Being Lost: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #1

by Manda Mellett

  Introductions done? All I know is that he’s in the wrong house, and has admitted it, telling me only that’s he’s mislaid his path. Now he wants to talk? That’s probably a euphemism, or a new approach for a kidnapper or rapist. Or does he want me to tell him where my valuables are so he can rob me? Well, he’s come to the wrong house. I’ve nothing worth stealing.

  Despite the fact he’s where he shouldn’t be, he doesn’t appear overly threatening, which is strange. Though would a would-be rapist walk in with a glowing sign over their head? Alder and Phil were criminals and nothing about their appearance would lead you to suspect their depravities. Nevertheless, while I’m considering whether he’s got any evil intent, when he casually sits on my sofa, right in the seat I’d so recently vacated, something inside me snaps.

  “Who are you?” I spit at him. “And what the hell do you think you’re doing in my house?”

  “I’m Lost,” he says again, arching an eyebrow as if that explains everything. “And I just want to have a chat with you, babe.”

  “Don’t babe me,” I say fast, wanting to keep him at a distance even just verbally. “I want you to leave.”

  His head moves side to side, and an amused smirk appears. He’s placed himself between the door and me. If I tried to run, he’d intercept me, and as for me physically fighting him off? Not a freaking chance.

  As I’m summing up my non-existent escape routes, he informs me, “I’m not gonna leave until you start listening. Because, babe, you need to hear what I’ve got to say.”

  “Are you some kind of salesman?” I offer the first innocent suggestion that comes into my head. I wonder what he’s selling if he is and whether I’d buy anything from him if that would make him leave. Though it’s unlikely, his skin is weathered as if he works outside, and his hands… Christ, I had to look at them, didn’t I? They lie loosely in his lap, but the position doesn’t hide the fact that they’re large. And if it’s true what they say, their proportions makes me think another part of him is unlikely to disappoint.

  Shit. I am not going to go near those books again. They’ve put too many ideas in my head.

  “Sit, babe.” He pats the seat beside him, half turning to make me space.

  “No.” I fold my arms and glare, determined not to go anywhere near this strange man. “I want you to leave. My son will be home shortly,” I warn him again.

  “Babe.” Now he stresses the word as he stands. He stalks toward me. I take a step back, and start circling around, my cunning plan being to get to the door. But he steps this way and that, and belatedly I realise that unknowingly, I’ve been herded toward the piece of furniture he so recently vacated. I’ve nowhere to go when my retreat is halted by the back of my knees hitting the sofa. Those hands I admired are closer now, and warm when he places them on my shoulders. “Sit,” he says again, this time applying pressure to push me down.

  It’s the first time a man, other than my son or son-in-law-to-be, has touched me in many years. That, and the shock of this encounter must be the reason why I comply without putting up a fight.

  He sits beside me, turning his body so he can watch my face.

  There’s nothing between me and the door. Am I faster than him? Could I reach the door, grab my phone and, I don’t know, run into the street and scream for help?

  “No.” He shakes his head with another of those half-grins, half-smirks. Mind reading is clearly one of his talents. “Stay where you are, Patsy. I can’t go without having this conversation, babe. Shit.” He rubs a hand over his face and his mirth fades away. “I’m Lost. Told you that. But that obviously doesn’t mean anything to you, so let me explain. I’m President of the San Diego Chapter of the Satan’s Devils MC.” Again, an eyebrow rises.

  My initial thought is that I’ve fallen asleep and am in a dream world of one of those books that I read, then his words sink in, and I know if he’s who he says he is, then perhaps I do need to listen to him. My fear for myself recedes. Satan’s Devils have never done anything to worry me, but unease for someone else takes its place. “Has something happened to Beth?” My face pales, going to the only reason I can think of his coming to visit me.

  “Not that I know of.” He shrugs.

  So why is he here? And can I trust he’s really who he says he is? “Who’s the president of the Colorado chapter?” I ask quickly.

