrown my way, but soon everyone agrees.
“I’m not giving her a property patch,” I say glumly. As my brothers move on to other business, I stare at the fingers of my left hand. At least I won’t be wearing a ring. That’s one thing I can be grateful to the Demon Sons for.
Chapter Eighteen
Marc…
I’ve been to the compound on a few prior occasions, but never to see more than the clubroom or Drummer’s office. The one time I could have explored, when Archer had somehow fabricated a search warrant, I’d stayed with Drummer, too embarrassed to take part in what was really an excuse for cops to go to town, destroying the possessions of a ‘gang’ they despised. Half of me knew they were handpicked by Archer and not here because they wanted to uphold the law. No, in part it was getting their own back on men who lived a lifestyle they envied.
Oh, back at the station they’d expressed disgust at club whores on tap, the vast amounts of alcohol found and the drugs that they didn’t. Truth didn’t matter, rumours abounded that they’d gotten one up on the whoring, drunk, drugged-up to the eyebrows detested bikers. It had fuelled many a conversation for the following week.
I’d seen some of the damage they’d caused to the clubhouse and knew they’d done the same to the living quarters too. I remember Drummer clearly asking me who were the criminals that day? I’d had no answer for him, or none that my job would allow me to put into words.
Now this same compound seems to have become my temporary home.
As soon as we arrived, and I’d seen my bikes unloaded and wheeled away out of sight—heaven forbid anything should sully their Harleys—Drum
mer had whisked his men away off to a meeting.
As a cop I’d received basic education on bikers, and now I’m about to be thrown into their midst. On the way here, I’d been tempted to question the prospect who’d been driving the crash truck, knowing from my reading the training material what being patched into a one-percenter club usually involves. Is this one of the clubs where at the initiation ceremony all members urinate on the prospect’s cut? Or make prospective members kill someone as part of their induction? I found myself unable to ask, already thinking it seemed unlikely. It wasn’t just that I knew he wouldn’t give me the answer, but their cuts looked so clean, I couldn’t believe they’d stoop to the first. As for the latter, the clean-cut young biker driving didn’t seem like someone who’d kill in cold blood.
Other excerpts come back to me. They pass their women around. Old ladies earn money on their backs… Maybe the Satan’s Devils are different, or maybe the fear factor amped up during my training sessions was fuelled by the same envy as the cops who’d destroyed the compound that day. Misinformation, making them seem more like the enemy.
The police have problems with the cartels, slave trafficking rings. Organised crime and protection rackets litter our streets along with the day-to-day robberies and violence, yet we still seemed encouraged to focus on biker gangs as our biggest enemy. Nothing in my dealings with the Satan’s Devils has to date given me answers to understand why. Oh, they killed the Demon Sons right in front of me, but as I’d also been holding a gun, and Heart had been lying there dying, it hadn’t been difficult to determine right and wrong sides.
As I stand just inside the clubroom pondering the rapid change in my circumstances, realising my colleagues couldn’t have gotten me to a safe house so fast, I feel the rush of adrenaline fading and go weak at the knees as it starts to sink in the lengths someone is going to kill me. They shot up the house where I was staying.
“Hey, you must be Marcia. I’m Sam, Drummer’s old lady.” I recall meeting her before, but it must be getting on for a year ago now.
I glance up to see a woman carrying a baby in her arms. I’m not surprised to see him wearing a Harley t-shirt. It’s definitely a boy, I can tell that from here. Suppressing the normal pang that goes through me, I focus on the woman rather than the child she’s holding. “How old?” I ask politely.
“Five months,” she replies, planting a loving kiss to his head. “Meet Eli, Drummer’s son.”
“Hi, Eli.” I feel silly speaking to a child, and as he turns my way, there’s no doubt to his parentage. Already steely grey eyes look knowingly into me, but then his face splits into a grin and he starts babbling.
“Drummer’s asked me to get you settled in. There’s a suite been prepared for you in the compound. No, leave your bags. Jekyll? Can you grab them and follow us?”
The prospect takes my bags out of my hand. “Where we going?”
“Dart’s old room. Come on, Marcia, let’s get you settled.”
Taking it for granted that I’ll be following, she moves toward the door. A bubble of fear and anticipation goes through me as I take my first real step into this biker world.
I’ve read up about the Satan’s Devils and know this compound used to be a vacation resort. When a wildfire came too close and swept through it, the owners sold it. So badly damaged no one else wanted to buy it, the club bought it cheap. As I go up past adjoining blocs, each looking like they contain a couple of suites, I can see what a good job they’ve made of it—and that they’ve still got room to expand. There are still some burned-out hulks I see off to one side. If they filled those with bikers we’d have a massive club on our hands.
Should I be thinking like a cop now? Somehow that feels insensitive. These men are protecting me from an unknown foe. Drummer could have been killed alongside me this morning. I pause my steps, knowing I’ve got to make a conscious decision. Either I do my job and soak up as much information as possible, or I suspend that part of my brain. For the moment it’s not clear what direction I should be taking. Deciding to leave the choice to be made a little later, once I understand what I’m stepping into here, I start walking again.
