Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3
Contents
Production Acknowledgments
Cast of Characters
Satan’s Devils
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Other Works by Manda Mellett
Acknowledgments & Author’s Note
Stay in Touch
About the Author
Copyright
Published 2021 by Trish Haill Associates
Copyright © Manda Mellett
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book reviews.
www.mandamellett.com
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Warning
This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual, abusive and violent nature. It may not be suitable for persons under the age of 18.
Production Acknowledgments
Cover Design by Wicked Smart Designs
Edited and formatted by Maggie Kern @ Ms.K Edits
Proof reading by Darlene Tallman
Photographer: Golden Czermak of Furious Fotog
Model: Curtis Presley
Cast of Characters
Officers
Lost – President
Dart – Vice President
Grumbler – Sergeant at Arms
Salem – Enforcer
Scribe – Secretary
Bones – Treasurer
Blaze – Road Captain
Hard Token – Computer Expert
Patched Members
Brakes
Deuce
Dusty
Keeper
Kink
Niran
Pennywise
Reboot
Snips
Prospects
Connor
Curtis
Kid
Wrangler
Old Lady’s and Children
Alex (Dart’s): Tyler, Isla
Patty (Lost’s): Beth, Connor
Mary (Grumbler’s): Alicia
Club Girls
Cindy
Eva
Pearl
Tits
Members Out Bad
Bastard
Crow
DJ
Rattler
Tinder
Deceased Members
Bird (ex-Prez)
Gator
Poke (ex-SAA) Dispatched to Satan
Shark
Smoker
Snake (ex-Prez) Dispatched to Satan
Chapter One
Saffie
Four months ago
How did it, or rather I, come to this?
My hands twist in my lap as I sit on a filthy couch in the clubroom of the Crazy Wolves MC in Nevada, scared and nervous, with every fibre of my being on alert. Flinching when I hear his voice, I try to keep my eyes lowered, but they rise automatically as I hear his tone. I look down again fast.
He’s angry. No good ever comes of that. My quick stolen glance at least shows, for once, his ire isn’t directed at me. Instead, his focus is on a poor prospect standing, shaking in front of him.
“There’s a scratch on my bike,” Duke sneers. “What the fuck did you do to it?”
Around him stands Knife, the prez, Slit the sergeant-at-arms and other members of the MC looking on. Their arms are folded, and all have the same expression of anger on their faces. I know immediately, the prospect won’t get any sympathy or support from them. No one goes against Duke.
Jude, a pleasant young man who’s only been trying to earn his patch for a couple of months, holds out his hands in supplication. “I cleaned it, VP, that’s all.” When his voice croaks, he clears his throat, but he’s not successful in hiding the tremor. “Th-th-there was already a scratch on it. I didn’t do it. Honest to fuckin’ God, I didn’t.” He glances around as though looking for help, but no one steps forward.
Duke moves fast, his large hand circling Jude’s throat. The prospect stands stoic and valiantly pretends he’s not choking. “You’re a fuckin’ liar.” Holding Jude in place, Duke’s eyes encompass the men standing impassively around. “Anyone here want a man who can’t tell the truth as a fuckin’ member?”
“Or who takes the Lord’s name in vain.”
“You fuckin’ what?” Slinger throws at Stoat, who shrugs and goes red, while a few others snort.
Yeah, God and the Wolves don’t have much of an understanding. I reckon He abandoned the club when it was founded and there’s no chance of Him listening in, let alone being offended. I know, none of my prayers have been answered, and I’ve sent up too many to count.
Slit spits on the ground. “A man who can’t admit the truth has no fuckin’ business in an MC, VP.”
Since when? I ask myself cynically.
But I’m the only doubter as, “Too fuckin’ right,” is echoed around him.
As though coming to realise he’s in danger of losing the chance at his patch, and maybe more than that, Jude tries to defend himself, stressing again, “It was already there. I left the bike how I found it.”
I could have told him it’s not worth the breath he’s wasted. Once Duke’s mind is made up, nothing will change it.
As for the scratch, Jude was right, I could confirm it. I’d noticed it yesterday and had almost asked Duke how he’d gotten it last night. Almost. Luckily, I know better and had kept my mouth closed, as I do now. I’m probably the undeserving woman God thinks I am, as heaven help me, but I stay dumb, even though I suspect I know what’s coming.
