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

by Manda Mellett

  “No, Ro. It can take time. Just because I fell fast last time, doesn’t mean I’ll fall fast again. It’s too early to worry. Anyway,” I nudge him gently with my fist, “I’m enjoying the practice.”

  “Can’t deny I’m finding it no chore, darlin’.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Now about your brothers’ dicks…”

  This time he stops me with his mouth on mine, but I can feel his body shaking with laughter.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Pyro

  I love seeing Mel on the road to recovery. She’s come through so fucking much and is starting to emerge the other side. Sure, she has moments which are darker, you don’t get abandoned and then find the man you thought was dead come back to life without it leaving some scar.

  I can see the effect each morning when I leave for work. There’s a nervousness there, a clinginess before letting me go.

  Today is no different. I tell her my normal form of goodbye, “Got my phone with me, darlin’. I’m only a call away. You know the number of the shop too. You get worried? Just call.”

  She shrugs it off, trying to act as though she’s not scared I’ll be leaving and never return. “I trust you, Ro.”

  “I know you do. Fuck the FBI wanting to drag everything back up.” I sweep back my hair, wishing going to this meeting was something I could do instead. There’s no doubt it’s making her anxiety worse. I thank fuck she agreed to see the counsellor I’d arranged. Sometimes I wonder whether it’s her state of mind that’s affecting her, stopping her falling pregnant again.

  It’s another thing I hate about Skull. He got her pregnant, something I’ve so far failed to do.

  “Go on, Ro. You’ll be late. I’m leaving just after you.” She makes a shooing gesture with her hands.

  “I love you.” I say it as forcefully as I can. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  But as I walk out to my bike, I pause a moment. Skull might have used those very same words.

  All of a sudden, I know just what to do. If my plan doesn’t work, nothing will.

  “What we got on today, Judge?” I ask, tossing my bike key into the pocket of my cut as I arrive at the shop.

  “Two services, one new exhaust.” He waves to the cars which citizens must have brought and left. “One has a problem with the gearbox.” He then indicates the bikes, the first in line I recognise. “Thunder wants new tires back and front and wants an oil change at the same time.”

  I grin, relishing my position which means I can allocate jobs. “You start on the cars with Wills, I’ll do Thunder’s bike.” I much prefer to work on two wheels, rather than four.

  “Morning.”

  There’s a voice I didn’t expect. The prez doesn’t normally come to the shop this early in the day.

  “What’s up, Demon?”

  He jerks his head toward the office, his intention is clear, so I lead the way. As we pass it, I indicate the vending machine. “Want a coffee?”

  I understand his grimace and the shake of his head. It was put in mainly for waiting customers to use. It’s drinkable, just. Does the job if all I want is to wet my throat.

  “What can I do for you?” As he props himself against the wall, I perch on the desk.

  He frowns, and I begin to suspect I’m not going to like what he has to say. “Red’s been in contact. Up to you and your woman to say yes or no, but he wants some of your time.”

  Okay. So far, nothing to worry about. “For what?”

  Demon’s arms are folded across his chest. He takes a breath. “He wants you to take Mel to Vegas to speak to Clare Jordan.”

  I’m immediately shaking my head. “No fuckin’ way, Prez. Has he lost his motherfuckin’ mind? Mel’s just moving on. Going to speak to the FBI is going to be hard enough, seeing that woman bragging she’s got the man isn’t going to do shit to help her.”

  “From what Red’s said, she’s cut him loose,” Prez responds in a mild voice. “Fuckin’ hard on Mel, I agree. If I thought this was just to rub shit in her face, I’d refuse to have her anywhere near Vegas, but I get the view Clare’s kicked Skull out on his ass. She’s looking for closure too, and it might just aid Mel as well.”

  “That motherfucker.” I slam my fist onto the desk, wishing it was Skull’s face instead.

  “There are two women involved, Ro. Might just help them both to talk through their issues together.”

