Devil's Spawn: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #6

by Manda Mellett

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mace

  Fuck it! I slam my hand on the bar top. Seems like I can’t help doing wrong by trying to do right.

  “Beer?”

  “Whisky.” I snarl my response at Dirt. A tumbler is in my hand double fast. I drain it in two gulps, then ask for another. The second goes down only fractionally slower, but I’m beginning to mellow at last. That kid’s face. He knew he’d gone too far. But he wanted too much, too fast. Cas had assured Vanna, and also me, that he understood the situation, that Lizard couldn’t remember wasn’t his fault. But it must have been hard for him to stand there this morning and hear his father deny him and then say his mother wasn’t someone he’d have gone for. All the pleasure had been wiped from Cas’s face, and the boy I’d found myself taking to the shop must be the one Vanna had to deal with each day.

  My reaction had been the right one, hadn’t it? My loyalty is first and foremost to my brother. At first, I’d thought, maybe Lizard deserved to discover the family he’d lost, but it’s obvious he and Cas didn’t take to each other, and he’s better off left in ignorance.

  Vanna could push it, but as she hasn’t tackled the issue, or come after what’s rightfully hers, child support at the least, in the last ten years. I’m sure she isn’t going to cause trouble now. Christ, it must have hurt when Lizard had so rudely dismissed her earlier today. Sure, he has his choice of younger pussy, but Vanna’s not that old.

  She’d taken care with her appearance today, and no one had told her how good she looked, and fuck me, but I feel guilty about that. I had been going to remark on it, but the time hadn’t been right. Even with her new hairdo, stylish clothes which hugged her still good figure, Lizard hadn’t given her a second glance. She wasn’t, as he’d put it so succinctly, his type.

  Still, I’d gotten up close and personal with the type of shit she has to deal with, with that kid. I doubt she’s allowed him to run wild, but he’s done that anyway. If ever a boy needed a father’s guiding hand, that was Cas. But he’s not going to get that from Lizard, and while I admire Vanna, I’m no more the settling down type than my brother.

  Though, Liz had been a family man at one time, and according to Vanna, they’d been happy. It’s clear though, that ship has sailed now.

  “Are you feeling alright, Lizard?” I hear called from behind me and turn to spy what Vi is talking about. Liz is chasing down tablets with his beer.

  “Another headache?” I sympathise as I walk over, hoping Cas’s behaviour had nothing to do with it.

  He nods, then puts his hand to his head, clearly regretting his action.

  “You go to the optometrist like you were going to?”

  Keeping his head still as he remembers not to move it again, he confirms, “My vision’s twenty-twenty she said. No need for glasses.”

  So his headaches must be something else. “You go to your VA appointment?”

  His lips press together, then he admits, “Not yet, but I think I will. Can’t keep putting up with these pains, Mace.”

  “You have been getting them a lot. Advil work?”

  “Eventually. Maybe they can prescribe something stronger.”

  The fact he’s even thinking about it shows his pain must be bad. “If you want company when you go, I’ll be with you, Brother.”

  He leans his head back against the couch and sighs. “At least it’s back to normal now without the kids.”

  “Yeah.” I grin. “Will save us a few bucks at least, but I’m going to miss Esme.”

  “She won’t see that drawing of hers Ink’s doing on your bike.”

  She might. I’ve already thought of taking a ride down to Flagstaff to show her once it’s done, and to check she’s doing alright.

  “Oh fuck no.” Sparky’s voice sounds from the bar and his fist thumps the wood. “Not a-fuckin-gain.”

  Turning around, I groan.

  “What’s up, Brother?” Lizard asks without opening his eyes.

  “Vi’s just put another fuckin’ swear jar on the bar.”

  Prez’s old lady hears me and comes over with a big grin on her face. “When Theo’s around, you watch your mouths. We’ll have another one soon when Mel and Pyro’s kid’s born.”

  “Got to bring this up in church,” Liz mumbles. “This is a fuckin’ biker clubhouse, not a kindergarten.” His fingers press into his temples again.

