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

by Mellett, Manda

  Of course, I’d involved Token, but looking for a biker named Duke was like searching the proverbial haystack and turning up pins galore without knowing which was the right one. Still, he’d kept his searches going, looking for reports on bikers gone rogue, or any named Duke that had a connection to a woman named Saffie. A big stumbling block was that she’d never filed a rape report.

  Kink frowns. “I’m sorry, Niran. I know you liked her—” He breaks off, then continues with, “Hey, what’s she up to now?” He’s got an amused grin on his face.

  I turn to see where he’s looking. Cyn’s standing with the club girls, her hands on her hips, she’s clearly remonstrating with them.

  “Think she’s applying for a job?” he asks with a wink.

  I emit a growl. Fuck me. I wouldn’t put it past her. Abruptly, I stand and go across just in time to hear Cindy round on her.

  “Have some fuckin’ self-respect, girl.”

  Cyn’s eyes are blazing, and a job interview is certainly not what I’ve interrupted, to my utmost relief. “You fuck the men. You let them do anything to you. Right here in the clubhouse. I’ve seen you.”

  What the hell’s she talking about? She can’t tell the girls what to do. I open my mouth to draw attention to my presence, but Pearl gets in first.

  “Sure, Cyn. I fuck anyone and anybody. Man after man, I’m happy for them to use me. Why? Because I get pleasure in return. What I’d never allow is a man to hit me.” She flicks her long curly hair over her shoulders as though making a point.

  “I didn’t allow him too,” Cyn cries out.

  “You didn’t fuckin’ stop him.” Tits gets in on the act now. “And here you are, telling us how wonderful a boyfriend you’ve got, and how you’re going to get back with him.”

  Oh no, she’s not. It says something when whores have more self-respect than my sister.

  “Yeah, get lost, Cyn.” Eva leans toward her. “You think you can upset us by telling us you’ve got a boyfriend which none of us have?” She waves her hand around her. “We’ve got more than enough cock to satisfy us, sweetheart. And right now, it seems you have none.”

  “Okay, okay,” I step in, getting between my sister and the girls. “Cyn, it’s late. Go to bed.”

  “I’m not a fucking child.”

  Taking her arm, I pull her away from the group. “What have I told you about causing trouble in the club?” I snarl. “I’d think very carefully if I were you, Cyn. And for the record, you haven’t a fuckin’ boyfriend. That fucker’s long gone.”

  She looks like the cat that got the cream when she retorts, “That’s where you’re wrong. He’s been calling me.”

  He what? First thing I’d done was replaced her phone.

  “Who the fuck gave him your number?”

  Her face reddens, but her mouth stays shut. Assuming she’d memorised his number, I move on. “Does he know where you are? Is he coming for you?” I half hope he is.

  She rolls her eyes. “Duh, no. You’d kill him.”

  At least she’s got that right. “Keep it that way, Cyn. And next time he calls you, tell him to get fuckin’ lost, you hear me?”

  She huffs. “You think you’re such an example to look up to. I know what you did to her.” Her pointing finger leads my eye in another direction.

  Fuck me, it’s Susie. Cyn’s been talking to her?

  “What’s that c—woman been telling you?” My eyes narrow as they land back on my sister.

  “That you fucked her and promised she’d be your old lady, then you turned your back and walked away. You broke her heart, Niran.”

  “Hell, Cyn. I never said anything to her about being my old lady. She knew the score. And for your information, I was drunk as fuck and barely remember it.” I know I never made any commitment. Drunk or sober, my recall would be perfect on that. Those are words you don’t utter, or even think lightly.

  “You used her,” she accuses. “She thought she was going to be yours.”

  Hell, I wish I could remember what drove me to take her to bed. “She’s sorely mistaken if she thought that would be the outcome.”

  Cyn’s eyes watch me accusingly. “So, big brother. You’re not so perfect, are you? Get a woman’s hopes up and then ignore her.”

  That wasn’t the way of it, but instead of arguing further, I decide to let it go. Throwing up my hands, acknowledging there’s no reasoning with my sister, I stomp off in Salem’s direction.

  He swings around when I approach him. “What’s up?”

