Targeting Dart (Satan's Devils MC #4)

by Manda Mellett

  While Alex agrees it’s time to go home, it takes longer than I expected to make it off the compound. First, we have to drag Tyler away from the bikes, which is only achieved with a promise he can come back again soon, then all the women want to say their goodbyes. Fuck, men just simply jerk their chins at each other and get gone. I’ve never had responsibility for a woman before, just fucking the whores and kicking them out of my bed, or having a hook-up with a like-minded woman in town. The social niceties and rituals the old ladies need to complete takes me by surprise. Eventually I’m able to pull them both away and get them in the cage to take them home. Tyler’s worn out and falls asleep on the short journey. When Alex frees him from his seat and looks like she’s going to try to carry him in herself, it seems natural for me to take him in my arms.

  The smile she gives me as she gets out his booster seat and I take care of her son is worth it.

  I’m inside her house with no reason to stay. She’s fidgeting as if she doesn’t know what to do. We’re boss and employee, though, I believe, on the way to becoming good friends. I like her and respect her for the way she takes care of her kid. It will not, and cannot ever go further than that.

  I walk to the front door, open it, then turn, resting my hands on the top of the frame. “I’ll see you Tuesday evenin’ at the club.”

  She closes the distance between us, and has to look up. “Thanks, Dart. I’m so very grateful. I enjoyed today, and so did Tyler. And wow, I don’t know what to say about your president offering to help.”

  “All my brothers wanted in on it,” I tell her gently. “It’s a fuckload of work, but all of us enjoy a poker run, there’s no disputin’ that.”

  She glances down at her feet. “Well, thank you anyway. And whatever I can do to help…”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.”

  I have an overwhelming desire to kiss her, just to prove her taste wasn’t as addictive as I first thought. I can’t. I mustn’t. There’s nothing to start here.

  She’s still looking down. Placing my fingers under her chin, I raise her head to face me.

  I can’t. I have to resist. But her lips, so full, and now I know so soft, are tempting me. I swallow, then tell her, “Goodbye, Alex.”

  “Goodbye, Dart.”

  It’s still a moment before I turn and walk away, get into the hated cage and drive back to the club, trying to focus my mind on finding a sweet butt to take care of my needs, but at the thought of any of the club whores my cock seems to deflate. When I dare think of that dark flesh that I’ve seen almost all of when she flaunts herself on stage, it starts to come to life again. What the fuck is wrong with me? For a start, she’s an employee, completely off limits. Why is it so fucking difficult to remember that?

  As I drive the truck through the gates I make a resolution not to see her again outside of Satan’s Topless Angels. That’s far for the best, and once I keep her at a distance my cock might forget it’s strange desire to sink into her soft, warm depths.

  Having totally lost any desire to fuck, I make my way to the bar. The long, straight dark hair hanging down the back of a man standing and talking animatedly to the prez shows Mouse, for once, has ventured out of his cave. Realising they’re deep in conversation, I walk to the other end of the bar. Jekyll’s eyes have plotted my progress across the room, and there’s a cold beer ready and waiting for me. Nodding to the shelf behind him, I also request a chaser of Jack. If I’m not going to get my dick wet, I might as well indulge in a different type of pleasure.

  I only have time to enjoy the spirit warming my throat when Drum is at my shoulder, Mouse close behind him.

  “My office, now,” he instructs.

  Unable to refuse such an invitation from the prez, I follow them both in. Mouse and I take seats in front of the desk, my companion placing his laptop on the wooden surface.

  Going around to his normal chair, Drum nods at Mouse. “You wanna lead?”

  Mouse nods, his long hair swinging around him. “Thompson,” he begins without preamble. “He’s a decorated cop. Commendations on his record.”

  I smooth my hands over my hair, idly teasing the bun at the back of my head. “So?”

  “So…” Mouse taps at the keyboard and a picture of a cop in dress uniform appears. “He’s gonna have a lot of support. Fucker like that garners respect.”

  “Unless he walked all over someone to get it,” Drummer throws in.

