Devil's Due: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #3

by Manda Mellett

  She, though, admittedly with her hand to the wall, starts walking purposefully to the staircase, and quickly is back on the ground floor. But then, she stops, and more hesitantly moves across the open space making her way back to the couch. She’s moving slowly, and she finds it when her foot touches it.

  Having been watching her carefully, I have an idea. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  Leaving her to think I’m taking a piss or whatever, I step out the front door. I’d seen something on the way in as I’d been examining our surroundings, getting to know the lay of the land. There, along with the pile of chopped wood, are some sticks. Not sure why they’re here, ready to be made into kindling, perhaps? They’re the type used to prop up plants. I think it might do the job. I pick up a likely one and with my knife, strip anything sharp from it. Soon I have a workable cane.

  Taking it back inside, I raise her hand and pass it to her. “A stick. It’s not white, but will it help?”

  “Jeez, the colour doesn’t matter. But yeah, this is great, Beef.” She stands, and with her makeshift cane waving back and forth in front of her, now has a more purposeful stride as she walks in the direction of the kitchen. “You hungry, Beef?”

  Always.

  I follow her, making an assessment of our options. A wood-burning stove is not something you can switch on and off, and it will take a while to warm. But opening the fridge I see a couple of steaks and had noticed a grill outside.

  “Steaks? I’ll cook them. There are the makings of a salad here.”

  “That will do. I’ll make the salad, you go do your man thing.” She starts opening drawers and feeling around for what’s there.

  When I first see her with a sharp knife attacking the lettuce I’m worried, but then realise she’s been fending for herself a long time and knows exactly what to do. There’s actually something sexy in the ways she’s so competent, so self-sufficient. When I offer to help, she shoos me away.

  We work well together, with me outside cooking and her doing the rest of the stuff. It’s not long before the meat’s done, and the trimmings prepared. We sit on the couch to eat, with plates propped on our knees.

  It’s easy, conversation flows naturally. She seems to be relaxed so I take my chance.

  “You going to tell me why you’re in hiding?” I ask, swallowing a mouthful of steak, which I swear always tastes better when it’s been cooked outdoors.

  “No.” Her hair flies around her face with her negative action. “I don’t want to embroil you any deeper than you already are.” She puts down her fork. “Beef, I can tell you’re a man who thinks they can sort out the world for everyone else, but this is one situation you have no control over. The short story is what you already know, I have to keep out of sight until the court case, then I give my testimony. The bad guys get sent down, and hopefully I’ll be able to return to my life.”

  “Really?” I frown. “Usually people give up their old life for good. You really think you’re going to be able to return home?”

  For the first time since I’ve met her, her face falls. Apart from her sorrow and worry about Max, she always manages to stay positive. Within seconds, her mask is back in place. “The marshals did suggest this could be for good, but I can’t believe that. Once the men are put away, I’ll be free again.”

  She’s naïve if she thinks that. Whoever she’s up against will have friends on the outside or will make ones on the inside who are coming up for release. If her life’s at risk now, even when it’s all over, going home will likely mean she ends up dead. Even if the damage has already been done, if people end up convicted, they may want revenge. Can’t tell until I know who she’s going up against.

  “Tell me, Stevie. I might be able to help. Tell me who they are.” If I know, maybe I can assess whether there could be a lingering threat. The Mafia, for example, would never forget or forgive.

  Again, her head moves side to side. “What if you think I’m wrong, Beef? What if you don’t agree with what I’m doing?”

  “Fuck, woman,” I snarl. “There’re people wanting to kill you. You think I’d side with them? Running Max down, setting fire to your house… You think I’ll take their side rather than yours? Don’t give a damn who they are. They’re already dead for what they’ve tried to do to you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Over the next couple of days I try at odd times to catch her out at a weak moment, but she continues to refuse to enlighten me. I grow more concerned about why she’s not sharing who’s after her. Why would she think there’s a chance I’d side with them? The thought concerns me, and I begin to grow suspicious.

