Hawk's Cry : Satan's Devils MC Second Generation #2

by Manda Mellett

  Sam stares at her, and something passes between them.

  “What to expect?” I seem incapable of using many words. My heart feels like it’s going to stop beating.

  “You’re club, Olivia, always have been. You know how men settle their disagreements.”

  Now the organ pumping blood through my body does cease working as my fist goes to my mouth.

  I do indeed know. With their fists. “He’s going to get a beatdown.”

  Sam’s openly crying now. It’s my mom who puts it into words. “If Eli has told them at church, then there’s no going back on this, Olivia.”

  I stare at my mom and mother-in-law in horror, suddenly understanding why they’re here. Not just to discuss Eli’s revelation, but to support me through whatever will be the outcome for my husband.

  Men don’t just walk away from the club.

  Chapter Four

  Drummer…

  Like Eli, I’d been born into the club.

  The Satan’s Devils MC had originally been formed by Bastard back in the nineteen seventies when he and a group of his friends had returned from the Vietnam War. Society had no place for such men, so they’d made their own. Bastard was president from the start. He met my mom, made her his old lady, and they’d had a baby. Me.

  In those days the club was into everything and anything they could make money from. When men patched in, they knew their lives could be cut short any moment from a bullet, or other various options that all ended up six-feet-under. The club had been into drugs, guns and prostitution. It wasn’t the life I would have chosen for myself, but I’d prospected, gotten my patch. Then I’d tried to change it from within, knowing the men I was living alongside deserved more, and I was determined to try to give it to them. Despite garnering support from some quarters, it had been impossible to steer the club in a different direction. Back then, the prez and many others liked the easy money.

  In the end, change came but not as a result of my efforts. The police had cooked up charges that led several of us spending a few nights in jail. When we’d gotten out, the clubhouse had been raided, laid waste, and burned to the ground. Bastard, my father, was dead. His old lady, my mother, had taken a bullet to the heart meant for him.

  We lost eleven men that day. Three went to jail. They didn’t get to live out their sentences. For the eight others, their time as Satan’s Devils had ended more quickly—they’d lost their lives defending the club.

  I could have walked away, but I didn’t. The handful of men who were left, Peg, Tongue, Beef, Digger, Dollar and Viper—and Rock who was just finishing up his year in jail—were lost without being part of an MC. So I kept us going. I found this compound we bought for a song as nobody else wanted it, changed the direction of the club and accepted the role of prez.

  For the past forty years, I’ve given my all to this club. Sure, I stepped down as prez last year, but only as age was catching up with me, and it was Wizard’s time to lead the club. I’m still a full member, though, and that I will remain until such a time as I can no longer ride.

  Wizard, quite rightly, had wanted his own team of officers around him. While he hadn’t come out and said it, we could see the way the wind was blowing. So, also deciding they’d served their time, Wraith, my reliable VP who I could rely on one hundred percent, Peg, my sergeant-at-arms and Blade, my enforcer, chose to take a back seat along with me. None of us resented giving up the responsibility. It was time for us to relax and enjoy what remained of our lives. Oh, and have a bit of fun while doing so. It had earned us the name of F.O.Gs—Fuckin’ Old Guys who run rings around the prez.

  None of us would leave the club voluntarily. We’d signed on for life.

  I never expected Eli would be anything different.

  Had I forced him to join? Had I directed his life, so he had no other option?

  Is it my fault he’s now going to suffer the fate that the club decides?

  “I still don’t fuckin’ believe it.” Rock’s shaking his head, and then lowering it into his hands. When he looks up, he’s staring at Throttle. “You’ve always been closest to him. Didn’t you have a fuckin’ clue? Couldn’t you have talked some sense into him before it came to this?”

  The enforcer’s face goes red. “Don’t you think I fuckin’ would have if I’d had a clue what was in his head?” He bangs his hand down on the table. “Hawk and I were fuckin’ tight.” He crosses his fingers as if to demonstrate how close. “He’s not been himself; anyone could see that. But the man’s got a lot on his plate. He’s always been serious, now he’s got a kid coming. Just thought it was that.” His anger slips away, and he grimaces. “I saw he had something on his mind, but I’d left it too late. When I dragged it out of him, his decision was made. Took the wind out of my sails when I’d thought he was having doubts about the fuckin’ baby or something. Never dreamed it was this.”

