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

by Manda Mellett

  It’s as though I’ve only just allowed myself to really acknowledge I might never see my brother again. I thought I’d been dealing, but know it’s just a front I’ve been putting on. Now my heart aches as my possible loss cuts through me, as well as the guilt as to the part I might have played.

  “I can’t lose him,” I spit out. “Fuck, Shayla. He’s not just a club brother, we were fighting for our country at the same time. Might not have served alongside him, he was a Marine and I was Army, but the tie’s there all the same, both up against the same enemy. We were so fuckin’ close.” I keep to myself the closeness that we shared fuckin’ girls together, and settle for, “I had a bond with him that’s hard to explain. Sure, he’s an asshole, but aren’t we all? If he goes—”

  “He’s a fighter,” she insists. “Might not know him well, but I’m certain of that. If there’s any chance, he’ll come back to you.”

  “He might. But what if it fucks his brain up?” I draw my hands down my face. “I don’t know what to do. Prez wants to meet in an hour. I’ve come up to get a quick shower, now I’ve not even the energy to do that. I’m the fuckin’ enforcer, babe. How can I do my job when I can’t even think straight?”

  She stands, and one of her hands lands on my shoulder, then the other on the opposite side. Gently, she digs her fingers in, releases, then does it again.

  Christ. That feels so fucking good. I roll my head as her touch eases some of my tension.

  As her fingers continue to squeeze and relax, I let out a groan. “You’ve got a magic touch.”

  I hear her breathe in deeply, then she says in a decisive tone, “Come with me.”

  I take the hand she holds out but use my own weight to pull myself up. Then, intrigued, I follow her into the room she’s using. A room with such bad connotations, no brother wants to move into it, so it’s been used for a variety of other purposes. Connor, Beth’s brother, was the last person to stay here when he was injured. No one else wants to go into the room which was Skull’s. It’s as if his stench still hangs over it. The odour of cop and betrayal.

  Now it’s filled with her and her perfume and already the place seems lighter.

  I stand by the door, uncertain why she’s invited me in here.

  She indicates the end of the bed. “Sit on the edge there.”

  When I do, she climbs on the bed behind me. “You’re too tall, Mace. I couldn’t do this properly out there.” She uses her fingers and palms to knead my taut neck and shoulder muscles. Whether it’s her, or just the gentle touch that I need, more of my tension starts to ease.

  She’s left the door open, but that’s okay. I may be in her bedroom, but I’m conscious of this massive step forward, and know I can’t take advantage or frighten her away. I’m making sure my hands stay anchored on my knees, no hint of a threat or that I’m about to overpower her. Being totally honest, even Shayla’s hands on me wouldn’t have my cock sitting up, not after the day that I’ve had. My thoughts are all with my brother, fighting for his very existence. The neurologist had warned us brains are tricky, even if Liz recovers, he may never be the same.

  My thoughts come out of my mouth. “What if he can never ride his bike again? Or talk?” Fuck, I’d miss his voice and those comments he makes. “What if he can’t feed or look after himself?”

  “Mace, don’t think that way.” Her voice, like her touch, is calming. “Lizard once told me, I shouldn’t borrow trouble. He was right. You’ve just got to take it day by day. Doctors can work miracles these days, and even if he comes out the other side not the same as he was, you and your brothers will deal. One thing I’ve learned while I’ve been here is the love you all have for each other.”

  She’s right. If he can’t ride his bike, he can’t be a member of the club, but that’s just semantics. Not one of us would abandon a brother in need.

  “He’s a good man,” she tells me, her hands never stop moving. “Another tattoo artist wouldn’t have cared how Major had marked me.”

  “Property patches mean something to us, darlin’,” I explain. “Part of his concern was blowback on the club.”

  I feel her shrug. “He cares for you, his brothers. But whatever you say or how you try to justify it, he’s been good to me.” Her hands lift away. “Why don’t you lie down, on your front?”

  That she’s confident enough to suggest it warms me even though my thoughts are chilling. I do as she suggests, and feel her straddle me, her hands now massaging my shoulders and back, stopping just above my ass.

