Paladin's Hell

by Manda Mellett

  “Except for the prospect.”

  “Except for that. Yeah. But two people could have done everything. The timing fits.”

  “Him and his cousin. But for what reason?” Shooter’s challenging me. I’m glad. It’s good to be able to talk it through with a trusted brother, while anyone here might think I’m nuts.

  That’s also part of my problem. “I don’t know, Shooter. Perhaps he’s been slighted by the club? Passed over? Things aren’t happening fast enough? Got a personal beef with one of the brothers?”

  Shooter rests his elbows on his knees. “You’re on lockdown. You’re chasing your asses trying to find an enemy outside the club who could be non-existent. You’re suggesting the mischief might have been done by someone inside. To sow seeds of discontent? We know what lockdowns can be like. People livin’ in too close proximity, tempers getting frayed.”

  I’ve been going over and over in my head what the perpetrator could hope to get out of it. “If it’s someone in the club, that might be enough. A sort of fuck you. He could be standing laughing at us, getting his kick from seeing us chasing our tails. If that’s all it is, there might be nothing else happen at all.”

  “Or you’re completely wrong. And it’s a gang who wants to take over territory. In that case the incidents will escalate and likely end with blood on both sides.”

  He’s right. “That’s why I want to investigate this quietly. If those parts aren’t where I expect them to be, I can rest easy, and I won’t have distracted the club from searching for who’s really out to cause trouble. If they are, I’ll stay sleepin’ with one eye open.”

  “I don’t blame you. Talkin’ about sleepin’…”

  “On the couch downstairs, or in here with us.”

  “Floor suits me fine.” His face splits into a grin. “I can enjoy the live porn.” He rears back out of reach of my punch, laughing his ass off.

  “Not gonna be any show.” I inform him, seriously. Jay and I will just need to keep our hands to ourselves. Sucks, but it is what it is.

  The next morning Shooter and I leave early. I’d cleared it with Demon we were going to check out some security shit, instead we rode well out of the city, heading to the address which Mouse had found for the cousin, Drayton. We found it easily, parking discreetly down a side road and walking the rest of the way.

  “How d’ya want to play this?”

  To be honest, I’ve no idea. Walk up to the door and ask to see his bike? Yeah, like that would work.

  Shooter’s arm comes out to stop me mid-step. “Listen, it’s a Harley.”

  As the unmistakable sound of the bike’s pipes reaches us, we pull back under cover of some shrubbery. As the rider rides it onto the driveway, I point at the Dyna Super Glide. “That’s him.” My eyes narrow as I spot the unmistakable new parts.

  The front door opens. “How did it go? Any better?” A woman stands in the doorway, leaning with one hand on the doorframe. She’s grinning as though amused.

  “Like the shit.” The man who resembles his cousin kicks down the stand and gets off. “Got some admiring looks too. Jealous assholes.”

  “You and that damn bike.” The words are censoring, but his wife, or whoever it is, is smiling.

  “Just look at it, Sylvie. See how the sun hits it? Makes it one of a kind.” Even from my vantage point I can see it is a beast of a machine, one already heavily customised.

  “Well, there’s your proof,” Shooter whispers.

  I need more. “Hold this.” I slide out of my cut and pass it to him. Now I’m just wearing a black leather jacket and jeans.

  “What you doing?” He asks as I go to my bike.

  “You stay here. I’m going to ask a few questions.”

  “What? Like are those stolen parts on your bike?” he hisses.

  “Come on, you know me better than that.” I think my plan will work. Nothing bikers like more than discussing their ride with a fellow biker.

  “Let me come with you,” Shooter insists.

  “Nah. Best just one of us go. Less threatening.”

  “Well, let me go instead. Come on, Paladin, you’ve got a fuckin’ brain, use it. If you’re right, there’s a chance he might have seen you in Pueblo. Me, he won’t know at all.”

  I don’t take more than a second to realise he’s right. Having got this close, I can’t afford to blow it now. As he slips his own cut off, I put mine back on. “Be careful,” I warn him.

  “Always am.” He waves away my concern with a grin.