  I gaze unseeingly at the floor, unsure what to do for a moment or two. Then I look back up as he starts speaking again. “Vi never knew why she was raped, that there was a reason behind it. When she found out, I think it helped. Sure, she learned shit about her parents that she’d never dreamed of, but truth has a way of coming out. Better if you’re armed with it, than left in the dark.”

  “You think Clare’s got something Mel needs to know before she’s faced with the feds?”

  “Could be, Ro. That’s my thinking.”

  Christ. I think of last night, how we were joking and fooling around. If it were up to me, I’d wrap Mel in a protective bubble and keep her there. But it’s not my decision, this battle she’s taking on, is hers. I’m just behind and beside her all the way.

  “I’ll speak to her, Demon,” I tell him at last. “See what she says. If this is something she thinks she can do, I’ll take her to Vegas. But I’m not just laying it on her, I’ll give her the choice.”

  “Fair enough,” Demon replies. “Red’s managed to get seats reserved on this evening’s flight. Let me know soon if you’re able to go.”

  He leaves, and I place a call to Mel, explaining what Red wants her to do. It’s not the first time she surprises me.

  “Red offered Clare help, didn’t he, Ro?”

  He had. I confirm it.

  “I trust Red’s judgement. If he thinks this is something I should do, if it’s to help me and her, I’ll do it. I feel sorry for her, Pyro. She’s lost a man too.”

  “Have I told you how much I love you, darlin’?”

  She laughs, quietly as she’s at work. “A time or two.” Then whispers into the phone, “And I love you.”

  The day passes both slowly and too fast. I try to throw myself into work to occupy my time, but equally, don’t want the moment of confrontation to come too fast. What’s Mel going to do? From what I remember, Clare’s tall, willowy and blond, the complete opposite to Mel who, while she finds it hard to believe, is exactly the type of woman who rocks my world. What she doesn’t need is to be faced with the woman Skull preferred. A woman with whom Skull actually wanted children.

  But now, he’s lost her as well. Do I take pleasure in that? Fuck yeah. I hope their separation has hit the fucker hard.

  Mel’s waiting when I collect her from the house, both of us having gotten off work early to catch the Friday evening flight. She didn’t say much before getting behind me on the bike, but her face showed her concern.

  When she gets off the bike at the airport, I give her one last chance.

  “You don’t need to do this. Not quite how I planned to spend this weekend.”

  She takes a deep breath, then says, “I do, Ro. I need to.”

  By the time we arrive at the Vegas clubhouse, it’s getting on midnight. After a full day at work followed by the flight, I know Mel will be tired, so we greet friends and then make our way up to the room we’ve again been assigned. Mel pauses at the doorway, her face pained. Then she grimaces and steps inside.

  I hate that she’s remembering what happened last time we were here.

  In the morning, after Rosa has ensured we’re fed, Meat says we’ve been summoned to Red’s office. Inside, Red’s seated behind his desk, and in front of him, on one of the three chairs he’s had brought in, is Skull’s wife, Clare, holding a cup of coffee in her hands.

  She looks up when we enter, but no one speaks until we’ve taken our seats. I make sure to position myself between the two women. If this turns out to be unpleasant, I want to be a buffer between Mel and her.

  “Mel,” R
ed kicks it off, his eyes examining her searchingly. “Thanks for coming. You too, Pyro.”

  I raise my chin and notice Mel responds with a small nod.

  Clare looks to Red as though seeking permission, then sits forward on her chair, placing her now empty cup on the desk. “Melissa, I’m so sorry. When I heard…”

  Mel shrugs, but doesn’t say a word.

  “I met Don when I was still at school. We were childhood sweethearts if you like, even made Prom King and Queen. Most likely to get married, and we did.” She frowns. “We’ve been, were, together seventeen years.”

  Mel pulls herself straight, her eyes creased. “How old is he?”

  “Thirty-one. Though he could pass for a lot younger, and, indeed has. That's part of the reason why he was asked to go undercover in the first place.”

  Taking Mel’s hand in mine, I tighten my fingers around it. There’d never been a need for her to worry about what she’d thought was a large difference in age. But what’s one more crime laid at his door?

