Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3

by Mellett, Manda

  He stopped me and spoke. I couldn’t tell you the words that were uttered or whether either he or I made sense. Maybe it was my desperation, maybe it was because I knew I’d nothing more to lose, or that any punishment dealt I’d deserve, but my resolve crumbled and I took the only comfort on offer, that I could find in Niran’s arms.

  I heard his voice, calming like the trickling of a brook, telling me for this moment, I wasn’t alone. Selfishly, I lapped up all that he was giving me. How my heart was still beating, I’d never know, but somehow, in this man’s arms, I found some strength to go on, or at least the will to get myself home.

  And thank God he’d been there as it turned out. When my car broke down, I was incapable of doing anything other than letting him take charge. Will I see my car again? I strongly suspect it was men from his club who’d come so fast, and they can steal it and break it for parts for all that I care.

  “Are we going in?” Niran’s voice breaks into my reverie.

  I startle. While I’d been daydreaming, he’d opened my door. How? My keys are on the same fob as that for my car, and those were taken with the vehicle. I glance at him suspiciously, then realise the key is in his hand, and he had the forethought to remove it.

  “Come on.” He puts his hand to my back so gently, I’m only just aware of his touch encouraging me forward.

  There’s my Kindle on the table, just where I’d left it. A glass I’d used for water last night is still on the side. The curtains are open, just as I’d drawn them earlier. My home is the same, but it’s not. I feel like I’ve walked into another person’s house.

  I take one step, then another. Then like a wave crashing into the shore, anguish hits me like a physical wall. A wail bursts out of me, and I sink to the floor, curling in a fetal position as I start to bawl. I rock back and forth, the pain so devastating, so debilitating, I can’t see how I’ll ever survive.

  Crouching beside me, his hands reach out then withdraw as his eyes search my face. “What do you need, Saffie? Do you need to lie down? Something to eat or drink? Painkillers?”

  I want my baby back. But he’s lost to me now. I gasp in air as the brutal reality hits me. My child is gone. Niran wants to comfort me, but there’s nothing he, or anyone can do now.

  I wail once more, unable to do anything to stop sobbing.

  A hand rests on my shoulder, but he says nothing more. He just positions his legs more comfortably and settles beside me on the floor.

  I cry until I’ve no tears to cry anymore, and all the while those fingers so gently touching my shoulder seem like an anchor, keeping me from breaking completely.

  Thoughts of him being a biker flee. If his hand can ground me, I want more.

  “Will you just hold me?” I try to tell myself I’d take advantage of anyone, but have to admit for some unknown reason it’s Niran who keeps me drawing breath in.

  Though even in the state I’m in, I question my sanity, forcing myself to look at the cut he’s laid down so carefully. Any port in a storm. That’s all this is. I deserve everything that’s coming to me. If bringing Niran back into my life brings Duke to me, so be it.

  Without a word, Niran gets to his feet, bends, then lifts me, moving me over to the sofa, then sits beside me. His strong arms surround me, pulling my head against his chest. There we sit in silence, me selfishly enjoying this temporary closeness of another human being.

  We could have sat for minutes, or maybe an hour, I couldn’t say precisely, but Niran seems to understand I need time. I feel numb, as though my mind doesn’t want to acknowledge what I’ve done. I could have stayed there forever, but when Niran’s phone rings, he gently pulls his arms away and stands up.

  His face is puzzled as if he’s being called from an unknown number and doesn’t know who the caller is. Then he frowns, suggesting the voice on the phone isn’t welcome.

  “Yeah?” At first, he starts off gently. “I’m sorry, Cyn, I won’t be back.” Then as the call continues, his impatience begins to show, until he says very firmly, “Fuck, Cyn. I’ve got something to do. I can’t be there tonight, okay? You’ve got friends… Don’t give me that. Play pool with Pennywise or someone… No, Cyn, I won’t be home this evening. I’ve already fuckin’ told you that.” He ends the call while I’m still hearing strains of a tinny sounding voice on the line. He sighs heavily, and his jaw is clenched.

