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

by Manda Mellett

  Since Stevie had been taken, all thoughts of helping Demon solve his problems have gone right out of my mind. Before entering the door, I bang my fist against my head. I’ve fucked up, fucked up everything it would seem.

  “In church,” Beaver calls out helpfully from his position behind the bar as I step inside.

  Breezy flaunts her tits at me as I walk past. I wave her off. I wouldn’t be interested even if I hadn’t had to get somewhere quickly. The club girls have all been willing to try fresh meat, but I won’t do that to Stevie. I’m not even sure I could get hard for another woman right now, even if I had the inclination. Yeah, me, addicted to one pussy. With Sally I’d been fighting temptation to stray, which should have been my first warning sign, whereas Stevie is the only woman my dick seems to want.

  I’m undecided whether to knock or just enter when I get to the meeting room, but the decision’s made for me as the door opens and Demon strides out, looking behind him, and saying, “I’ll hurry him up.” He bumps into me and stops. “Oh, there you are.”

  Was I tardy? He knows how long it takes to get here, and I came as fast as I could. But the apology I believed wise to offer falls from my lips as I view the people seated around the table.

  Drummer, mother chapter president and his VP, sitting alongside RIP and Charmer. Next to them, Chaz, the president of the Arizona chapter of the Wretched Soulz and his VP, Bull. But the man who’s brought me to a halt is Devil. I did not expect to see the Englishman here in person.

  “Beef.” Both Drummer and Wraith stand and come over to me. We share a moment of man hugs and back slapping, then they take their places again. It hits me Demon’s the only one without a VP present, and for a moment I wonder why he hadn’t called Thunder in.

  The question is answered without me having to raise it. “Sorry I’m without a VP this morning. Thunder’s dealing with a problem at the strip club.”

  I hear a growl from Drummer’s throat, and his eyes briefly meet mine. All I can do is give an almost imperceptible shake of my head, but he understands the message I’m sending. No progress as yet. He won’t criticise Demon, or not in front of our other visitors. No club wants to expose a weakness.

  Though Demon’s up at the top of the table, it’s Drummer who kicks off proceedings.

  “We’ve got business we need to bring Beef in on, but some other things to get out of the way first.”

  I glare at Drummer. He’s here for a reason, and if it involves me, I’d prefer him to start with that.

  But my prez has other ideas, continuing, “I’d like to introduce those of you who don’t know him, to Jason Deville, or Devil as he is known.”

  Having met him before, I just raise my chin at the man with a heavily scarred face that makes him look like he’s permanently scowling and wait while the others introduce themselves. It appears I hadn’t missed any of the meeting.

  “I run Grade A Security based in the UK along with my partners. I tend to work in the field and provide consultancy to whoever wants to pay me.” Devil’s taken over his own introduction. “Sometimes I work with the feds, sometimes I investigate for them. I’ve a team working with me who can get into virtually every computer system there is.”

  “Useful,” RIP observes.

  Devil tries to grin at him, but as only one side of his face moves, it doesn’t quite work.

  “You’re the law?” Chaz pulls out a packet of smokes and lights one. Demon shoots an ashtray down the table.

  “No,” Devil answers seriously. “But I’m usually on the right side of it, though some of my methods aren’t quite legal. Hence why I’m called in when there’s dirty work others like to keep their hands clean of.”

  “I won’t tell you, you can talk freely in front of Devil, but I can say he’s always been straight with us,” Drummer explains.

  “You trust him?” RIP asks frankly.

  “To some extent,” the Tucson prez replies.

  Devil doesn’t seem upset by the response. My leg is bouncing, I’m more interested in why he’s here than his credentials.

  RIP and Chaz put their heads together and have a murmured conversation punctuated by grunts and growls. In the end it’s Chaz who takes the lead. “You’ve always been a crafty motherfucker, Drummer. We’ve got an update, don’t mind ears hearing who might pass it onto the feds. Good call, Drum.” Both dominant prezes nod their heads.