  “Fuckin’ Susie. Telling sob stories to Cyn who believes them. She’s put it in her head I promised she’d be my old lady.”

  Salem’s eyes become slits. “She’s not even a particularly good fuck, Brother. Wouldn’t be any hardship to lose her. I’ll give her her marching orders if you want.”

  I raise my chin. Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. She’s only a hangaround here. While Cyn got a pass after causing trouble, it’s because she’s my sister. Susie’s here on sufferance, and once banned will stay gone.

  Salem gives me a return chin lift. “Leave it with me, Brother. I’ll get her out of your hair.”

  I toss him a sharp grateful nod, knowing it would have done no good for me to approach Susie myself. As enforcer, Salem can impress on her that her face is no longer welcome here.

  He doesn’t waste time. Even above the music, I can hear the indignant screech, followed by a slap. Turning fast, I see Salem rubbing his cheek, then Susie being dragged out by Pennywise and Bones. Luckily, they got her away. If Salem had chosen to hit back, she’d have been laid out on the floor.

  He comes back to me, his hand still scrubbing the reddening mark. “She’s fuckin’ lucky I don’t hit bitches. Bitch thought she had a right to be here. I told her otherwise, Niran.”

  “Sorry, Brother.”

  He shrugs. “Comes with the territory of being the enforcer. Next time, though, Niran, can you get a male to have you in your sights? Then I can hit back.” He grins.

  “Ain’t turning gay for you or anyone.” My own lips curve.

  Loud kissing sounds come from behind, and Dusty’s tattooed arms come around me. “Not even for me?” He purses his lips and smacks them again loudly.

  “Get the fuck off,” I reply, with a laugh. Then when he hangs on, I brace my arms, then flex and break his hold. “Fuckin’ comedian.”

  But his antics have brightened my mood, reminding me that I’m among brothers, who’ll have my back when I need them to, and pick me up when I fall.

  It’s just a fucking pity Saffie couldn’t comprehend what we really stand for.

  It’s only later, as I make myself ready for bed, I realise I’d gotten distracted and had never asked Cyn why her ex, to my mind, boyfriend in hers, was contacting her? I’ll have to find out.

  But by the next morning, it doesn’t seem urgent. I get up, dress, go to work. I’ve got my head under the hood of a Mustang, concentrating on a tricky job, when a voice makes me jump so hard, I bang my head when I stand up.

  “What the fuck?” Grumbler laughs, and expertly dodges my playful fist. “Whatcha want?” I snarl, a little ungraciously, rubbing my scalp.

  “Hey, just wanted to give you an update.” He passes a sonogram picture across. “Mary had another ultrasound yesterday. All’s going well.”

  Taking it, I examine it, comparing it to the memory of that time weeks ago when I saw the baby on the screen for myself. It’s certainly grown and is looking more like a recognisable baby now. It’s even sucking its thumb. Cute little thing.

  I grin as I hand it back. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Brother. Something I noticed when I went to the hospital with Mary, and that,” I point to the picture he’s holding, “confirms it now.” I force myself to look serious. “Hate to tell you, ol’ man, but I don’t think that kid is yours.”

  His eyes go wide. His brow furrows. Then he growls, “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

  Raising and lowering my shoulders, then b
ringing them level once more, I shake my head. “Look at the sonogram, Grumbler. That darn kid has no tattoos. No way can it be the fruit of your loins.”

  Grumbler blinks, then launches forward. “Ass!” He holds up his fists. I go to block him, and we trade a few playful shots.

  By the time we finish dancing around each other, he snorts, barely holding back his laughter. “Guess you need to learn some facts of life. Tattoos aren’t fuckin’ genetic.”

  Again, I shrug, but try hard to keep the grin off my face. “Giving the amount you’ve got, I kinda expected some of the ink to seep through.”

  “Jeez.” Beside us, Ross snorts. “Ain’t that a thought? A baby Grumbler being born, complete with tats.”

  “Would save a shitload of money,” Gibbs, also having entered, agrees. “And put Blaze out of a job.”

  Ross, with one hand rubbing the stump where his prosthesis attaches to his other arm, furrows his brow. “Imagine if that was a thing. What if the kid hated the tats they’re born with?”

