Slick Running (Satan's Devils #3) (Satan's Devils MC)

by Manda Mellett

“We start building again tomorrow. But now, put this to the back of your heads. We’ve got bigger things to deal with tonight. Peg, get the weapons back out of storage, and everyone make sure you know what you’re doing and that your guns are clean and loaded. Don’t want none jammin’ tonight. And Slick, you make sure your toys are ready.”

  I nod. I know what I have to do.

  “Prospects will be restockin’ the bar, but go easy. I want everyone with clear heads.” He looks around, making sure everyone’s on board. “Right, let’s continue getting things straightened where we can, then go play with yourselves or whatever you do to relax.”

  A few chuckles greet him as he jumps back down to the ground. Normally he’d say go fuck, but with no whores or old ladies, those that need to will be reduced to using their hands.

  As the brothers from San Diego and Vegas offer to make good, or as far as possible, the communal areas, I go up to my suite to see what damage has been done there. Nothing seems to be broken, but every drawer’s been tipped out and searched. I do what I can to tidy mine, and then Ella and Jayden’s room. Fuck knows which of their stuff goes into which drawer. I feel like a voyeur handling their panties and shit. Holding each item gingerly between finger and thumb, I put all the spilled tampons back in the box. Fuck, a man shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing.

  By the time I’m finished it’s late afternoon and I go to the bunker hidden in the old swimming pool. The disguised and dirt covered top is already slid back, and Peg is sorting out weapons and ammunition. I go to a special pile and take out what I need, collecting my handguns and knives from where I had them stored, noting Prez’s precious Linn Sondek turntable is covered in bubble wrap and placed here for safe keeping, along with his treasured record collection. Shaking my head, I smile. Trust Prez.

  The mood in the clubhouse remains subdued, and one of the only times I can remember when the whores aren’t around to provide their services. Men sit checking their guns, putting ammunition handy in the pockets of their cuts, and strapping on sheaves for their knives. Blade comes over and takes a seat beside me, the chair rocking, and he gets up fast turning it over to inspect it, then swearing when he sees the loose leg. Tossing it aside he pulls up another.

  “Fuckin’ fuzz,” he snarls.

  I shrug. There’s nothing more to say.

  “Who you got, Slick?”

  “Lucas. Should be easy. He’s not got a wife, hopefully he’ll be home all alone.”

  “You got your special toys?”

  Yup, you could say that. I like to blow things up. I nod.

  “Tongue and Wraith have got Pedro.”

  That makes sense. Tongue being a sniper, if he gets a clear shot it should be easy just to take one man out. “Who you got, Blade?”

  “Pablo. I’ll slit his throat while he sleeps.”

  “Sounds fuckin’ simple.”

  He grins broadly. “What could go wrong?”

  One fuck of a lot.

  Chapter 34

  Slick

  As midnight approaches, conversations around me falter, each of us in silent reflection, going over plans in our heads and, probably all the same as me, eager to get out and get this shit done. Looking across the room I can see Wraith impatiently bouncing his leg and Drum tapping his fingers on the table where he’s sitting with Lost and Crash. At last the prez glances at his phone to check the time, then stands and gives us the signal it’s time to get this job started. Finally. Wasting no time, I call my team together and we go over the arrangement once again. And then it’s time for the first team to head out.

  Men slap each other’s back and exchange hugs, cries of “good luck” and “watch your fuckin’ backs” abound. I give one last look around the ruined clubroom and then gather my crew.

  We’re third lot to leave. Crash, the Vegas VP, I quickly discover doesn’t mind following orders despite the fact he outranks me and rides alongside as we head to our designated address. I’m well prepared, as usual, Mouse has given us all the details—where to park up and how best to avoid security cameras. Stowing our cuts on our bikes we approach the house and it’s then I get my first clue things might not go as smoothly as planned. There are lights on inside, when I’d hoped to find the single occupant asleep.

  Crash waves two of his men forward, Rope and Cuff, who I’ve been told, do everything together. And apparently that means everything. “Go see what’s goin’ on.” After instructing them, he turns to me. “Those two move like fuckin’ ghosts.”