  RIP takes the lead. “Sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you. Had to arrange a few sit-downs to thrash things out. Cutting a long story short, we’ve come to an arrangement with LA. Warped Jokers have lost their charter.”

  I breathe in sharply. That’s the news I wanted.

  “As far as the Soulz are concerned, the Warped Jokers are no longer an MC who are welcome in any of our territories. Anyone wearing their patch, well,” he pauses and looks quickly toward Devil before resuming, “let’s just say they won’t get a friendly greeting.”

  The movable side of Devil’s face smirks. “Wise move. I know that club calls themselves an MC, but they’re acting like the criminal gang the feds lump you in with. Cutting them loose is a good step. If I have a chance, I’ll drop that into conversation. Won’t get the heat entirely off of you but may remove it in this particular instance.”

  “What does that mean for us?” For Stevie.

  RIP sits forward. “You claimed the blind bitch, Beef. So you’ve got a vested interest. It means that we won’t be on your backs. If you want to give her protection, you won’t get blowback from the Soulz.”

  “But,” Chaz takes over, “that doesn’t mean she’s not still at risk. Warped Jokers may have lost their charter, but they still act as a club. They’ve got a lot to lose if she testifies.”

  “Can you confirm you’re happy with that?” Drummer’s voice is firm. “I want there to be no misunderstandings.”

  RIP shrugs. “Now they’re out on their own, as Devil here said, they’re just criminals. We’d like it if the feds don’t use the term MC in front of the judge but can’t see how we can stop it.”

  “Stevie’s testimony will only identify the men who held up the bank. Who they are has nothing to do with her further than that.”

  The two Wretched Soulz prez’ raise and dip their heads. “We’ve washed our hands of them. They’re on their own.”

  I catch Demon’s eye. Looking straight at me, he steps into the conversation. “All well and good to say there’s no issue with giving Beef’s woman our protection. The problem remains, we don’t know where Stevie is—who has her, and whether she’s still breathing. You,” he nods at RIP and Chaz, “may no longer be looking for her, but that doesn’t mean the Warped Jokers have stopped.”

  I swallow. Those are my thoughts but having them put so starkly is chilling.

  “That’s where I come in.” Devil’s voice is steady as eight pairs of eyes land on him. “Beef, I know you want me to get down to business, but there’s background you need to hear first.”

  Drummer focuses his steely glare on me. My mouth stays shut, even though I’m starting to feel uneasy that I’m out of the loop in some way.

  Devil continues, “Drummer asked me to do some investigating. I’ve got my best people—Sean and Nessa—working on it. One person I have been able to find is Marshal Lennox.”

  I breathe in sharply. “You’ve found him? Where is he?” I want to get my hands on him. Make him tell me everything. Hope starts to glow inside me. Maybe now I’m closer to finding her.

  “Hold your horses, Beef. He’s told me everything, which is nothing.” Devil wipes his hand over his face while that slight burn of expectation is extinguished.

  “What do you mean, he’s told you nothing?”

  “He doesn’t know anything.”

  My muscles start to tense. “Just let me have five minutes with him…”

  “Lennox was compromised, Beef, as much as Stevie. He’s willing to help us find out how that happened, as he’s close to as angry as you are.”

  That’s im
possible, my glare shows my thoughts.

  My expression has no noticeable effect on Devil. “Look, this is the situation. Lennox liked Ms Nichols, admired her. He was doing his job, but as he said, this was one time his whole heart was in it. Ninety percent of the time he’s providing a new cover for criminals in return for their information, a small wrong to put a huge one right. I’ve spoken to him at length, and I’m assured he put his everything into keeping that woman safe. He did it all by the book. New identity, new location. He stayed close until she was settled because she has particular needs. He’s feeling bloody guilty. He was happy to talk to me as we went through all the steps he had taken, and I’m convinced he didn’t put a foot wrong.”

  “He stole her away from me,” I growl. “Took her away from our protection.”

  “He thought he was doing right. You’re an MC, same as the Jokers—”

  Now snarls refuting the similarity come from all around me. From the Satan’s Devils denials that we’re anything like them, from the Soulz it sounds more like they wouldn’t have been so stupid as to get caught. But nothing fazes Devil. He simply waits for the noise to die down, then continues.