  I look at the screen. Mouse flicks onto another picture, this one where Thompson’s surrounded by other officers, most standing a head taller than him. “Anythin’ to suggest he’s comin’ after his wife and child?” I ask our computer expert. If there’s anything to find, he’ll dig it out.

  “No. But I did find something interestin’. Alex had a restrainin’ order prepared, but it was cancelled before it got filed. Judge must have refused to sign it.”

  “Can’t have somethin’ like that tarnishin’ his career.” He’s obviously got some clout and uses it.

  Drummer leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. “A cop with a restrainin’ order out on him can’t carry a weapon. His department probably closed ranks.”

  She’d done the right thing, even if she hadn’t succeeded. If he’d hit her hard enough to leave her for dead, she was right to try to take the official route to keep him away. I wished she’d been more upfront the first time we met, I feel like we’re playing catch up now. Darn woman tries to deal with shit on her own. But now she’s got me in her corner. I’m her concerned boss wanting to keep her safe so she can earn the club money.

  Drum closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. When he snaps them open, he leans forward. “I think it’s time we talked to Snake.” A man of action, he’s already taking out his phone as he speaks and places it on the table in front of us, putting it on loud speaker.

  “Yo, Drummer.”

  “Snake. How’s it hangin’, my man?”

  “Hangin’ fine here, Drum. What’s up with you? Got trouble again?”

  “Maybe we have,” Drum admits, and throws a nod toward me. “But first, any news on our Demon?”

  “You know he’s been spotted in Escondido? We’ve got a couple of brother’s doing the rounds, lettin’ themselves be overheard about dissent between us and yourselves. Hopefully it will be enough to draw him in. Reckon he’ll be missin’ bein’ part of a club.”

  Yeah, once a brother, you’d miss the life if you didn’t have it anymore. The chance to be part of something again might just be enough to get him to stick his head above ground.

  “Appreciate it, Brother.”

  “You got anythin’ else? Or just callin’ to chew the fat.”

  “Yeah, I got somethin’. Cop by the name of Ron Thompson, a detective based in your parts. Put his hands on his woman and she’s come to us, workin’ at one of our joints. Wondered if you’ve ever crossed paths?”

  “Hey, San D’s a big city, not surprisin’ I ain’t. But I can have a dig around.”

  Drum doesn’t answer for a second, then makes a suggestion I didn’t expect. “Thinkin’ of sendin’ a couple of brothers down. Slick, as he’s itchin’ to get his hands on the fuckin’ Rock Demon who hurt his ol’ lady, and Dart, who’s lookin’ out for Thompson’s bitch.”

  “That would be fine by me, Drummer. Get them down here and we can show them what we got.”

  Me? Go to San Diego? I frown. That would mean me leaving Alex alone. But if it means I can get to the bottom of what’s going on with her ex, it would take one worry off her mind. After a moment, I give Drum a nod.

  The prez ends the call by agreeing to keep Snake informed of arrangements, then looks at me. “That okay with you, Dart?”

  Mouse waves his hand. “I don’t mind taggin’ along, Prez.”

  I huff a laugh. “Getting out of your cave? Be a first for you, Mouse.”

  The half Native American looks at me and grins. “Yeah, but I took a likin’ to Alex and the kid. Don’t mind len
din’ a hand.”

  I suppress my frown at the thought Mouse is showing an interest in Alex, and consider it might be safer if he comes out of town with us, she doesn’t need brothers sniffing around.

  “I’ll tell Slick,” Prez announces. “But I don’t doubt he’ll be up for it. He’s got a debt to repay for Ella.”

  “When you thinkin’ of, Prez?” I’m working out the logistics of getting cover for the Angels, and particularly someone I trust to look out for Alex.

  “No time like the present,” he replies sharply. “Let me talk to Slick and you can leave tomorrow if that sits well with him.”

  I think about it, with luck we’ll only be down there a couple of days but I’ll need someone to stand in for me. Hopefully Joker will be free, he seemed to look out for Alex okay last time, and when she was here earlier he showed no sign of acting inappropriately toward her. No, that’s just me. Belatedly I realise Drum’s probably looking for an indication of my agreement. I lift my chin.