  I’m quite happy he’s offered their services. Neither Shooter or Viper are particularly light on their feet. Now I’m unable to do anything but stand with my foot impatiently tapping the ground as I wait for intel that will give us suggestions as to how to proceed.

  Within moments they’re back. “Fuckin’ party inside,” Cuff tells me. From the expression of disgust on his face, I’ve got a pretty good idea what he means.

  My heart beats faster. “One of their specials?”

  “Yeah, fuck it.” Cuff spits on the ground. “Fuckin’ perverts.”

  “How many fuckers in there?”

  “Seven that I saw. Could be more. And two girls.”

  “Your move, Slick.” Crash shows he respects my lead. “How do you want us to play this?”

  I’m for being cautious, so I query a bit more. “How much could you see? Is it possible they’re ready and waiting for us?”

  Rope shakes his head and gives a disgusted snort. “Man, we could see in through the side window. Looks like they’re fully occupied with their entertainment to me.”

  I’m still wary this could be a trap. “We need to get the girls clear.” I hesitate, but only for a moment. “Brothers, we were here to take out one man, but from what Rope and Cuff say none of those fuckers in there are innocent. I say we end them all.” And even while it seems unlikely, I can’t take any chances. This could still be a trap. At the back of my mind hovers the thought that the Herreras have set us up and, while it looks genuine, it could be anything but.

  And we’re outnumbered. My team numbers six. It’s good to have the Vegas boys here, who’ll I just have to trust know what they’re doing. Part of me wishes I had more of the brothers I know.

  I make my decision. “We go in quiet, quick and clean. We don’t give them a chance to draw their fucking weapons. Shooter, your aim still good, Brother? Think you can take two of them?”

  Without a pause he gives a quick nod in response. I stare at him for a moment, remembering how shaken he was when he’d make his first kills, but he seems to have his head on straight. Under my examination he raises his chin. I slap my hand on his back.

  “Won’t be a problem, Slick. They’re not men, they’re animals.”

  “You got that right, Shooter.”

  Cuff lifts a semi-automatic into my line of sight. I nod at him, I’ve set mine to single shot, having eyed up nearest residences, not too close, but near enough to disturb me. If we need to change to rapid fire we’ll do so, but for now, “We use silencers if possible.” No point getting the cops here too quickly. Cuff nods in understanding.

  Once I know my message has gotten across I continue, “Right, rear, and front entry.” Fuck, we’re becoming practiced at this, but it had worked for Drum when we saved Jayden, hopefully it will work again now. Though this time I won’t be knocking on the front door. “Once those fuckers are dead we get the girls out.”

  “What’s the timer on that?” Crash nods at the device I’m checking before putting it back in my pocket.

  “I can set it for whatever we decide.”

  “Three minutes will give us enough time to get clear.” And the house will be blown sky high. Each of our hits tonight will be via a different method. Make it less easy for them all to be linked to the same group.

  The time suggested is reasonable, so I indicate my agreement. It’s a fucking shame we can’t do this as planned. Make sure Lucas was inside, sneak inside to find him sleeping, a quick shot to the head, and then ge
t away clean. But the presence of the girls and other men changes all that. Luckily we’ve come prepared with the larger team as we’d all known we were going into the unexpected, and quite possibly an ambush situation. We’d tossed around many a scenario during church. And now I’m fucking glad we had.

  “I’ll take the back with Cuff and Rope.”

  I lift my chin to Crash, Shooter and Viper nod to show they’ll be with me. Giving a chin jerk, we slip on gloves then start to move forward, crouched down, keeping down behind a conveniently placed low wall. Reaching the front door, I check out the lock, then use my useful skeleton key to open it silently, then send a quick text to Crash, immediately receiving one back. They’re inside too. The party’s going on in the front room. So far nothing has changed, no one’s watching out for our arrival and our entry seems undetected.

  We head down the short hall. I pause to let Crash come alongside, then burst through into the living room. Shooter’s quick on the draw, two men drop by his hand. I get a third. Others are falling. One man’s enjoying an almost comatose girl on the ground, while the other young kid is slumped over a chair. Holding my fire, as I don’t want to hit the girl, the last man looks around in surprise, pants down by his ankles. As he rises he tries to pull them up when he sees dead bodies around him. I take aim then pause. Fucking hell. I’m about to become a cop killer. My arm comes up and quickly pushes Crash’s weapon down. He looks at me sharply, and I shake my head.

