Published 2018 by Trish Haill Associates
Copyright © 2018 by Manda Mellett
Edited by Maggie Kern
Proof reading by Lia Rees
Book and Cover Design by Lia Rees at Free Your Words
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.mandamellett.com
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Warning
This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual, abusive and violent nature. It is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.
ISBN: 978-1-912288-29-8
Author’s Note
Mouse Trapped is the ninth in the Satan’s Devils MC series, but can be read as a standalone.
If you’re new to MC books you may find there are terms that you haven’t heard before, so I’ve included a glossary at the end to help along the way. I hope you get drawn into this mysterious and dark world in the same way I have done―there will be further books in the Satan’s Devils series which I hope you’ll want to follow.
If you’ve picked this book up because, like me, you read anything MC, I hope you’ll enjoy it for what it is, a fictional insight into the underground culture of alpha men and their bikes.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Author’s Note
Cast List of Characters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Teaser: Paladin's Hell
Other Works by Manda Mellett
Glossary
Acknowledgements
Stay In Touch
About the Author
Cast List of Characters
Road Name – Role/Status – Other Name Old Lady – Children ***
Drummer – President – Rick Felis Sam – Elijah (Eli)
Wraith – VP – Scott Remington Sophie – Olivia
Heart – Secretary – Dale Norman Marcia – Amy, Jacob, Isabel
Dollar – Treasurer – Todd Bishop
Peg – Sergeant-at-arms – Ronald Rinter Darcy – Noah
Blade – Enforcer – Jack Sharples
Joker – Road Captain – Josh Wilkinson
Mouse – Computer expert – Tse Williamson
Adam – deceased
Beef
Bullet
Carmen
Buster – deceased
Dart – transferred – Colin Lowe Alex – Tyler
Fergus – Prospect
Hyde
Jekyll
Lady – Scott Flintstone
Marvel
Matt – Prospect
Paladin – (was Marsh)
Roadrunner
Rock
Becca
Slick – Jeff Andrews Ella
Shooter – (was Spider)
Tongue – deceased
Truck – Prospect
Viper
Sandy
Chapter 1
Mouse
Glancing at the monitor in front of me, I pass a hand over my reddened eyes. Nothing changes or leaps out at me. This code has beaten me for hours. The ashtray is full to overflowing, and my stomach growls reminding me just how long I’ve been sitting here.
Reluctantly I pull my gaze away from the screen and roll my neck, trying to ease the stiffness, only now hearing the muffled sounds wafting in from the clubroom that’s just a few feet away from my office door. Outside will be a collection of my brothers, both those who remain single and the others with old ladies. Though, with Peg recently getting hitched, the former group, of which I’m still a loyal member, seems to be shrinking.
Outside is a world of camaraderie, of support, of love. All I have to do is step out of my door to be part of it.
A part of something. The reason why I joined the Satan’s Devils. To have a place where I could feel a sense of belonging. My hands reach back and untie the leather thong keeping the strands together, letting my long dark hair hang free. Running my fingers through it, I tie it back neatly once again. The hair that reminds me of my heritage, a mix of Anglo and Native American blood, a visible sign I’m neither one thing nor the other. The juxtaposition of my two lives sometimes jarring, often causing a bone-deep restlessness inside me.
It’s not that I’m bored, never that. How could I be when I have the whole world at my fingertips? Power beneath my hands that I make the choice to use wisely. The dark web, the deep web, those nefarious depths where black and white merge into grey. Where I delight in my solitude, stepping in then back out without leaving a footprint. Where I can escape from the disquiet in my soul. Something’s missing, but I can’t put a name to what it is. Purpose? What I do for the club is invaluable, I know that. Putting aside my usefulness, there remains a hole in my soul, which I don’t know how to fill.
What day is it? What’s the time?
Another roll of my stomach reminds me it must have been hours since I’ve eaten. Unwinding my long limbs, I stand and stretch, trying to get the kink out of my shoulders. Even I realise it’s unhealthy to keep going on like this, burying myself away, hiding from the camaraderie just outside my office, preferring solitude to socialising with my brothers. Something has to give.
Taking a breath, I open the door and step out into another world. It’s bright, I blink rapidly. While my office has windows, the blinds are constantly pulled down. The way the light falls suggests it’s mid-afternoon, so the sunlight shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. How long have I been in there?
“Hey, Mouse. Wanna game?” Rock’s playing pool by himself, but I’m not feeling companionable.
My gut gives a loud grumble as though trying to answer him. “Nah, Brother. Going to get something to eat.”
He waves his hand, and goes back to practising shots again.