  “Mouse, you give Dart anythin’ he fuckin’ needs, okay? And Dart anythin’ you’re plannin’, I’d appreciate you runnin’ it past me.”

  Mouse and I both speak at once, slightly different variations, but we’re both in on the same page.

  Slick’s eager as fuck to get after his Demon, so first thing the next morning we leave. The freedom of the road. The wind in my hair. It’s what every biker lives for. The four-hundred-mile journey to San Diego is exactly what I need, having been a while since I’ve been out on long run.

  As a temporary officer I take the lead, Slick and Mouse falling in behind me. I take in the scenery as we pass, admiring the sand dunes of Yuma, then tolerate our progress being briefly slowed at the Winterhaven check point as we cross over into California, but not delayed long as there are fewer nooks and crannies to search on a bike. We’re riding clean, and are not wearing our cuts as we’re out of our area, so are quickly waved on. Next we come to the unusual signs as we approach Jacumba—being only half a mile from the Mexico border, there are warnings of possible immigrants taking their chances with the traffic as they cross the road desperate to enter the States.

  We hit the approaches to San Diego mid-afternoon, and turn off to head to the SoCal chapter’s compound. I’ve visited before, so it comes as no surprise to find it’s housed in a converted hanger on a disused airfield, the surroundings making me grateful for the relative luxury where I’m based in Tucson. I’m totally spoilt back home, my own suite away from the clubhouse, and a swimming pool to take advantage of in the hottest days of summer. Here, at least we escape from the dry heat that’s found further inland, and the view, looking down over the sprawling city does makes up some for the lack of facilities. In the distance, the Coronado Bridge is clearly visible, with the Navy base close by.

  The three of us back up with our pipes towards the building and a familiar face appears, almost as if he’d been watching out for our arrival. As temporary leader of our little group, I step forward to greet him, stretching out my hand then pulling Lost, Snake’s VP, in for a hug. When I let him go, Slick does likewise, holding him for longer. Lost had a hands-on role helping us get rid of the Herrera threat a month or so back, fighting alongside his Tucson brothers.

  “Good to see yer, Brother.” Mouse gets in on the greetings as well.

  “Welcome to San Diego. Fuck, we’re always happy to help brothers out. Got a couple of rooms for ya. Two of you gonna bunk up together, okay? We ain’t got as much space as you have.” Slick and I shrug. A room’s only for sleeping, I don’t much care, as long as he doesn’t snore. Mouse we’ll leave to himself, it’s not unknown for him to be tapping away at his keyboard half the night.

  Satan’s Devils, wherever we hail from, know how to greet brothers from another chapter, and the San D lot aren’t any different. Lost leads us inside, shows us where to dump our stuff, then brings us back down and starts introducing us around. A few of the brothers I’ve met before, but being a bigger chapter, one name soon starts to merge into the next. We meet Smoker and Tinder, Snips and Grumbler, and their sergeant-at-arms, Poke. Snake puts in an appearance. Unlike back in Tucson, there seems few old ladies, or none that are putting in an appearance tonight. We’re invited to share fried chicken, strangely cooked by Snake’s mother, who seems to be in charge in the kitchen, with sweet butts following her direction. It’s a completely different vibe to the one back at home, much more male orientated and less of a family feel.

  We drink, I let a sweet butt put her mouth on my dick without even bothering to learn her name, admiring Slick for resisting the temptation to try out new flesh. Wouldn’t have been so long ago he’d been all over that, but now that he’s got an old lady he refrains from sampling the pleasures on offer. Can’t understand it myself, a hole’s a hole, and any one will do when a brother’s got the urge—only having the one woman must get boring after a while. After thanking the girl and pushing her away, now thoroughly sated in every way, I go to the luckily king-size bed that I’ll be sharing with my brother tonight, already finding him asleep and gently snoring.

