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

by Manda Mellett

  Then we arrive. Grumbler opens the door, then steps back to let me precede him inside.

  In true Satan’s Devils’ fashion, Shark is restrained, his hands tied above him, his feet only just touching the ground.

  My eyes are caught by Smoker who’s sat himself down. It’s clear the evening’s activities have taken it out of him, as he looks pale, and his eyes are half-closed, his breathing sounds laboured and his hand rests over his chest. Perhaps I should have insisted he stayed home. But suggesting he’s not up to this is probably a worse option as far as he’s concerned. I’ll just have to keep a close eye on him.

  Suddenly, there’s a bark of laughter. The man, for whom this should be no laughing matter, is chuckling like a fucking loon.

  “Oh, man. Now I’m fuckin’ glad that I was sent out bad.” Shark’s got his eyes fixed on my cut. “Couldn’t they do better than you? Snake always told us what a loser you were.”

  You’re going to fuck up. Think you’re an MC prez? Think again. Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of Snake’s voice, but instead it chuckles. Even a loser like Shark sees what a fuck-up you are.

  For a moment, I’m frozen to the spot. I’m not sure what I would have done had Grumbler not growled loudly from my side, getting Shark’s attention turned on him. “You? Sergeant-at-arms? Fuck. It gets worse. You aren’t fit to shine Poke’s fuckin’ boots, let alone wear them.”

  “You want to have a go at me now?” Bones walks menacingly closer. “When they made me fuckin’ treasurer, I discovered the hundred ways DJ was cooking the books. Siphoning off money to start your enterprise, stealing from the members.”

  “But you didn’t know what DJ was doing at the time.” Shark’s still laughing. “All you did was moan about your light payouts. Not one of you could fuckin’ see what was happening in front of your nose.”

  Pennywise makes a sound in his throat that alerts me I’d better take the initiative away from the strung-up man. But seeing him has brought all my doubts that I’m the right man for this job flooding back.

  Taking a breath, I summon my inner strength, willing up the MC prez inside me. While I’ve so far had a fairly quiet three years, concentrating on keeping the club happy and together rather than coming down hard on discipline, I had had years of watching Snake ply his trade. And, on at least one memorable occasion, witnessed how Drummer, our mother chapter prez performed. I’m not totally bereft of ideas.

  Walking behind Shark, who’s still staring and smirking at the men he used to ride alongside, I take my knife out of its sheath, and slice through the shirt he’s wearing. At least Shark has the sense to fall silent as the Satan’s Devils’ full back patch tattoo comes into sight.

  “You were sent out bad,” I remind him, my voice deceptively calm. “You were to get that blacked out.”

  “I was getting around to it,” Shark protests.

  I walk back around to face him, our insignia on the traitor’s back more than I can stomach. “You were told the consequences if you didn’t. You know what? We can help you with that. Get that fucker burned off right now.”

  Shark’s eyes flick warily around the room, but if he’s looking for any sympathy or someone to appeal to, he’s not going to find it. The club had suffered too much. He meets my eyes, his narrow. “You haven’t got the guts.” I suppose you have to admire a man who tries. In answer, I raise an eyebrow. It’s effective, as he swallows. “We were brothers once,” he appeals.

  “Kind of hard to worm your way back in after you’ve insulted the prez and sergeant-at-arms,” a voice behind me reminds him. “If that’s what you were trying to do.”

  I turn and nod a greeting at Dart. “Well said, VP.” I deliberately taunt Shark with Dart’s position in the club.

  Shark, though, spits. “Me? Want to come back? Fuck no. Not while he,” he jerks his head my way, “is at the top of the table.” He spares a moment to look around, his eyes landing on the men one by one, before settling on Salem. “You should have been prez, Sal. How the fuck could you stand back and let this loser take your spot?”

  It’s the first time anyone’s suggested Salem should be sat in my chair, or in my hearing at least. I cast an interested eye the enforcer’s way and incline my chin to show he’s free to answer as he wants.

