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

by Manda Mellett

  Demon’s mouth is quirked. “You quite finished, Brother?”

  I feel my cheeks burn. “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” he grins. “Seems like Beef here has issued instructions. Looks like a number of us have been assigned work. The rest of you, anything you can think of, any trace you can find of Lennox’s car, anything that might help…”

  “We’ll be on it, Prez,” Thunder confirms.

  “Right. Let’s find our brother’s woman and bring her home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Leaving church, I find Dan waiting for me outside the room. He shifts a little awkwardly and obviously has something to say. I raise my chin to encourage him.

  “Didn’t want to speak up in there, but just wanted to say, Beef, anything I can do to help, just holler.”

  Another jerk of my chin, this time in appreciation. “You’re not a prospect now, Dan.”

  A quick grin. “I know. Still seems odd. Finding my place, you know?”

  Prospecting’s so far in my rearview I’d almost forgotten what it was like to first sit at the table. Now I dredge through my memory and remember. Yeah, sure, first it’s elation at now having a seat at the table, but then it’s a bit disconcerting as you’re not quite sure where you fit.

  He’s offered, I’ll accept. “I’m going to call Drummer. See if we can dig up some leads within the feds. You wanna sit in?”

  He’s eager. “Sure.”

  I look back into the meeting room, now deserted. “Seems as quiet a place as any.”

  When he follows me inside, I take the phone I’d collected from the box outside the room, stare into it until it recognises my features, then click on a contact and set it on the table.

  “Whaddyawant, Beef?”

  “Prez. It’s Stevie.” After telling him who’ve I’ve got in the room, I go onto explain what’s been going on.

  “You think she went willingly?”

  I shrug. Though he can’t see my gesture, he probably can hear the frustration in my voice. “Hard to tell. There was a note that she apparently dictated…”

  “She got a phone? She could have texted you.”

  Yeah. A point that’s been worrying me. She could have. “Her phone was left here. Presumably so we couldn’t track it.”

  “You got Cad onto it?”

  “Yeah, he should be talking to Mouse now. All we know is that she left with Lennox…”

  “No. You don’t know that. That’s what the note said.”

  My eyes meet Dan’s wide ones. Drummer’s right. “She wouldn’t have gone with anyone else.”

  “Not willingly, no. Have you guys got security cameras?”

  Dan gestures to himself and then the door. I nod. He gets up, presumably to go and ask Cad.

  Dan’s back in seconds. “First thing Cad did was check the cameras on that side of the building but they didn’t show anything. The footage from the gate shows the car had blacked-out windows. We don’t know who was driving it.”

  “Fuck,” Drummer and I say at the same time. “Lennox’s number in her phone?”

  “I asked. Cad said no,” Dan inserts.

  She probably hadn’t committed it to memory and put it on the burner. All she had was mine and the brothers.

  “I don’t know what I can do from here that Demon and his brothers can’t,” Drummer gently admonishes me. I suppose he thinks it’s a betrayal that I’m not relying on my brothers in this chapter.

  “There’s one thing, Prez. Devil. He in the US?”

  “Devil?” He’s quiet for a moment. “Man’s as elusive as a pink elephant in heat. Last I heard he’d gone back to the UK. What’s on your mind? His contacts with the feds?”

  “Be useful if he could check Lennox out.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Can’t rightly remember if at this point we owe him a favour or the other way around, but we’ve done enough for him in the past that he might feel inclined to take a look. I’ll get on it.”

  I thank him and am about to ring off—Drummer not being someone for unnecessary small talk—when he says, “I’ll do everything I can to find your girl, Beef. If you feel half for her what I feel for Sam, I’d be climbing the walls knowing she’s in the wind.”

  It’s becoming easier for me to admit it. “I do, Drum. I do.”

  I end the call and look at Dan. “Cad say he’s got anything useful?”

  He shakes his head. “What do you know about the court case, Beef? You mentioned it was in a couple of months. Where is it? What court? I know two months is a long time, but if the marshals do the job that they should, she’ll turn up then for certain.”

