Peg's Stand (Satan's Devils MC #6)

by Manda Mellett

  Well, fuck me. “Muscle,” I breathe out.

  Drum’s staring at Dollar, and I watch as what passes for a smile for the prez spreads over his face. “Fuckin’ good idea, Dollar. If it doesn’t work, we just pay the money back. No harm, no foul.”

  “And if it does?” Jekyll’s looking confused. “We get landed with a bill we can’t pay. Even a day’s interest at that level would break us.”

  “Not if it didn’t get applied.” Dollar takes the floor back. “But I’m guessing it won’t be a lowly clerk who’d discuss the hidden clause. It would be Mercer himself.”

  “Giving us the opportunity to see how he does it.”

  “It could take a long time before he calls on us.” That’s my only objection.

  “It’s worth a try,” Drummer says, then smirks. “Right, assholes, what do we need a couple of million for?”

  After dismissing some of the inaner suggestions, we settle on expanding our construction company, with the new contract for the mall coming up that would be seen as legit. Although run by Viper and Bullet, all our businesses are owned jointly by the club.

  While I was worried that we’d have to play a waiting game, as it turns out, Mercer takes the bait surprisingly quickly. Drummer puts in a request for a meeting on the Monday following Friday night’s church and gets an appointment to see the man himself the following day.

  “That was fast, Prez.” I wave to Pussy, who’s taking her turn behind the bar. To give her her due, she seems to enjoy it more than the other sweet butts, and gives me my beer with a smile.

  Taking his whisky from Pussy, lines etch his forehead as Drummer replies, “You might have been onto something, Peg. There’s no one else on his books who could provide the kind of services he probably thinks he could get from us.”

  “I’d like to be a fly on that wall.”

  “You know why you can’t, Peg.”

  Yeah, I do. While I’d have loved to go to the meeting and see the man who sired my woman’s nemesis, it makes more sense if the prez and our treasurer go instead.

  With time on my hands while Prez and Dollar go to meet Mercer, I spend it with Flash, worried she’s clearly struggling to cope. Obviously, she’s not able to do any strenuous activity for another few weeks, and I wouldn’t even dream of trying to fuck her until I get the okay that she’s healed. But I want to touch her, kiss her, show those signs of affection which demonstrate how deeply I feel for her. But apart from allowing me to hold her hand and lightly put my arm around her, she evades all further intimacy.

  At night she lies in my bed, but if I try to hold her, she pulls away. At least she’s here. I’d rather have her with me, where I know she’s safe, than out of my sight. Her lack of progress worries me, and every time I see her start at the slightest sound, it makes me wish all over again that Pete Mercer was dead.

  I’ve spoken to Slick, taking advice from him as to how he helped Ella recover from her own ordeal, a multiple rape at the hands of what was then a rival MC. At his suggestion I decide to ask Ella to speak with her. I can only hope she has some success.

  Noting the time, I leave her taking a nap and am back in the clubhouse when Prez returns. His raised chin lets me know they’d been successful as he passes over a copy of the contract he’s signed to Mouse, and then goes to the bar. I go stand alongside him as he indicates to Allie he wants his whisky from the top shelf.

  “Celebratin’ being two million dollars richer?”

  His mouth twists wryly. “Would buy a decent few bikes.” He takes a sip of his drink, ice cubes rattling around. “Had to put the compound up as collateral. Not touchin’ a fuckin’ cent.”

  “What’s the interest rate?”

  “Well, we weren’t offered zero, but a fair enough point five percent.”

  As I’m about to probe further, Mouse reappears, a frown on his face. “This isn’t right. It’s a standard contract. I’ve scanned it and been through it line by fuckin’ line, and there’s nothing about raising the interest rate.”

  Disturbed, I look at him, then toward Prez. Mercer’s being straight with us? Shit. That idea didn’t work, and now we’ve got two million dollars in the bank that we don’t need. I don’t understand how we could have got it so wrong, but trust Mouse to have checked the contract, and compared it to the one with the high interest rate. If he says it is, that clause is definitely missing.

