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

by Manda Mellett

  We’d been outnumbered but had come out the victors. The mercenaries Major had employed had given up once their paymaster was dead. Mace got his way and was able to question a couple of those uninjured, but both told him the same. They were in it for the pay and had no allegiance. No personal beef with us, and no reason to come for us again. They’d all joined up individually, so no prior friendships or loyalty between them.

  Interestingly, Major was paying them in cash, and the money was found in his limousine. The numbers to share it had reduced dramatically, so while we took half for our damages, the men left alive agreed to take their own injured away as they’d each taken a bounty greater than expected.

  I’d been happy with the solution and the promise elicited that they’d never show their faces in Pueblo again. It’s one thing to shoot a man in the heat of battle, quite another in the cold light of day.

  A couple had grudgingly admitted they’d no idea what they’d be walking into that day, having been told it was a simple extraction from men unprepared and who had no idea the mercenaries were headed our way. That we were a bunch of wannabe bikers who, when not riding our bikes, sat around drinking and fucking all day. They hadn’t expected to come up against experienced men armed and prepared to put their lives on the line for their club.

  I was happy to see the last of them, which coincided with the news that Bomber was awake, grumpy and having been sewn up and given blood to replace that which he’d lost, would make a full recovery.

  “Dad? I like this one.”

  I look down when he passes me his tablet. “Huh. Well think again. That’s a little out of our price range.” Way out of it, truth be told. Little shit has just shown me a house with an indoor pool and a gym.

  “That one’s more like it.” Vanna, leaning over me, is scrolling down the page.

  Yeah, a modest house with four bedrooms and seems in a good neighbourhood. Vanna wanted three, but I pushed her to look for something larger, wanting to fulfil her dream of having a big family.

  “It’s okay,” Cas says sullenly. I presume he’s noticed it doesn’t have a pool.

  “I’ll make arrangements for us to go and see it.” I stand, stretch, and take my phone out of my pocket.

  “Liz?” I pause and turn around at my wife’s voice who’s staring down at her tablet. “Lindy’s emailed. She wants to come visit. Says she wants to see Cas with her own eyes to make sure he’s okay. Is it alright if she comes this weekend?”

  Vanna’s friend had been beside herself when Cas went missing. We were a bit vague about where he’d been, but Vanna had come up with something to calm her. There’s no doubt she’s been a good friend to my wife, so I can’t see a visit would be a problem, I’ve not met the woman myself, but feel I should thank her. Not only had she let Cas stay, she’d been Vanna’s support ever since she’d moved to Denver.

  “Yeah, I’ll have to run it past Demon, but it should be fine.”

  Her wide smile shows it was the right answer. I continue my interrupted journey out of the noisy clubroom.

  As I walk out into the warmth of the summer’s day, I stare before making my phone call. We’ve already got a new reinforced gate on the way, and the prospects have shored up the old one the best that they can.

  I’m a lucky bastard, things could so easily have gone differently. This club is my life and family, but if my wife and kid hadn’t fitted in as they have, I’d have given it all up and moved to Denver. That they wanted to stay has made my life perfect. I’ll miss living at the club but can’t wait to make a new start in our new home with Vanna, even though it means I’ll have to deal with Cas every day.

  He’s easy to love, but a lot of the time he has me wanting to pull my slowly growing-back hair out. Babies grow into teenagers, I remind myself, and here I am planning more.

  Idly, I wonder whether Cas would have turned out anything other than the Devil’s spawn if I’d been there to shape him growing up. I scoff at myself, no fucking chance. Although I’d like to deny it, he reminds me of my much younger self, or what I would have been had I been brought up by a loving mom. I’d have bucked the rules too, hell, being a biker, I’m constantly holding up my middle finger to the world. I may not have had a hand in his upbringing, but he’s so like me it’s uncanny.

  He’s now talking about joining the Marines when he’s old enough, and I’m not sure how I feel about that, knowing only too well how dangerous it is. Fuck, the injury I suffered had affected three lives—mine, his and his mother’s. Part of me wonders whether he’s seeking revenge on the enemy that caused my injury, but it wouldn’t be the same war he’d be fighting.

  He’s already taken another man’s life, but though I’ve been watching him carefully, he seems to have compartmentalised that. It was a desperate but necessary action. Had he not done what he had, I might have lost him forever. I shudder just thinking about it.

  I came out here for a reason, I remind myself. To take that first step into our future and do something I’d never thought about before I had Vanna back in my life. To buy a house with my wife, move her and my son into it, and hopefully add more kids into the mix.

  I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I’m thirty-eight years old and I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC. I’m a tattoo artist… or will be, if I get the full use of my hand back—no one wants a tattoo artist whose hand shakes, but as it’s improving every day, I’ve every hope of getting there eventually.

  I repeat my mantra which I haven’t thought about for weeks. Vanna’s not worried about my brain playing tricks on me, so why the fuck should I? But I add something that I’ll always want to remember. I’m a happily married family man.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Mace

  I glance down at the woman lying beside me, trustingly resting her head on my shoulder. Her mouth is open and she’s snoring gently. I grin, knowing she’d refuse to believe me if I told her. Apparently, women don’t snore or fart. I suppress a snort, knowing it’s a lie on both counts.