  Has he got a woman, an old lady? A handsome man like him probably wouldn’t be lonely, but the way he spoke to her… I’m puzzled. His dismissive attitude is reminiscent of Duke. If it is his woman, he has no respect for her.

  He pulls in air, expanding his cheeks, and then huffs it out. Then, in an abrupt mood change, he looks down and gives a small smile.

  I have to ask. My voice full of censure I’m direct. “Was… was that your old lady?”

  He cocks an eyebrow my way. “You know the lingo?” He seems to think on that for a moment. I don’t enlighten him on how I know or admit that technically, I’m still one myself. After a pause, as if he’s wondering how much to say, he explains, “Cyn’s my sister.”

  Ah. As an only child, I can only guess at a sibling relationship. But the way he spoke to her still grates. “Are you close?”

  He harrumphs. “About as distant as a half-brother and half-sister can be.” A shadow falls over his face, and he shakes his head. “Enough about me. Is there anything I can get you now that I’m up?”

  Feeling bereft now he’s taken those comforting arms from me, I grab for a cushion and hold it instead. For a response, I move my head side to side.

  Niran sits back on the couch, but this time doesn’t get close to me. His thighs are splayed wide, his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped between them. With his eyes focused on a dirty mark on the opposite wall, he starts, “If it helps, I think you’ve done the right thing.”

  As at the moment I’m not certain I have, I’m surprised he’s expressed an opinion. “Why?”

  “The baby didn’t have a chance, and you knew that, Saffie. Why put you both through hell for another few months when no other outcome could come of it.”

  Deep down I know that, but it doesn’t prevent me from beginning to sob again. “I feel so guilty. It’s all my fault. I didn’t give him a good start in life.”

  “Nah.” He now turns his eyes on me. “Listen to me. I was here, I watched you, you were doing the best that you could, but sometimes nature has to have its own way. Sometimes things aren’t meant to be. Take Mary and Grumbler. They’ve doing all they can to ensure their baby’s healthy, but at the end of the day, it might not be enough. It wasn’t anything you did, Saffie.”

  But it was. It was the beating I had from Duke, the drugs I’d imbibed albeit unwillingly. It was the stress of taking my chance to leave. I turn away, knowing he won’t understand unless I explain, and not wanting to share such information about me.

  Instead, I turn the tables on him. “Tell me about your sister.” Despite him being a biker, he’s never seemed anything but kind, but that phone call had showed him in a new light. Before I trust him with my sorrow, I want to know why.

  He gives me a concerned glance, then shrugs. “My dad died, and my mom married again three years later when I was seventeen. She got pregnant straight away, and Cyn was born just before I joined the Marines. My stepdad and I didn’t see eye to eye, so except for a few short visits, I didn’t go home again. Cyn and her two younger sisters are virtually strangers as far as I’m concerned.” He pauses to rub his hands over his face. “She ran away, and for some fucked-up reason, she came to me.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twenty, going on twelve.” He shakes his head and his mouth quirks, but it’s not fondly. “The only thing on which I and her dad agree is that she couldn’t stay with an abusive asshole of an ex.”

  My ears prick up. If Niran’s against abuse, he wouldn’t condone what happened to me. “Abusive?”

  “Yeah. Her father ran him off when he blackened her eye. Cyn thought she’d
been treated unfairly, so ran. Luckily, I suppose, she didn’t take off blindly, but came to find me.”

  “Treated unfairly? By the ex you mean?”

  He snorts. “No, in her mind it was by her fuckin’ family who kept her from him.”

  I turn my head to the side, oh how I wish someone had saved me.

  “Saffie.” Niran’s hand comes under my chin and turns me to face him. “I might sound rough about Cyn, but her arriving out of the blue took me by shock. Especially when I’ve been worried as fuck about you.” He worried about me? “She’s safe. My brothers won’t touch her, won’t give in to her games. They’ve given her a job… No, no sweetheart, I can see where your mind’s going. They’ve not put her to work on her back.” He snorts, as if considering that a joke, then rolls his eyes. “She’s a receptionist in our custom-bike workshop.”