  “You’re good at this,” I tell her, feeling myself relax.

  “I work with heavy shit,” she says. “Sometimes I overdo it or have to stretch in unfamiliar ways to get to part of an engine. I discovered this great massage parlour and often went there to get my aches soothed away. I’m just trying to do what they did to me.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  For a moment we’re quiet, me starting to feel like I could drift away and doze off.

  “Has Lizard got any family?”

  Now isn’t that the million-dollar question? “His mom died, his dad couldn’t cope. Lost himself in the bottle. Lizard was taken away and entered the system. Went through various foster homes and then joined the Marines. I don’t think his dad is still breathing, but Lizard wouldn’t want anything to do with him anyway.” I offer her what truth I can, keeping the rest to myself.

  My mind goes to Cas. If that kid doesn’t pull himself together, he could go the same way as his dad. Be taken away from his mom if social services think she’s not a good enough mother. Fuck, and I just sent her away. I’d been thinking of Liz. If, heaven forbid, he never recovers, wouldn’t he want someone to be there for his kid and his wife? I’d been trying to protect him, but what if I’ve made things worse?

  “What’s the time, babe?”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got an eye on the clock. You’ve still got twenty minutes before your meeting.”

  “I meant to have a shower.”

  “You want to go get one?”

  “No.” It’s here I want to stay. Her touch, so soothing, so comforting, it’s helping me to come to terms with what’s happened today. I feel so fucking helpless. There’s nothing to fight, no one to question. This problem is one I can’t solve in any of my usual ways.

  We’re quiet as she continues to work my muscles. When at last she says I should be on my way, I realise some of my inner strength has returned. While her administrations have done nothing to take my troubles away, somehow, I feel better able to face them.

  When she stands, I roll onto my back, then curl my abs and sit up. She’s moved a few feet away.

  I don’t approach, I make no move to touch her. I just say a heartfelt, “Thank you, babe.”

  She offers a quick smile. “If there’s anything I can do to help, Mace…”

  “Stay,” I tell her, then when she goes to protest, I tell her again, “Just stay here with us. Fuck knows how long Liz will be in the hospital, Shay. I don’t need to have to worry about where you are as well.”

  “You’d worry about me?” She seems surprised.

  “Every fuckin’ day.”

  Her eyes widen, and her head tilts to one side. A whole minute passes before she speaks, as though she’s working things through in her head. “Okay,” she starts, slowly, the word coming as she breathes out. “I won’t make plans to move on until Liz is back home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Shayla

  I’d been a normal woman until Major had taken me. My life was predictable, I’d go to work, come home and then cook a meal for my boyfriend and clean up after him. I wasn’t sure I’d be staying with Rodger long-term, but the benefits of having someone there for company outweighed the disadvantages of being an unpaid servant. I wasn’t anything particularly special, so hadn’t set my hopes too high. In time I knew I wanted a family but wasn’t sure I was with the right man.

  In my previous life, I’d never have entertained the idea that I’d end
up where I am, in the clubhouse of an outlaw MC. I would never mix with these kinds of men, would never even dream of going to a business owned by them if I wanted a tattoo—not that I’d probably have gotten one in the first place, far too daring for a girl like me. Under the circumstances I found myself in, I needed to go somewhere where people maybe wouldn’t obey all the rules and would do the work on someone like Esme. Hence, I chose a tattoo parlour run by bikers.

  I’d been wrong, they did run an honest business. But instead of turning me away, they’d offered me sanctuary, and I’ve ended up the one place I’d never imagined I’d be.

  Of course, I never expected my life would be turned upside down in the way it had been. That fateful day carried no indication that anything out of the ordinary was going to happen. I had no premonition, no warning. A simple request to deliver paperwork at the accountant’s wasn’t strange or unusual at all. I’d agreed, then placed a quick phone call to Rodger saying I’d be late. It met with the reaction I could have predicted, the normal grumpy response that his dinner wouldn’t be on the table at the right time.