  “Demon,” he replies without hesitation. “He’s married to Violet and they’ve got a small boy. He’s knocked her up again, I believe. Beef is his VP.” He is certainly dropping the right names. “Your daughter, Beth, is Ink’s, one of their members.”

  He sounds legit. A burglar wouldn’t study up on such facts before invading a house, surely? But if he is a Satan’s Devil, the president of the local club no less, and he’s not here to bring me bad news about Beth, then, “Why are you here?” My eyes narrow and my brows crease.

  His lips press together. “Patsy Foster.” As he provides my real name, any remaining blood rushes from my face, and my head drops into my hands. The penny hadn’t dropped when he’d mentioned Beth, but now it does. He knows exactly who I am, and who my son is. “Patsy,” he says fast, clearly noticing my consternation, “when you moved from Pueblo, Demon spoke to Dan. It was his suggestion you relocate here as it’s where a Satan’s Devils chapter is. The feds were open to Dan’s request, without knowing the reason of course, so here you are, where me and my crew could watch out for you.”

  Demon did? Dan told him? My own lips purse as I wonder how I feel about that. “Does Beth know where we are?”

  “No,” he says quickly. “And she mustn’t, Patsy. Nothing’s changed on that score.”

  But if Demon does…

  “No,” he repeats more firmly, again reading my mind. “Think, Patsy. At the moment, Beth’s safe as no one believes she would know anything about your whereabouts. If Alder thought she knew, what would happen then?”

  I give a soft gasp. “He’d use her to find me.”

  Lost nods. “If he didn’t completely buy into the story about Dan being dead and buried, he would. Beth’s got to remain in total ignorance of where you are.”

  “But you’re looking out for us?” I put two and two together swiftly. “All those bikes going past…?”

  “My boys,” he confirms. “But don’t worry. My VP lives just up the road, there’s nothing unusual in them passing by here.”

  I suppose I can take a certain comfort in that someone has our best interest at heart. But that raises another question. Surely his appearance could raise a red flag? Why would an MC prez be visiting someone like me? “Are you supposed to be here?”

  He shakes his head. “No, you’re right, I’m not. Look, babe.” I notice we’re back to babe now, having gotten past him knowing my name. I realise I’m starting to like it. “I was supposed to be in the background, knowing about you so I could set Demon’s mind at rest. I was never supposed to actually meet you. And things would have gone on that way…” He breaks off, and wipes his hands down his face, tugging at his beard. “The last thing I want to do is to worry you, but we’ve had a disturbing communication. Someone, and fuck knows who, has been in touch with us. The message told us to increase your security.”

  What? “Like new locks on the door?” There’s not much else I can think of.

  He gives a sad shake of his head. “No, babe. Not like that, though that’s something you need. Not quite sure how if I’m honest. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. We need to find some facts we can work with. Question for you, babe. And I’ve got to ask you to be totally honest with me. If I don’t know, I can’t get to the bottom of this.” When he pauses, one of those large hands comes up to cup my face. It’s gnarled, not smooth, as if he works on the bike he presumably rides. “You left Colorado suddenly and with no reason. I doubt you would be a target yourself, but you could lead them to someone else, your son. The question is, could someone have discovered Connor Foster wasn’t cremated in that coffin?”

  My hand
covers my mouth as I remember that fateful day when I saw the coffin slide behind the curtain. I knew my son wasn’t in it, but it hadn’t been hard to show the same sadness as if he were. I hadn’t yet made, or even considered, the decision to come with him. At that time, I only knew he had to disappear. I’d never know where he was or what happened to him. I was going to give up my son just as if he were really dead. I hadn’t had to force my tears at our forthcoming separation.

  “He’s dead as far as anyone knows,” I say, firmly, believing it has to be so. Alder had had doubts, but I’d thought I’d assuaged them. “If anyone asked Beth what happened to me, she was going to say I’d gone travelling and she wasn’t sure where, as I was moving around.” It was lame, but we didn’t expect Alder to come out of the woodwork to ask, or even bother about where I’d gone. For most people the excuse would have worked. With Beth settled, why shouldn’t her mom have some fun?

