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

by Manda Mellett

  Sparing a brief glance for each other, Token closes down the PC, and I put the paperwork back just how I found it, then go out to see what Salem’s found. It’s a second before I can see him, and that’s only when Niran points down. Looking over into the mechanic’s pit, Salem isn’t immediately visible, then he appears like a conjuring trick.

  “There’s a soundproofed room through here.”

  As he indicates where he’d just emerged from, I jump down.

  “Wait.” Salem holds up his hand, he points. It looks like the side of any other pit in any auto-shop in town.

  “There’s something behind it?”

  “Sure is.”

  When I shine my flashlight on him, it shows he’s only got his weight on one leg. “You hurt?”

  “Accident, Prez. When I jumped down, I slipped on some oil and my leg shot out from under me.” He rubs at his backside where he obviously went down. “Wrenched my ankle, but I’ll live.” Salem brushes away my concern. “When my foot hit the wall, I heard a noise that sounded hollow. Once I knew I was looking for something, I found the mechanism that opens it up.”

  It, as I find once he opens it to show me, is a room which is heavily padded. There are bunk beds on three sides, six in total. There’s barely a foot of clear ground in the middle, and some of that is taken up by a bucket. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what we’ve found.

  “Another one here,” Niran yells from two pits along. “I’ve got six bunks here.”

  “Nothing in the other pits,” Token shouts.

  “Found the fuckin’ tunnel,” Dart’s voice says grimly in my ear. He reminds me he’s been listening to what’s been going on over here. “Their operation includes both the restaurant and the auto-shop.”

  “Jesus.” I wipe my hands down my face realising we’ve got proof now. We’re on the right track. Then suddenly, I realise something. “This is a place where people trafficked will be stored. Soundproofed so no one can hear them screaming. And if they’re going out tomorrow night…”

  “It’s possible they’ll be bringing them in tonight under cover of darkness.”

  Else why have a place ready to hold them? I don’t bother addressing Salem’s comment, just give a terse command. “Everybody out. Now. Dart, you copy?”

  “Copy that. We’re moving.”

  “Curtis?”

  “I’m ready to swing by and pick you up.”

  Knowing my VP will have his end well in hand, we go out the same way we came in, Token taking far too long in my view to rearm the alarm, then we’re relocking the door. Salem’s limping badly, but when I question him, he again says it’s just strained and nothing’s broken.

  “Movement, Prez,” Pennywise suddenly says hastily. “A truck’s just arriving out the front. Make that two. Men getting out, coming in your direction.”

  “Want us there, Prez?” Dart’s voice sounds.

  “Get the fuck clear and back to the compound,” I instruct him. My aim is for us all to slip away without anyone being any the wiser.

  “They’re outside the shop now,” Pennywise warns.

  I wave at my men, not needing to say anything. We’ll head to where we can safely get Curtis there with the truck and get gone. Like me, they sidle silently, keeping close to the walls. No problem, we’re going to make it… until Salem trips over something and goes down, hard.

  “Who’s there?” a voice shouts out.

  Fuck it. We all freeze, but it looks like we’re going to be caught. If we move now, we could be spotted, if we don’t move, they’ll find us. I freeze, hardly daring to breathe, hoping they’ll dismiss the sound as a stray cat hunting. One striding by would be great just now.

  A burst of coughing sounds loudly, and Smoker comes around the corner, doubled up trying to get his breath. His coughing fit is genuine, as he’s obviously hurried to get here from the restaurant parking lot.

  Now they’re distracted, I pull Salem out of sight behind a dumpster, Token and Niran too sinking into a crouch.

  I peer around the side.

  “Who the fuck are you?” A man appears and challenges Smoker, who can’t reply as he’s struggling to breathe. I count four more men gathering.

  “I asked you who the fuck you are?” the angry voice demands.

  “I ain’t no one,” Smoker manages to rasp. “I just…” cough, cough. Cough, cough, cough. “I’m just trying to find some food.” He manages to straighten and wave his arm toward the restaurant. “They throw out good grub.” Then he starts coughing again, bending double. I’m genuinely worried about him. He sounds like he needs medical treatment.