  I’d driven into Vegas, wondering if perhaps it was now time for me and Rodger to part ways. I wasn’t even certain I loved him anymore, and sex had become something of an obligation, rather than an act I looked forward to with anticipation. Pleasant enough when we got down to it, but too much of a bother at times.

  Rodger’s sex drive had also diminished over time, but I expect that’s what happens to most couples.

  When the accountant had asked me to go for a drink, I’d accepted. Not because I fancied the man, and there was no attraction on his side either, but it had been a break from the monotony of my routine and, if I was honest, a welcome delay in going home to see the man who’d be holding a grudge that I’d left him to fend for himself. Not that he’d be violent, or even shout at me. His treatment would be the opposite, moody silence would be his weapon of choice.

  The couple of drinks, one wine, one soda for me, had turned out to be enjoyable as we shared jokes and had a laugh, him relating tales of some of his clients, and me sharing stories of some of mine. He’d treated me as an equal, not as a woman but a person in my own right, just as I’d grown to expect while doing my job. I worked in a male-dominated environment, and one in which I’d grown comfortable. Sure, at times, there would be the odd innuendo or joke, but I’d made sure I’d gotten my own back with an equal quip. I was respected by the work I did, not the shapeliness of my legs.

  When I’d left the accountant, we’d shaken hands then I walked off into the night.

  The smile that had been placed on my face had slowly slid off when I thought about Rodger and what I’d be returning to. He didn’t see me as a partner, we had strict roles in life. He wore the trousers and I, well, I kept house. Even though I had a good job and brought in the same money as he did.

  Many women would be happy with my lot in life. But to me, something was missing. I just didn’t know what.

  It was the musings filling my head which blocked out my awareness of my surroundings. Not that I’d done anything different were I thinking about something else instead, I can’t blame Rodger for what happened. Of course I knew women shouldn’t walk alone at night, but I never thought something would happen to me. Until it did.

  I’d been completely oblivious that the luxury of wondering whether the man I chose to be with was the one with whom I wanted to stay, or anything I had any say over would be stripped away. That I could accept or turn down any man who wanted to fuck me was no longer an option. When I was taken, my preference counted for nothing. I had no say in anything. It was a hard lesson to learn, but learn it I did. I’d do what I was told, or I’d be beaten and tortured until I complied.

  My comfortable, if boring, life had disappeared in a flash. My world became one of pain, fear and suffering instead. Until Esme appeared, I’d become resigned that my only release would end with my death.

  Esme had given me something to fight for. My determination only grew as she became so scared, she wouldn’t talk. Things that were done to me shouldn’t be suffered by any woman, let alone a child. I knew I’d do anything to save her, even when I’d given up on saving myself.

  At the time, I couldn’t see how we could get out, just knew we either had to, or I’d die in the attempt. Major’s belief that he’d fully broken me offered a chance. Desperation drove me to carry out the attempt which seemed to have little likelihood of success. But fortune had been with us that night, and we’d fled.

  It was fear of her being recaptured that spurred me to do what I had done and allow that truck driver to have me, so he’d take us out of Nevada. He’d griped after that it had been far from the best fuck of his life, as all I could do was lie there shaking and unmoving, hating his hands on me, and as for his dick? I froze when that had touched me.

  But he’d fulfilled his part of the bargain and hadn’t pressed for a repeat.

  It was at that point I knew I’d never willingly let a man near me again in my life.

  I hated what I’d become. I was now a woman fearful of men. Far from regarding them as equals, I now knew how they could control me with their superior strength and their ability to inflict pain. I was terrified of darkness descending if I wasn’t safe inside at night. I was a wreck but held it together for Esme. Esme had kept me as alive as much as I’d done her.

  I hadn’t told Mace when he’d persuaded me to give up my waitressing job that I’d already been in danger of being fired. Andy was losing patience and profit with me working there. I’d dropped too many plates to count, jumping when a man got too close, or had tried to grab my ass as I was bent over a table cleaning up. I hated not earning a living, but it hadn’t taken much persuasion for me to stop going to the diner to work.