  “I think someone knows he’s alive or has serious suspicions. Have you had any contact with your daughter? Or anyone from Colorado? Have they tried to call or talk to you? By email perhaps, or text?”

  “No.”

  “No? Come on, babe. Might not know you, but that look away with your eyes—that tells me you’re not telling me the truth. There’s something you’re holding back, and you need to tell me what it is.”

  “No one could know.” This time the guilt makes me lower my eyes. “There’s no way anyone could trace it.”

  “Trace what?” he asks, his voice hardening.

  Evading his hold, I stare at my hands, picking at invisible dirt under my fingernails. His fingers come under my chin again.

  “Trace what?” he enquires again, this time with the touch of a growl in his voice. When I still don’t reply, he sighs. “Look. I haven’t got any kids, but I know it must be fuckin’ hard, leaving a daughter behind and not having any contact. Even if she’s grown and doesn’t need her mom everyday anymore.”

  “She still lived at home, with me,” I offer as justification for my actions before I admit what they were. “I saw her every day. She was my best friend, and I, hers.”

  “Patsy, tell me. What did you do?” His tone is patient, but there’s a tick in his jaw.

  I take a breath, then let him know what I did. There was no harm in it. I’d been careful and had covered my tracks. In fact, I’m quite proud of myself. “I bought a cheap phone. I called Beth, just to find out if she was okay.”

  His eyes close for a second, then he asks, tersely, “Where is this phone now?”

  “I dumped it immediately afterward. It wasn’t my number. No one could have traced it.” I almost finish with ta da seeing how clever I’d been. I’d briefly heard my daughter’s voice, guiltily, I admit, ending the call after only checking she was alright, and no one was any the wiser.

  “You led them right to your door.”

  What? No. I couldn’t have. It’s my turn to shake my head. “If it were Alder, and there surely can’t be anyone else interested in us, he can’t know where we live. He won’t even know I called her.”

  His eyebrows rise. “He’ll know. And darlin’ if you called from this house—”

  “I went to La Jolla,” I tell him quickly with a roll of my eyes. “I was nowhere near here.” Despite my earlier confidence that I’d done nothing wrong, little doubts begin to settle in.

  He breathes out. “Thank goodness for small miracles, but this Alder will know the city you live in, and that will narrow his search.”

  I don’t understand. “But how? How can he trace an unknown number from a phone I never used before nor will use again?”

  He breathes deeply before explaining how stupid I’ve been. “He can’t. But he could be tracking calls to hers.”

  I pull away from him and stand, wrapping my arms around my body. “No, it’s impossible. He wouldn’t know how.”

  Lost speaks patiently, as if to a child. “Alder smuggles drugs across the border. If he’s what I suspect, he’s likely to have a huge transport network, routes he can shift when he knows the border control are stepping up on their searches. I assure you, he’ll be utilising every fuckin’ piece of technology he can get his hands on, babe. He might not be inclined that way himself, but he’ll employ someone to do it for him.”

  I suppose I’m remembering Alder as the sleazy man who was married to Phil’s sister, not as the man who’s become a kingpin in a drug network. At my son’s mock funeral, he’d been well dressed, even I could see his suit was made to measure and not off the rack. Of course he’d have minions to do his work for him.

  Suddenly, though the room isn’t cold, goosebumps arise on my skin as the realities sink in. “If you’re right, I’ve blown Dan’s cover.” I turn to him anxiously. “What would he know? That I’d called her, or would someone have listened to what was said?” I go over the phone call in my head. The delighted sound of Beth’s voice as I’d checked in. Our assurances both of us were okay. I hadn’t mentioned Dan, or had I? Suddenly I remember, I certainly had. I’d confirmed both of us were okay and were settling in.

  Lost stares at me, a concerned look in his eyes. “From this call, would he know that a dead man was alive?”

  I hate to admit it, but it is a possibility. “I called him Dan, not Connor. Maybe anyone listening thought I’d moved to be with a man.” I glance at him, but he doesn’t look hopeful. “Do you really think he’s looking for us, Lost? Is that why you’re here? That message you got…?”