  Salem runs his hands over a wicked-looking knife he’s taken out, as if testing how sharp it is. He stares at the steel as though giving serious consideration to the matter at hand, before lazily looking up. “Thing is, Shark, what you could never understand, is that some of us like working to our strengths and not endeavouring to take more than we deserve. I’m the enforcer, suits me just fine. Never wanted anything more. And, if you thought by flattering me, I’d go easy on you, hear this. You think you can sweet-talk me by insulting a man I look up to, a man I’m more than happy to give my all to support, then you are fuckin’ wrong.” Salem’s tone and rising volume shows how annoyed he is.

  A sensible man would shut up right now and not continue to taunt the person capable of bringing him a world of pain. Shark does shut his mouth, showing he may have a couple of brain cells left after all.

  There’s a bench behind me, I lean on it, folding my arms. I purse my lips, and stare at the man strung up in front of me, then cast my eyes around the room. It’s clear everyone’s deferring to me to take the lead. Shark and the dead man in my head might challenge my authority, but they’re in the minority.

  Finally, I draw in a breath and exhale. “You know how this is going to go, Shark. The only choice you might get is whether we burn or slice that tat off. But believe you me, it’s coming off today.”

  Shark’s paled, but a trace of his cockiness remains. “Snake said you wouldn’t survive in an MC. Not without him to lead. I don’t believe you’re going to do that.”

  “Perhaps I’ve changed. Or,” I shrug, “perhaps Snake was right. I don’t much care for the scent of burning flesh, nor copious amounts of blood. And perhaps my sensitive ears can’t stand the screams.” I pause, then add, “Maybe I can be persuaded to instruct Blaze to get his stuff and do what you should have done all along. Black that tat out.”

  Shark narrows his eyes and a calculating look comes into them. “Yeah?” he says at last, having considered the less painful option. “And how could I persuade you to do that?”

  I don’t promise him anything. He’ll be leaving here in a box whatever I, or he, says. But let him think there might be a glimmer of hope, that I might go easy on him as I’m not the man Snake was.

  You’re not, Snake’s voice helpfully confirms.

  My internal conservation makes me snap. “Answer my questions, and then we may have something to discuss.”

  I feel movement as my brothers step closer, as though not wanting to miss any of Shark’s explanation of what he’s been up to since he’s been gone.

  I kick it off. “What are you doing back in San Diego?”

  “Making a living,” he throws back.

  I growl. “If this is going to be like pulling teeth, Shark, I’ll let Salem soften you up. You’ve seen his handiwork before, and I can assure you he’s not gone soft.”

  The enforcer moves forward, half turns and gives me a wink out of sight of Shark. “You might want to step out, Prez, there’s going to be blood.”

  Shark shudders. Yes, he’s seen Salem at work. So have I, and it’s not pretty. But he gets results.

  Suddenly our captive decides that he does want to talk. “When you sent us out bad, you sent us away with nothing. No club wanted us, we lost our home, our brothers. We lost everything.” For the first time an emotion other than sneering comes into his voice. There’s no need to explain, any of us would be able to imagine the pain of leaving the brotherhood behind. His eyes again flick to Salem, then back to me. “I had to look after me. Find a way to survive. Snake had been meeting with drug dealers, setting deals up, I was present at some of them. Even with Snake dead, they still wanted to work with the MC, well, you stopped all that. Fuckin’ stupid.” He
rolls his eyes. “Have you any idea how much the club could have gotten from that deal?”

  “Dirty money,” Dart growls. He indicates the men around him. “The stuff you were proposing to peddle kills people, splits families up. Men liable to go to prison if they’re caught carrying or gunned down by rivals. Money? Fuck that.”

  “Snake had it all sorted,” Shark insists. “He wasn’t proposing we’d stand around selling it on street corners. Nah, he had contacts. He went straight to the top. Took me with him.”

  As muscle probably. I’m sure Shark hadn’t been as important as it appears he thinks he was. An idea hits me. Too outlandish, surely? I don’t dive in, wanting to explore a little more first.