  As I stay put, he runs back to where we’ve left the bikes. In no time at all, from my vantage spot I watch as he rides down the road, braking and slowing when he passes the gleaming Dyna Super Glide, which indeed does sparkle in the sun, still parked on the driveway. He makes a U-turn, then comes back, stopping at the curb.

  “Nice ride,” he calls out. His voice dripping with admiration. “Mind if I take a look?”

  Drayton stands from where he’s been crouching. “Sure.” I can see his smile from here. “She’s a beaut, ain’t she?”

  “She is that,” agrees Shooter. “Wow. I like those brass parts. Bet they take some cleaning to keep them lookin’ like that.”

  “I expect so. They’re brand new.”

  Shooter laughs. “Fuel Hole,” he points at the filler cap.

  “Matching oil cap too,” Drayton helpfully tells him. “Oil Hole, see?”

  As Shooter bends over, I know he’ll be cataloguing the rest of the missing parts. “Where’d you get them, man? Could do with some new shit myself. Got my bike recently and looking forward to makin’ it mine.”

  Inwardly I chuckle. Shooter’s had that bike years, prides himself on keeping it as it came out of the factory looks wise, performance, now that’s another matter. He prefers having a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  It might be my imagination, but Drayton looks shifty. “Went to the Harley store in Boulder.”

  “Special order?”

  “Well, I’ve got places to be, I’m afraid. You’ll have to excuse me now. Need to put this baby away.” Drayton pats the saddle as if it were alive, then starts to wheel the bike into the garage. Shooter takes his cue to leave.

  “Thanks man.”

  “No worries.” Drayton waves his hand over his shoulder.

  I’m back at my bike by the time Shooter’s returned. He’s got a satisfied grin on his face. “Think that’s everything we need.”

  “Sure is. I got a few pics as well.” I suppose it might not stand up in court, all we’ve got are identical parts to those that were stolen suddenly turning up on his cousin’s bike. Enough evidence, though, for Prez to start asking questions I would think.

  “He got a bit shifty when I started to probe where he got them from.”

  “Noticed that.” I pass Shooter his cut.

  He slides it on its rightful place on his shoulders. “Ready to get back?”

  “Yup.”

  As we start our engines, I breathe a sigh of relief that this part of the puzzle has been solved. Now I just need to decide how, and who to deliver the evidence too.

  It’s taken an hour to get here, the same amount of time to get back. But now I’m riding with more urgency. There’s a man in the club I haven’t found myself able to trust, and now I’ve got proof I was right all along. I want to get back, somehow, without giving too much away, I need to warn Jayden.

  Have I got enough to take to Prez or Demon? Who should I talk to first? Should I run it past Mace, or Thunder? I’m still new to the club, I’m unsure who would be the best person to approach. As I ride, my thoughts are racing. My anger at anyone in this Satan’s Devils Chapter being involved seeps through me. What do they hope to gain? What plans have they got? Have they done enough, or is there still more yet to come on their agenda?

  I don’t notice my hand twisting the throttle as my rage grows, forgetting this road is unfamiliar. Fuck, the bend’s tighter than I thought. My rear wheel starts to slide out from underneath me, I try to throw my w
eight over, but I’m too late, I can’t right my bike. Continuing to fight the inevitable crash that seems to be approaching in slow motion, my time with Jayden flashes through my head, my hopes for our future…

  Chapter 35

  Jayden

  Earlier

  I love seeing Shooter, a familiar face from home. Pal and him have always been close. It’s a shame, though, that him sleeping on the floor of our bedroom last night obviously meant I wasn’t going to have a repeat performance of my amazing experience the night before. Truly making love with Pal had been incredible. A far better first time than I could ever have hoped. Everything between us had just been so easy. Fun. Just what I needed. There had been nothing to trigger bad memories from my past.

  Now it’s morning, and Pal and Shooter clearly have plans.

  “You two going for a ride?”

  Pal shoves a piece of toast in his mouth and swigs down his coffee. While Shooter snorts with laughter, making my eyes narrow, Pal simply tells me, “Club business.”

  “Always hated that.” Jeannie pauses before opening yet another pack of bacon. “But you can’t do anything about it, girl, best you get used to it from the start.”