  I expect them to tell him to get gone, but they don’t actually say anything. It’s dark, and I don’t think any of us actually see the gun appearing in the man’s hand until the bullet’s been fired with a soft pop through the silencer attached to the barrel, and Smoker crashes to the ground, his final cough echoing into the silence.

  One of the men kicks at his body, but Smoker’s gone. He doesn’t even flinch.

  Niran’s hand comes out to grab me, one hand going over my mouth. Grumbler holds me back on my other side.

  “There’s no helping him,” Niran whispers directly into the ear without an earpiece. “He’s gone man, that was a head shot. Don’t let him die in vain.” That Niran’s right doesn’t sit well with me. Smoker had come to our rescue and had lost his life as a result. But if we confront them now, we could join Smoker, or at best, come out on top and blow our chances of shutting down this operation.

  “Now we’ve got a fuckin’ body to get rid of,” a newcomer states, approaching the group who just killed Smoker. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

  “Don’t need any witnesses and look at him. No one will fuckin’ miss someone like that. Put him inside. He’ll keep until tomorrow, then we can ship him out along with the merchandise and dump the body somewhere.” The shooter doesn’t sound bothered. “Get the front doors open and the trucks inside, then we can start unloading them.”

  When they unlock the door and disappear into the auto-shop, with no shouts that we’ve left signs we’ve been there, we slip away into the night and I instruct Curtis to come get us with the truck.

  “I sent the others back to the compound.” I’m surprised to see Dart. “I wanted to make sure you got clear, so came around to meet Curtis. What the fuck happened?”

  I realise I hadn’t said a word, so Dart’s been left in the dark. I hardly want to say it now, knowing it will make it more real.

  In the light of a streetlamp, I let him see the distress in my eyes. “Smoker’s fuckin’ dead.” I slam my hand against the bodywork, probably leaving a dent.

  “It’s my fault,” Salem says, rubbing his ankle. “If I hadn’t stumbled—”

  “It’s no one’s fuckin’ fault except those motherfuckers.” Niran, his voice catching, but once again the voice of reason says, “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit who shot a harmless man.”

  “What happened?” Dart repeats, looking from one of us to the other.

  I nod toward Salem. “Salem hurt his leg, stumbled over something when we were getting away. Smoker heard, came around to provide us with cover. They fuckin’ killed him for no reason.”

  It’s my fault he’s dead. I should have put two and two together before we went in. But how was I to know they had a place for storage? Never in a million years could I have guessed. I thought we’d be clear going in tonight, expecting all the action to take place tomorrow.

  A voice crackles in my ear again. “I’m still in place. They’ve taken two trucks into the auto-shop. Can’t see what. They’ve closed the doors behind them.”

  Drugs don’t need bunks or soundproofing. Their cargo must be the traumatised women Shark was talking about. They’ll be crammed into those cells for twenty-four hours. Frightened, scared, and knowing their horrors are only just beginning. I wonder how many of them there are and hoping those cells won’t be full to capacity.

  I wished we’d killed the
motherfuckers when we had our chance, and freed the women.

  A hand grips my shoulder making me realise I’d spoken aloud. “Couldn’t have done that, Prez.” The whites of Niran’s eyes are about the only thing I can make out in the dim light as his voice of reasonableness continues, “We’ll get our revenge tomorrow night. We’ll do it for Smoker. Free the women and blow this operation to smithereens. This shop of horrors won’t be used for trafficking again.”

  He’s right. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I couldn’t have known anyone would turn up, or that they’d be as cold as to kill an apparently homeless man with no reason.

  “Want me to stay on watch?”

  Do I? But I doubt Pennywise will find anything useful. Those holding pens, cells, whatever you want to call them, were soundproofed. The men will probably slip away before it gets light, and the shop’s mechanics will do a day’s work possibly completely unaware who they are working alongside.

  “What do we do about Smoker?” Dart sounds grim.

