The Devil's Silver (The Road Devils MC Book 2)

by Marysol James

  “Thanks, gorgeous,” Silver replied, raising the glass in a toast. “And yeah, eight months sounds about right. How you been?”

  Nell shrugged, her tattooed shoulders strong and beautiful in the half-light. “Busy as all hell. As usual.”

  “So business is booming, huh?” Silver looked around the crowded bar. “Any trouble to speak of?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” Nell cocked her head, nailed him with her trademark hard blue stare. “But I heard that you boys have had trouble enough for all of us.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Silver said heavily. “Word gets around.”

  “Jesus, Silver,” Nell scoffed. “The Road Devils tattoo parlor gets bombed and blown up, your Veep is in some burn treatment center in California, your Prez is rampaging around trying to kill Dawson and take down The Blood Crew MC, and you think word won’t get around? And this is all after Wolf took y’all straight and safe going on two years ago. What the hell have you boys not been doing down there in Denver?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Silver muttered. “All true, or mostly true. But none of what happened at Blue Dragon Ink had anything to do with Dawson and his Blood Crew boys. And yeah, for one hot minute, Wolf thought about making Dawson disappear permanently, but soon enough, he figured out that Dawson wasn’t responsible for any of what went down with the parlor.”

  “No?”

  “Nuh-uh. It was an outsider, looking to hurt a woman named Zoe who came to work for us.”

  “Yeah, I heard something about that, but didn’t really believe it, because it sounded so fucking out there. Some guy was looking for his little girl? Am I in the neighborhood of the truth?”

  “You’re smack bang in the middle of it,” Silver said. “An asshole from North Dakota, on the run for killing Zoe’s sister when she was pregnant with Keira, the baby girl you heard about. Wolf and Zoe go way back… back twenty-plus years, raised in the same bad neighborhood in Denver. Zee was struggling in Fargo, raising her sister’s baby on her own, and Wolf offered her a job at the club tattoo parlor. Daddy Dickface showed up and set off a bomb. Died in the fire, thank fuck, and Zee and Keira are safe.”

  “But Scars?” Nell asked quietly. “I heard he wasn’t doing so well.”

  Silver fell silent for a minute, remembering The Road Devils’ Vice-President Scars Innis running into that burning tattoo parlor to rescue Keira, remembering him running back out of Blue Dragon again, holding that sweet baby – and with his hair and back on fire. The explosion had taken place almost seven months earlier, and Scars, Zoe, and Keira were still out in California, where Scars was undergoing intensive skin grafts and physical therapy.

  Wolf Connor, President of The Road Devils MC, had been in touch with Zoe daily, and with Scars whenever the other man had been up for talking, which hadn’t been every day. No surprise, considering the amount of pain the man was in, and the amount of healing he was doing. But Wolf reported back to his guys every chance he got and every time they asked, and just that day, he’d told the Road Devils that their Veep should be back within a week. Just in time for Christmas.

  “Scars has quite a few more scars, unfortunately,” Silver told Nell now. “I haven’t seen him, but Wolf says he’s doing really well. Incredibly well, actually… he and Zoe are engaged.”

  “For real?” Nell exclaimed. “Scars Innis found a woman, huh?”

  “One hell of a woman. She rented my place for a while so I got to know her a bit. Zee’s a great Mom, great manager at the tattoo place, great person. A bit prickly at first, made Scars jump through serious hoops… but she came around.”

  “Nothing wrong with making sure a man means what he says when his jeans are down around his ankles,” Nell said tartly. “You MC boys aren’t known for your levels of commitment to the opposite sex, you know.”

  “Hey,” Silver protested. “Some of us are alright.”

  “I’ll take your word for that, handsome. And speaking of MC boys and commitment, where the hell’s your cut?” She stared accusingly at his jean jacket. “That’s not right.”

  “Took it to Lev’s.”

  “Ahhh. Needed some repair work to the leather?”

  “Nah. Patch job. As in, I have a new patch that needs to get sewn on.” Silver drank a bit more whiskey. “Got a new one, and I trust Lev more than anyone else in the business.”

  “What patch?” Nell asked. “You earn something?”

  “Kind of.”

  Nell stared at him, then her face broke out in a huge smile. “You got a promotion!”

  “Yep.”

  “Jesus Christ, Silver… spill it! You got an official rank or title now?”

  Silver set his glass down. “Yeah. Nothing glamorous, so contain your excitement.”

  “C’mon. Just tell me. What did Wolf and your brothers honor you with?”