  I never thought I’d find someone I wanted to settle down with, but now can’t understand how I ever thought I was contented with the club girls. Each time Shayla and I fuck, it gets better to the point I’ll be satisfied with just her for life.

  It’s been a week now since the death of Major was taken out of my hands, my only regret is that I couldn’t make him hurt and give him a death which was prolonged and painful. That one bullet to the head had been so much more than he deserved.

  Shayla grunts softly and snuggles closer into me, as trusting in sleep as she is awake. She knows I’ll never hurt her and would die before I let anything harm her.

  I think about the meeting last night in church.

  “I got a phone call from Red earlier,” Demon had told us. “Big news story down in Vegas. Women and boys had been found held captive in a mansion. They’d been pimped out and used against their will. Each one branded with a tattoo. Everything points to it having been Major’s operation that had been brought down, though the police haven’t made his name public. Rope, Cuff, and Twister identified it was their contacts who’d been arrested.”

  I breathed out. “Thank fuck.” There was always the possibility Major could have been taken out to prevent that happening so a partner could continue the business. Major was killed before he spilled the details of his operation.

  “It appears whoever killed Major knew he could die with his info intact, as they had it anyway. Or that’s what Red and I surmise. Police got a firm tip-off and they followed up with a raid. Twenty women and four young boys who’d been forced into sexual servitude now saved and given a new chance in life.”

  Sounds simple, but if they’re damaged like Shayla, I could only hope they’re getting the support that they need.

  We’d discussed it for a bit longer, but it was the ending of a chapter. Major’s dead, his operation in tatters. Of course, someone else would undoubtably step up and take his place. Where there were men willing to pay to feed their depraved
appetites, someone will step up and provide what they wanted. But the player who’d come into our lives is gone. He’s now dead, buried and rotting out in the desert.

  “Any other business?”

  I raised my hand. “Prez, I want to put something on the table.” At his nod, I’d continued, “Our bylaws state all old ladies should get a property patch tattoo. I propose we remove that rule.” I pause and grimace. “After what happened to Shayla, my view of property patches has become tainted. Shay’s my woman, but I don’t need my name on her to know that I own her, and she doesn’t want hers on me.”

  “Agreed,” Beef said fast. “Never got around to putting mine on Steph. She’s not keen on the idea of tattoos. Tucson got rid of that requirement years back.”

  For some reason, everyone looked down the table at Hellfire. He’d thought for a moment, then shrugged. “The regulation was there from the time the club was started, pre-dated even my time at the table. I was a prospect then and not part of the decision making.”

  “The club was wilder and more likely to go head-to-head with our enemies, and other clubs tended to take something that wasn’t owned. I agree, now, there’s little need for it.” Bomber shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. We’d already agreed not to prolong this session as it was the day he’d been let out of the hospital. He’d insisted on coming to church, fucker didn’t want to miss anything.

  “I’m okay with removing the tattoo requirement, but old ladies would still need to wear their ‘Property of’ cuts though.” Demon sounded adamant. “It’s protection if someone’s sniffing around. Not taking a woman who looks unclaimed to a different chapter, or when the Wretched Soulz are around. A property cut saves a lot of time and argument.”

  “That’s a choice though, isn’t it?” offered Pal. “Why not leave it up to the couple to decide what’s best for them?”

  Demon stared at him for a moment. “Ok. Let’s vote on it.”

  The vote passed. The regulation was removed. I, for one, was very happy with that outcome.

  I reach for my phone and notice the time.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. Time to get moving.”

  She moans, coming awake slowly. I roll my body on top of hers, plant a quick kiss on her lips, then slide down under the covers.

  “Mace!” Her voice is less sleepy, and her hands try to grip my short hair as I start eating her pussy.

  When she comes, I move up the bed, my cock finding her cunt immediately. Now fully awake, she clutches at me.

  It’s a quickie as we’ve things we need to be doing, but no less satisfying than any other time I’ve fucked her. While I’ve just had a release, I’m sure my cock will be hard as iron once she’s seated behind me on my bike. It’s just the effect she has on me, and I know being close to me will have the same effect on her. But as soon as we reach Albuquerque, I’ll find a motel and take her to bed.

  Which, of course, is exactly what happens.

  The next day we arrive at Flagstaff, and I use the GPS to find the house we need. Neither of us are certain of our welcome. From the parents, I know we’ll get a warm one—they’d extended an invitation as soon as I mentioned it—but neither of us are certain whether Esme will remember us, or whether seeing us again will cause her problems as the sight of Shayla might hold bad connotations for her.

  I needn’t have worried. Esme flies out of the house as soon as I cut the engine and launches herself into Shayla’s arms.

  “You came! Mommy and Daddy told me you would. You came!”

  Her voice is strong and steady, and absolute music to my ears. It’s how I always imagined it would be, more childlike than that of a teenage girls’.

  “How are you Esme?”

  “Good.” She turns to me and holds out her arms. “Mace!”

  “Hi, sweetie.” I pick her up and swing her around. “We came to show something to you.” I’m as eager as a kid myself as I put her down, leaving my arm around her, and turn her to face my bike. “Look.”