  “Not him.” I say tersely to Crash, and then address the man abusing the girl. “Hands up!” He’s probably got a weapon to hand. As he raises his arms his pants fall down again, the clang on the wooden floor confirming my assumption was correct. Crash quickly steps forward and seizes his gun.

  Detective Archer’s eyes open wide, and lines appear on his forehead. His cheeks have gone pink, but when he looks at me his expression slowly changes and the worry lines fade. He looks around at the fallen men, then scoffs, “You’re fucking lucky you didn’t pull that trigger. Kill me and they’ll never stop coming after you if you shoot one of their own.”

  Does he mean his professional colleagues or the Herreras? If it’s the latter and Leonardo’s straight he’s wrong. If the former he may have a point. But his words have no power to sway me. I only have to glance at the girl lying on the floor crying to realise whatever he says, his remaining life is now measured in hours.

  He follows the direction of my eyes and must realise he’s not got me convinced as he tries to offer up something more. “I’ll lay off the Norman kid. Make the paperwork go away. Just let me walk. You can keep the brat.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” A deep voice speaks by my side.

  “This, here,” I point with my gun, “is a dirty cop.”

  Crash’s eyes open wide. “Fuck.”

  Yeah. Fuck. “Watch him.” Taking out my phone I move out of the room. I try a number a couple of times, but Drum doesn’t pick up.

  “Ringing Prez?”

  “Yeah, but there’s no answer,” I tell Viper tersely, who’s followed me out into the hallway.

  “Reckon Prez will want to question him himself.”

  Viper’s got a point. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll get a prospect here with the truck. We’ll truss him up and take him home.” I make a second call, this time one where there’s a reply. And while we’re waiting for transport maybe I’ll get some information myself. Returning to the main room, I quickly update Crash.

  “Good call, man. From what you say, your Prez will want to hear what he’s got to say. We’ll use the waiting time to clean up.” He nods towards one of his men. “Cuff?” When he gets his attention, he jerks his head toward Archer. “We’re takin’ him back to the compound.”

  “Wrapped?”

  “Oh yeah.” Crash smirks. “With a pretty bow on top.”

  There’s a reason why Cuff has his name. As he reaches around to his back pocket and takes out of pair of handcuffs I hold back a laugh. While Archer watches in horror, Cuff nods his Vegas brother who takes hold of the cop, roughly pulling his arms behind his back. The cuffs are on before he can blink. Then I watch as Rope walks around to his front, sneering at the immobilised man. The cop tries to back away, forgetting his pants are around his ankles and falls on his ass. Rope laughs, then quick as a flash kneels, leaning his weight on the man to keep him from moving, then takes the belt off the pants and wraps it tightly around Archer’s shins, keeping them tight together so he can’t kick off his pants. It’s a ridiculous sight. Especially when he pulls the detective to his knees and he has difficulty balancing and his flaccid cock’s flapping in the air.

  “You can’t kill me.” Archer might be trussed like a turkey, but he doesn’t sound particularly worried as he basically repeats what he said before. “I’m a cop. And you need me.” Suddenly he’s smirking as if he thinks he’s got the upper hand. “Kill me and you lose the kid. Now the order’s been served social services will get involved. She’ll be taken away unless I put a stop to it. Only I can do that. I know the judge. Let me go now, I’ll say nothing of this, and I’ll make your problem with the brat disappear.”

  I don’t trust him. But it will be Drum’s call. He’s got a vested interest in keeping Amy safe. For now I’ll stick to my plan.

  “While we’re twiddling’ our fuckin’ fingers, think we ought to be gettin’ them out of here.” Crash points to the girl on the floor, and then indicates the one on the couch.

  “You can’t touch me. Untie me, let me go now.”

  Tuning out Archer’s continuing protests, I focus my attention on the girl lying prone on the floor. I’d thought she was totally out of it but she seems to have recovered at least some of her senses. Although she’s surrounded by dead bodies, she isn’t looking at us in horror, she’s looking at us like we’re her saviours. And she’s not even a woman, can’t be much more than twelve. Knowing Drum will want to take the lead on Archer, with great difficulty I resist the urge to thrust my fist into his face and send his teeth into this throat. We caught him raping a fuckin’ kid.