  “He had everything set up. A completely new identity. A new place for her to stay. Thing is, he knew nothing about it. Because he was compromised, he handed off to a trusted colleague. The only part he played was getting her out of here. He knew she’d go with him, and probably wouldn’t with anyone she didn’t know.”

  “But he knows where she is?”

  If Devil could look sympathetic, that would be his expression. “No.”

  “Who’s the new handler?” Drummer asks.

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “What the fuck you mean that doesn’t matter?” I roar, suddenly impatient with all this pussy footing around. “I want to know who he is. I want to speak to him. I want to…”

  Devils eyes meet mine. “I can tell you, it was Marshal Handson. But that won’t help you in the least. He’s dead.”

  Oh fuck. My heart stops. I can’t voice the question.

  My voice breaks. “Stevie?”

  “Missing.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Unable to stay still, I stand. My chair topples over, I don’t bother to right it. I pace up and down the side of the table, my hands raking over my head and down my face. Rage bottles up inside me.

  “Give him the rest, Devil,” Drum says tersely. “Whatever you know.”

  “Accident, murder? And when?” I’m trying to get my head around there’s no one protecting Stevie.

  “Yesterday. And I’m pretty sure you’d class a bullet through the forehead as murder,” Devil replies drily. “Crime scene’s been fully investigated. No sign of a struggle, or anyone else being there.”

  “So Stevie wasn’t taken at the same time?” Demon asks. “And where was this?”

  “Denver,” Devil replies.

  “They didn’t take her far enough,” Drummer observes.

  “Could have been a staging point.” The suggestion comes from Devil. “But wherever she’s gone, we have to assume they’ve got ways of finding her. Lennox agrees with me. Someone, somewhere in the US Marshals headquarters is plying them with information. Can’t be anything else.”

  “What the fuck do I do?” My thoughts voiced aloud.

  “Beef.” Wraith’s there beside me. “Man, we’ll find her. We’re working on this.”

  My eyes water as I look at him. “If Lennox knows someone’s dirty, presumably they’re looking into it. If the marshals can’t find their own leak, what the fuck is the chance we can?”

  “You’re looking at this wrong, Beef.” Devil’s voice remains calm, but not calming. “You’re right. The marshals are looking to clean their house, particularly focused on who’s responsible for the death of one of their own. Our problem is Stevie and finding her.”

  “She could be dead,” I state bluntly.

  “No sign of a dead body,” the Englishman replies. “Sean’s checked out the morgue and police reports in Denver.”

  “Buried out in the desert?” RIP puts in, unhelpfully.

  “She’s clever. She could have gone underground herself. Maybe this Handson wasn’t where he was supposed to be, perhaps didn’t turn up to meet her. She could have hidden.”

  “Unlikely,” Drummer responds to Demon. “If she was fully sighted, I’d be thinking that way too. But blind?”

  She might be blind, but she’s resourceful. But I have to agree with Drummer. It’s not impossible, but not likely. How would she know who to trust, or more to the point, who not to?

  “We start looking in Denver,” Wraith suggests.

  “If she knew she’d been located, she’d have wanted to get away. Hop onto the first Greyhound I’d think.”

  “Good point. We’ll check out the bus terminals.” Devil makes a note on his phone.

  “She could be fuckin’ anywhere.”

  “Mouse is working with his friends on the deep web. He’s trying to get a trace on her.”

  But it will be as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. So far we’ve got that she could be dead and buried somewhere no one will ever find her, or out on her own, anywhere in the US. I don’t like either option.

  “You’re missing something,” Demon states. “We’re talking about the Warped Jokers. They’ll still end up in court whether or not the state’s prime witness is there. Could go either way, may still be enough evidence to convict them. Half of their gang is already in jail awaiting the trial. Already she’s caused more trouble than they can handle. It may be they’re out for revenge, and not just to silence her. Remember what Cray and Seeker told us.”

  For a moment I can’t speak.