  “Get his fuckin’ body back tomorrow night.” That’s when I’ll be able to take my revenge. “Let’s get back to the compound. Pennywise, you copy?”

  “Copy, Prez.”

  I hate leaving a man behind, even if he can’t know what we’re doing anymore. Hate losing a man at all. I ride in the truck back to the compound wound up and irate, and I’m not the only one. No one’s talking or trying to make conversation. I think we’re all stunned. Smoker had given his life for the club. He’d died a hero, and not one of us is going to forget that.

  I walk into the clubroom and see the club girls standing around, hopeful they’ll be able to provide their services now we’ve returned. Grabbing a bottle of whisky and a glass, I shout out, “Get yourselves a drink and get into church.”

  Dart takes the bottle from my hand, pours two shot glasses full, then hands me back one. “Need you sober, Prez.”

  Yes. Unfortunately, he does. I don’t really know why I picked up the whisky in the first place. But Smoker is dead for fuck’s sake and his blood is on my hands. The buck stops with the prez.

  I take my seat at the head of the table. By now, word has gone around. I’m faced with sombre men wearing various expressions of disbelief, confusion and anger on their faces, or in some cases, a combination of all three.

  Snips bangs the table in anger. “What fuckin’ happened?” He’s the first to break the silence.

  Salem stares down the table. “Smoker saw what had to be done and did it.” He stares Snips down. “Saved our fuckin’ lives and we’re not ever going to forget it.”

  Niran joins in. “No one asked Smoker to put himself in danger.” He pauses, shakes his head, then resumes, “He should have gotten away with it. They had no suspicions he was anything other than a homeless man. Should have been easy and they could have just run him off, but they fuckin’ killed him.”

  Pennywise speaks up. “We’re working on the assumption they’d brought women in to put in their holding cells. We had no fuckin’ idea they were bringing them in tonight until Salem found they were set up for them. Clearly they didn’t want anyone hanging around.”

  It’s time I spoke up. “They killed, murdered, Smoker in cold blood. But they weren’t suspicious and didn’t look for someone else. Look, I should have expected…”

  Salem’s fist hits the wood. “I was there, Prez. How the fuck could you have expected to find what we found? You haven’t got a crystal ball that I know of. And if you want to blame anyone, blame me. I was the one who fucked up by not being careful when I jumped down. My ankle gave way, and I was the one who made the noise. If I hadn’t, we’d have gotten away clean. As it was, if Smoker hadn’t appeared, they’d have tracked us down.”

  “Why didn’t you take them out?” At Snips angry cry, I wonder whether we should have taken our revenge there and then. Would it have made everyone feel better?

  “No, Prez was right,” Grumbler says. “Attacking them wouldn’t have brought back Smoker, and it would have fucked up our plans. They’re already dead men walking, but it’s tomorrow night, well, today now, we’ll have them in our sights. The mission will go ahead thanks to our brother who sacrificed his life.”

  “He didn’t know what he was walking into. He couldn’t have expected it.” He hadn’t known they would shoot an unarmed harmless looking man. That’s what hurts most, I think, that he hadn’t expected it. Didn’t know the risk he’d be taking, and that there’d be no more rides on his bike.

  “I disagree,” Grumbler states firmly, catching my eye. “Smoker had to know how it could have gone down. Fuck, any of us would. And, I hate to say this, brothers,” he pauses, and makes sure everyone’s listening to him, “Smoker was already a dead man. He’d made the decision to live out his life sentence without trying to prolong it. I’ve known him a long time,” he looks pointedly at Snips, “and I think this is how Smoker would have preferred it. He wouldn’t have gone looking for it, but if asked, he would have chosen a quick bullet to the head instead of weeks of unbearable pain and discomfort.”

  “He wasn’t fuckin’ suicidal,” Snips protests.

  “No?” Bones puts in. “Then why the fuck didn’t he seek treatment. Nah, I agree with the sergeant-at-arms. If he’d been given the choice, this is how he’d have wanted to go out. As a fuckin’ hero, giving his life to save his brothers. That’s how we’ll always remember him, not as a man who faded away until his death.”

