Targeting Dart (Satan's Devils MC #4)

by Manda Mellett

  By the time we get back down to the clubhouse our numbers have increased. The other presidents have arrived, and as I thought, each is accompanied by a man or two. Then it’s a waiting game while men take plates and help themselves to some food, visit the heads, or grab drinks from a flustered Jekyll who’s trying to man the bar and keep everyone satisfied, receiving no thanks and just being shouted at to hurry up. Yeah, we’ve all done our time as a prospect. He knows only too well, remaining stoic and taking all the flack thrown at him without complaint is the only way he’ll ever get a patch.

  At last Drum shouts for us all to go into church. Jekyll’s now given instructions to find extra chairs.

  As I go to take my customary seat, Drummer waves me to Heart’s. When I raise my eyebrows, he shrugs. “Too many of us to have empty seats.” We’d always left his space vacant as a mark of respect when we hadn’t known whether he’d ever come out of his coma. Now, I suppose, it’s a different scenario. Heart’s not here by choice, not because he’s unconscious in a hospital bed.

  It seems all the visiting presidents have brought their VPs, which isn’t really surprising. This must be one of the most serious matters the club has ever had to deal with. Crash takes a place next to Red, Hellfire’s brought Demon, and Thor sits down alongside his prez, Snatcher. Drum bangs the gavel and we’re ready to start.

  “You know why we’re here. Motherfuckers from San Diego wanted to take over the Tucson chapter and make a bid to have the mother title. And change the direction of the whole club.”

  A chorus of outrage greets his summation.

  “First off, lets clear the air. Any other chapter have a problem with Tucson?” Drummer’s steely eyes look around the table, ready to meet any challenge.

  There’s a shaking of heads and a few “fuck noes.” Everyone sounds genuine to me.

  Drum bows his head and takes a deep breath. When he looks up, a few lines have gone from his forehead. “Some time ago we all met and decided that we were gonna get out, and stay out, of the drug trade.” He nods at Wraith, who lost a sister to crack. “If any of yers have changed your mind on that front, let’s get it out in the open now.”

  Red waves his hand. “Far as Vegas goes, we agree with that decision one hundred percent. There’s enough temptation on the streets without stockin’ it inhouse. Seen too many brothers get tempted and dip into deliveries. I say we’re out and stay out.”

  There’s a rap on the table, then Hellfire speaks. “Agree with Red. Pussy and beer keep my crew happy. Don’t have no desire to feed no other appetites. And I got kids, Brother. Don’t want them brought up in a house where everyone’s wipin’ their noses and snortin’.”

  Snatcher’s nodding. “Same goes for me. Without the kids that is, Hell.” He lifts his chin to the Colorado prez while chuckles go around the table. “I’m too old to get into that lark. Drugs or kids,” he emphasises, just in case anyone misunderstood.

  “Motion carried. Satan’s Devils stay clean on that front. Dart?” I hear my name, then remember I’m supposed to be recording things like this in the book. Hastily I pick up my pen and do so, ignoring Mouse’s smirk.

  “Movin’ on, now we’ve got to discuss the situation in San Diego.”

  “We gonna vote on Snake and this fucker, Poke?”

  “Yeah, Hellfire. That’s what we’re here for.” Drum pinches the bridge of his nose, and after a second he looks up, his eyes full of emotion. “Never thought I’d see the day when we were voting on whether to send a Satan’s Devils’ president to meet Satan.” He shakes his head sadly as Red, Hellfire, and Snatcher all echo his sentiment.

  “Ain’t got no option,” Red says. “Can’t leave them alive. Out in bad standin’ is far too good after what they done.”

  “Getting the club deep in drugs would be enough by itself,” Snatcher starts. “Tryin’ to take out the mother chapter is something else.”

  “I agree,” Hellfire says seriously. “Don’t like it, Drum, but we’ve got to get rid of the rot.”

  Drummer drums his fingers on the table and takes a moment before he lets out a deep breath. “Let’s vote on it then. Snake and Poke to meet Satan.” His gaze turns stern. “This is a grave step we’re takin’ here, and know I don’t do it lightly. Two members, two officers of one of our clubs. Take a moment, brothers. I need everyone in. One no and we discuss other routes.”