  “Was a warning, babe. For us to be on our toes. And worst-case scenario? I think Alder knows your son is alive, and that you’re both here in San Diego.”

  I’d messed up, and badly. I’m shaking as I probe to discover just how deep a hole I’d dug. “What are the chances of his finding us? It’s a big city, he doesn’t know our new family name, and Connor’s Dan now. Dan’s job only knows his new identity, not who he was before. All our documents are in our new names.”

  “If I were Alder, I’d get a private investigator looking into you. People buying or renting a house at a time which fits the dates. Heck, new employees starting jobs. What about you? Do you work, babe?”

  “I do, but I work from home. I’m a designer, and all my stuff is emailed to the company which uses my designs. And before you ask, Cad, the computer guy back in Colorado, did something to my laptop which hides my IP address and makes it seem like anything I send comes from somewhere else.”

  Grimacing and again shaking his head, Lost tells me, “I honestly don’t know what info he’s got, but under the circumstances, I take the message to increase your security seriously.”

  In which case, I should too. I think of the only people who could help. “Dan needs to go to the feds and get them to relocate us.”

  Chapter Five

  Lost

  From the moment I stepped inside this house, or broke in to be more accurate, I was taken by Patsy. The girls at the clubhouse I can take em’ or leave em’, and in recent years do the latter. I’m not a man who’s turned on by women half my age, preferring someone more mature who I can have a conversation with, and one who’s not expecting an athletic man who can keep at it for hours. Nowadays I can manage once, then am satisfied just to cuddle and sleep after.

  Truth be told, sex isn’t high on my agenda, and I can take it or leave it. I was twenty-two when I got married, thirty-four when we divorced. I hadn’t gone crazy when I regained my freedom, too much else was happening for me to think about getting laid.

  It’s unusual for my cock to perk up at the mere sight of a woman. Today, though, I have to be grateful that my jeans are not particularly tight.

  That Patsy wasn’t immune to me either was evident. Though she was naturally scared about a strange man being in her house, I sensed there could be a reciprocal interest. It was an intriguing situation, but one I wasn’t in any particular hurry to do anything about. Getting my rocks off I can do just as well with my hand in the shower, and it doesn’t expect hearts and flowers to follow as a result. Patsy
? If I read her right, she’s a respectable woman and not one to enter into what could only be an enjoyable interlude jumping into the bed of an MC prez.

  Even though I dismissed any thought of exploring this mutual attraction further, I noticed how she flushed when I used the word babe instead of her name. It amused me, so I continued.

  But now all thoughts of anything to do with sex and a bed has been pushed aside as I consider how to proceed with the predicament she’s gotten herself in.

  Sure, she’d fucked up and potentially brought trouble on herself. She’d not been as clever as she’d thought when she contacted the daughter she shouldn’t have been talking to. But hell, who can blame her? She’s a mom, of course she’d want to ease her mind and reassure herself everyone she’d left behind was fine. Problem is, if Alder does indeed know her son is alive, he probably won’t rest until he’s dead.

  Of course her first impulse is to run again, and there’s probably a good chance that after a slap on the wrist, the marshals will help them get settled elsewhere. But how long before she slips up again? She’s a mother who’s desperate to know what’s going on in the life of her daughter.

  She could be relocated anywhere, or maybe, she wouldn’t. I revise my thinking. Maybe this time, the feds would move her son on his own. He’s the one the marshals want to protect in case they need his testimony. I doubt she’s thought about being split up, but she was the one who’d betrayed them. As far as I know, Dan has kept his mouth shut.

  If they did move them both, someone else will have the responsibility of watching out for her. My fear is they’ll go to Alaska, or somewhere where there are no Devils or MCs we know and trust. Surely, that’s worse than her staying in California, where at least I can have an eye on her?

  She’s a woman who brings forth all my protective instincts and I already know I’ll want to do what I can to help her.

  She’s naïve. Not about life, in everyday living I’m sure she’s competent, but in our world? She doesn’t have a clue about security or protecting herself. I suspect Dan isn’t much better, else he’d have already changed that lock.