  I don’t want to be mistaken for his old lady and wary of wandering hands in his sleep, so I keep my pants on, and to my side of the bed. Then, the long drive, good food, more than enough beer and shots all add together and soon I’m fast asleep.

  As expected, Mouse must have spent most of the night doing research, but that doesn’t stop him banging on our door first thing in the morning. Slick’s still sleeping like the dead as I open it, wiping at my own bleary eyes.

  “Give us a sec, bro. Need to visit the head.” After a long, much needed and satisfying piss, I return to find Mouse’s door open.

  “What you got then, Brother?” Before he can answer, a vibration alerts me to a text.

  As I take out my phone, Mouse nods towards it. “Just sent you Thompson’s address.”

  I shake my head. “Already had it, Brother. It’s Alex’s old house.”

  I’m surprised when he smirks. “Oh, no, it’s not.”

  “No?” Still half asleep, I’m not sure what he means. “He’s moved?”

  “Nah, got two residences. One he owns, one he rents. Both in his name.”

  I rub my hands over my face then smooth them down over my sweaty chest, wishing I’d taken the time to run through the shower to wake myself up, knowing I’m being a bit slow on the uptake. “Anyone else live there?”

  “Not that I can find on the records. The houses are only in his name. But I thought it was worth taking a look?”

  Hmm. I agree, it’s a puzzle I’m going to have to sort out. Alex never mentioned him having a different place.

  A hand rests on my shoulder. “Whassup, Brother?”

  I point to Mouse and then update Slick. “Fucker’s got another house we didn’t know about.”

  “You still planning on talkin’ to him?” Yeah. That had been my plan if Mouse hadn’t turned anything else up. Just have a polite chat to make sure he was going to leave Alex alone and wasn’t going to be an ass about supporting his kid. If he didn’t take to the words, I’d have followed up the conversation with my hands if he needed extra persuasion to get my point.

  I’m quiet for a minute, thinking things through in my head. There are clearly things about Thompson we hadn’t known, and where there’s a whiff of a smell there’s often something rotting underneath. It’s my first inkling this might not be as straightforward as I’d hoped. “Which one is rented?” I ask at last.

  “The address Alex gave us.” And that’s probably another reason for not rushing through with the divorce. If she knew they didn’t own their home she’d know there was no collateral in it, and nothing to help her get the money she so desperately needs. The bastard’s been hiding something from her.

  And it would be useful to find out just how much he hid. “I’m gonna go take a look,” I decide at last. “See what I can find out.”

  “You plannin’ on knockin’ on the door, Brother?”

  I’m planning exac
tly that. “Don’t see why not. Easiest way of having a word with him, and sends a good message, don’t ya think? We know where you live. And that a biker club’s looking out for her.”

  “I’ll come too,” Slick’s quick to offer.

  “And I’ve got ya six, Dart.”

  I direct a chin jerk toward each of them.

  There’s food in the kitchen, breakfast here seems a buffet-style help yourself affair, the cooking once again done by the club girls under the watchful eye of the prez’s mother, a dour, non-communicative woman. After filling our stomachs, we waste no time going to our bikes, storing our cuts again in the saddle bags, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes or wear something that so clearly proclaims where we’re from. Though we suspect he knows exactly where Alex has holed up, just in case we’re wrong, there’s no sense in giving Thompson a fucking signpost.

  With directions from Lost and the GPS on Mouse’s phone, it’s not long before we’re driving up to a decent enough one-story to the south of San Diego. There’s a car on the drive, a Chrysler hatchback, and not a particularly new model. Not a vehicle I would have expected a cop to drive. As my engine ticks, I swing my leg over the seat and get off. Slick comes to my side. Mouse nods, but stays with the bikes.

  Slick and I exchange looks, then I march up the neatly kept front yard and approach the front door.

  There’s sounds from inside, so I know someone’s home. Another glance shared between us, then I roll my shoulders, loosening myself up and getting prepared to meet the man who last spoke to Alex using his fists, the reminder making me clench my hands. Slick notices and gives me a warning growl.

  “Thought we agreed we’d just talk, Brother?”