This isn’t about a scratch, real or imagined. This is something worse. The signs are all there. The muscle in Duke’s jaw ticks, a sure sign he’s itching for violence. Prewarned by my prior experiences, it’s certain if I declared the prospect was right, it would be me feeling Duke’s fists raised in anger. Call me a coward, but those I’ve felt too many times before to speak up and face them again.
I’m Duke’s old lady. I wear his patch. My more correct title would be his punching bag.
How did I get here?
Inwardly, I shake my head as I ask myself the question again, zoning out of the here and now, which is something I wish I could escape from.
Five years back, I had met a different man, one who in no way resembled the man in front of me now. One who was kind, charming and loving, and who’d appeared in my life at the exact right time. I suppose, having already been let down by my cheating ex-husband, I was ripe picki
ngs for anyone who’d appreciate me. All it had taken were a few kind words, special smiles seemingly only for me, and all given by a handsome man who behaved like a gentleman and was generous with compliments as well as his money. That was the man I’d met, not the monster in front of me now.
I had known that Duke was a member of a motorcycle club from the start, and it hadn’t bothered me. My ex had been a banker and his respectable profession hadn’t stopped him from taking off with his PA ten years his junior.
When I’d told him my sorry story, Duke had declared he’d never trade me in for a younger model, assuring me I was the only wife he’d ever need. Over the past five years, he’s proved himself right. Duke didn’t need to cut me loose or try to deceive me. No, he was completely up front, having both his cake and eating it. He kept me, and if he wanted to plant his dick elsewhere, he never bothered to make a secret of his infidelities, often using the club whores in front of me. More than once he’d suggested I could learn a lot from them.
Why did he want an old lady? I’ve never really figured that out. The one benefit I could see was my use as a shield to stop any other girl from getting ideas above their station. I was some kind of trophy, someone good brought into his evil world. Someone he could corrupt and treat however he wanted. Or at least that’s what I supposed. He’s never enlightened me as to the truth of the matter. I know part of it was to punish my dad, something I wasn’t responsible or asked for.
While my mind’s been wandering, Duke has been letting the prospect’s torture play out. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him use this ploy as he stands silent, his eyes focused on Jude, giving him time to wonder if he’s going to be offered some way to make recompense for his imagined crime.
Knowing Duke too well, I hold no optimism on that count. If anyone heard my story, they’d ask why I stay, why I put up with the moods, the anger, the striking. Why I allow my body to be a mass of bruises and healed broken bones from the too-many-to-count beatings. Do you think it’s by choice?
If I had a way out, I’d take it. Truth is, I’m trapped. I’m Duke’s property, not my own person anymore. I’ve no other identity except that of his old lady and wife. None of the Crazy Wolves MC would so much as lift a finger to help me get away.
Believe me, I’ve tried to escape, more times than I can count. Always I’m caught and dragged back, screaming and kicking. I always get punished. Still, I try. Freedom is worth the risks that I take, though the penalty worsens each time. A few weeks back, I’d tried again. When I’d gotten no further than just beyond the fence of the compound, Duke had dragged me back. Being a master of torture, he’d left me to languish for a couple of days alone in a room at the back of the clubhouse. When he’d next appeared, he’d taken me violently, then while I was still catching my breath, he’d taken a baseball bat to both of my legs, then had laughed when he left me incapable of moving. That will stop you escaping again, he’d callously told me.
At least he’d lost interest in using me while my legs were in casts. Apparently annoying to have around, I’d been left in that room, isolated with only the prospects to care for me, with them being issued with strict instructions not to engage in conversation, and only to provide the minimum of care.
Painful though it had been, those weeks had been like a vacation. For Duke, I’d ceased to exist. I was more often cold and hungry, but it had been a break I cherished, a distance from the man I hate with everything that I am. He never visited me, and I never asked to see him.
I dreamed he was dead. But when I was healed, it was only to find I was still living my nightmare.
The prospects had obeyed him blindly, seemingly immune to the helpless state I was in, doing the bare minimum to keep me alive.
All except for Jude.
Jude, the newest prospect who retained an element of humanity about him, and who was even then becoming uncertain about his place in the MC. Jude and I had become friends. No funny business, I’m almost old enough to be his mother, but when he was sure he wouldn’t be missed, he’d stay with me longer than he was strictly allowed.
We’d talked, at first my voice, unused, was rusty. During our brief conversations, I’d found he was trapped as much as myself. Despite the promise that prospecting goes both ways, a chance to get to know the club, and for the club to vet their prospective new member, Jude had discovered no one gets away from the Crazy Wolves. Not once they’ve got you in their clutches. The only ways out are to become a member or die.