  One moment in time. One shift in the universe and the planets aligned against me. Everything had changed, my life turned on its head.

  I often think back to that final night, not the day when I last saw Rodger, but going out for a drink with the accountant. I’d been a confident woman, completely comfortable spending time with a man I knew via work. I didn’t question I could hold my own in a masculine world.

  My experiences have revealed my true self. Now, far from being a strong independent woman, I know I’m weak. Maybe I always was, seeing as how I’d allowed Rodger to take advantage for far too long.

  Now I know the depravities men will stoop to. They don’t even have to have brains, it’s their brawn which counts. They can act on their desires when I can do nothing to stop them. Men, I’ve learned, don’t understand ‘no, stop, it hurts’. They don’t care as long as they get what they’re after.

  I couldn’t let myself be taken again; I wouldn’t survive if Major found me. I can’t say why, but something tells me Major doesn’t mark someone as property and then let them go, not without doing everything he could to recover them, leaving no stone unturned in the process. He’ll kill me for covering his tattoo.

  I’d tried to dismiss that thought as soon as it went through my head, but the evidence was something I couldn’t forget. One of the other women rubbed and rubbed her back against some brickwork in an effort to remove it herself. That her back was raw and bloody wasn’t enough. He poured petrol on her, set her alight and forced the rest of us to watch her burning. The message had been clear. We were his for the rest of our lives.

  I knew getting mine and Esme’s tattoos removed were a risk, but given the options of staying free or him taking me back, it was one I was willing to take. I never wanted anyone to see my back and ask me who I belonged to, or heaven help me, try to find him so they can do the opposite of what the Satan’s Devils were doing, and return me to Major.

  When I’d first arrived at the compound, I was nervous, wondering what they wanted from me. But they raised no finger to hurt me, nor made any demands I’d be unable to fulfil. I saw the Devils were doing all they could to help me, even though I don’t understand why, except it seems, their view of women is in direc
t contrast to Major’s. They found Esme’s parents and having checked they were a loving family, reunited her with them. Their actions couldn’t be faulted. Me? They’re allowing to stay while the work on my tattoo is completed. I’ve felt secure here, safe from Major.

  But I’m no longer their focus, and nor should I be. The Devils are preoccupied with one of their own in the hospital. Just how safe is it to stay?

  It’s best to keep moving.

  There’s an uneasiness inside me about allowing myself to get too comfortable here. If I’m tempted to put down roots in one place, Major is certain to catch up with me. I’d promised myself when I’d escaped that I’d keep moving on. It worries me how I’m starting to relax with the men of the club around me. That’s dangerous. I can’t afford to let my guard down.

  So why did I just have my hands on Mace?

  Mace has been nothing but kind to me, careful and respectful, but still he’s got a cock and balls which makes him no different to the rest. I had been determined to keep my distance from him and everyone else.

  But tonight, he was hurting. His best friend could be dying, or if he comes around, who knows who he’ll awake as. Mace might have lost the man he knows for good.

  Something like this is draining, I know. I’d already lost my parents in a car accident when I was just a kid, and my Gramma had raised me. I’d sat by her hospital bed, hoping she’d wake one last time, but she never did. For her it was blissful, her suffering from the cancer which had ravaged her ended at last. I’d felt lost and helpless when she’d taken her last breath. Yes, I know the pain of that hoping, that eternal optimism that you’ll speak to someone again, that it hadn’t been the last time you’d heard their voice.

  With Lizard there’s more hope, or at least I pray there is. If it hadn’t been for Lizard, I’d never have come to the club and Esme would still be with me, and not home with her family.

  If Lizard had just covered my tattoo without delving deeper, Esme and I would be struggling simply to put food in our mouths. He knew there was something seriously wrong when I tried to pass her off as an adult. But while he could have, he didn’t wash his hands of us and send us away. He was the reason we were given refuge, a place of safety, somewhere to catch my breath.