  Instead, I throw a nod at Shooter and then incline my head in the girl’s direction. As he approaches her, his arm reaches out to touch her and she flinches away.

  “Hey, we’re not like them. I’m gonna get you out of here, pet.” I’m impressed how he keeps his voice gentle. “Can you stand? Where are your clothes?”

  Her eyes flit around wildly, eyeing the corpses as though they might get up and abuse her all over again. Shooter sees her looking. “They can’t hurt you anymore, sweetheart. But you’ve got to get dressed, else I won’t be able to get you home. It’s over now, pet, I promise. They’ll never hurt you again.” As he looks at me I see his face is tight.

  But what he’d said to her though? That, right there, is why we’ve done good here tonight. The men lying dead aren’t going to abuse any more young girls.

  Viper’s calling my name. When I focus my attention on him he’s cuddling the other girl. She can’t be more than ten, if that. He’s obviously calmed her, she’s got her hands clasped in his tee. I lower my head into my hands. Archer’s still going from complaining to threatening and then back again. If he had any sense he’d shut up. Finding him here with these girls? He’s lucky not to have broken bones.

  Shooter and Viper have got the girl’s moving, and somehow they’ve found their clothes. When she puts hers on, Spider’s girl looks younger than ever, her tee having a sparkly unicorn on the front. The other’s even worse, her sleep shorts and tank have kittens on them. My stomach churns with the need to vomit, but I swallow it down. We can’t leave any DNA here.

  “We’ll take them home and meet you back at the compound.” The girls throw a look at each other, and then nod. Going home must seem like a fucking good idea to them.

  I turn to Viper and Shooter, wary there might be something going on in Tucson tonight that we’re still unaware of, and wanting to take every precaution. “You travel together. Drop the younger one off first. Fuck, how do her
parents not know she’s missin’?” And how would you groom such a young girl?

  Viper seems to know what I’m thinking. “We’ll get Mouse to look into their backgrounds, but for now, let’s get them back to their folks. They’ll be safe enough there for tonight.

  “Discretely though, Brothers. No ringin’ of door bells. Just let them get inside.”

  Archer’s still immobilised, so Rope and Cuff start cleaning up, looking for spent bullets or anything else that would show we were here. While they do their bit, I stare at the man kneeling on the floor. Suddenly I can’t keep a rein on my curiosity any longer.

  Going to the cop, I put my hands on his skull, pulling his head back so I’m staring into his face. “What’s the story with Heart’s kid? Why the fuck are you so intent on putting her in the hands of a fuckin’ junkie?”

  Archer tries to pull his head out of my hands. “You’re going to have to let me go,” he screams, “I’m the only one who can put a stop to her being taken away from you. You want the brat, you let me loose.”

  Is that true? Not sure Drum’s going to like it if it is. Fuck, I wish I’d been able to get through to him on the phone. Releasing Archer, I try to call him again. Still no fucking answer. And the prospect and the truck will still be some ways out.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Want me to give him some incentive?” Crash is rubbing his hands together.

  I nod. It wouldn’t’ hurt. Drum will be fine with that, as long as we don’t damage the goods too much.

  Seeing a stranger approach with a knife in his hands, Archer panics and tries to get away, but trussed as he is he just falls on his ass again. Crash moves fast, moving behind him and putting his knife to Archer’s neck.

  “Don’t hurt me!” the coward cries as the blade presses in and a trickle of blood starts to run down. “I’ll tell you, alright? The bitch of the grandmother, Clyde. She’s well into the Herreras for drugs. Couldn’t pay up. She said she had a grandkid she’d be willing to give up.”

  I step closer, Crash digs his knife in some more. “Kid’s got parents.” I watch as Archer swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs precariously close to Crash’s knife. He’s hiding something. “How could a junkie give you a kid that wasn’t hers to give?” I’m starting to smell a strong odour of fish. My heart misses a beat. It couldn’t be. Could it? And then the more I think about it, the more it fucking adds up.