  Silence descends, broken moments later by Wraith, who says aye. Blade follows quickly. One by one my brothers pronounce the death sentence. The three visiting presidents are all in accord. When the vote gets to Drummer, he agrees with the rest.

  I pick up my pen and record the grimmest decision ever taken by the club.

  As the seriousness of the situation is sinking in, the quiet is broken by one word. “Prez?”

  “Yeah, Lost. Spit it out.”

  Lost looks down at his hands, which are twisting together, and then slowly lifts his head as if it’s become heavier overnight. One by one his gaze falls on every man at the table. Only when he’s completed the circuit and met all of our eyes, he begins. “Fuckin’ bad business. I want to assure you I had no idea we were runnin’ a dirty club. Don’t know how we got there, getting on for half the members involved, led by our prez and sergeant-at-arms. Fuck, I just don’t know what to say, brothers. I must have been fuckin’ blind not to see what was goin’ down.”

  “You had no inklin’ at all?” It’s Red who’s asked.

  “None, Brother. Sure, noticed a couple had a habit of keepin’ to themselves, Poke and Snake were gettin’ close, but didn’t think nothin’ of it. You know how it goes? With the numbers we have we’re not in each other’s pockets all the fuckin’ time.” He gets a few nods at that. “Thing is, Prez, I think you should take my patch. I’m the VP, and I should have seen it happenin’.”

  As people start to protest, Drum bangs the gavel. His voice is cold, unemotional. “Lost is right. After Snake, San Diego is the VP’s responsibility. If we find he’s at fault, then he’s out, and out in bad standin’.” My eyes widen. Fuck, I didn’t expect that. That sentence would mean he won’t be welcome in any club. I glance at the man in question, only to see acceptance of his fate already written on his face. He seems to have shrunk and looks a shadow of his former self. To be kicked out of the brotherhood would be a damning result.

  Drum continues. “I’ve questioned Snake…”

  “Left anythin’ for us, Drum?”

  “Yeah, Hellfire.” Drummer’s resolute eyes glare at the interruption. “You’ll get your chance.” There’s cracking of knuckles and men rolling their shoulders. Yup, we all want a turn at the man who betrayed his own club.

  “Now focus. Snake was tryin’ to turn his members. He was recruitin’ carefully and under the radar. The plan was to use easy earnin’s as an inducement, so he approached the men who could use a new source of income first. Poke is a gambler, heavily in debt. In fact, that was where it started. The sergeant-at-arms got involved by gettin’ himself a loan from the cartel, and they suggested usin’ the club as both mules and dealers to pay it all off. Snake himself was just greedy when Poke ran him through the numbers. Same with the other brothers they got on their side.”

  He pauses and sips the beer he’d brought in with him. He’s drinking it slowly, as though wanting to keep a clear head. “Snake knew Lost’s as straight as they come, which is why he was kept well out of it.”

  “What was the plan?” Hellfire again interjects. “What were they goin’ to do with anyone they couldn’t get onside?”

  Drum’s answer comes quickly. “Kill them, or turn them out bad.”

  Growls go around.

  “As far as I’m concerned, Lost is in the clear. Can’t know anythin’ if it’s deliberately kept hidden.”

  Lost goes to refute Thor’s support, but Drum forestays him. “That’s my impression as well. Lost isn’t a drunk, he’s not lazy. He doesn’t go around with his head stuck up his ass.” He breaks off and looks around at everyone much
the same way that Lost had done. “My gut feel is we need someone honest who we can trust at the helm. Lost keeps his patch.”

  Our approval is shown by stamping of feet and the banging of hands down on the table. I get out my smokes and pass them around, believing the tension has eased now that decision’s made.

  “I disagree.”

  I pause with my lighter halfway to my cigarette at the unthinkable objection from Snatcher. All eyes go to where he’s sitting at the end of the table, others, like me, frozen in pose.

  “I propose that we make him president of the San Diego chapter. As you said, Drum, brothers there will need a firm hand to guide them, and I’ve heard nothin’ but good things about Lost.”

  “Not our decision to make, Brother. You know the rules, chapter votes their own president in.” Drum closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. “But we can make a resolution to let it be known he has our support. All our support.” His eyes query Red and Hellfire, who send him back chin jerks.

