Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4

by Manda Mellett

  I’d told her what I was going to be doing and working with my dad to bring Skull down.

  I nod around a mouthful of sandwich. “Yes. I think I’m in a better place now. A couple of weeks back I wouldn’t have been able to stand up to being questioned.”

  The normally gentle woman’s face hardens. “I hope you bring him down. He should go to prison for what he’s done to you.”

  As the break time is over, we part and go back to our respective desks, me thinking on the way, a prison cell is just where I’d like Skull to be.

  The day passes like any other, boring and uneventful. The hours ticking by slower than normal as I’m looking forward to seeing my parents again, and this time having Pyro beside me. They’d only seen him when I was at my lowest point, and while I know they admire how he’d supported me; it will be good for them to get to know him as he really is.

  We take the car, I haven’t been on the back of Pyro’s bike for ages and would have enjoyed having my arms around him, but the weather’s not looking particularly good for riding this weekend. The two-hour journey passes fast as we fill the time with talk about our week at work. While neither of us feel we need to comment on how we’ve moved our relationship up a notch, there are touches, gestures, and heated looks which say more than a hundred words ever could.

  Arriving we find Mom’s got a pot roast ready. I’d texted her to let her know what time we were getting there, and she’s timed it so we just have a moment to take our bags into our rooms. Mom and Dad live in a three-bedroom house, and they’ve given us separate sleeping arrangements.

  I’ll miss sleeping without Pyro’s arms holding me and am a bit nervous about what he’s going to say.

  “Their house, their rules, darlin’.” As usual, he takes it in his stride.

  Back in the dining area, Mom’s got the table set and food is ready to be served. For a moment it’s all about getting the delicious smelling food plated up, then a few minutes to enjoy it.

  When the worst of his appetite is assuaged, Dad pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Checked you out, Pyro.”

  “Yeah?” Pyro seems completely unconcerned. While he’d told Dad he could, I’m peeved on his behalf.

  But Dad gets in before I can protest.

  “You were a decorated soldier.” He sounds impressed.

  As I turn to Pyro with a look of pride, he shakes his head. “Along with a lot of others.”

  “Said you’d rescued members of your platoon putting yourself in danger.”

  Pyro just shrugs. “This beef is excellent, Mrs Martins. Cooked just how I like it.”

  Dad catches my eye and nods. He likes a man who doesn’t boast, and respects one who’s served his country.

  “Going to go into a few things later.” Dad refers to our forthcoming discussion about Skull. “But there’s something both your mother and I want to know about.” He looks at me, then back to Pyro. “And that’s whether your club is into anything illegal. You know I talked about it with Red when I was in Vegas, but I need to know whether he was giving me bullshit. That will affect how I approach the case.”

  “You asked Skull that,” I remind him.

  “Skull would have said anything as we now know. I want to hear it from a man who I think will give me the truth.”

  Pyro’s plate is now clean. He shakes his head when Mom offers him more, then turns and fixes his eyes on my dad. “Club used to run guns. Dealt in drugs. The strip club we own, well, it was a cover for prostitution.” He sees my expression and adds, hurriedly, “Long before I patched in, Mel. Club started way back in the eighties. Of course, we weren’t Satan’s Devils then.”

  “Has all that stopped?” Dad sounds like he’s conducting an interrogation.

  “As I said, before my time. When Hellfire, that’s our current president’s dad, took the top seat, he cleaned up the club and aligned us with the Devils. We had to obey their rules and regulations.”

  “Why do you call yourself one-percenters?” Mom asks, her brow furrowed. “If you don’t do anything illegal?”

  “We don’t deal in drugs or guns anymore and our strip club is clean. We run other businesses too and earn our money legit. But we steer clear of citizen laws as much as we can. At the end of the day we protect our club and way of life by whatever means.”

  When he finishes speaking, Pyro’s lips press together, and his jaw is set. I hope Dad doesn’t press him, because from his expression he’s said about all he’s going to say.