  “I can’t tell the difference sometimes.” Vi laughs, then she frowns. “You sure you’re okay, Liz?”

  “Hunky dory.” Lizard opens his eyes and winks. Looks like that Advil might be kicking in. He’s certainly got a little more colour.

  At that moment, the clubhouse door opens, and in walks Shayla. She’d been staying out of the way at Mo’s. Jayden’s with her.

  Shayla’s critical eyes scan the room, clearly noticing Esme’s missing. I walk over to her and as soon as I’m close, she asks anxiously, “Everything go okay here?”

  I notice the sadness in her face. “You’re going to miss her, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” she confirms. “I thought I’d be relieved, you know? But I’ve been looking out for her all these months, and it feels a bit like I’ve lost a limb. She’s such a sweet kid, Mace.”

  “Her parents love her.” Vi has appeared, overheard, and tries to put Shayla’s mind at ease. “Esme ran straight to them with no hesitation. It destroyed her dad to learn what happened to her.”

  I’m glad to hear it went down well, not having been here myself. “I’m sure they’ll get her the help she needs. Time for you to think about you, now, Shayla, and what you want. Time for you to heal.” I give Vi a nod of thanks that she’d updated us, but signal with my eyes that I’ll take it from here.

  I lead Shayla to a free couch and hold up two fingers to Dirt. Almost before we’ve got our asses on the seat, two beers appear in front of us. Picking up one of the bottles, she takes a long swallow.

  “Needed that.” She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth. “This afternoon, with Mo, was… interesting.”

  I chuckle. I expect it was. Mo’s quite a force to be reckoned with. She’s Hellfire’s wife, and when he was the prez, was the club’s first lady, even if she steered clear of the clubhouse most of the time. Of course, her history isn’t pretty. She was raped by Blackie, the prez before Hellfire, and Hellfire killed the man who was his father. While it’s never been confirmed, rather than Hell being Demon’s dad, we suspect he’s his brother. But who needs to know the true fucking family lines? Blood, as I’d told Cas, counts for nothing. Hellfire had raised Demon like a son, whatever the truth of the matter. Still, Mo had never completely gotten over her unease with the club.

  That thought makes me wonder whether Shayla will ever recover.

  “You talk to Mo?” I wonder if it might have helped if she had, though part of me worries. You can never tell which way Mo’s going to jump. “Mo’s been through some bad shit herself.”

  Shayla’s head tilts. “No, she didn’t say anything, and I didn’t offer. She was pleasant enough but didn’t seem receptive to confidences.”

  It could have been a missed chance. “I still think you should speak to someone.”

  Shayla understands what I’m saying. “I don’t know, Mace. I don’t see myself talking to a therapist, or not yet. I’ve been so focused on running, on keeping Esme out of Major’s hands, that I haven’t really thought about myself, apart from getting rid of this fucking tattoo, of course. Talking means dredging everything up again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

  “You will, babe. You will. You’ll move on.”

  She shakes her head. Her disbelief is the reason I think seeing a therapist will work. She’ll only exist, not thrive, when she distrusts all men. As I watch her drink her beer again, her throat working so gracefully as she swallows, I admit I’d like her to at least trust me. I also admit I have fantasies about her being in my bed but have no idea whether I’d ever be able to get her into it.

  When she goes t
o lean forward and replace the empty bottle on the table, I help out by taking it from her. As our fingers accidentally touch, she jumps as though scalded, then looks sheepish.

  “Babe, why don’t I look into making you an appointment?”

  She frowns. “No point, Mace. Now that Esme’s gone, I was thinking of moving on.”

  My brow creases. Now that she’s put it out there, I know I don’t want her to go, and not just because I don’t think it’s safe. I don’t want her leaving for selfish reasons. “Sort of getting used to you being around. Why don’t you stay? You’ve got to get the rest of your tat done for a start. You’re safe here. You’re not going to get any trouble from anyone, and Pyro’s offered you a job starting Monday.”