  I let that sink in for a moment, realising Bones is right. Smoker should have been able to enjoy those last few months he had left, but he was already deteriorating fast. Given the choice, he might have preferred his end to be quick and, I hope, painless. His memory will always live on. He died for this club. And once this is over, will be buried with the full honours he deserves.

  Kink tries to stifle a yawn, his action reminding me it’s well past the middle of the night, and dawn will soon, if not already, be breaking. Hard to tell in this windowless room. I need men at their best later.

  “We’ll bring Smoker home when we go in tonight,” I tell them, then change tack. “Dart, tell us what you found.”

  Dart nods at Blaze. “He found the entrance to the tunnel. There’s a false floor in the storeroom. Under that is a trapdoor, it’s well hidden.”

  Blaze shrugs. “I was stomping my way around that restaurant. That floor had a different sound. Knew there had to be some easy way for them to open it, found a few loose planks and lifted them up.”

  Niran raises his hand. “I’ve been thinking about how to play this tomorrow… tonight. How about a couple of us going there to eat? Aim to get there later on so we’ll be there when they close. Then I’ll go to the bathroom and hide myself away. That way, I’ll already be inside.”

  “Not you,” Salem objects. “Sorry, man, they’d notice you’re missing. You kinda stick out.”

  Niran chuckles good-naturedly, not arguing the point.

  “It’s a good idea,” I acknowledge. “Look, it’s been a long ass night. We’ll call it a day now. Go raise a glass for Smoker, then get to bed. Need you all with your heads on straight tonight.”

  Dart turns his head to stare at me, I raise my chin back. We might not have said the words, but our exchange had included a silent promise that we’d lost Smoker, and the Devils aren’t going to lose anyone else. Not on my damn watch.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lost

  I didn’t want to tell Patsy that we’d come back leaving one of our members behind, knowing it would upset her and make her worry about me and the other men. But I knew not hearing it from me would be worse. As soon as she went downstairs, she’d be made aware we’d returned one less.

  When I go to bed, I try my hardest not to disturb her, but she must have been sleeping lightly as she awakes.

  “Go back to sleep.” Bad news can wait.

  “I wasn’t really sleeping; I was too worried about you. Did everything go alright? Are you okay, Lost?”

  Okay. Seem
s it can’t wait. I’m not going to start our relationship by lying to her. “Kind of.” I pull my thoughts together. “We achieved what we wanted from tonight.” I can give myself a tick for that. “I’m fine, Salem’s got a twisted ankle, but that’s all the injuries there were. But, babe.” In the darkness, I grimace. It seems she can tell, or maybe it was the tone of my voice speaking just those two words.

  “What happened, Lost? Tell me.”

  “Can’t tell you the details, but we lost Smoker. Babe, he’s dead.”

  “Smoker… what? Oh my God.” She sits bolt upright. “What happened?”

  Reaching out my hand, I curl it around the back of her neck, and gently pull her back down, holding her against my chest. “Can’t tell you the details.”

  “Was it anything to do with the cancer?”

  Her voice vibrating against my chest is comforting. “No, babe,” I admit.

  “Oh.”

  I have to remember, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. This is one of the things she’s going to have to accept about this life.

  There’s a minute of silence, then she asks, “Was it quick? Did he suffer?”

  “He didn’t even see it coming, babe.” And that’s the truth. The coward shot him in the back of the head.

  Her hand strokes my chest, and I feel wetness on my skin. Something eases inside me, knowing Smoker’s got someone shedding tears for him.

  “He knew he was dying,” I explain. “He’d accepted that. I think he’d already made his peace with whomever he needed to. I’m crushed that he’s gone the way he did, yet, in some ways it’s a relief to know we’re not going to have to watch him suffering.” Then I add, “Grumbler thinks it was how he would have wanted it. He saved us, babe. His death had a purpose. He died a fuckin’ hero.”

  She’s quiet as though letting that sink in. “Is it finished now? Did you get Alder?”

  “No.”

  Her hands grip me. “Can’t you let it drop? Smoker’s dead…”