  “But she wanted you to go back. You say she’s safe, perhaps she doesn’t feel it.” I do know how blind men can be.

  Again he snorts. “If anything, it’s my brothers who I should be worried about. Cyn’s fine, but she clings to me. It’s not a refuge she’s seeking in my company, but a sort of possessive vibe. She wants her big brother all to herself.”

  I can kind of see why. If Niran were my brother, I’d want him for myself too. That thought means I must view him positively despite his affiliations which surprises me.

  “Shouldn’t you go to her?”

  He turns his earnest black-as-night eyes on me. “Nah, here’s where I want to be.”

  “Why? Look at me, Niran. I’m a fucked-up mess,” I cry. I’m a murderer. I just killed my baby.

  “Saffie, Cyn just needs to get her head on straight, and I’m doing what I can to help her. You, though? You’re going through something no woman ever should. Where I want to be is here with you.”

  “I’ve nothing to offer you, Niran.”

  “Don’t want fuck from you, Saffie. I just want to comfort you.”

  “Sounds to me like you should be with your sister,” I snap, waspishly.

  Niran shakes his head. “She thinks she needs me, but she doesn’t. Me not being there will give her a chance to stand on her own two feet, but with a safety net around her. You, though, you’ve not got anyone else. I might not be much, but while you need me, I’m all yours.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Niran

  For a while, talking about Cyn with Saffie had distracted her, but then she’d grown quiet, and the tears had started falling again. Having no words to comfort her, I’d just held her, letting her cry in my arms. It’s clear Saffie is exhausted, and no wonder given what she’s been through today.

  I do think she’d made the right decision. Her baby had no chance of life. Religious folks might have opted to wait for a miracle, but even if God exists, those are in short supply. Myself? I prefer to rely on the word of the experts which doesn’t make me a non-believer. After all, God had given us both science and free choice.

  You don’t need to believe in an unseen being to know however much I could tell her she’d done what was right, Saffie’s doubting her choice. I wouldn’t expect any different. We’re human. Hope is hard to give up. I suspect today’s events will play on Saffie’s mind until the day she dies, maybe getting easier to deal with, but never disappearing.

  I’m not qualified to discuss it. I’m a man, I’ll never carry a baby, so what the fuck do I know about how she’s feeling? I stay quiet on the topic, knowing it’s her who’s got to come to terms with it.

  It hadn’t escaped me that even given her fears about bikers, she’d grabbed at me like a lifeline. Probably I could have been anyone with a friendly face and supporting arms. However much or little she thinks of me, I’m not leaving this apartment. She needs someone, whether or not she admits it, and part of me is afraid of what she might do if she’s left on her own. Cyn’s problems fade in comparison. I know my brothers and the old ladies will look out for her. It’s one of the benefits of having a family I can trust.

  As Saffie settles back and sheer exhaustion makes her close her eyes, I wonder at myself and why I feel this strong desire to help her.

  Even though I’ve not seen her at her best, we’ve not even kissed, yet alone fucked, something about her makes me wonder how it would feel to claim her. Something about her keeps drawing me back. Despite that I’ve seen her crying more often than not, even tears can’t detract from the fact that she’s pretty. Perhaps not in the classical magazine cover beauty, but she’s got big eyes, a generous mouth, and on those few occasions I’ve seen her smile, her expression could light up a room. Is that it? Am I attracted to her? If so, it hasn’t started the way I’d have predicted. No girl meets boy and falls in love stuff. I’ve seen her at her worst. Which poses the question, at her best, would I still want her? Of course, none of our interactions have been about sex or even the acknowledgement of any attraction between us, which makes any idea of making her my old lady a complete nonstarter. Though something tells me I certainly would be proud to have her on my arm, or riding at my back. Of course, that would only be if she could get over her fear of bikers.

  Sitting quietly, I try to analyse the reasons why I’m here and not running hell for leather and trying to extract myself from her mess. Saffie needs me, and I know inherently I could be good for her. Maybe Kink did see something in me. Maybe that’s all it is. A broken bird I think I can fix, much like a car that’s been brought in after a fender bender.