  “Treasurer.” Silver gave a tiny grin as he stroked his golden-blond beard. “Basically, a glorified record-keeper and report-writer.”

  “You serious?” Nell scowled at him. “You’re the money guy, Silver, the guy who literally counts the goddamn silver. You think that doesn’t matter? You think the club doesn’t need someone honest and smart keeping track of the bank accounts and expenses?”

  “Oh, we do, for sure. I’m not saying that it’s not an important job. It’s just not a super-glamorous one.”

  “You mean like being an Enforcer?” Nell snapped. “Would that float your boat a bit better, tough guy? Beating the shit out of people who have pissed off your Prez? Doing worse to them if they’ve really pissed him off?”

  “Hell, no,” Silver replied, stung. “I haven’t got the temperament for that. Or the stomach. Ice, Cain, and the twins have got that shit covered anyway, and I’m not even remotely interested in joining their Enforcer team, even in its more watered-down current version. But I guess… I don’t know. I don’t think of monthly club reports as all that much fun, is all. I mean, I already do endless paperwork for the garage, and now I have to add in time for Satan’s Bar and for Blue Dragon Ink once the parlor is rebuilt and up and running again. Plus any dues, or repair expenses on motorcycles, all that stuff. I guess I’m just realizing that it’s a lot. And honestly, Nell, I don’t have a ton of formal accounting experience. Thank Christ Wolf is looking for a new in-house accountant right now, because I need all the help that I can get.”

  “If you have an accountant, then what would your job actually be?”

  “Mostly collecting all documents from Zoe for Blue Dragon, and Scars for Satan’s, and adding my own from The Garage, then kind of getting it all ready for the accountant. Centralize it all, I guess, and get any missing pieces that they ask for. Handle all the expense reports for them to check, help with tax stuff and payroll stuff. Mostly be support and a bit of a flunkie and extra set of hands – and I’m cool with all of that. I can’t handle the serious stuff and don’t want to learn anyway. I’ve got no interest in being an accountant. I’m collecting mountains of paperwork right now but have no idea what a lot of it means.”

  “Who was your Treasurer before?”

  “Beams.”

  “OK. Well… why can’t he train you and help you out until the new hire? Where’d he go?”

  “Fucked off last week to join Dawson and his asshole Blood Crew.”

  “No.” Nell was appalled. “Another defector?”

  “Yep. Beams makes it a grand total of thirteen guys who have left The Road Devils. Well, fourteen if you count The Blood Crew President, Dawson Kinney himself, the guy to start the splinter group and recruit his ex-Road Devils brothers.”

  “I still can’t believe that Dawson did that. Nobody just walks away from an MC, and they sure as hell don’t start a rival club.”

  “Kinney did.”

  “Yeah. But he’s a prick.”

  “No argument from me.”

  “Silver?” Nel
l sounded oddly tentative. “Question?”

  “Yeah. Shoot.”

  “How come Wolf hasn’t kicked Dawson’s ass to the other side of the goddamn planet? I think that if any of my Gunner’s boys had done what Dawson and his new MC have done – broken faith, lied to their brothers, started a new club, picked up all their former MC’s contracts – then Gunner would have had his MC riot and rampage until the streets ran with blood. Wolf Connor is no shrinking violet, and he’s sure as hell no angel… no way he’d have a major problem taking a life or two, if it came to that. So – why hasn’t he made a statement that way?”

  Silver leveled her with a look and Nell blinked. The man had the most incredible eyes that she’d ever seen in a human face, like pure moonlight rippling on water, or a gently rolling Irish mist with flashes of sunlight, and his name was well-deserved. Nell had never known that eyes that color actually existed on earth, not until she met Silver Bennett.

  Those eyes weren’t light and bright now, though. No, they were cold and hard, like gunmetal or slate. They were the gray of the deepest, darkest northern winter… and despite being a woman not afraid of much, Nell shivered. She’d never before seen Wolf Connor’s fierce, ferocious gray wolf-eyes staring back at her from under Silver’s golden hair… but here they were.

  It was a side to Silver that Nell knew had to exist. After all, he was a full member of an ex-one-percenter MC, which meant that he’d done bad, awful things., but she’d never seen even a glimmer of it.

  She saw it now, though.

  Shit. Pushed it too far.

  “You saying that my President is a fucking wimp, Nell?” Silver asked softly. “You actually calling Wolf Connor a pussy? Saying that by letting things go with Dawson since he left, Wolf has shown weakness?”