  Fuck me. He’s right. I look at him with new respect. We might not know where she is now but we do know where she’ll be in a few weeks. Won’t be hard finding the court details. They’ll be public record. Though is he proposing that I wait six or seven weeks before I find out whether she’s okay? If she’s even still alive? Could I sit on my hands doing nothing in the meantime? Nah. “I can’t wait, Dan.”

  “No,” he agrees, “you can’t. But there’s another angle Cad and Mouse could search. See if the lawyers are still acting on the assumption she’s going to appear.”

  If Mouse can’t hack into a court computer system, he knows someone who can. Cara.

  “Good point, Dan.” I commend him while thinking what the fuck I’d do if her name had been removed from that witness list.

  I feel like slapping myself around the face for accepting things at face value earlier today and being prepared to think I’d lost her. Even if she thought she was doing the right things, it would be all for the wrong reasons.

  I stare at the new member for a moment. “How did you think of the court? You got experience?”

  “Nah,” he laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “Or not in the way that you think. Managed to stay out of trouble with the law so far. My old man was a judge. Not that I knew him. One-night stand with my ma. But she always hoped I’d take after him. At least I didn’t take after her.”

  “No?” There’s more. I can sense it.

  “Nah,” he repeats. “Found earning her living on her back was easier than doing an honest day’s work. Got herself killed when I was eleven. I ended up in the system. No one cared about my education then.”

  “Judge,” I say, half to myself. Then I slap him on the back. “How’s about making you one, now? Judge as your handle.”

  His eyes move heavenwards, and a smile comes over his face. “Christ, what a joke. I don’t mind. Think Prez will go along with it?”

  I have a feeling that Demon won’t give a fuck. I’ve taken a liking for the lad, already suspecting he’s got intelligence, showing he’d picked up more of his dad’s traits than he did his mom’s. His background isn’t surprising, like so many cast adrift at such a young age, a family is all they long for. Belonging to an MC gives them what they’ve never had. Men like that can be trusted to have your back. They’re never going to fuck up the one chance they have.

  “Beef? You around?” Demon’s voice bellows from the direction of the clubroom.

  Dan—Judge—leaps up. “I’ll go…”

  “Not a prospect anymore. You don’t need to run at everyone’s beck and call. Come on, we’ll both go see what he wants.”

  What Demon wants is to let me know he’s set up a meeting with RIP, and that it’s going to happen fast. He’s meeting him and his VP at a local bar tomorrow. The speed is good. If we can get the dominant off Stevie’s back, then it’s one less thing I have to worry about. I’ll be able to make plans for Stevie and me. After I find her, of course.

  “Hey, Demon.” I follow him back into his office, shutting the door behind me. “Who’s going to be at the meet from our side?”

  “You want to be there.” It’s a statement so I jerk my chin. Try and keep me away. “I need someone to have my back.”

  Again, a statement. Reminding me that that’s my role. Stand there and look ugly, intimidating. Not for the first time I wish I was seen as more
than a muscular body and a threatening face.

  But he surprises me. “Thunder won’t want to go, so you’ll stand at my side. RIP knows he isn’t my permanent VP so there’ll be no surprise there. But for a third? I was thinking…”

  “Judge.”

  He looks perplexed as well he might.

  “I’ve just given a road name to Dan.”

  “Story there?”

  There is. But it isn’t mine to tell. I raise my chin.

  “Judge. Yeah, I like it. Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders. Yeah, okay. About time we brought him on board.”

  I grab a chair, turn it around, and sit with my hands clasped over the back. “How we going to play this, Prez?”

  “You heard Hell.” He grins. “Don’t mind using my old man’s experience when it helps, but I don’t want him there. My show now. Anyway, Hell’s busy trying to keep himself out of the shit he passed on. You present it as your idea. Can you do that, Beef?”

  Of course I can. Though it will be the first time I’ve spoken up in such a meeting. “I’ll be fine,” I reply, confidently. “And Stevie’s mine. I’m happy to make that plain to him.”