  “The job sounded good when I had Esme to think of. Now I’m alone…” her voice trails off. “I don’t know what to do, Mace.”

  “What were your plans, your dreams? Before you were taken?” Suddenly a thought hits me. “Did you have a man? Were you married?” If so, wouldn’t she have gone back to him? Asked for help at the least.

  She blinks slowly. “I had a man. Well, I thought I had. When I escaped, I had no money. I managed to borrow a phone from someone at a shelter, and I called him. His voice… Hearing his voice made me hope everything would be alright. But I’d been gone a year, and he’d moved on. There was a woman talking in the background. I begged him for help, but he didn’t believe my story. Said it had hurt him too much when I’d walked out and not bothered to contact him. I tried to say it wasn’t my fault, but he refused to hear it. He’d assumed I’d left for another man. I told him I hadn’t, tried to explain...” Her face distorts with remembered pain. “He called me a whore. When I asked just for a bit of money to tide me over—a loan, not a gift—he told me to earn it on my back.”

  “You want to give me his fuckin’ name?”

  “Why?”

  “So I can kill him for you.”

  The fleeting grin breaking through her pain shows me she thinks I’m joking. I’m not.

  She grows serious again. “His suggestion was not even an option. You know I can’t stand a man touching me. I can’t even stand a man being close. That time, when we first ran, and I needed a ride out of Vegas… I froze, I vomited after. I know I couldn’t do that again.”

  I don’t point out we’re sitting opposite each other, so close our knees are no more than an inch apart. Leaned forward as we both are, our foreheads are all but touching. I can feel her exhaled breaths on my face. I don’t mention any of that.

  “I’ve tried a new recipe.” Mel’s standing beside me, a plate in her hand. “Want to test it out?”

  We both accept her offer of a delicious looking cupcake without further persuasion. Shayla takes a mouthful and groans as the flavour hits her taste buds. “Mmm. So good.”

  “I’ve got another batch, I’ve just taken out of the oven.” Mel’s smiling broadly at Shayla’s obvious appreciation. “Want to be my tester?”

  Shayla almost leaps to her feet. “Sure,” she says, stuffing the rest of the cake into her mouth. “Lead the way.”

  I smile after her as she walks off. The happier she is here, the longer, hopefully, she’ll stay.

  Her seat doesn’t stay vacant for long, and soon Ink is sitting opposite me. “Beth’s been roped in for taste testing.”

  “Shayla too,” I tell him.

  “What’s between you and her?” Ink asks. “You looked quite cosy sitting there.”

  “Nothing,” I reply, while admitting to myself I’m starting to wish that there was. “She’s thinking of moving on, and I was trying to persuade her to stay.”

  “Why would you stop her leaving, Mace?” Ink queries, leaning back and stretching out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “If she stays, we’ll need to watch our backs in case Major catches up with her.”

  “If she goes, and he does, she’ll be facing that problem alone. That thought doesn’t sit easy with me.”

  He gives me a long look. “With Beth and I it was sex,” Ink starts. “Instant sexual attraction. I denied it was more than that, of course, but once I had her, I knew I didn’t want anyone else.”

  My brow furrows as I wonder where he’s going with this.

  “You and Shayla? You’re friends first, aren’t you?”

  “Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “Yeah, I’m friendly with her. She needs someone in her corner.” I think how she told me about the asshole of her ex. “You know me, Ink. I’m not a one-woman man. And one thing’s for certain, Shayla needs someone to be there for her. She’s not out for a fling, or anything for that matter. The last thing she needs is a man who’ll fuck her and leave her, and what more have I to offer than that?”

  He laughs. “Not so long ago, I was saying exactly the same thing, Mace. And you know what? The more I protested, the harder I fought, the deeper I fell.”

  I’m not falling for Shayla. I’d like to fuck her, yes. Especially now her figure’s getting more rounded as she’s putting on weight—probably from taste testing everything Mel bakes. But to take her as my old lady? To take anyone as my partner? No. Simply not going to happen. No way.