  When I push, she clams up and while it’s normally easy to get along, my reference to what info she’s holding makes things awkward between us, an awkwardness that’s uncomfortable. Knowing the door is firmly closed, I decide to avoid the issue until I find a key to unlock it. Surely, she’ll weaken and let something slip?

  So after my futile and clumsy attempts to get her to open up, we skirt around the reason why she’s here, and instead start learning about our new home. Cooking on the wood-burning stove is a bit of a test, for us both, but our endeavours do provide fodder for a lot of laughs.

  It’s like being on a vacation, I don’t think I’ve felt so relaxed for years. Sure, living on the compound in Tucson was easy: the women did most of the cooking, the prospects kept the place clean, I had little to do but work, drink, sleep with whores and enjoy the company of the men. There’s something about being here with Stevie that’s taken me by surprise. I forget I’m missing the company of my brothers and simply appreciate being with her.

  With Sally I’d always felt on tenterhooks, waiting to do or say the wrong thing. Me clomping in too heavily would get her startling as though expecting me to raise my hand to her. Stevie just laughs and tells me there’s no way she’d ever mistake me for anyone else. I’m a big man, I stomp. I can’t help it.

  She constantly amazes me. One afternoon I walk in to find her cooking, opening a can of tomatoes and adding them to a pan. It takes me a moment to decide what’s wrong about the situation.

  “How the fuck did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That cupboard is full of tins. How did you know there’re tomatoes in that can?”

  “Tomatoes? Damn. I wanted beans.” She pouts and frowns.

  Realising she’s pulling my leg. I walk closer. “Woman,” I growl.

  She sighs and takes sympathy on me. “In the old days I’d do it a number of ways. Have someone help me unpack my shopping and put on different tags so I could tell the difference. Elastic bands around certain things for example, raised stickers for another. Sometimes you can get a feel for the contents by shaking it. Obviously no one’s helped me here, so I’m afraid there are a lot of opened cans in the trash.”

  Fuck. I should have helped her. She hadn’t asked. Guiltily, I take a step toward the bin to see just how much food she’s wasted simply to find the right can.

  Her giggling stops me. “I’m joking. Now, I have better tools.” She reaches into her pocket and takes out the high-end phone I notice she’d got from Cad. “Come here, watch.”

  Waving me nearer, she asks the phone to call up an app. She then places it in front of the tin. Her phone reads the writing on the front, clearly telling her it contains the contents she wanted.

  “Christ, that’s neat.”

  “Yeah, makes life much easier. Another app recognises bank notes and tells me the denomination. Technology has really helped me become more independent.”

  “You have to check your bills every time?”

  “No. Once I know what it is, I fold the corner or fold it in half. I’ve got my system.”

  Again, I nod admiringly.

  Seeing I’m interested, she takes the pan off the heat, and leans back against the counter. “Then there are clothes. All the ones I lost in the fire were marked. I use different shaped buttons to separate the different colours.”

  “Ho
w do you know what to start with?”

  A look of pain briefly crosses her face. “That’s where my sisters helped. They’d separate them into colours, and I’d sew the buttons on. After that I didn’t need help.”

  Damn, I hadn’t realised the significance of losing her own clothes, had just asked for her to be lent some.

  She’s on the same wavelength as me. “Of course, I don’t know what I’m wearing now. But denim’s usually black or blue, so this top should go with my shorts whatever colour it is.”

  I’ve been with her a couple of days, and I’d never thought about things that have no everyday significance in my life.

  My brow creases. “Seems like you have to spend a lot of time and effort doing things everyone else takes for granted,” I observe.

  “Time? What’s time? We all have to do chores, Beef.”

  I suppose she’s right, we do. But the insight into her world has been intriguing, and I admire her more than ever.

  It’s the fourth day when I fuck up. Those boots which make my feet so loud? Well, yeah, I may have taken them off and not kicked them under the couch.