  “If you and my daughter get together—”

  “We are together,” Pyro interrupts.

  Dad continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “I want to know if you’ll protect Mel, keep her safe and keep her away from anything your club might get into while you’re protecting it, as you say. I want your assurance she won’t be involved with anything that’s against the law.”

  “You have my word, sir,” Pyro replies respectfully. “I, and my brothers, will protect Mel with our lives.”

  It must be the way Pyro’s said it, but all of a sudden my mom starts fanning herself, saying, “Oh my. Where can I get me one of these bikers?”

  Dad frowns at her, then barks out a laugh. “I think you might be a tad past it, dear.”

  The glare she gives him is so fierce it’s hard not to giggle.

  As if realising he’s stepped onto shaky ground, Dad makes an abrupt change of subject. “If everyone’s finished eating, why don’t we go into my study, and start looking at this case.”

  Mom waves off my offer of help and starts clearing up the plates. “Just remember, this isn’t a case, Rufus. This is our daughter’s life.”

  As if knowing I need support, Pyro takes hold of my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently, before leading me in the direction my father has taken. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mother pretend to swoon.

  I look around with interest when I reach Dad’s den. While they’ve always lived in Denver, they moved to this house a few years back, and I’ve never had cause to spend time in my father’s domain. While he has an office in the city, it’s clear he does a lot of work at home. The walls are lined with shelves holding serious looking tomes, and there’s a high-backed comfortable leather chair behind a desk.

  A tower PC and monitor give it a twenty-first century vibe, while the rest of the room could be something out of a Dicken’s novel. It suits him, and I like it.

  In preparation for tonight, he’s brought two spare dining room chairs in, and now he waves Pyro and me toward them.

  “Whisky?” he offers.

  Pyro readily accepts. When a quick memory of last night resurfaces, I decline, requesting just water. Two shots are quickly poured and distributed, and a glass passed to me.

  “Tonight,” Dad starts, his face growing serious as he slips into attorney mode, “I want to get some of the details so I know where to start and who I’m going to be taking on.”

  “What do you mean, who?”

  “Cops can place officers undercover, or it could be the feds. Do you know which it is?”

  Pyro nods. “We touched on this in church.” As my father raises a disbelieving eyebrow, Pyro snorts. “Sorry, nothing religious. It’s the name for our meetings.”

  Dad grins. “Yeah, my office has ‘morning prayers’.” It’s obviously another metaphor for briefings.

  “Skull didn’t admit to who his employer was, but you’re right, it’s either cops or feds. The Colorado Chapter of the Satan’s Devils hasn’t been on anyone’s hit list, or not that we know. Our mother chapter in Tucson has even worked with the cops and helped them once or twice. We think whoever planted Skull might have been looking to our associations, rather than the club itself.”

  “Associations with…?”

  “There’s the local mafia, the Silvestri family. While we don’t work with them, we have to co-exist. Then there’s the dominant club, that’s the Wretched Soulz.”

  “You have many dealings with them?”

  “
Only when we have to. But any club must keep on their right side.”

  Dad drums his fingers on the table. “So, you think the feds are looking at a RICO indictment against an MC, either yours—which is unlikely—or the Wretched Soulz who they’ve been trying to take down for years?”

  Pyro raises and dips his head. “They’ve had some successes in the past.”

  “They have,” Dad agrees with Pyro. He types something on his screen. “Then if we think the feds are more likely, I’ll find out who’s the SAC, the Special Agent in Charge,” he qualifies at the bemused look in my eyes. “What I need from you and Pyro are all the details so I know what we’re putting forward. Pyro, let’s start with you at the very beginning. Knowing the background before Melissa came on the scene would help. When and how did Skull first approach the Satan’s Devils?”

  “It must be getting on two and a half years ago now,” Pyro starts, blinking slowly as though wading through memories. “Cad would probably be able to supply the exact dates. You know, this shit’s been going around and around my head, but for the life of me, I can’t remember anything suspicious. He came around the club as a hangaround for a few weeks. We had an opening for a prospect, he jumped at the chance.”