  Clare resumes, “He was a cop, did some work with the feds, and was recruited from there. He’s worked undercover on and off. The longest before this time was a year. The feds must have thought this was a serious enough job to let him stay under for such a long time.”

  Red interrupts and explains, “Undercover assignments normally last no longer than six months. They need reapproval after that time, and then again after each half year passes.” He looks at the woman sitting beside him, his eyes softening slightly. It was very different to how he’d viewed her when I last saw her in the club. “I’ve explained to Clare about prospects needing to serve their time. Skull, Donavan, would have known it was going to be a long commitment, that he probably wouldn’t find anything until he was patched.”

  “And not even then,” I break in. “He found nothing, which must be why he was pulled out.”

  Clare nods. “That’s what I suspected. I didn’t know what he was doing, he kept his work secret. I didn’t mind, me not knowing kept him safe. I couldn’t say anything out of turn, even if I wanted to. Six months passed, I expected him back, but no. His assignment was continuing. Then another five, and he’d returned for a month. I must admit I was scared for him to return to whatever he was doing after that, but he told me it was safer than ever.”

  Bastard. Because by returning he’d allayed our suspicions. My eyes meet Red’s, his face is grim.

  Something clicks. “He wore his patch for six months after that.”

  Red raises an eyebrow at me. “Sounds to me like he wasn’t given approval to extend his time. Seems a mighty coincidence and could explain why he was recalled.”

  Mel breathes out audibly. “You think he applied for another extension and was refused?”

  “Could be,” Red shrugs. “Or maybe he made the request himself as he realised he was wasting his time.”

  Bad timing. I remember the words Mel had said he’d used. The bastard had known his time was up. Whether at his request or someone else’s, he knew he was going to leave.

  Mel digests her own thoughts for a moment, then turns back to Clare. “Did you have any contact with him while he was undercover?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I knew what to expect. It was too dangerous for him to expose himself, but his handler would get the odd message to me. I never had any idea what he was doing. But, one thing I never suspected was that he’d be unfaithful.”

  “He hadn’t all that time,” Red reassures her. “Prospects get mighty friendly with their hands.”

  “Unless he went with a woman outside of the club,” I say, with a frown. “But I’m unable to say whether he did or did not.”

  Clare makes a gesture that conveys she’d believe almost anything of him now.

  “After… after everything was exposed, Don tried to reassure me that we’d be okay. He told me agents sometimes suffer from Dissociative Identity Disorder when they’re under for such a long time. That’s when they become the person they’re trying to be. He said he’d only ever ask for short-term assignments again.”

  I huff a short laugh. Bastard’s defence is that he believed himself to be a biker? Well I’m a true one, and I’d be fucking faithful to Mel while I knew I had her waiting at home. I certainly wouldn’t go out of my way to start a relationship.

  “If it’s a recognised condition, did he receive counselling?” Red asks.

  “No. He didn’t want to have it on his record that something was wrong. Because of your complaint, Mel, he didn’t want to lose his job. But, he had changed.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know, he was angry, angry at you, me and Cordelia, that’s our daughter. And while he was angry, instead of trying to pacify him, all I could think about was the injury done to me, and to you, Melissa. He’d gone from your bed to mine without a thought. He’d been careless enough to get you pregnant, and, when he heard about your miscarriage, he was pleased. A problem had been solved.”

  Mel tenses. “I expected that.”

  “He’d been gone almost eighteen months straight, with just those few weeks in between when he was hurt. I had to survive on my own, and I found that I could. What I found harder to accept, was him back in my life, knowing what I did.” She leans forward again, staring intently at Mel. “I can’t thank you enough. If I hadn’t been confronted with you and Don, I’d never have known what had happened. I’d have been left in ignorance.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been better?” asks Mel. “You might still be married.”

  She nods. “Yes, but to who?” She shudders. “He cheated once, he’d do it again, I’m sure. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. It was better to know.”