  For fuck’s sake, get on with it. I’d have had him begging for his life by now.

  Again I push Snake’s voice to the background, preferring to get Shark to talk while he still has some teeth. Once I release Salem and the boys on him, there won’t be much left. I focus back on him.

  “What was this deal Snake made? What did it entail?”

  Again, Shark scoffs, his eyes flicking around the room. “Do you think it’s a good idea to hear all that you lost? All those fuckin’ dollars you could have had in the bank? Your brothers might change their minds on you Lost. It’s all down to you. Your fuckin’ fault you didn’t hear Snake out.” He takes another look up at the ceiling and back down. “It was simple. We’d have taken possession of the drugs when they came over the border. Transported them to where they’d be sold.”

  Simple sure. Transporting kilos of Mexican horse or whatever else they were buying and selling. It’s one easy way to get arrested or dead. But I pretend interest and tinge my voice with a touch of regret. “And where would they be sold, where would the club have gotten them to?”

  “Wherever there was a hunger. California, Arizona, Colorado.”

  I feel Dart stiffen beside me, but whatever’s itching at him, he keeps to himself. Pretty certain he knows I’ll be on the same wavelength, but asking too much too soon will put Shark on his guard. “How did the drugs come over the border?”

  Shark grins. “I’ll tell you everything if you promise to let me walk away.”

  I can’t promise him that. Truth is, Shark’s never going to be putting one foot in front of the other again. The love he used to have from his brothers has long since turned to hatred, but perhaps the time has come to use more than words.

  “Need Salem to encourage you?” I start to raise my hand to gesture to the enforcer.

  Words come from Shark’s mouth in a rush. “I don’t know. But I do know it’s all stopped recently. Somehow the feds knew how to close that shit down.” Shark clearly wants to stay out of Salem’s reach.

  I shake my head. He was just berating us for not going ahead with Snake’s deal while in the next breath telling us we were right.

  A drug operation brought down recently? I fight hard to keep my face impassive, though inside there’s a kernel of excitement bubbling. He’s got to be talking about Alder. Christ. We wanted to get hold of someone with knowledge of Alder’s operation. Could he just have dropped into our hands? I force myself to be patient.

  Another sideways glance at Dart which is returned with a chin lift shows he’s also thinking the same way as me.

  Taking a chance, I come straight out with it, speaking as casually as possible. “So how long have you been working with Alder?”

  At fucking last. I’d have gotten that info hours ago. Didn’t you learn anything from me, Lost?

  I fucking learned that you would kill a man before he told you anything.

  I’d seen Snake’s temper flare more than once. Partly why I’m taking this slow. Dangling the glimpse of a future in front of Shark if only he tells me everything he knows.

  Fuckin’ pussy.

  A shake of my head to clear it and I focus on Shark again. His eyes have widened, and the first sign of fear shows. He’s scared of Alder.

  “For fuck’s sake.” Dart dips his head toward me. When I nod, he continues, “There’s no point denying you know him. Why the fuck do you think we were at the restaurant tonight?”

  “But, but…” Shark flusters. “But you said… Fuck.” It’s like watching a penny drop. Trouble is, if we ask direct, he’ll clam up. As it is, we’re left with picking up clues from the little he allows to drop. “I’m not telling you anything about Alder.”

  “Good,” I tell him, sounding approving. “Alder likes a man who can keep his mouth shut.”

  Shark’s eyes land on me. “You’re working with him?” he asks, incredulously.

  I hear a strangled cough from behind me. Swinging around, I see Pennywise trying not to laugh. He mouths at me, He’s fucking stupid. I tend to agree.

  Shark was never the brightest of the bunch, he proved that when he threw in his lot with Snake. Now, his chin drops to his chest. “You won’t touch drugs.” I open my mouth to kid him that maybe we’ve changed our minds. That the club needs money, but Shark continues working it out in his head.

  “You won’t touch drugs, so you know it’s other merchandise instead.”