  “What about you, Drum? You’re his dad?” Peg asks.

  I pull myself back from my memories, and like Throttle, get annoyed at the implied criticism. “Don’t you think I’d have fuckin’ talked him out of it if I’d known?” They must see how much it hurts that my son hadn’t come to me. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on in his head.” I stare at Wizard. “That’s my son, and I don’t know him anymore.”

  Prez looks down the table at me sadly. “You may need to recuse yourself from this discussion, Drummer.”

  Perhaps I should. It’s the fate of my first born they’re going to be talking about.

  “Drummer’s always put this club first.” Dollar glances at me, then his eyes go to Wizard. “I trust him to vote for the club.”

  That pulls me up. That’s what he expects me to do? Put the club first in front of my son?

  Problem is, he’s right. I can’t not do that, and maybe that’s what I’ve always done. Maybe it’s why we’ve come to this point. The club has got to contend with a member who carries our innermost secrets in his head, who’s proposing to walk off with them fuck knows where. What would I do if it were someone else instead? Can I divorce my relationship with my son with what’s right for my club? The answer, I’m afraid, is yes.

  “I trust Drummer,” Heart also confirms. “He’ll vote the right way.”

  “Before we vote, I’d like to know if Drummer wants to say anything in mitigation? Has Hawk got a valid reason to leave?”

  I look at Blade, and he stares back at me. I try to think of something, anything, I can use in my son’s defence, but nothing comes to me. I give my answer to him in one word, “No.”

  Am I sealing his fate, as I, his father, can’t find anything to give validity to his announcement today?

  Heart and Mouse are viewing me sorrowfully.

  “Anyone got anything they want to say?” Wizard asks. “This is a serious fuckin’ situation and I don’t want anyone’s view to go unheard.” I suspect Prez would prefer to be anywhere but here right now. Fuck knows, I had hated sitting in his seat when we were discussing a member’s fate. I respect him for not showing emotion. Wiz was a good choice for prez.

  Peg waggles his hand. “As ex sergeant-at-arms, his going worries me. He knows where the bodies are buried, knows the state of our armoury. Knows the strengths and weaknesses of everyone sitting around this table.”

  Hound nods. “That too, concerns me. He’s the fuckin’ VP for fuck’s sake. He knows everything.”

  “Is there even a decision to be made?” Marvel frowns. “Letting him walk seems too dangerous to me.”

  “It’s Hawk we’re talking about.” Lady rolls his eyes. “The boy whose diapers we all saw being changed. I can’t believe we’re even discussing this. He might be leaving the club, but he’s still got blood family here. He’s not going to betray his dad, his mom or his brother.”

  Joker grabs Lady’s hand and squeezes it as though hanging on to a lifeline. I wonder if he’s remembering a time he thought he’d have to leave the club. Not because he wanted to, but because he thought he’d be forced to if he admit
ted his sexuality.

  Truck looks around the table. “I agree with Lady. I trust Hawk to keep his mouth shut.”

  I try to read the expressions on everyone’s faces. Cast looks unsure, but then he probably would. While he’s been a member since prospecting beside Hawk, he’s only recently returned on a permanent basis having completed his final tour as a Marine. My gaze moves on. Roadkill looks undecided as well. Drifter looks stern, and Jekyll I’m sure is thinking of places he’d rather be, probably like all of us. This is a shock, a situation we’ve not been presented with before.

  Or, perhaps we have, as Shooter reminds us. “We let Hyde go without a beatdown.” He shrugs.

  All eyes shoot to him, then come to me. “Why?” Wizard asks. “Remind us, Drummer. Hyde left before I patched in.”

  I glance at Heart. He probably remembers more than me, but I dredge up what comes to mind. “He prospected for eighteen months, mainly because Heart here, and Slick,” I pause while men put their hands over their hearts remembering our deceased brother, “had issues with him. He worked hard, got his patch, then found his old lady. He would have given his all to the club, but it didn’t come naturally. He wasn’t a good fit.”