  “Skull hit her,” Red puts in, clearly wanting to speed things up. “She came to the club for help. Skull wouldn’t take no for an answer from her, but he’s had to take it from us.” Again his eyes soften as he looks at her, and she responds with a small smile. It makes me wonder just how personally involved Red is. But he quickly knocks that on the head. “Rosa’s taken Clare under her wing, and Cordelia, Delly,” he grins, “has been accepted by the club.”

  “You living here?” I ask.

  Clare shakes her head. “Not now, but I did, for a bit.” Again, she addresses herself to Mel. “Red said you were going to be talking to the feds. Don had told them how you discovered who he was. He must have told them kidnapping was involved. They questioned me, I said it was nothing of the sort. That I was invited to the Vegas compound and went of my own accord.” Now she glances to Red. “I didn’t want to get anyone into trouble, not people who were doing what they could to right a wrong.”

  She pauses to take a breath, but no one interrupts, seeing there’s more she wants to say. “Melissa, I don’t know how you coped. I don’t know how you’ve come through. I’ve, er, I’ve been trying to put myself in your place. A man just walking out? Then finding out he was alive and not dead? That anything he ever said had been a lie? That…”

  Don’t put it into words, I silently beg, seeing how still Mel’s gone by my side.

  “Clare wanted to pay her respects, Mel,” Red says, ensuring she doesn’t complete her list. “I took her and we put flowers on his grave.”

  Mel stands, her hands covering her face, then she pushes past and I’m fast following her out the door. In the hallway outside I pull her into my arms, and she sobs. When her tears start to slow, she stammers out, “She’s a stronger person than I. To do that, Ro? To visit a grave of her husband’s child? A child that wasn’t hers?”

  “She wanted closure too, Mel.” Red appears in the doorway. “I held her myself when she saw the headstone and she cried. It’s the visible sign of Skull’s crime against her, against you and against the club.” His eyes come to mine, a question I interpret as, Is she alright?

  Mel’s next words give him the answer. “I can’t go back in, Ro.”

  “You don’t have to, Mel,” I reassure her.

  She turns in my arms and looks at the Vegas prez. “Can you thank her for coming
to tell me her side of the story? We were both duped, weren’t we?”

  “I’ll thank her. Oh, and Ro. One other thing you should know. Skull’s undercover again.”

  “Where?” I clip out.

  But Red simply shrugs. That we don’t know and may never discover.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Melissa

  Pyro had been concerned after I again gave into my sorrow when speaking to Clare, but it had been that touching action she’d taken that had gotten to me. That she, faced with her own hurt, had addressed mine as well, just showed her humanity. Once I’d processed her words, I’d realised there were two women in this, both hurt, and for the same reason. It just added to my determination to get justice.

  I walk into the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation with my head held high, and my attorney, my father, beside me.

  “Thank you for coming to see us Ms Martins. Mr Martins, you’re here in your capacity as your daughter’s attorney?”

  “I am,” Dad replies. “Though on this occasion she’s foremost my client.”

  “I’m Agent Forsyth, and my colleague is Agent Booth. This is an exploratory meeting to enable us to get a better understanding of your complaint. We will record it…”

  “I’d like a copy of the tape.”

  “Of course, Mr Martins.”

  Forsyth looks down at a copy of the paperwork my father had sent him. I know it by heart, having read and re-read it, to make sure I don’t trip myself up.

  “You made some serious allegations against Agent Jordan. Ms Martins, would you like to tell us what the basis of these allegations are?”

  My father sits forward. “The basis of our complaint is that a federal agent failed to protect a civilian from harm. That in order to obtain information, he dragged an innocent person into what he considered at the time, to be the underworld of crime. As a result of ensuing events Ms Martins is suffering PTSD.”

  Agent Forsyth looks slightly bored as he turns back to me. “I know the bones of the facts are contained in the report, but to make the situation clearer, Ms Martins, if you would, can you take us through how you met Agent Jordan, and how he allegedly drew you into this life of crime?”