Jude could do nothing other than do as instructed, and work to gain his patch. At least he had that way to improve his lot, unlike me. As no woman becomes a member, and Duke’s made it clear he’ll never let me go, only death will end the torture of being Duke’s old lady. I half dread, half long for it every day.
Jude fucked up though. Duke has eyes and ears everywhere, and somehow he learned that Jude gave solace to me. My gut churns as I’m forced to watch the scene play out. Unless hell has iced over and I’m mistaken, Jude’s going to end his career with the Crazy Wolves tonight. Whatever sympathies I have for the prospect-come-friend, there’s nothing I can do to prevent it. Any interference would make it worse not just on him, but also on me. If it has to happen, make it quick, I plead in my head, while knowing here any prayers go unanswered.
As so often is the case, silence stretching out needs to be broken.
“I’ll fix the scratch.” Jude breaks first, his eyes urgently searching the men surrounding him for any sign of compassion or an indication they’ll spring to his defence. They won’t. They’ll likely all know how Duke’s bike got scratched and that it wasn’t his fault, but none of them will say a word to help the unlucky prospect. As bad as their VP, they’ll more likely be chomping for blood. Their nostrils are already flaring as though they can already smell it.
Duke growls, a tone I know to interpret as a warning. “You? You’re gonna fix nothing. You’ll never again touch my fuckin’ bike. Or any of my property.” He stresses the last word with a quick glance toward me. Then to Slit, he instructs, “Hold him.”
It happens so fast. It’s not in the slightest bit fair. Given no chance with his hands pulled tightly behind him, Jude doesn’t get an option to fight back. Duke, a big muscular man, lets his fists fly. As blow after blow rains down on the prospect, Duke barely pauses to draw breath. When Jude slumps, Slit drops him, and Duke uses his feet. The sounds of flesh being pulped merge with the cracking of bones.
What had been a man a few minutes ago, quickly becomes an unrecognisable corpse on the floor. Duke continues long after he must have killed him, only stopping at the point when he gets bored.
He’s breathing heavily when he issues his next instruction. “Prospects! Take the fuckin’ trash out!”
Jude. Knowing I must, I’d sat stoically, trying to divorce my senses from reality as though what I was watching was a film. But hardened as I am to Duke’s excesses, Jude’s painful and so unnecessary demise is too much, and a sob escapes me. Part of me wishes I’d spoken up, though nothing I could have done would have prevented the senseless killing that had just taken place. If I had tried to defend him, there’d probably now be two dead bodies on the floor.
If I were braver, maybe I would have said something and allowed death to be my escape. Maybe it would be easier than existing like this, day after day, week after week, year after year until I can’t remember who I was before I met Duke. That Sapphire wouldn’t have watched on as a man had his life beaten out of him. That woman would have spoken up.
That woman has since learned.
Chapter Two
Saffie
With my head in my hands, my view of them dealing with what remains of the prospect I’d taken a liking to is hidden. Covering my ears also blocks some of the sounds of his body being dragged across the floor. Shrunken into myself, I miss the approach of my man.
The first sign that he’s in front of me is when he wrenches my hands away from my face and cruelly grabs my jaw.
“Enjoy
the fuckin’ show?” he snarls, his tone showing me his rage hasn’t abated. “What’s this I see? A tear for that fuckin’ sorry excuse of a man?” Wrenching my head up, he turns it this way and that, as if checking on me.
My hands grow sweaty and my heart thumps hard, but I try to keep my voice steady. “Just let me go, please, Duke.” My eyes plead with him. “I feel sick.”
“You feel sick, huh?” Suddenly he lurches forward. “Sick with fuckin’ fear, I hope. Jude’s been eye fuckin’ you for weeks, ever since you were laid up. Makes me wonder what you did to encourage him.”
He might be just guessing; he wouldn’t care if the facts matched the truth or not. I’m damned whatever I do. If I defend myself, protest any conversation between us was innocent, which it most definitely was, he’ll still believe whatever he wants. If I stay quiet, my silence might damn me. Jude’s gone, I reason. He can’t get hurt anymore. No words of mine would make his life easier. As for my life, I’m not sure I still want it.
“Your little boy toy’s gone now,” he sneers. “Along with any plans the two of you were hatching.” My horror-filled eyes watch his hands go to his belt which he starts to unbuckle, taking his time about it. “And you, baby, have some fuckin’ amends to make. Starting with sucking my cock.”
Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3 Page 1