  Lost’s sitting there as if he’s, well, lost. There are tears in his eyes that not only has he got an unexpected reprieve and remains a member of the club, he’s being put forward for top spot. His mouth works as if he’s lost for words. Then at last he manages just to get out a stammered “Thank you, brothers.” There’s a wealth of emotion in those three words.

  Drummer now turns his gaze on me. “I want you to go back down to San D, Dart. Lost is gonna need someone to have his six while he gets his house sorted. Long as the president’s vote goes the way I expect it, as long as Lost’s in agreement, I’m proposin’ you for the VP spot until things settle down. Lost, got any objections?”

  Lost turns to me and grins. “Fuckin’ none at all, Prez. Dart’s a good man to have at my back.”

  My mouth’s opening and shutting like a fucking fish. On one hand, I’m thrilled Prez thinks so highly of me. On the other, and on a more personal front, I want to stay here and explore where I’m going with Alex. And there’s no fucking way she can go back to Cali while that bastard ex of hers is still breathing air. Finally I manage to stammer out some words. “Fuckin’ overwhelmed, Prez. Don’t know I’m the best person.” Fuck, I never considered myself officer material. I know I’ve been standing in for Heart, but there’s a shitload of difference between secretary and VP.

  “From what Slick’s told me, you did everythin’ right. You’ve been takin’ charge and makin’ good decisions. That’s all we can ask of a second. Any of you fuckers disagree with me? Let’s vote it. Mother chapter proposes temporary VP for San Diego is Dart.”

  There’s a unanimous round of ayes, which take me by surprise. Then I hone in on one word he’s said. “How temporary, Prez?”

  Drum shrugs. “As long as it takes. Need you and Lost to decide what to do with Snake and Poke’s supporters. We left them on ice at the warehouse. Then you’ll need to kick the others into shape, sift through to find any more that don’t smell good, and go on a recruitin’ drive, get some prospects in or transfers from other chapters. Get SoCal back up to strength again.”

  That sounds like it’s going to take months, if not years. I frown.

  Prez is examining me carefully. “You don’t want to leave your woman.”

  As I open my mouth to refute I’ve got any claim on her publicly, which would imply a permanency to our relationship, suddenly thoughts flash through my head. Not least the curves of her body, the way she felt in my arms last night, the strength she’s shown with all the shit she’s been through, and the guilt I’d felt after I fucked Eva. And then there’s Tyler. Yeah, I’ve come to really care for that kid. I’d told her I couldn’t make a commitment, but perhaps I was wrong.

  Knowing I’m going to take shit for this, I let a smile come to my face. “No, Drum. I don’t.”

  I’ve got the reputation as a manwhore, and rightly deserve it. With the good looks I was born with, I’m a target for the hangarounds when they come to the club. I only have to crook my little finger to get any woman I want. The incredulous looks of my brothers, with the exception of Slick and Mouse, who’d probably seen what was in the cards, almost make me laugh. Almost. I’d gone against club rules and touched an employee.

  My thoughts come out of my mouth. “She can’t dance anymore. She no longer works for us, Prez.”

  “That point’s debatable, Brother. But I vote we let it pass. From what I’ve seen, you ain’t going anywhere where you’re not wanted. Anyone want to disagree?”

  Luckily they don’t. Wraith even goes so far as to say, “Alex is a good fit with the club. So you’re officially clamin’ her, Brother?”

  Am I really doing this? Christ. I think I am. The corners of my mouth turn up as in front of the brothers from my club, and from other chapters, “Yes. I am. If she agrees, I’m gonna make her my old lady.”

  Drummer laughs as Red shakes his head. “And another one bites the dust. Is there somethin’ in the water in Tucson?” I flip my middle finger toward the Vegas prez.

  “Anyone against?”

  “Don’t know the bitch, so surely that’s up to Dart.” Hellfire lifts his chin at me. “Yer makin’ the brother a VP, trust he knows what’s best for the club.”

  Lost looks at me. “I want to get back to San D tomorrow. Don’t want to leave things up in the air.”

  And as quickly as that I’ve claimed my old lady, and I’ll just as fast have to leave her. But that’s what I signed up for, to do whatever is necessary for the club. “I’ll be with you, Brother.” Even if I don’t want to go.