  “Be like having an ugly birthmark,” Gibbs replies. “And would they be miniature like, and grow with the kid? Or stretch out of proportion?”

  Grumbler and I just glance at each other, then we both crack up. It wasn’t that funny, but both of us are able to use that moment of light relief. When at last we can look at each other without laughing, he slaps Ross on his back, and toward me, jerks his head.

  I follow him into the office, noting he closes the door, indicating this is personal or he wants words about the club.

  He doesn’t keep me waiting. “You still not heard from Saffie? Mary always asks about her. She’d like to know how she’s doing.” His mouth twists, probably because Saffie’s circumstances hit too close to home, and aren’t far removed from what they could be facing.

  “That ship’s sailed, Brother. I doubt I’ll hear from her again.” I shrug, then admit, “It’s a shame Mary met her. Must have put thoughts in her head.”

  “It fuckin’ did.” His tone makes me brace myself, but then his tight jaw relaxes. “My ol’ lady’s stubborn as a fuckin’ mule, as well as pragmatic. She and I both know what might be coming without any reminder, though all the tests look positive so far. Hope to fuck it doesn’t of course, but we’re as prepared as we can be.” He pauses a moment. “Mary’s concerned as she’s got more than her fair share of compassion. She’s gutted that girl is dealing with everything on her own.” He closes his eyes momentarily. “You don’t get over ending a pregnancy in a minute. Mary understands that only too well. If it happens to us, we’ve got each other for support. Saffie’s got no one. It’s been all I can do to stop her driving over to see her.”

  “Saffie made her decision, Grumbler. She wants nothing to do with me or the club. Hate to say this but tell Mary visiting won’t help her. It might make things worse.”

  Grumbler grimaces. “That’s what I thought. Saffie’s clearly had some dealings with an MC, dealings that didn’t settle with her. I told Mary she could do more harm than good. Saffie knows I’m her old man and an MC member.”

  I raise and dip my head. “That’s why I’m abiding by her wishes. I can’t leave the club.”

  Grumbler’s stare and shake of his head shows he’s surprised I’d even consider it.

  “She was raped, Grumbler.” He already knows it. “What I don’t know is if it was by one, or a number of members.”

  “Jesus,” Grumbler breathes out. “If more than one was involved, no wonder she doesn’t like bikers.” He picks up some paperwork, preparing to get back to work, but has time to add, “That poor little girl.”

  To me, Saffie’s all woman, to him, she’s young enough to be his daughter and then some.

  “I’ll get back to the Mustang.” I’m turning to go when Grumbler suddenly barks a laugh.

  “What now?”

  “Just had an idea brother. I’m gonna get me some fake tattoos and stick them on the baby once it’s born. Bring him in to see Ross and Gibbs’ faces.”

  “Yeah?” I raise an amused eyebrow. “Whatcha think Mary’s going to say about that?”

  His mirth disappears immediately. Guess he hadn’t thought that far. Grumbler might be our sergeant-at-arms, but behind closed doors, he’s putty in his old lady’s hands.

  I get back to work, fighting with screws that don’t want to be turned, and bolts which have fused in their casings. I’m deep in concentration when, for the second time this morning, I’m interrupted. This time it’s the vibration of my phone alerting me I’ve received a message. Dismissing it as unimportant and can probably wait, I ignore it.

  Only a few minutes later, I hear my name.

  “Niran?”

  Sighing, I pull my head from under the hood again. “Whatcha want, ol’ man?”

  Grumbler’s standing right in front of me. “For you to fuckin’ read your text. Prez has called both of us in for a meeting.”

  That does come under the heading of important. Within seconds, I’m wiping oil off my hands, and questioning the sergeant-at-arms with my eyes. As he shakes his head, I realise he knows nothing. Only pausing to take off our overalls and to instruct Snips that he’s now in charge, we head out to our rides.