  “Their skin trade,” RIP breathes. “She could go into their pipeline, disappear forever, and spend the rest of her life wishing they’d taken her out.”

  Fuck. He couldn’t have said anything worse. What was it Cray had said? A blind woman wouldn’t care who’s between her legs.

  I remember how different it was to make love to a blind woman. The same thing I found a turn on, wanting to give her pleasure by touch, could arouse men for a totally different reason. A woman they could torture because she couldn’t see what was coming. I turn, my hands smashing down on the table, tears from my eyes starting to run down my face.

  “We’ve got to find her!” I yell in frustration, feeling so useless. This morning I woke up and Stevie wasn’t there, but at least I hoped she was being looked after, that someone was watching out for her. It wasn’t much, but it was some comfort at least. Now we know fuck all about where she is, only that she’s been missing for twenty-four hours.

  “Why now, Devil? Why didn’t you tell us yesterday? Before any trail went cold?”

  Devil’s eyes turn icy when he lays them on Drummer. “Because it’s marshal business. Lennox didn’t inform me until today. Updated Drummer as soon as I got here, and he got on to Mouse. We haven’t been sitting twiddling our thumbs, Beef. Until a few hours ago, I thought my update was simply that she was safely in the hands of the marshals. Got Sean looking into it. Just before I came in I got the update that he couldn’t locate a body.”

  Not yet. But I’m not hopeful they won’t. All my dreams and plans. Yeah, I knew I’d lost her, but I was going to get her back. As Judge had suggested, if all else had failed, I’d been planning on turning up at court. One way or another I’d get her back. Or at least, give her the chance to come back to me.

  RIP and Chaz have been muttering together, in such a low tone I can’t distinguish their words. Nods, chin raises, shakes of their heads tell me nothing. I’m expecting the two Soulz’ prez’ to get up and walk out, saying it’s our problem and nothing to do with them, when Chaz bangs the table and surprises me.

  “Drummer. You and I go way back. Sent us some lucrative business not too long ago as well.”

  I remember the drug trade we didn’t want to dip into but passed on the tip to the Arizona Soulz. I frown. I’d been
close to death at the time. Now inside I feel all over again that I’m dying.

  For a reply, Drummer raises his chin.

  Chaz continues, “I fancy myself a trip to LA. Let’s go capture us a Joker. Get info on their houses where they take the girls. If they’ve got her stashed there, we’ll find her.”

  “Stinger might help. I’ll call him, see if we can get a step ahead in this game,” RIP offers. Then seeing my confusion reminds me gently, “The LA Soulz prez.”

  “Jokers will have gone underground, now you’ve taken away their charter.”

  “Not so sure of that, Drum. They’re not the brightest tools in the box. No. I think RIP and Chaz are onto something. Anyway, us going to LA is better than kicking our heels here.”

  “You want in on this?” Drummer asks Devil, sounding surprised.

  Devil’s eyes blaze. “You know me, Drummer. I’ve seen enough of the trafficking business. The thought of a helpless woman being caught up in that, and for nothing but wanting to stand up and tell the truth? Yeah, I’m with you.”

  “We’re in too.” Four heads, two prezes, two VP’s are all nodding at RIP’s words. “Just need to get to LA. If she’s with them, that’s where they’ll have her.”

  “Been a bit of time since I’ve been in the thick of the action,” Chaz confirms.

  Devil holds up his hand. “One, I can get a private plane to take us all down there. We might even be ahead of them if they’re driving her down. I doubt they’ve got the resources for a jet and won’t be able to take her commercial. Two, get Stinger spreading a net. Three, just in case she got free herself, I’ll keep Nessa and Sean searching.” He pauses as though to gather his thoughts. “I got a couple of men I can get on the ground there too.”

  “Mouse and Cad will work with Sean,” Drummer confirms.

  “Expected that.” Devil nods, then looks around. “Am I missing anything?”

  “Only that if she’s got free, she might contact Beef,” Wraith suggests.

  I shrug. “I’ll have my phone, but she doesn’t know the number.”