  Prez checks for himself and reaches the same conclusion. The three of us exchange worried looks. Why the fuck has Mercer given us such a large loan and played it straight? We were so sure we were on the right track.

  We don’t often get casual callers to the compound, so the next afternoon, when an unknown person appears at the gate, it’s unusual. When Fergus calls up asking for instruction, Wraith and I happen to be in Drummer’s office at the time.

  “Fergus. Yeah, who is it?”

  “Is it now?” Wraith and I tilt our heads, something in Drummer’s tone having caught our attention.

  “Bring him up.”

  At my raised eyebrow, Drummer ends the call and gives that half grin of his. “There’s a clerk from Mercer’s bank here.”

  “They bring the money in person?” Wraith laughs.

  “Nah, that’s already in our bank account. Dollar has checked.”

  A buzz of excitement comes over me. We were right.

  “Something’s going on, Prez.”

  “Yeah, Peg. And soon we’ll find out what it is.”

  A man who couldn’t look less threatening if he tried is shown in to Drummer’s office. I stand and wave him to my seat. But the clerk who can be no taller than five-foot-six, and who’s built as though he’d be blown over in a strong breeze, shakes his head.

  “This shouldn’t take long. Are you Rick Felix?”

  I haven’t heard Drummer’s real name mentioned for a couple of years, but realise he must have had to use it to sign the official document.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, sir, I’m sorry, the contract you signed with Top Loans yesterday was the wrong version. I do apologise on behalf of the company that you were given an old contract to sign. I’ve come with a replacement that I’d like to ask you to put your signature to.”

  Drummer’s eyes sharpen, and he successfully resists looking at me. I try to keep my face impassive, noticing Wraith studying the floor intently. “Any change I’ll have to get my lawyer to look at.”

  “Oh, there’s no need for that.” The clerk sounds confident. “It’s a minor error. There’s a spelling mistake on page three. Look.” Taking the wad of papers out of his briefcase, he flicks over the first couple of pages, and then points to a word near the top of the third page. “Contact should be contract. That’s all it is. But we don’t like to look unprofessional. So, if you wouldn’t mind signing this one, everything will be hunky dory.”

  Hunky fucking dory? Who the hell speaks like that? Someone who’s trying to pull the wool over our eyes, that’s who. A quick glance at Wraith shows he’s thinking exactly the same as me. The clerk even helpfully provides a pen for the prez to use.

  Drummer’s no fool. He flicks through the rest of the contract, skimming it with his eyes, probably giving it the same cursory glance everybody else must have done. He gives nothing away, but picks up his own pen, and scrawls his name at the bottom. Then at the clerk’s request, initials every page. “You got a copy for me?”

  “Of course, sir.” The clerk gets another one out of his briefcase. It looks identical to the one Drummer has signed. To prove it, the clerk goes through the business of pointing out the corrected error again. “And to keep things tidy, could I please have the original back? We don’t like incorrect documents hanging around.”

  Drummer doesn’t argue, just opens the drawer of his desk, takes out the paperwork, and hands it back. The clerk nods and disappears it into his bag. Then he thanks us for our time and opens the door to leave. Fergus is waiting outside.

  Once he’s gone, I raise my brow.

  D
rum shakes his head. “I couldn’t fuckin’ see it. Get Mouse in.”

  Mouse knows exactly what he’s looking for, turns to a page near the end, covered in very small print, and points it out. “They’ve been crafty. It’s written in words, not numbers. If it was written as 1200% you’d have probably noticed it, but look, here it is written out, the bank may increase the rate at their discretion to a sum of at least one-thousand, two-hundred percent.” We all look at it, the tiny font they’ve used making it hard to read, and it’s buried deep in a multitude of legalistic phrases.

  “Fuck me. So that’s how they do it.” Drum’s mouth turns up at the corners. “We’ve been screwed, brothers.” He laughs. “Think it’s time for a celebration.” Reaching behind him, he opens a cupboard, takes out his special single malt, and pours four glasses. “Here’s to becoming muscle for hire.”