  I tell him precisely that.

  Ink, the bastard leatherneck just laughs. “We’ll see, fucker.” He’s looking over my shoulder.

  I’ve served, I’ve learned how to stay alive, so I’m aware that someone is approaching behind me. A heady perfume meets my nostrils, so I don’t jump when arms circle my neck, and the smooth soft skin of a female cheek settles close to my ear.

  “Want some fun?”

  I don’t have to turn around to know who’s there. I unwrap her arms, firmly pushing them down and away. “Not now, Tulia.”

  Ink raises his eyebrow and smirks.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lizard

  The Advil had finally kicked in and the headache had soon receded to a dull ache. I’d felt exhausted though, like I often do after one of the attacks hit. Although I hadn’t seen the need to keep up with my scheduled appointments, now I’m beginning to accept I have to talk to someone about these sudden blasts of pain. Heaven forbid one should hit when I’m out on my bike.

  I get checks because of the blow I’d received to my head. They always follow the same pattern, every appointment going the same way. Seems the doctors still want to prod me and probe, but I can’t see the point.

  Got any memories back?

  No. I know there are a few things I don’t remember, but as long as I don’t forget the important shit, I’m no longer bothered.

  Any problems?

  No. As long as I can live, ride, fuck, and do my job, I’m happy and content.

  See you next year.

  That’s why I stopped going.

  Although I didn’t think I had a problem with my sight, I had banked on being prescribed glasses which might stop these headaches. But no, my eyes are apparently better than fine. Although, like the vast majority of people, I’ll probably need help to see well in time, but there are no signs of degradation now.

  Having to acknowledge I’m getting more head pain than a woman PMSing, it’s time, as I admitted to Mace, to get myself seen.

  Especially as it’s fucking with my life. It’s Saturday night, and I’ve gone to bed early missing the party. This is not me.

  Sleep comes easily.

  But then I wake, dripping with sweat with the bedsheets twisted around me. I scramble for the details of the dream I just had, but as normal, they evade me.

  Rolling onto my back, I reach out my hand to the left side of my bed. It’s empty, not even warm to show someone had been there.

  Why should there be? Placing my hands under my head, I give myself a mental shake. Christ, maybe the dream I can’t remember is still fixed in my brain.

  I close my eyes.

  I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC and have done for the past ten years. I’m twenty-six years old, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m not looking
forward to tomorrow. I’m leaving on another fucking tour, and I’ve got a bad feeling about it inside me.

  What the fuck?

  This time, I do shake my head. I’m thirty-eight for fuck’s sake. I get out of bed and pull on my jeans, then stretch my hands over my head.

  I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC and have done for the past ten years. I’m thirty-eight years old, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m a tattoo artist and I run Devil’s Ink on behalf of my brothers. I’ve no ties, no family and intend to stay that way.

  There. That’s right. I’m going on a tour…

  No, no. Again, I shake my head. That’s not right.

  Entering the bathroom, I stand in front of the toilet bowl. Fuck. Left the seat up again. She’s going to be mad at me.

  Who?

  I feel a cold chill go through me, and again physically try to shake it off, while raising my eyes to look into the mirror. My lips curve. Not my hair or eye colour, but my nose, my mouth. That’s what my baby boy inherited from me. Christ, I’m going to miss them when I’m overseas…

  Baby? What the fuck? And I’m going fucking nowhere. I’m right where I belong. What fucking dream has gotten hold of me?

  I finish my piss, automatically tug my dick back into my pants, but I can’t drag my eyes away from the reflection of my face. But it’s not my face that I see. It’s younger, red hair and green eyes, but the features are mine.

  The features are mine.

  The features are mine.

  I’m seeing red hair.

  The features are mine.

  The eyes are green.

  My baby boy’s eyes were green.

  My head starts to pound.

  The image in front of me shimmers. The hair colour morphs from dirty blond to red. Hazel eyes turn to green.

  I close my eyes. Cas. Castiel.