Heading in the general direction of the kitchen, I take a second to divert to the bar where a bored Jill is standing, and wave to the sodas. As though I’m putting her to great trouble, she pulls her eyes away from the pool table behind me, and at last takes a bottle from the cooler. A dark stare has her opening it. I’m teetotal by nature. My late teenage years were spent on the Rez of the Navajo Nation where alcohol possession is illegal. Not that there weren’t ways to get a hold of it if you wanted to bad enough. Ther
e may have been a couple of times that I’d partaken, but for the most part, I learned to go without it, and that’s become habit.
Marijuana, now that’s my drug of choice. A mellowing sensation, but without the hangover.
Sophie, the VP’s old lady, is in the kitchen, plating up something for Olivia, her daughter. “Mouse.” She gives a broad smile when she sees me. “If you’ve come for food, there’s not much, I’m afraid. Oh, there’s pizza left over from lunch.” After her comment, she goes back to her daughter who’s starting to fuss.
Ruffling the kid’s head as I pass, I go to the fridge, cutting myself a slice of the sad looking said pizza. I lean against the counter and start eating. Consuming leftovers doesn’t bother me, on the Rez nothing was wasted. As the food goes into my mouth, I occupy myself by watching the only other people in the room. Ollie’s a cute kid, and Sophie makes a great mom. As I eat mechanically I ponder how it doesn’t bother me that my brothers are hooking up with old ladies. I don’t mind the kids in the clubhouse, even if I can’t see any of that in my future. Why bring another person into a world that will surely fuck them up?
I must be frowning, because Sophie’s brow knits. “Is that okay for you, Mouse? Want me to rustle you up something else? I don’t mind.”
The VP’s woman wouldn’t, she’s a good sort like that. “Nah, I’m fine. Just wanted something to take the edge off.”
“You going to be around for dinner later? Going to be bloody good. Got one of Ma’s recipes to try.”
“Nah, I’m going out,” I tell her. “I’ll make do with whatever’s left over.”
“Ha! If it’s anything like normal, these guys won’t leave much. Want me to put something aside for you?”
I give a grateful chin lift as I go out the door. It couldn’t hurt. Today I don’t feel like sitting around the table, conversing with my brothers.
Apart from Rock, there are only a few others in the clubroom so my progress is unimpeded as I make my way past, only having to slap a few backs in the process, earning reciprocal ones on mine. Then I’m outside, sliding my sunglasses out of my cut as I stride toward my bike.
Matt, the prospect, is on gate duty. He must have heard my engine, as he slides the barrier open in time so I don’t even need to slow down. Raising my fingers from the clutch, I send him my thanks as I roll on by.
The wildfire, a couple of months back, ruined the surface of the track that leads to the clubhouse, but Viper and Bullet’s crew have laid new asphalt and now it’s good and smooth. But I don’t pick up speed until I’m out on the highway, then knock up through those gears until I’m in top. My Harley rumbles beneath me, the wind blows through my hair. A sense of freedom all by itself, however, today it’s not my steel steed I’m going to enjoy the most. I’m looking forward to a different type of ride.
I don’t need to travel far. Soon I’m pulling in to a rough-looking lot, carefully manoeuvring my bike over the worst of the jagged stones, coming to a fairly level area where I kick down the stand, turn off the engine, and step off.
My sunglasses back in my cut, the cut itself safely stored in my saddle bag, I saunter over to the office. The door’s ajar, the room’s empty. I’m not surprised. Taking a familiar path, I go around the back, walk past a corral, and over to the stables.
“My friend!” Jacob is lifting a bale of hay on his shoulder. It overbalances as he turns to greet me, but my hand’s there pushing it back in place. “You here to ride?”
I grin, pulling a loose strand of hay from the bale and slipping it between my teeth. “Well, I’m not here to shoot the shit,” I agree, speaking around it.
“Huh.” He pretends to be offended. “Not me you come to see. Just that fucking horse.”
“And how is my boy, Niyol?” I’d named him the Navajo word for wind when I was helping Jacob break in the young foal. Jacob’s blamed me ever since for being the reason he goes like his namesake. Too much for the paying customers who Jacob takes trekking in Sabino Canyon to handle.
“Like always. Causing havoc amongst the mares.” But the softening of Jacob’s eyes shows me the respect and love he has for the stallion. He tilts his head to one side. “Fucking horse knows you’re here, Tse.”
Before I was forced to leave Tucson, here’s where I first learned to ride. It was one of the few areas where my Navajo mother had gotten her way. My Anglo father wanted me brought up as a strictly white all-American boy, but he gave in on the riding, something for which I’ve always been grateful, especially when I discovered I had an innate ability, and a deep love for horses.
Like my MC brothers, I love the freedom of my metal steed, but a flesh and blood one? Nothing can top that.