  I’m reading a book I grabbed off the shelf, a history of Harley Davidson, when suddenly there’s a loud exclamation of ‘shit’, and a stunned and irate little woman lands in my lap. I’m not too sure whose oomph is louder.

  “Beef! Did you leave something lying around?” she cries out indignantly.

  Keeping my arms around her, I lean forward to check for myself if I had. “Fuck, sorry, babe. My boots.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Fuck no. But keep still and stop wriggling.” I’m half expecting her to leap up as soon as she realises that her movements have caused her to straddle me, and she’s now sitting over a cock which I couldn’t bring under control if my life depended on it. It really doesn’t help that I’d already been admiring her walking around in tiny shorts and a tee shirt with the Satan’s Devils logo on it.

  “Um, is this me, or would you get hard if any woman landed in your lap?” Her tone is gently mocking.

  She’s correct on both counts, but on balance, the fact it’s her has most to do with it. What’s the right answer? As her head tilts to one side waiting for a response, I realise I could press for more, or back out of this situation gracefully. Trouble is, I don’t know what I want. My hands move of their own volition, gently resting on the side of her hips. She’s rounded with curves, soft, not hard and angular.

  She’s still waiting. Oh fuck it. “Babe, doesn’t take much to get me hard, I’m a fuckin’ man. Don’t let it worry you. Doesn’t mean I need sex, or that I intend to act on it. If I need to, I’ll take care of it myself later.”

  She gives a soft laugh as her fingers come up to trace my face, her touch so soft and soothing. “You don’t scare me. You could have been walking around with a hard-on for days, I’d never have noticed.”

  I wait for her to get up, but she doesn’t move. As her hands start to explore, I do nothing to stop her. All she’s doing is mapping me, like she had that first morning which seems a lifetime ago now. But as we’ve learned more about each other, this afternoon her touch feels more intimate. A long session in the shower relieving my cock with my hands becomes more and more likely.

  She smells like a summer’s day, maybe a flowery comparison for a biker, and it must be down to her shampoo, but that’s the only way I can describe it. Her fingers are gentle as they roam across my body, her little sighs of appreciation as she discovers something she likes does nothing to deflate my hard dick.

  After diving into the deep end with Sally, I’d promised myself I’d stop searching for my one, had realised the dangers of getting in with the wrong woman again. I’d learned about my own shortcomings as a man, and that while I’ll give everything I can to the woman I love, I can’t take being constantly depended upon.

  I’d be up for a quick fuck, what man wouldn’t? But what would be her expectations after that? A ring on her finger?

  “Beef, am I making you uncomfortable?”

  My hands haven’t strayed from where they lightly rest on her hips. She’s noticed I’m not reciprocating, but she can’t see I’m using my eyes where she has to use her hands. Feasting on her gorgeous tits covered only by a thin tee. I haven’t told her her nipples show, not when there’s just the two of us here. One of my brothers comes calling? I’d tell her to put on a bra.

  How best to answer her question? Am I uncomfortable? Yes, no. Affirmative because my cock’s so fucking hard, no because I don’t want her to move. I’m enjoying the sensation of having a beautiful woman sitting on my dick even though I’d prefer there to be no clothes between us.

  “Babe. You must know what you’re doing. Meant what I said, ain’t going to act on it, but…” I tell her at last, “you’re an attractive woman. And I’m a red-blooded man. Think you need to move.”

  “You think I’m attractive?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Hmm. I like the feel of you.” Her hands trace my chest. “I think you’re attractive too.”

  “You can’t see me.” I chuckle.

  “Are you butt ass ugly?”

  I laugh as she asks me outright and taken aback as to how to reply. I settle for, “I wouldn’t win a beauty pageant if that’s what you’re asking, but I do alright. No one’s ever complained.”

  “Can I kiss you?”

  I still.

  “Just a kiss. Beef?”

  A kiss. But if our mouths meet, the signals from my cock tell me that’s not all I’d like to do. Would I be able to stop there? Would she?