  “Jumped?” Dad’s eyes light up. “Overeager?”

  But Pyro gives a negative shake. “Nah. Many men like our lifestyle, especially when they’ve been hanging around and have come to our parties, where, er, anything goes. They get a taste of the reward which might be at the end of their prospecting days. Like myself, many are attracted to the idea of being part of a brotherhood, a team. We test those who express an interest, make sure they know the hard work they’ll have to expect. Of course, some don’t make the grade as they don’t understand the concept of putting their backs into everything and anything asked. So, yeah, I’ve seen prospects come on board all excited to have a stab at being part of the club, and Skull was no different.”

  “He made the grade,” Dad ponders. “He work extra hard to make it?”

  Pyro huffs a laugh. “Skull shouldn’t be underestimated. If he was perfect, then that might have raised more than one eyebrow. He did enough to get by, no more, no less. And like a lot of prospects knew the places to hide and the excuses to get out of some of the shittiest jobs.”

  Dad nods, taking it all in.

  “You beat him…” I say, hoping to speed this up.

  Dad’s eyes open wide.

  Pyro shakes his head at me. “That came later, and yeah, I’ll go into that too. But I’m answering your dad’s question.” I pretend to zip my lips, making Pyro smile. Then he turns back to my father. “We don’t take people on lightly. When someone comes into the club, they are stepping into our lives, into our family. Lots of people want to join, not everyone makes it. They go through a probationary period until we know they’re a good fit, can be trusted, and are going to be loyal.”

  “To sum up, he passed your test, and you trusted him. Would he have known any information about the club prior to that point?”

  “No,” Pyro responds. “Well, not in detail. Prospects don’t come to church and aren’t given the same information as patched members. With time, they may learn more of the type of shit they need to keep to themselves, but not enough to bring us down. By the point we ask them to bury a body, we’re usually pretty certain they can be trusted. Or, the hole they just dug will be for themselves.”

  As Dad laughs, I cast a sideways glance at Pyro, wondering whether he’s serious or joking.

  “What’s your process? How do you test a man?”

  “Push him to his limits. See what he’s capable of doing. Prospects can do anything from serving behind a bar to cleaning shit from the toilet. If they are asked to clean a member’s bike with their toothbrush, if they want the patch badly enough, they’ll do it with a smile.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Pyro

  I may have mentioned burying a body but luckily both Mel and her dad thought I was joking. Though another look at Mel’s face suggests she’s not quite as certain as Rufus. Whether I was serious or not is something she’ll never know. That would come firmly under the heading of club business.

  “Skull, or the man we now know as Donavon Jordan, passed all this with flying colours?” her dad asks.

  “Yes.” I grimace. “Of course, he wasn’t Skull then, but as a hangaround he used the name Kris Cox. When he started to prospect, we called him Runt.” I break off, shaking my head. “How the fuck does he keep track of all his names?” It’s a rhetorical question, no one answers, which prompts me to resume. “Well, he looked like a skinny kid, and among our other prospects, resembled the reject of the litter. Of course, that he accepted the handle without complaint was all part of the process, as you called it.”

  “Mel said you beat him? Part of the test?” Rufus’ expression has hardened.

  “No, but in his case, it was the turning point.” I sit forward and clasp my hands between my legs, staring at Mel’s father intensely. “We had a situation, someone was fuckin’ with the club.”

  “How?”

  I shrug. “A dead body was left in the dumpster behind our strip club. Turned out to be a dead tramp who died of natural causes, but it got the cops’ eyes on us. Then there were parts going missing from the auto-shop, even a drive-by shooting at the compound, though no serious injuries thank fuck. Things were escalating, and we had to bring it to a stop. Everything pointed to it being Skull, or Runt as he was then, who was behind it. We, er, tried to get him to admit it.”

  “By using your fists?

  By using torture.