Alongside Jacob, as a fourteen-year-old boy, I had worked with Niyol for a year, breaking him to the saddle. He’d been a wild one then, and though now he must be in his late teens, he hasn’t much calmed. Sometimes Jacob rides him, less often he’ll let an experienced customer mount the stallion, but mostly Niyol’s not worked until I come around. Something I try to do at least once a month.
“You taking him out?”
I nod, my eyebrow raised as I wait for permission.
“Knock yourself out. I’ll be taking the paying customers the usual route. Got some novices…”
“I’ll keep clear.” I avoid the reference to the fact money doesn’t pass hands when I take his horse for a ride. I’ve invested enough in these downtrodden stables over the years. Don’t need thanks, which he’s well aware of. We say what we have to by trading insincere insults.
Slapping the old man on his back, leaving him to prepare for what sounds like a boring trek to see the sunset tonight, I grab a rope halter and go to the furthest corral. There, already stamping his feet with impatience, is the sixteen-hand black stallion I’ve come to think of as mine.
The whites of his eyes are showing. Like that, is it? “Hey, boy.” I stand at the fence, just waiting. “Can’t come every day, you know. And Jacob doesn’t neglect you, so don’t give me that look.”
Another stamp.
I dig into my pocket and pull something out. “Got a carrot with your name on it.”
An impasse. He doesn’t move, neither do I, as we play the game we’ve played ever since I returned to Tucson, some eight years ago. I’m sure he can read my every expression, as I can his. I do nothing as I wait for him to approach me. I don’t smile, don’t speak, and definitely don’t frown. With a shake that starts at his nose and ends at his tail, at last the black stallion moves.
When he’s taken the carrot, I climb the railing. Standing alongside, I stroke my hand down his neck. “Up for having some fun?” I croon softly, as I slip his halter on.
With Niyol content to munch on hay, I groom him until he gleams, taking care to stand at his side when I brush his tail out. Usually with me he’s calm and patient, but if he’s in a mood, he can have the tendency to kick out. I only had to learn that lesson once, a nice horse shoe print bruise on my thigh something to be avoided. When he’s ready, I untie the halter and loop it around his neck. He accepts the bit in his mouth without too much head tossing, and calms as I put the saddle on his back and clinch the girth tightly. Then he starts stamping impatiently.
Without delaying, I leap onto his back, taking up the reins quickly. “Whoa, give me a moment, boy.” He prances while my feet find the stirrups.
As soon as my heels touch his flanks, he’s off. I give him his head, knowing he’s as full of pent-up energy as I am. Steering away from the route Jacob will be taking, I head off on a different, less used track.
Niyol’s flanks are heaving and covered with a sheen of sweat when I slow his pace, leaning forwards and patting his neck. Just horse and man enjoying the solitude, the quietness. Letting my body move as one with his, we plod on, covering ground, heading onwards.
The air feels fresh, the sky above me darkening as the sun starts to drop over the mountains. Old friends, knowing each other well, I’m now walking with a loose rein. Suddenly Niyol rears
. I throw myself forward, easily keeping my balance. When his four legs are back on the ground, I look around, wondering what had startled him. What’s that? I thought I heard something. I did. The finer-tuned ears of the horse had picked it up first, but now I can hear it clearly. The sound’s not far away. It’s screaming. A woman.
We’re off the main tourist drag. There shouldn’t be anyone out here. I strain my ears, nope, can’t hear anyone else. Doesn’t mean she’s alone though. It’s the panic in the next scream that gets me dismounting, looping the reins around the branch of a tree. I’d rather approach quietly and discreetly on foot until I find out what’s going on. Could be screams of delight. A lover’s tryst I’ll be interrupting. But that’s not what it sounds like. I’ve experienced enough cries of fear to recognise one when I hear it.
Silently, using tracking skills I learned as a youth, I walk up the path, then push quietly through the undergrowth until I come to another little-used track, then stop. My brain is analysing the situation as fast as any computer I use. A woman standing tall, her backpack held over her head, waving it at something standing in front of her in a clearing…
A bear. A fucking bear. She looks like she’s going to scream again at any moment.
Noiselessly I approach her from behind. One hand going around her mouth, the other holding her still, imprisoned against my body. She struggles, her writhing brings her ass into contact with my cock. Ignoring everything, I bend my head to speak into her ear, “Listen to me. I’ve got you, okay?” As I talk, I straighten my legs, making myself as tall as I can. Taking the backpack from her I hold it high and still with my free hand. I tower above her smaller frame. She stiffens.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Raising my voice so the bear can hear, I use a tone similar to the one I use on Niyol when he’s in a spat. “You just got to be quiet and calm down. Gonna remove my hand now. Don’t say a fuckin’ word. I’m letting the bear know we’re human, and that we’re not a threat, but also, too much for him to take on.”
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