  Whatever drives me, I want to be her friend, want to have her back and support her. Whether it would ever go further than that has a big question mark over it. She’s still not explained who got her pregnant, and if she were raped, as I expect, it would take a fucking lot for her to consider trusting any man in her bed. And who could fucking blame her? My fists clench as I think of all the ways I want to make that man hurt and the hundreds of painful means by which he could die.

  My thoughts are interrupted when Saffie groans and rests her hands on her stomach.

  “You sore?” She opens her eyes as if she’d forgotten I was still here. Her grimace shows she indeed is. “You got some painkillers?”

  “I’m okay.” It’s a lie, but I don’t call her out on it.

  “You hungry? Want me to rustle up some food? Or order in? Just tell me what you’d like.”

  Her face contorts with disgust. “I couldn’t eat a thing.” Awkwardly, she stands, then wraps her arms around herself. “You should go. I’m going to lie down.”

  Emphatically, I shake my head. “No can do, darlin’. I’m not leaving you alone. You go ahead and get some rest, but I’ll be staying right here.”

  She looks like she wants to argue but lacks the energy to find the words. I settle back and watch her go, then hear her enter her small bathroom. When she exits, instead of going to her room, she comes back into the living area instead.

  “Er, Niran?” Her brow creases and she hangs her head.

  “Whatcha want?” I’ll do anything but go.

  Her mouth twists. “I should have stopped by the store.”

  I raise and lower my shoulders. “Anything you need, I can get.”

  Now her face reddens, twin crimson patches highlighted in the otherwise pale of her skin. “I need to go myself.”

  “Nah. You need to rest. I can get whatever you want.” One phone call and it will be here.

  She blushes again, showing her discomfort, and I’ve an inkling what it might be about, and absolve her from having to say it aloud. “Tell you what, why don’t you write me a list? Leave it with me, then go get some sleep. I’ll have everything you need by the time you wake up.”

  Her head lifts slightly, suggesting she’s accepted my compromise. Turning, she shuffles off. Within moments, she returns and places a folded note in my hands.

  “I’ll understand if—” She speaks without meeting my eyes.

  “I’ll get whatever you need, darlin’. Now go and have a nap. When you wake up, we’ll see about getting some food.”

 
Waiting only until she’s closed her bedroom door behind her, I unfold the note and smirk. Just as I thought, she’s requested some feminine products and some painkillers. I add a few extra requirements of my own, then take my phone out of my pocket.

  “You got Grumbler.”

  “How you doing, old man?” I grin as I imagine the expression on his face.

  But Grumbler isn’t in the mood for levity. “Hell, Niran, is Saffie doing okay?”

  Though he can’t see me, I shake my head. “No, she’s not, Brother. I don’t want to leave her, so I need a favour.”

  “Just ask.”

  “Is there a prospect around? I need him to pick up a few items for her if someone’s free.”

  “Kid’s not busy. Text me a list and I’ll see that he gets it.” Grumbler pauses. “You sure you’re the right person to be there? I can check how Eva’s fixed.”

  “She’s probably working,” I tell him, reluctant to be replaced, even by a qualified nurse. “And,” I grimace hearing noises from the floor above, “it’s not a good area for any woman to be here.”

  Putting away my phone, I go into the kitchen and take stock of the food reserves. She’s running low on everything, but with the problems she’s had to think about, groceries probably didn’t come first. I can’t blame her. We’ll get takeout later, if I can get her to eat, that is. Even if she isn’t hungry, I’ll order in for myself, making sure I’ve got extra. Maybe that will tempt her.

  Back on the couch, I switch on the television, keeping the sound low. There’s nothing much on to interest me, in fact, the yelling and screaming from the apartment next door is far more entertaining. Apparently, Joe had been caught with his pants down, and his woman isn’t accepting his lame excuse. You tell him, girl. I grin to myself.

  An hour later, there’s a knock at the door. I go to open it and find Kid. He’s carrying a grocery sack as though it’s going to turn around and bite him any moment.