  “You sure? You seemed a bit uncertain, earlier.”

  “Got issues, Prez. Needed a kick to get my head out of my ass. But yeah, I’m fine.”

  A searching look, then a nod. “Best get Dan, Judge, ready then. Brief him on what to do, will you?”

  I can do that. After all, it’s what I’ve been doing all my life.

  After a sleepless night with a restless Max by my side, I’m more than ready to get to the meet the next day.

  I’ve heard of RIP’s reputation, who hasn’t? There are various rumours about how he got his name. My personal favourite, and I think his, and why he insists his name be spelled in capitals, is that he gained it from being the last thing he says before offing someone. The more likely is that it’s short for Ripper, as his legal first name is Jack. It’s true that before he rose through the ranks I’ve heard him referred to as Ripper, so am pretty certain the second is closest to the truth. Still, who would want to argue with a Wretched Soulz prez?

  I’m reminded of how much he likes theatre when, having left Beaver, the prospect minding the bikes, Demon, myself and the newly named Judge, walk into the bar, quickly seeing a trio of men sitting at a corner table. The others in the vicinity are left vacant, even though the place is busy.

  RIP, president of the Colorado chapter of the Wretched Soulz stands and reaches out his hand, clasping Demon’s by the elbow and then pulling him in to slap his back. Next, he turns to me, his eyebrow raised quizzically. “RIP. R.I.P.” He spells out his name with a grin.

  “Beef.” I shake his hand.

  “Judge.” Demon jerks his chin toward our companion. Having schooled him, I’m pleased when Judge folds his arms over his chest and satisfies himself with a sharp nod. Muscle isn’t expected to say anything.

  “Charmer.” The man with the VP badge is next to greet me. His name would give no clue to his appearance as he’s covered in battle scars with an obviously broken nose which hasn’t been set right. Maybe his character will live up to his name, though something suggests it might not.

  “Bam Bam.” Again, his cut gives me a better introduction. He’s their sergeant-at-arms. Interesting they’ve brought him.

  RIP catches the eye of the bartender and holds up three fingers. They’ve already got beers on the table for themselves. Seconds later beers appear for each of us. A civilian couple wander in and make as if to sit at an adjacent table. As Bam Bam scoots back his chair noisily and stands, they change their minds quickly.

  Looking from his sergeant-at-arms to us, RIP leans forward. “So, what have you got for me, Demon?”

  Demon gestures to me.

  I don’t miss a beat. “The woman going by Stevie Nichols. I’m claiming her.”

  “Jeez.” RIP rolls back his head and stares at the ceiling. “You gonna think about that for a moment?”

  “Don’t need thinkin’ time.” I shrug. “Didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. I’ve come here with Demon to smooth the way. Don’t want to find an old lady just to lose her.”

  “You’re out of Tucson, aren’t ya?” Charming motions his beer toward me. Something must give him his answer, as he shakes his head. “What is it with that fuckin’ chapter that you’re all about women and kids? Give me a sweet butt every time. No commitment, and she gets the job done just how you want it.”

  Manly chuckles from Bam Bam, though RIP stays quiet, glaring quickly at his VP. I take it he’s got a woman himself. Not that he admits it, but he does take over the lead in the conversation. “Ms Nichols is a problem.”

  “Only for the Warped Jokers,” I say quietly, mindful of keeping my voice low. “What’s your take on them, RIP?”

  He seems surprised I’ve asked him a direct question. Bam Bam stops laughing, and Charmer regards his prez seriously. RIP looks from one to the other, then at Demon, finally at me and shrugs. “They’re a pain in my ass.”

  I didn’t expect him to come out and say it so openly. I sit back, putting my thumbs through my belt loops. “Here’s how I see it.” I used the personal pronoun deliberately. If RIP objects to my reasoning, he’ll see it as all mine and nothing to do with the Colorado Satan’s Devils. “Warped Jokers are everything that citizens are scared of. This latest escapade, they got caught, but not before taking out a load of innocents.” Shaking my head, I continue, “Not an MC I want to be associated with: careless, greedy and incompetent.” I don’t say committing a crime is wrong in itself, leaving them to fill in the gaps that what I object to is them getting caught. Heaven knows what the Soulz get up to, rumours are quite a lot I wouldn’t want to know about. Not that we’re angels or averse to taking a life, but only those who deserve it.