  I resist turning to see the expression on Dart’s, or anyone’s face. Instead, I take Dart’s lead. “Yeah.” I raise my chin. “The merchandise being brought in via the tunnel.”

  Shark’s head snaps up. “You know about that? But Alder never said. Never mentioned the Devils.” Shark doesn’t seem to know what to believe. “Hey, let me down. Sounds like we’re both on the same side.”

  “Maybe the same side, but not the same point in the pecking order,” I tell him. “That Alder didn’t tell you about us suggests he doesn’t think you’re as significant as you think.” That gets him. Leaning back once again, I cross my feet at my ankles, and smile. Shark never paid enough attention to me to realise my expression is fake. “Or, as you were a Satan’s Devil once, still have our tat on your back, he assumes we’re all working together.”

  “Together. Yes. We can work together. The next shipment’s important, that’s probably why he wants us all on board. And yes, I still have my patch.”

  The patch he won’t have much longer.

  “What do you know about it being important?” Dart asks with a quick glance in my direction. He also spares a warning look at the men who are getting restless.

  Shark seems to be trying to weigh up what he knows that we don’t, and vice versa. In the end, he settles on what sounds like the truth. “I don’t know. I’ve seen immigrants coming in having paid top dollar, of course, and bitches and kids going out. Pretty boys, too, but you’ll know all about that.”

  I hear the intake of breath all around me. We were on the wrong track, there is a tunnel, but it’s not being used from what I thought. Sounds to me like Alder’s found a trade to supplement the loss of income from his drugs. Maybe he’s been doing it all along—people trafficking, one way or another. I doubt any of those immigrants coming through that tunnel end up where they expect, and as for people going in the opposite direction, my stomach churns when I think about what’s happening to them.

  “We,” I indicate the men standing around me. As I do, I notice the expressions on their faces, in the main disgust, some, like Pennywise, dismay that this was a man they once called brother. “We,” I begin again, “know what part we have to play. But so we don’t trip over each other, what precisely is your role, Shark?”

  Again he puffs out his chest. The man’s so stupid, he thinks we’re all in this together. “I get the merchandise onto the transport. Stop any making a break for freedom. See? They’ve paid to get into the States and expect it to be the end of their journey. They want to go meet up with family in some cases, so I need to persuade them to stick around. Alder has other plans for them.”

  Yeah. As I suspected, Alder makes a fortune out of people possibly giving him their last cent for the promise of a new life in America. Well, on the whole, illegal immigration doesn’t bother me, I don’t abide by citizen’s laws. What doesn’t sit well is people w
ho take advantage. Wives could be meeting up with husbands or kids, their parents or other family. Instead, my bet is that they’ll find themselves used as slave labour instead.

  “You gonna let me down now?” Shark asks hopefully. “I’ve told you everything.”

  Not quite. “Which shipment are you waiting on?” Dart asks casually. “Tonight’s?”

  “Nah, Tuesday.” He stills. “You mean, there’s one tonight? But it’s Sunday. Enrico never mentioned that.”

  Dart slams the heel of his hand against his head. “Fuck me, my bad. I can’t remember what day of the week it is.”

  I give a good-natured chuckle while Shark’s expression makes him look like he’s working with a bunch of amateurs. “How many on your team, Shark?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m just wondering how many I’ll need to send along.”

  He thinks for a moment, then answers, “Me and Enrico deal with it.”

  “Just the two of you?” I’m genuinely surprised.

  Shark gives an unpleasant smirk. “Doesn’t take many when they’re weak and unarmed, and you’re carrying guns and tasers.”

  Welcome to the good ol’ US of A. Guns and fucking tasers.

  “We’re new to this.” I’m wondering how long I can string him along. “Interested in meeting the top man himself. Will Alder be there?”

  “Sometimes he is, sometimes he stays in Mexico. If he’s stateside, he occasionally wants to see what new stock he’s got.”

  I’ll just have to hope he’s curious tomorrow. It’s an important shipment. I don’t know why, but hope there’s a chance if it is, he’ll be there to check it all goes well.