  “Why’s Shooter going with you?” I try to weasel it out of him, tackling it from another direction. “He’s here for a visit.”

  “He’s a Satan’s Devil too, Jay. You know this.” That he says nothing else suggests Shooter’s been roped into Colorado business.

  I toss my hair back over my shoulder, my eyes blazing. Looking around, I see Taser, Mace and Pyro all looking amused. Runt’s sniggering into his coffee. Before I get told my place in stronger terms, I huff. “Well I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “No goodbye kiss, Doll?”

  Before I act on my impulse and slap him to wipe that smarmy look off his face, I turn on my heels and start walking away. Before I’m out of the kitchen, Pal reaches me, his hand grabbing hold of my shoulder, he pulls me back against his chest. “I’d tell you if I could, Doll, but I can’t. What you don’t know…”

  “…can’t hurt me.” I finish, still annoyed. But I do turn my head when he nuzzles my neck, and my lips do meet his but only briefly. “I’ll see you later.”

  Of course, Paladin and Shooter didn’t give me any idea of where they were going. I’m not even an old lady yet, but already I detest the words club business. I was the one who’d suggested Pal contact his brothers in Tucson, that Shooter’s here as a result of that is obvious. He’s come to watch Pal’s back. Which means what they’re doing might be dangerous. Doesn’t Pal know how much I worry about him? Surely he must.

  I go up to our room, busying myself putting Shooter’s blankets and pillow away. I’ve no idea how long he’ll be staying. I like him, it’s great to see someone from home, on the other hand, I want to continue to explore Pal and my new relationship. It’s like something’s been turned on inside me. I’ve started to feel horny all the time. He doesn’t even need to be here, as soon as I start thinking of him, I want him. I wonder if he knows what a monster he’s created. Does he think of me too?

  The small room’s tidy, I can at least walk across the floor now without tripping over Shooter’s saddlebags. Lounging on the bed, I pick up the Kindle that Ella had given to me as a going away present. My lips curve as I remember her saying that I won’t have to sneak read her books anymore. Then I frown, realising how much I miss her.

  No point moping, things are what they are. Making an effort to put regret for a situation which can’t be changed behind me, I open the cover. Great! One of the books I pre-ordered has been delivered. I download it, then start to read. It’s by one of my favourite authors, she has me hooked by the end of the first page.

  So much so, when a knock sounds at the door, I don’t hear it. Until the knock comes again.

  “Jay? You in there?” A male voice hisses.

  The door’s locked, of course, to keep Bitch out. I go and open it. “Taser?” What’s he want? I just want to get back to my book. He’d interrupted at a crucial point.

  “Jay.” Something about the way he says my name sounds wrong. “Jay, there’s been an accident.”

  Book forgotten, my hand covers my mouth. “Pal?” I ask around my fingers, hoping to hell it’s not him.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, Jay. He’s come off his bike. He’s badly injured. Come. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  “Oh my God, no. Shooter?”

  “Shooter’s fine. He’s with him. Come, quickly, there…” his worried eyes meet mine, “there might not be much time, Jay.”

  No! This can’t be happening. Not now we’ve taken that step. Not now I’ve admitted to myself, if not expressed it in words to him, how much I love him.

  “Hurry, Jay.”

  Automatically I slide my arms into the sleeve of my jacket that Taser’s picked up from the chair and is holding out. I close the door, not bothering to lock it. What does it matter if Bitch gets in when my man might be dying? My heart’s beating so fast I think it’s going to leap out of my chest. I turn to walk down the corridor.

  “This way,” Taser grabs my arm. “We’ll go down the fire escape, it’s faster.”

  I didn’t even know there was one. Obviously health and safety’s not a priority at the club as no one had pointed it out. Taser knows this place better than me, so I follow him to a door I hadn’t noticed at the far end of the corridor, almost running down the external metal steps. A motorcycle is parked waiting at the bottom.

  Taser doesn’t give me a helmet. Now’s not the time to protest that I’m under eighteen and, by law, need one.