  “Pyro, if I’m going to represent Mel in court, I need to know everything. If I don’t, and information’s thrown at me I’m not aware of, our whole case could come undone. You tell me it all, and I’ll decide how I use the information but only as far as the case goes. You’re protected by attorney/client privilege. If I don’t need to use it, the information stays here in this room.” He stares at me for a moment, then adds, “Skull, Runt, or whatever you want to call him, you can be sure he won’t keep quiet about it if turns out to be relevant.”

  He’s got a point. I swallow hard a couple of times. “It wasn’t a proud moment for the club, but the trouble was escalating. We tried to persuade him to tell us, but he wouldn’t. Didn’t know at the time it was because he couldn’t, nothing was down to him, even though it appeared to be.”

  “Appeared to be?” Rufus parrots.

  “Skull was in the right places at the right times. He was the common denominator. All the evidence pointed his way.”

  Again, Rufus’ face hardens. “Am I right to suggest you used torture to get him to admit it?”

  I nod. “I wasn’t personally involved, but yeah. He was hurt, not too badly, as another member found out the truth and Skull’s… interrogation… was immediately halted, but psychologically? Must have been a point when he thought he wasn’t going to walk free.”

  He casts an eye toward his daughter. “This trouble with the club. It stopped?”

  I raise and lower my head again. “The member who was actually behind it isn’t with us any longer and won’t be causing trouble again.” Not going to admit he’s buried six feet under out in the desert. Rufus might want full disclosure, but I’ll say nothing that might bring harm on my club.

  For a few seconds, Rufus stares at me intently, as if trying to read whether his daughter will be in any danger if she continues her association with the club. I gaze back just as earnestly. It’s him who breaks first, accepting I’ve been honest in what I’ve said. “What happened with Skull?”

  “He left the club. We thought it would be permanent. We’d destroyed his trust in us.”

  “But he must have come back?”

  “He did.” I frown, remembering it. “He told us that he wanted to be part of the loyal brotherhood we’d shown ourselves to be. He’d been impressed by how we banded together to protect what was ours. He said he understood why we’d made him hurt, tha
t if the positions were reversed, he’d have no reservations in doing the same. Brotherhood, to him, was everything. He became a full member, and that’s when he got a new name. Runt became Skull, because he had a hard head.”

  “And you trusted him because of what he said. Probably some guilt involved due to the way you treated him.” Rufus frowns. “Good way for an undercover man to get on the inside.”

  “We remained unsure for a while,” I said, thinking back. “It wasn’t expected, we thought he might be out for revenge. He was watched, but never put a foot out of line. As the months passed, particularly when he claimed Mel as his ol’ lady, we relaxed. He became as trusted as any member. But,” I raise my hand to show I’m not finished, “when he went missing, we considered all options. Of course, thoughts circled back to what had happened before, and wondered whether he’d bided his time waiting for vengeance. We couldn’t understand how or why he disappeared off the face of the earth, and one consideration was whether he was setting something up.”

  “That’s why you called us all in on lockdown?” Mel asks, and I have to remember this is new to her. “You said it was because he could have been taken by an unknown enemy of the club.”

  “That was a possibility too, Mel, but unlikely. We don’t have enemies, so yeah, we suspected Skull instead.” I inwardly shudder at the memory of me checking over what we thought might have been bombs.

  “So,” Rufus starts to sum up, “you never fully trusted him, but there was nothing to suggest why. You put the doubts on the back burner, and nevertheless, you gave him his patch.”

  “Some of the distrust may be me looking in hindsight,” I admit, then remember what had come up at one of our churches. “Wraith, the VP of the mother chapter in Tucson warned Demon to watch him, but as Skull settled in as a member he said and did all the right things.”

  “What did Wraith pick up on that you didn’t?”

  I shrug. “I can’t answer that. I know Demon kept a close eye on him after Wraith raised his concerns, but he was the model member.” I raise my eyes toward Rufus. “We never fuckin’ suspected anything close to the truth.”