  Any thoughts that she wouldn’t remember are blown away when her eyes open wide as they settle on the rearing stallion that she’d drawn, and Ink had painted on my bike.

  “It’s my picture!” She points to it, her hand covering her mouth, then looking up at me with wide eyes. “My picture’s on your bike!”

  “Come in and freshen up. I’m sure you’ve had a long journey. I don’t know what you liked, but I’ve been doing some cooking.”

  So taken up with Esme’s reaction to my bike, I hadn’t noticed her parents coming outside, but should have guessed they would be right behind her. I turn to give them chin lifts now.

  “You didn’t have to go to any trouble for us,” Shayla tells Esme’s mother.

  It’s when Brett, her father is staring at Shayla, I realise the two had never actually met. He’s got tears in his eyes as he hesitantly steps forward to her.

  “Ms Yonovich, I’m, we’re, so pleased to meet you at last. And nothing, nothing is too much trouble for the people who brought Esme back to us.”

  “Call me Shayla, please.” Shay reaches out, takes his hand and squeezes it. “I’m just so pleased I got her out.”

  He looks like he’s going to break down, so I quickly ask, “How’s Esme doing?”

  Brett slowly takes his eyes away from the woman who sacrificed so much to rescue his daughter and ruffles Esme’s hair. “Esme’s doing fine, aren’t you?”

  “Daddy, look at Mace’s bike.” Proudly she points to my gas tank.

  “I can see, sweetheart. You draw that?”

  She nods so hard I think she’s in danger of her head falling off.

  Maisie calls us to follow her inside, where she’s prepared a feast fit for a king, far more than we’d ever be able to eat.

  Just as we’re remarking on it, a man appears. I’ve never met him before in my life, but I immediately know all about him.

  “Uncle Paul!” Esme runs over and hugs the tall, well-built and rough-looking man, while wary eyes return my scrutiny.

  “Army,” I tell him, answering his unspoken question.

  He smirks. “Navy. Retired.”

  Brett explains, “Paul’s been living with us. He’s a firefighter. His teammates and cops that he knows have been taking turns making sure Esme’s kept safe.”

  Now I can better understand why Brett thought he was able to protect his daughter with the likes of him around.

  Paul, it turns out, is Maisie’s brother and a beloved uncle. I update him and Brett with the headlines, not going into details, but letting them know Major’s no longer a threat. Esme pouts when hearing her Uncle Paul is now going to be moving out.

  It’s an enjoyable visit, and we stay longer than I’d expected, Esme wanting to show Shayla her room which is painted pink and decorated with unicorns. In pride of place on her bed is a shaggy dog toy, the colour of a bagel and, unsurprisingly, called Bagel. A toy cat, less torn and tattered lies alongside it. When Esme opens her mouth to tell me its name, I hold my breath until she says she’s called Bitsy.

  “We’re getting a puppy,” Maisie tells us, grinning at our reaction to the cat’s name. “We’re getting it trained as a support dog for Esme. She’s already named it.”

  “Max,” Shayla and I say together, then both of us laugh.

  A dog is a good idea. While on the surface Esme seems happy and settled, I’m sure she can’t be totally unscathed by her experience, which her father confirms when he confides she never lets go of his hand when they go out. I suspect it’s half and half though, and that he doesn’t want to let go of hers.

  She’s lucky she’s got a loving family, as what she is now is about where she’ll ever get to. She won’t get her GED or be able to work. But he confides they’re looking into where her talent at art might take her.

  I ask him about her tattoo. It’s a sore subject.

  He grimaces and drags his hands through his hair. “It bothers me, it bothers Maisie, it’s there as a permanent reminder. But the one person it doesn’
t bother is her. Esme’s not really aware of it as she doesn’t see it like we do. Laser treatment might be painful, another tattoo would hurt. What good would it do her to put her through something just to make us feel easier?”

  He’s got a point. I raise my chin to show I can see it.

  His hands tighten until they form fists. “For now, we’ll leave it alone. It’s a reminder of how we nearly lost her, and how precious she is to us. Maybe in time, when she’s older, we’ll rethink and get it covered, but for now? I’m not going to hurt her.”

  We leave with promises to visit again and turn down offers of money, neither of us wanted payment for doing something any halfway decent person would do.

  Then, it already being early evening, I suggest we find a motel and head back to Albuquerque in the morning. With Shayla and my bike with me, I’ve all that I need.

  We find a suitable place where we can park right outside, and I present the key card to the lock which turns green immediately. Then, once inside, I throw the saddlebags down on the bed.

  “She’s doing well.”

  “She is,” I agree.

  Shayla shudders. “What if I had failed, Mace? What if I hadn’t been able to escape with her? What if Major had found us?”

  I wrap my arms around her, holding her face to my chest. I knew seeing Esme would bring everything back to her. I’d had to weigh the benefits of her being satisfied that the girl she rescued was being well cared for with the downside of it dredging up memories of her time as a captive and what she’d had to do to survive after.

  “I love you,” I tell her. “I want to marry you. I want to settle down, get a house, have a family with you if that’s what you want too.”