  The parking lot at the clubhouse is relatively empty, only a few bikes occupying spaces; Lost’s and the VP’s, Bone’s, Token’s and Brakes’. The latter is understandable, he runs our strip club, and works late into the night. Apart from the members we left at the auto-shop, I know Salem and Pennywise will be working next door in the recently renovated hangar doing their customisation work. Blaze will be at the tattoo parlour, Deuce setting up the bar for tonight, and Keeper will be at our motorcycle apparel shop. All the rest will be dotted around our businesses. Bones’ presence is explained as he has his office here and will be working through our books.

  I’m in the lead as we enter, wondering why Grumbler and I have been called back. Lost doesn’t interrupt a workday unless it’s important.

  Lost’s door is open. Taking it as an invitation I walk straight in, noting the presence of both the VP and the computer expert. Extra chairs have been brought in, so at a wave from the prez, I take a seat.

  “You took your fuckin’ time.” Dart’s infectious smile takes the sting out of his words.

  Grumbler just harrumphs, ignores him, and turns his attention to Lost. “What do you want, Prez?”

  Lost’s eyes are on me, and I get the feeling whatever this is, I’m in the thick of it. What the fuck has Cyn done now? He waits for a beat before speaking. When he does, he waves to the man seated next to the VP. “Toke brought something to me just now. Seems the searches he set into motion a while back, searches initiated by you, Niran, triggered some red flags.”

  Immediately, I sit straighter. Red flags can only mean one thing. And recently there’s only been one piece of information that I asked Token for. Duke. Full of anticipation, I sit forward eagerly. “You found Duke? You got the man who raped Saffie?” My fists clench and my breathing speeds up as I imagine getting revenge for her.

  “Nah, the hits I got were on Saffie.”

  Saffie?

  Now noticing the look of concern on his face, my gut starts to churn. Damn it. Have I made this woman’s life worse just by asking about her? She’s the innocent, isn’t she? Who could be looking for her?

  “Saffie?” I ask, my gut clenching at his firm confirmatory nod. “What flags?” I follow up with tightly.

  Prez waves his hand. “Back track. Remind me again what you know about Saffie Jones, how you came across her, and what the fuck made you involve us? And Grumbler, before you ask why you’re here, Token tells me Mary was in the thick of it too.”

  Grumbler jerks, growls, and asks, his voice full of concern, “She in trouble that could fall on my old lady?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out, Brother,” the VP replies reasonably.

  As Grumbler shoots a death glare at me that would have any other man quaking, his unspoken words threatening unmistakeably, i
f you’ve put my old lady in danger, I’m gutting you, I clear my throat and begin speaking.

  “I think you’ve heard what little I know already.” I brush my fingers down my face. “Saffie was raped by a biker. She relocated to San Diego to bring up her baby. Unfortunately, that didn’t go as planned. I tried to get close to her, but her fear of bikers is deep seated. All I know of the man who raped her is that his handle is Duke. And that’s about all I can tell you.”

  Lost’s face is full of sympathy, and Token thumps his fist on the desktop.

  “Fuck,” Lost breathes out, exchanging a glance with his VP. “I had hoped you’d know more.” He sits forward. “Token?”

  “Yeah. Well, you know I was digging for info about a man called Duke and his links to Saffie Jones. Well, I kept those searches running in case anything else turned up. Forgot all about them if I’m honest. Woke up this morning and had two enquiries. One was an offer for information as to the whereabouts of one Sapphire Marshall with money attached. The other was from one of our brothers in Utah who asked what the fuck I thought I was doing.”

  Utah? I shake my head. As for the other puzzling thing, I state, “I know fuck all about any Sapphire Marshall.”

  “Saffie could be a shortening of Sapphire,” Dart suggests. Could it?

  “People on the run often use names similar to their true ones as its less hard for them to fuck up.” Lost gives the information knowingly. Patsy, his wife, initially came to San Diego under witness protection, so he speaks from experience.

  Token raises his chin. “Saffie’s not been in San Diego long, we know that. It sounds to me like she might have changed her name to get her rapist off her trail, but more than that, assumed a new identity as well. It was a fuckin’ good job. All her back history checked out as genuine. I never had any doubts about it.”

  It takes a second for my brain to compute what he’s suggesting. Could Saffie be on the run? That might explain why she has no one to turn to. But that makes the suggestion anyone is trying to track her down extremely worrying. “Who was the fucker offering the money to find her?”