Sam stops in front of a bloc and Jekyll puts down my bags, opens the door, then picks them up again and carries them in. There are two doors separated by a small hallway. The prospect repeats the process as he opens the one and then hands me the key that was hanging in the lock.
I turn to thank him. He accepts my words with a fast nod, eyeing me a little suspiciously. As he walks off, it brings home my position. Turning to Sam, I sigh. “I’m not welcome here, am I?”
As befits the president’s woman, her eyes narrow. “You here to bring down the club?”
Her direct question makes me come to the resolution I thought would take longer. How could I betray the people who were trying to help me? I glance at the baby still held in her arms. “No. I’m not.” Then I qualify it. “Unless I see something I can’t turn a blind eye too.”
“And what’s your definition of that?”
I think quickly. “Mass murder?” But haven’t I already witnessed that in LA? And I didn’t point the finger then.
Her grin is fast and genuine. “I hope I can assure you, you won’t see anything like that.”
I like her, this woman who according to her cut is the property of Drummer.
I’m still thinking on the dynamics of that ownership as we enter the pleasantly furnished suite. From what I’d been told, bikers share their women around, prostituting them out. Or even when they commit to one can move on to another, leaving their ex old lady to service their brothers. Or they might keep her and just be unfaithful by going with the club whores. From what I’ve seen of this woman already, I don’t think she’d be someone to put up with that type of behaviour, or allow herself to be passed around. Once again, my training manual appears to be wrong.
“Fresh linen is on the bed. Towels and toiletries in the bathroom. I think you’ve got everything you need. If not, just give me a shout. Or one of the other old ladies. You’ll be meeting them soon.”
As I lift my suitcase onto the bed, ready to start unpacking, I’m surprised when she comes in and sits herself down on the mattress, laying a now sleeping child next to her. After a fond look in his direction, she glances at me, impishly.
“So, your Suzuki 7/11. That can do nearly two hundred, can’t it? And the cornering. Wow, just thinking about it makes me wet.”
I start in surprise, and laughter bursts out of me. Setting aside the task of unpacking for now, I push the case over and sit down beside her, hoicking one leg onto the mattress so I can talk to her face. “Haven’t had it long. Put the new engine in myself. And wow, yup. When I can let it go, it’s fucking ace.”
Her eyes sharpen when I tell her I worked on it myself. “I’ve got an old Vincent. Rebuilt it from scratch. Apart from my men, it’s the love of my life.”
Now this is someone I could be friends with. “Hey, a Vincent Black Shadow? Can’t recall seeing one in the flesh. I’d love to try it. Gears are on the opposite side, right? How do you find it?”
“It’s a devil to ride.”
I’ve heard that, and my respect for her grows. We talk bikes for a while, and my offer for her to ride my rat sometime has her glowing. We’re getting on like a house on fire, laughing so hard tears are falling from my eyes as she relates the story of the dirt track behind the compound, and how she showed up the men by beating them all, when there are female voices at the doorway.
I turn to see who the newcomers are while half of me is still trying to process how Sam’s prowess with her riding skills didn’t faze any of these hardened bikers, again something my education hadn’t prepared me for. It takes me a second to process a woman entering carrying yet another baby. My God, haven’t they heard of birth control here? Have they all got kids? It’s another thing I hadn’t expected to find at the compound.
“Marcia, this is Sophie. She’s Wraith’s, the VP’s woman, and her baby’s just a
month older than Eli.”
“Olivia.” Sophie beams as she looks at the child in her arms.
“Ollie,” Sam throws back at her. Sophie sticks her tongue out, and I gather it’s an inside joke I can’t yet understand.
“Oh, good.” She spies Eli on the bed, sleeping, and without asking permission goes and puts her daughter down alongside him.
It’s only then I notice the other women behind.
“Hi, I’m Ella. I’m with Slick.” A woman with her hair in a short attractive bob gives a little wave as she introduces herself.
“I’m Sandy—Sam’s mother-in-law and Viper’s old lady.”
“And I’m Carmen, Bullet’s my old man.”
“Watch Carmen, she’s a hairdresser and always on the lookout for more victims.”
Carmen throws a mock punch toward Sam.
“Hello!” a smaller, less confident voice says behind them, and I look up to see a young girl still in her teens. “I’m Jayden.” Jayden? The Jayden? She looks so sweet and innocent. I immediately wonder why Archer had her in his sights, and whether there’s still any danger to her. It’s only then I notice she’s holding the hand of the most adorable child I’ve seen in my life. She’s got reddish-blond hair that I suspect will grow darker as she gets older. She’s sucking her thumb, but when she turns her blue eyes toward me, I recognise them with a start, and realise I’ve seen her once before, many months ago when she was a bit younger. This is Heart’s daughter.
Jayden sees me looking at her and glances down fondly. “Meet Amy,” she says, pushing the shy child my way.
“Pretty.” Amy comes over and touches my long blond hair, which has escaped from its bun with all the action today.
Carmen barks a laugh. “Think she’s been watching me.” Although I’m still out of the loop, their infectious laughter and giggles have me joining in.
Obviously not a shy child, Amy holds up her arms to be picked up, and it seems natural to scoop her onto my lap. She fits into my arms and turns her face to inspect me. “What’s your name?”
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