  “Know your prez.” RIP points his bottle at me. “Got a lot of time for the Devils. You do walk on the government side of the line but aren’t afraid to cross it when it’s needed. Soulz might move that line a little further over, but Jokers can’t even see the road anymore, let alone the marking in the middle of it.”

  Now comes the hard bit. “To citizens we’re all MCs. Especially one-percenter clubs. One does wrong, we all get pulled into it. Bad news for us all.”

  “You got that fuckin’ right. Reason why we’ve got to stop your woman testifying. No conviction, no stain.” He thinks for a moment. “She’s your responsibility, if you can keep her quiet—”

  “That’s not what I’m sayin’.” I feel Demon tense beside me, knowing this is where I’m getting to the hard bit. “The US Marshals have got her again. I don’t know where she is to stop her testifying.”

  RIP’s face gives nothing away. If that’s not news to him, he’s not showing it. Or is he thinking she’s been easy to find once, and she will be again? Just who has these contacts with a federal agent?

  “RIP, what I’m sayin’ is, maybe we should throw the Jokers to the wolves. Step back from them. Denounce them. If the Wretched Soulz withdrew their charter, then they’re adrift. Sends a message to the public and feds that we’re not all tarred with the same brush.”

  “Laid a lot on me there, Brother,” he responds, casually, again, no intonation to give away his thoughts.

  I know when to push, and when it’s time to step back. But I think I’ve got a chance to say one more thing before over-pressing my case. “RICO is what we’re all worried about. Step away from the Jokers, disavow their activities… It strips the feds of an excuse to go after the rest of us.”

  Again, RIP’s bottle is pointed toward me. “If she testifies, your woman is dead. Mad Bull’s got friends on the inside.”

  “Some of those friends are Soulz.” I raise and lower my shoulders again, and from then on, keep my mouth shut.

  RIP looks down at his bottle as though the low level of beer is interesting, but I don’t miss the sideways glance he gives his VP, nor can I read any of their silent conversation. The silence draws out unt
il it becomes almost painful. I think all of us have to suppress the urge to fill it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Demon draw in a breath, but I give a miniscule shake of my head which he interprets correctly.

  Finally, RIP meets my eye. “Heard good things about you, Beef. I, personally, can see the benefits in what you’re suggesting. Not up to me, of course. Up to LA. Our chapters run independently.”

  It’s rumoured the Wretched Soulz have a national prez, but no one will admit to being that man. He’d only be making himself a target. As such, the chapters are thought to run autonomously with no overall control except the same binding regs. No one outside knows how much influence one has over the other. Much like the Devils though, all chapters recognise Drummer as the National Prez, in part because he’s a clever motherfucker and they do well to seek his opinion. Also, as our chapters are smaller, it helps having someone who can rally the others around should we need their support. It’s understandable RIP can’t speak for the Los Angeles’ Soulz. He may, however, be able to influence them. I can’t ask. All I can do is hope he passes on my suggestion.

  “Okay,” he puts his beer bottle down empty. “I’ll have words in ears. Can’t guarantee anything. But I’ll get your suggestion heard. Chaz up to speed?”

  “With this? No. But I can ask Drummer…”

  “Nah. I’ll handle it.” RIP stands. Charmer and Bam Bam are only seconds behind him. “Good to meet you, Beef. And to see you again, Demon. Judge.” He raises his chin and nods at our man who’s stayed silent, standing with his arms crossed. His eyes settle on him for a moment as though committing his features to memory. Just before he moves away from the table he leans in conspiratorially, saying quietly so only we can hear. “Best start saving. Hits can be expensive.”

  It’s only when they’ve gone that Judge lets his eyes open wide. Demon waves him to the table.