  “He was a good man,” Heart surprisingly agrees. “This wasn’t his place. We parted on good terms, and he’s always been a good friend to the club.”

  He’s still our neighbour. He and Sarah had rebuilt her gramma’s house and live on the adjacent land.

  “Hawk’s a good man too,” Lady insists.

  Again, it’s Heart who speaks, this time to disagree. “Hyde was just a member, not the VP. He hadn’t sat around this table long and hadn’t much knowledge to take with him. Hawk’s been patched in seven years now.”

  Wizard picks up the gavel and bangs it. “Three options to vote for, brothers. One, we allow Hawk to leave, no retribution.” Even I can see objections coming to that. I’ll have some myself. “Second, he gets a beatdown and third,” he pauses, and his face becomes dark, “we consider it too dangerous to allow him to leave. In that case, he’s dispatched to meet Satan.”

  I let out a shuddering breath, but I can’t dispute Wizard’s options. If it wasn’t my son we were talking about, I’d vote for the third option to protect the club.

  “Are we ready to vote?” Prez asks.

  No. I want to scream. I need more time. If they vote for death, how could I explain it to Sam, or to Zane? Oh, I’ve already acted as a husband today, sharing more than I should have and tried to prepare her for whatever the outcome is. But how can you truly prime a mother for the possible loss of a son’s life? Ignoring the distress in my head, I force my face to remain stoic. I can’t allow my emotions to influence this vote.

  “How you going to do this, Prez?”

  “I want this over with. One vote. The majority have it. All agreed?”

  Ayes are said, hands are raised.

  He’s not calling for a unanimous vote. Would I have? Possibly. But it’s Wizard in the hot seat.

  “Can I make one suggestion?” Throttle asks in a choked voice, continuing when Wizard raises his chin. “If it’s death, it’s delivered quickly.”

  I go cold just thinking about it. But at least it’s agreed, a merciful end for my son.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life when Wizard starts the vote. My hands sweat, and I find it hard to breathe.

  With a pointed glance at the empty seat by his side which should be occupied by his VP, Wizard moves his head a fraction and nods at Throttle.

  “Beatdown.”

  “Dollar?”

  “Beatdown.”

  I start to breathe again, but then when it’s his turn, Marvel says, “Satan.”

  Bullet looks at me, then shakes his head, his brow furrowed in misery. “Satan.”

  Lady says, “Let him leave,” but Joker’s for a beatdown.

  Wraith mouths sorry to me, then agrees, “Beatdown.”

  Peg’s eyes are full of pain. “Satan.”

  Blade can’t meet my eyes. “Satan.”

  It’s come to me. I can’t vote that he gets away scot-free, I wouldn’t be serving my club properly. Hardening my heart, I propose, “Beatdown.”

  Rock’s for a beatdown, Heart too.

  Mouse stares at me, seeming to need a moment to make up his mind. When he shakes his head and pronounces, “Satan.” I can’t find it in myself to blame him. He’s about protecting information after all.

  Shooter hesitates, then votes for death.

  Jekyll says, “Oh shit. Fuck it. Satan.”

  Truck’s for lenience, Drifter’s for making Hawk hurt.

  Roadkill votes for Satan, as does Cast.

  Fuck. This is close. Mentally I’ve been tallying it up. If I’m right, there are nine votes for a beatdown, eight for death, and two to let him out unscathed. Hound and Wizard are yet to vote.

  Hound exchanges a chin lift with Peg. “Satan.”

  There’s a sharp intake of breath around the table. Seems I’m not the only one who’s been keeping count.

  “Fuck,” Wizard rasps out, knowing he’s got the deciding vote.

  I forget how to breathe. It could be seconds or just one minute, but when Prez opens his mouth, I wish he’d give me more time. I’m not ready. But who could ever be ready for this? The rest of my life won’t be long enough to cope with the consequences if Prez votes to end my son’s life.

  He picks up the gavel and brings it down once. “Beatdown.”