  It still worries me. I’m a man of action, and I don’t want to sit back and wait, preferring to be the one with my hand on the throttle. But now that’s all we can do. Accepting we’re left hanging until Mercer makes his move and starts making demands on us.

  “Don’t look so miserable, Peg. Mercer took the bait fast. It could be we won’t have to wait very long. He might already have something in the works.”

  Wraith’s leaning forward, rolling his glass between his hands. “Or we could report him to the feds. Surely that’s the logical step for anyone who finds out what he’s done?”

  Drummer taps the paper, a copy of which he’s just signed. “That’s a legal document, and my fucking signature. Hard to prove. And he took the original, so nothing to compare.”

  “Would everyone just have given him the original like that?”

  “His golfin’ friends? Yeah. They’d trust him. And us? Well, we’re just ignorant bikers.”

  “So the feds wouldn’t have anything to work with. But surely they’d smell something off?”

  “He’d come up with some excuse for that clause. Something about protecting the bank. A man like that would be well prepared with answers.”

  Drummer slowly shakes his head. “Nah, Peg, nothing to do but wait for him to make contact. My bet is the way he does it is to ask for something simple at first. Something small. But enough to dirty a man’s hands. A favour, but not big enough to raise red flags. But something he could hold over their heads.”

  “Mercer is a clever man,” Wraith observes.

  But it remains to be seen, is he cleverer than us? He’s underestimated us, that’s for sure. We found both him and his game out.

  Chapter 37

  Darcy

  While it’s good to get off the compound, I hate this bone-deep fear that invades my body almost as soon as we turn onto the interstate. Today Hyde’s driving me to the hospital, and then to the occupational therapist the fire service uses. I’d been excited making my plans, nervous about leaving my place of safety, but knowing I need to get back out into the world.

  After the therapist I’ll go to the fire house and see if any of my crew are around. I miss their company and the camaraderie that comes with being part of a team. Last night I was thrilled with the thought of seeing them again, but now that I’m actually doing this, I’m starting to regret the arrangements I had made. I hadn’t realised going back into Tucson would affect me so much.

  My palms are sweaty, and every time the vehicle stops at a light or a junction, I anxiously look around, unable to forget how Pete ran Truck off the road. He could try something like that again, incapacitate Hyde and then take me. In broad daylight? Don’t be stupid. But all the rationalisation in the world doesn’t calm me. Last time he just watched for the fire crews to get back, then it was easy for him to follow me. This time he couldn’t possibly know when I’d be leaving the compound. He could have found out about the appointments I’ve got set up. He could be waiting in the hospital, or OT’s office.

  “Hyde, will you come in with me?” I ask, my voice unsteady.

  “Peg’s told me not to leave you alone.” Hyde’s comforting voice calms me a fraction, but not much.

  “Thank you, I’m…”

  “You’re scared. We all get that. Fuckin’ cops still haven’t made a move on Mercer.” Hyde pauses as he concentrates on getting into the right lane. “But don’t worry, Darcy, I’m not going to let him, or anyone for that matter, get close to you.”

  I bite my fingernails, a habit I thought I’d grown out of years ago, but today I can’t help it. I’ve faced fires, run into burning buildings, but never have I felt such soul-destroying fear like this.

  Despite my concerns, we get to the hospital without problem, and the doctor is pleased with my physical progress, issuing instructions to continue to take it easy for another couple of weeks. The confirmation that I’m healing well only serves to increase my anxiety. How much longer will Peg be happy to wait? I can’t put him off forever, but I can’t even bear to have him kiss me. While he says he understands, I know it hurts him when I keep pushing him away.

  If Pete was locked up, maybe I’d be able to start moving on and begin taking my life back. But knowing he’s walking around a free man, nothing can convince me he won’t pounce again and this time, finish the job. He told me he was a hunter and I’m his prey.

  My next appointment, and I talk to the occupational therapist about returning to work, which obviously won’t be very soon. I miss being active and working with my crew. That again isn’t helping my sanity. Pete’s taken so much away from me. I hate him. I wish I could kill him myself.