  My first bike ride, and it’s up behind another man, it feels so wrong. As Taser roars out through the gates of the compound, I sob, wondering if I’m ever going to know what it’s like to ride with Paladin. How badly is he hurt? How did it happen? He can’t die, can he? All I can do is pray I’m not too late. He can’t die. He can’t. Not now. More sobs come one after the other. I’m blinded by tears.

  I don’t know Pueblo, have no idea where the hospital is, nor how far away. All I can hope is that we get there soon, and in time. In time for what? To say goodbye? I couldn’t bear that. It would destroy me. I can’t lose him. Not now. I can’t. Every nerve in my body is screaming.

  I close my eyes, trying to picture his face. Trying to conjure up every detail. Trying to remember the feeling of his arms around me. When the bike starts traversing rough ground, I open them.

  Where are we? This doesn’t look like a hospital parking lot.

  Taser swings the bike around, spitting up gravel beside a muscle car.

  “Where are we, Taser?”

  His terse reply is just one word. “Off.”

  Are we taking the car the rest of the way? That doesn’t make sense. But with the majority of my brain focused on Paladin, I do what he says.

  Suddenly I’m face down in the gravel, Taser’s heavy weight on my back, my arms wrenched behind me. Something’s tied them together. Shit. Has this been a trick? Is he working for the Herreras?

  “Paladin?”

  “Don’t know where the asshole is or care. But I can’t wait to see the motherfucker’s face when he finds you gone.”

  Paladin’s okay. He didn’t crash. Oh, thank God!

  My wave of immense relief is short lived. Almost immediately I focus on what’s happening to me. If Taser gets his way, Paladin will be hurt, though maybe not physically. His devastation if I’ve gone missing will equal mine when I thought he was lying injured. I have to do something.

  Escape. Get away. My mind races. I can’t let the Herreras get their hands on me again. There’s no other reason Taser’s got me tied up. I can’t let him put me in that car. Can’t let him take me to them.

  He pulls me up expecting a weak woman. But knowing what lies in store for me, I’m going to fight. Taking him unawares, I throw my head back, hitting him in the face. Then I turn, kneeing him as hard as I can in the balls and then take off, running toward the road. Have I incapaci
tated him enough?

  The loudly roared, “Bitch,” from behind shows he can still breathe, and the sounds of his heavy boots on the gravel pounding after me suggest I haven’t. From somewhere I find another burst of speed. Suddenly I feel immense pain between my shoulder blades, and I fall to the ground unable to control my twitching muscles. I can’t breathe, I’m screaming but making no sound. I don’t know how long it goes on, the pain’s awful, I feel like I’m dying.

  The pain stops, my muscles still jerk uncontrollably, I’m flapping around like a landed fish.

  He takes his time getting to me. When I at last can gasp air into my lungs, he crouches in front of me, showing me something. “Wonder what hit you? You’ve been tasered, bitch.”

  He drags me up by my bound hands, pushing me in front of him. I try to struggle but I still haven’t got control over my limbs and know I lost control of my bladder. He must have had the taser at full strength.

  As he opens the trunk, I’ve at last regained sufficient presence of mind to stiffen my body to try to stop myself being pushed inside. He takes hold of my hair, pulls my head back, then smashes my face, hard, into the bodywork. Half-stunned, he has no difficulty shoving me in, folding my still weak limbs and slamming the trunk down.

  I’m dazed, my muscles aching from the long burst of the taser, my head hurting. I’m scared. He must be taking me to the Herreras. Are they paying him? What else could he want with me?

  But instead of the car starting, I hear the motorcycle engine instead, then the sound of it pulling away. After the noise of the exhaust pipes fades, there’s silence.

  He’s left me here.

  I start screaming, kicking futilely. I’m scared of the dark, scared of closed-in spaces. My voice goes hoarse, my legs hurt where I keep knocking them against whatever’s kept in this trunk, tools and something sharp that’s cut me. I can only hope I’m not bleeding to death.

  How long will he leave me?

  Is there a way to get out of here? Some sort of mechanism to release the trunk from inside? I force myself to calm down, concentrating on slowing my breathing. Pal, help me. What should I do? Am I looking for a lever? How should I know? My education didn’t include how to escape from a locked car. A hysterical giggle bursts forth when I think perhaps it should.