  Even from the ones who voted for death, there’s a sigh of collective relief.

  “That boy of yours,” Hound looks down the table at me, “he steps one foot out of line, he says one thing he shouldn’t, and I’ll be taking him out myself.”

  I give him a sharp nod. That’s just how it should be. Betrayal and there would not be a second chance. Eli wouldn’t deserve one.

  As Heart’s tapping on the tablet, recording our vote for prosperity, Wizard looks directly at me.

  “You throw the first punch, Drummer. Then you get out of there.” I shake my head and start to object, but he stops me. “No arguments, Drummer. Things are going to happen that no father should see.”

  The murmuring of agreement around the table stops me disputing that I should be there for my club. For my son.

  A beatdown sounds like he’s getting an easy ride out, but I know he’s not. With tempers running as high as they are? Hawk, or Eli as he’ll now forever be, may not survive.

  Perhaps a single shot to the head might have been easier.

  The table is silent as Eli’s called back in. Understandably, he’s not directed to a seat, instead instructed to stand at the end of the table.

  Wizard stares at him, his gaze almost as steely as mine, then without emotion pronounces, “You’ve disrespected every man at this table, Eli Felis. There’s not one brother that’s immune from the pain of being abandoned by their VP. You vowed to respect the club and abide by the regulations when you were patched in. That vow should not be taken lightly. The club has decided to let you leave, but not without punishment. The club has voted for a beatdown.”

  I’m watching my son carefully, noticing with pride the imperceptible straightening of his shoulders, and that he makes no protest or plea for clemency. But then he is, was, the VP. He knows what to expect.

  “After which,” Wizard continues, “you will no longer be welcome on this compound. Your old lady can stay or go with you as you and she see fit. She will always have a place here, she’s club.”

  I feel as well as hear Wraith’s sigh of relief. Eli will be gone, but Wraith’s daughter doesn’t carry his stain.

  Prez stands. “We will continue this… conversation… in the storeroom.”

  Eli closes his eyes briefly as though preparing himself, then, flanked by Hound and Throttle, he turns and is escorted away.

  As I take my place in the group following him, Wraith’s hand rests on my back.

  “You okay, Brother?”

  “No.” I
tell him the truth. “I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of me. I’ve seen, done, some bad fuckin’ things in my life, but this by far is the worst. That’s my fuckin’ son, Wraith. How did it come to this?”

  “What the fuck made him do it?” Wraith sounds angry. “Sorry to say this, Drum, but he’s one selfish motherfucker. He’s leaving, and he’ll be taking my little girl away from me.”

  Olivia may be a grown woman of twenty-five, but she’ll always be Wraith’s child. “She could stay.” I remind him what Wizard had said. “And if she does go, they’ll be fine.” I try to sound reassuring as I voice what I know is a lie. How the fuck could two Satan’s Devils’ kids live in the civilian world?

  It’s he who says the truth back to me. “They have to be. I know my daughter, she’ll throw in her lot with her husband, and for Eli? Well, for him there’s no way back.”

  The events of today have blindsided me. It’s not often something knocks me off kilter. I want time to slow down. I want hours, days, to process what this all means, but I don’t get that, or anything close to it.

  It seems only minutes later we arrive at our destination. All too soon Eli, head held high, takes his place in the circle of men.

  When Wizard beckons to me, I know there’s no way out. No way I can avoid what I have to do. I’m club.

  This might be the boy who I saw take his first breath, his first step, taught him to ride his first bike, but he’s also a man who’s disrespected my club and all that I’ve stood for my whole life.

  Briefly closing my eyes, I put regret behind me, instead summoning up the anger. He’s disrespecting and betraying me as well as every other man here. I pull back my punch and let it fly. He bends as air whooshes out of his stomach, and I turn when Wizard taps my shoulder and jerks his head toward the door.

  With a heavy heart and dragging steps, I walk out. I’m only halfway through the door when I hear the next fist hitting flesh.

  Immediately I know Wizard was right. I couldn’t have stayed to watch. At some point I would have broken and begged for mercy for my son.

  Neither do I have it in me to go home.