  “Dart’s takin’ an ol’ lady brings us on to one more thing.” Drummer says.

  Chapter 25

  Dart

  The prez has got our attention. I wasn’t aware we had much more to discuss. “Alex, Dart’s ol’ lady, is black,” he begins.

  Where’s he going with this? What the fuck does her skin colour have to do with anything?

  Before I can say anything, Snatcher leans back in his chair and says it for me. “Bylaws don’t include bitches. If Dart wants to dip his wick in a black hole, that’s up to him.”

  Demon nods at his prez, then looks at me. “You gonna have kids? They’d be…”

  “Don’t fuckin’ go there.” Mouse is out of his seat and has the Colorado VP out of his chair and up against the wall, his hand circling his neck. Demon flutters his hands in surrender.

  “Didn’t mean anythin’ by it. Just pointin’ out…”

  “Sit down and shut the fuck up! Both of yers,” Drum thunders. I swear his voice is so loud the room vibrates. Once they take their seats, and the prez has silenced them with a glare, he continues, “Talking of kids, Alex has already got one. A boy, six years old.” He gives everyone that stare, as I sit wondering why the fuck he’s bringing this up at the table. Suddenly his fist hits down on the table. “Tell you this, brothers. If it hadn’t been for that kid’s quick thinkin’, I might not be sittin’ here today, and we could have lost other good members of this club.” Now he’s caught their interest. No one speaks, and all eyes are upon him. Drummer’s tense stance relaxes and he sits back. “Lad was upset, but knew somethin’ was off. Managed to get a warnin’ to me, so we got rollin’ in time, and gave us the head’s up we were steppin’ into an ambush.”

  “Six fuckin’ years old?” Thor’s shaking his head.

  I nod. “Yeah, the boy’s been through some shit in his life. He’s got an old head on his young shoulders.”

  “Boy did a solid for the club. If it wasn’t for him we might not be having this meetin’ today.”

  Slick throws me a chin jerk. “Good fuckin’ kid there, Brother. He know that?”

  “We should all thank him.” Peg looks around. He knows if he hadn’t have been warned, and Slick, Mouse, and I hadn’t escaped by ourselves, he’d have been one of the first to put his head in a trap.

  “I want to do more than thank him.” Drum’s emphasis is confusing, and again we give him our eyes. “Kid’s got me thinkin’. He loves bikes, and thanks to Dart
here, will grow up around bikers. Quite likely when the time comes he might want to prospect for us. Far as I’m concerned, I’d be proud to have him in the club.”

  Hellfire brings his hand down onto the table. “We’re a white fuckin’ club.” He gives a side glance to Mouse, who’s bunching his hands. “You look white, Brother. Hard to tell…”

  I take a sharp breath, knowing how proud Mouse is of his heritage. I don’t have to wait long. “This is an American club, and last time I fuckin’ looked into it, my people were here long before yours.”

  Red starts getting to his feet as though to intervene, but sits down again when he sees it’s not necessary as Drum takes control.

  “Shut! Up!” Drum roars. “We’re not fuckin’ white supremacists, and as far as I’m concerned, our bylaws are years out of date. For myself, I don’t give a fuck whether members are white, black, brown, fuckin’ yellow, or purple. What’s more important is I know they’ve got my back. How many of you were in the services?”

  A number of hands go up, including Hellfire’s. Drum’s eyes narrow as he challenges him. “And how many times did a black have your six?”

  Hellfire looks taken aback. “More than once,” he admits.

  “Covered you as good as a white?”

  Hellfire can’t argue. “Sure did,” he replies honestly.

  “What’s the difference to having blacks in the club or in the service then? You sayin’ they can’t be trusted, can’t fight by your side?”

  Now Hellfire shrugs, and slowly a grin comes to his face. “Ain’t sayin’ that at all. Just that we’ve always been white.”

  “And we can’t change that?” Drum strokes his hand over his beard. “We’ve got a black woman and kid at the Tucson Chapter. Don’t want them to feel they are any less than any of the other ol’ ladies and kids we have here.”

  “Don’t bother me none. Long as they’re a good fit in other ways.” Red seems to have no problem with us opening the club up.