  What if she wants to take things further? I promised myself I wouldn’t leap into another relationship. Go with a sweet butt with no expectations? Sure. But Stevie? We’re living together, for fuck’s sake. Neither of us able to walk away.

  It would be a very bad idea. Wouldn’t it?

  I hadn’t realised I’d murmured the last thought aloud, but I must have.

  “Why bad, Beef? As you’ve said, you’re a man, I’m a woman. I’ve got needs too. We’re friends, aren’t we? How about friends with benefits?” She bites her lip, and inhales deeply, the action causing her breasts to thrust pushing up against that tee, stretching the Satan’s Devils logo. “I’m not asking for a future, I don’t have one. Not here, not with you. But to be in your arms, just once?”

  I’m silent. Christ, she’s offering herself to me on a platter. No strings.

  I’m quiet for so long, she starts to move. “I can understand you’re worried after what you went through with Sally. You’ve only just got yourself out of that mess. Beef, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it, I’ll respect your boundaries and won’t ask again. This wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  Now she’s said it, perversely I want to change her mind back again. As she goes to get up, my arms move around her and tighten. “Stevie…”

  There’s the sound of engines approaching the cabin. I push her off my lap urgently and stand. My hand goes to my gun.

  “It’s alright, it’s your bike,” she tells me in her sweet soft voice, “and the truck your friends were driving.”

  With my hand on the butt of my gun, I walk to the window, standing at the side and peering out. She’s not wrong.

  Saved? Well, maybe. Pushing thoughts about what they interrupted out of my head, I focus on the scene in front of me.

  I’m not too happy to see the prospect swinging his leg over my ride, hoping he rode carefully up the rutted drive else he won’t be getting his patch. Seeing there are no immediately apparent new dents in the fairing, I check to see who else has come visiting. It’s only Wills. Christ, how could I have forgotten it’s already Saturday? Days seem to have flown past, Stevie’s company is that good.

  My cock, realising it won’t see any action, has deflated at the sound and sight of the prospects. Half of me thinks I had a lucky escape, being pulled back from the brink of making a mistake I’ll only regret, while the other half is cursing them for t
heir timing. Mind you, it could have been worse. I could have been balls deep in her when they’d turned up.

  “Hope you rode fuckin’ carefully,” I snarl, as Dan is first through the door.

  “Course I did.” He chucks me my keys, I catch them one handed. “She’s a beaut, man.”

  “Still got that rattle,” Stevie sings out behind me.

  Dan’s eyes narrow. “Ain’t got no rattle.”

  I sigh. I can’t hear it either, but I might get Pyro to take a look at some point. Right now, I’m curious as to why he’s brought it. Turns out I don’t even have to ask.

  “Prez wants you back at the compound. He’s called church for six.”

  The reference to the hour makes me glance at the old-fashioned clock over the mantelpiece, it might have ticked its way through a fair number of years but seems to keep good time. The big hand’s already close to five. I’ll have to get moving if I want to get there on time.

  “We’re going to stay here while you’re gone. If that’s alright with you, Stevie?” Dan continues.

  Stevie dips and raises her head. I walk over to her, shoving down the strange impulse to lean over and kiss her. “I won’t be long. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Take your time. I’ll be fine. I really don’t need a babysitter.”

  She probably doesn’t, but I’m not leaving her on her own. Dan raises his chin and taps the gun in his belt. A signal he’s prepared for anything. Wills, just entering, carrying some bags, jerks his head in a similar confirmation.

  I close the door behind me on the way out, pausing before getting on my bike, shaking my head as I think about what they had interrupted. All for the best.

  I get on my bike, start the engine, and once away from the hard-to-navigate road, enjoy the ride and the fresh air rushing past, realising I’ve missed having it available. Last time I hadn’t ridden for a few days was when I’d been holed up in the hospital, that time I nearly died.

  I’m fully recovered now, though it took some time to get back to full fitness. The memory, however, lingers.