  Back in the car, I give voice to my thoughts, the words coming out. “I wish he was dead.”

  Hyde throws a sharp look at me, his eyes full of compassion. “I’m sure you do.”

  Another short drive, then we’re walking into the fire station, and I feel useless all over again. I wanted to see the people I work with, but as Truck approaches with a huge grin on his face, I can’t help but wish I was working alongside him.

  “Hey, stranger. How you doing?” As he talks to me, Truck exchanges chin lifts with Hyde.

  “Flash!” Now Captain Slade’s appeared, and he’s walking alongside Bat Chief Leadson. “How are you doing? Got a moment to chat?”

  I leave Hyde talking to Truck and follow them into the break room where I update them on my physical condition and apologise for leaving them short. It doesn’t help that someone’s been transferred in from another crew to take my place. That’s my job he’s doing. I don’t miss the glances they exchange with each other, and hate that I’m appearing weak in front of them. I knew this would happen. I absently nod as the bat chief leaves, knowing I’d been right and that they see me differently after what I’ve been through. A woman too weak to fight for herself. My self-pity brings a tear to my eye, and as I wipe it away, Slade gives me a hug.

  A. Hug. To comfort a weak woman. I cringe, immediately making him back off.

  Hammer comes in, and his sharp and trained eyes must read the situation. Instead of asking me the same questions everyone else has, he tells me about the call-outs they’ve been dispatched to. Making me laugh as he tells me about the man who’d threw out his back and got stuck in a car in a compromising position. It had been the woman’s car, and how she’d explain to her husband why the roof had to be cut off he didn’t know. As we throw around possible plausible excuses, the tears in my eyes are finally from amusement, not sorrow.

  And then there’s a call from dispatch, and they have to go out. Hyde stands beside me, interested in how quickly they get their kit together, on the engine, and go.

  “Fuck, I only thought it happened like that on films and TV.”

  “No. It’s real life. A second wasted could mean a person’s life.” My eyes follow the truck until it’s out of sight, and I sigh with envy and regret.

  “They didn’t even know what they were going out for.” Hyde seems impressed.

  “They’ll get briefed in the truck.”

  I’m still looking after it longingly, Hyde tries to comfort me. “You’ll be back so
on.”

  But will I be the same?

  When I return to the compound, Peg’s waiting for me, and there’s a look of relief on his face that he’s not quite able to hide. After having one of those strange man to man silent conversations over my head, he takes a look at my face then leads me up to the suite. I shake my head as he indicates the bedroom. I’m tired, but I don’t want to rest. Don’t want these thoughts to keep going around and around my head. I just want everything to stop, to go back to the woman I was before I ever met Pete.

  As my thoughts accelerate and start racing through my brain, I feel tears rise, and all of a sudden, I’m swamped with emotion. Pushing past Peg, I go into what he’s turned into the living room, and throw myself on a couch, beating my hands against the cushions.

  Suddenly there’s warm hands stroking my back, and a voice murmuring in my ear. “It’s alright, it’s going to be alright. I’m here. I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”

  I turn my head to face him, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I can’t go on like this, Peg. I can’t cope with the feeling he’s going to get me again, however much you try to protect me. And I hate feeling like this. He’s taken so much away. I want to hold you, to love you. But when you’re near me, all I can see is him. When you touch me, I want to push you away, as my skin starts to crawl as my brain thinks it’s him. When am I ever going to be normal again, Peg? Will I ever get there?”

  “All I want to do is hold you, tell you everything’s going to be fine. But fuck, babe, I don’t know what to do or say. And I’m scared of doing or sayin’ the wrong thing.”

  “It’s so fucking unfair. I want to kill him myself. Want to make him suffer for what he’s done to me.” I’m wailing but can’t help it.

  Peg stands, his eyes never leaving me. He runs his hands through his hair, considering me carefully. “You want I should take him out? Would that really make you happy, knowin’ he was dead? And that I did it? Fuck, Darcy, I’d do anything for you. And it’s not like I haven’t done it before, never tried to hide that. But, babe, could you live with that knowledge?”