  “No –”

  “Anyone else think this too?” Silver looked over at the far corner of the room, where about ten members of The Howling Highwaymen MC were standing. The Road Devils had always been on good terms with those guys, but if they were running down his President, Silver was ready to call them out on it and he’d do it here and now, to hell with being outnumbered. “People talking about Wolf losing his edge?”

  “No. Silver, no. I mean… OK, yeah, at first there were questions. Like, almost two years ago, when Wolf walked away from Kirk Jensen’s dirty deals and mercenary contracts, and took you boys legit, the word on the street was that Wolf had lost her nerve, his hunger for the life. Truthfully, I was told on the QT that Wolf’s decision made a few of the other one-percenter Presidents consider doing the same thing, but none of them had the smarts or the guts to make a club profitable by going strictly legal. The general feeling was that Wolf made a good call, and that he’s one of the few that can make a go of it.”

  “But?”

  “But… well.” Nell shifted a bit. “Then your ex-member Dawson Kinney started a separate one-percenter MC behind Wolf’s back, and took a bunch of your guys with him. Nobody does that, as you know… nobody. Once you boys patch into the life, that’s it, and that’s it for life. What Dawson and those guys did was the biggest betrayal to every code that an MC family holds dear. ”

  She paused, watched as Silver nodded his blond head.

  “So.” Nell shrugged. “Everyone braced for the payback. The retribution. Wolf is not the kind of man who accepts deception and disloyalty and frankly, if he’d gone to war with Dawson and The Blood Crew, Wolf would had the full support of every MC I can think of. Including Fox and the rest of Gunner’s boys.”

  “Yeah. Fox told me. Told Wolf too.”

  “And then – well. Then nothing. Wolf took the insult smack in the face, swallowed it, let it go. Carried on building up the club’s legit businesses, recruiting new guys, and watched as Dawson picked up all of the blood contracts from Jensen that Wolf had just quit. Wolf didn’t go shoot up the Blood Crew clubhouse, didn’t go looking to build up an army of allies, didn’t hurt Dawson and his boys at all. When nothing happened, people didn’t know what the hell to think. I mean, nobody could believe it, let alone understand it.”

  “You don’t say.” Silver took a long, slow sip of his drink, the movement somehow petrifying for its calm and cool. “And now?”

  “Now?”

  “What the hell do people think now?”

  “Silver… hey…” Nell was getting seriously freaked out now, being faced with this chilling stranger. “Look, nobody thinks anything bad about Wolf –”

  “No?”

  “No. Jesus, no. Silver, c’mon. I’ve known you and the rest of The Road Devils for a long, long time, right? Gunner and his Howling Highwaymen respected you guys, and even though he never saw Wolf in person after he ascended to President, I know that he respected Wolf’s decisions and triumphs after taking over. What the man has done is nothing less than a miracle, and if he’s decided that letting all that shit with Dawson go is the best move, then it is. Wolf Connor’s judgement has always been bang-on, even when he was just a patched-in club member without significant power and authority. He’s smart, and that’s always been clear.”

  Silver softened a bit now. “Yeah. He is.”

  “People don’t really understand why Wolf has made some of his choices, but guess what? Nobody has to get it. Why does Crusher Alcott do half of the messed-up shit that he does? Nobody knows. Why did Dawson do what he did? Fuck knows, right? The entire Fallen Angels leadership made nothing but crap decisions since the dawn of time, in my opinion, but they had their reasons, I’m sure. Fox has made some stupid shit decisions, as you know full well and I’ve told him so but at the end of the day, he’s President. Club Presidents do things all the time that nobody understands, and everyone comments for a while, then shrugs, and moves the hell on.”

  “So everyone’s shrugged and moved on about Wolf?”

  “Yeah. I asked because I’m dying of curiosity. Maybe that was out-of-line of me and if so, I’m sorry. I asked about Wolf and Dawson for me, Silver, not because of any chatter going on around here. I’m a nosey old bird and I like to know shit.” Nell shrugged, grinned. “Occupational hazard of running a bar frequented by my husband’s MC guys, I guess, and having my ear talked off by drunk patrons who spill heavy-duty secrets.”

  Silver laughed. “Bartenders are like therapists and priests, huh?”

  “You know it. I’ve heard plenty of crimes, crying, and confessions over too much whiskey, believe me.”

  “Oh, I bet you have.” Silver shook his head. “And since it’s you asking, and nobody else… the truth is, I think that Wolf let things go with Dawson because he saw no up-side whatsoever to escalating the situation. If he’d started that game of retribution, he’d have to react when Dawson inevitably hit back, then wait for payback for that, always waiting around for the next hit, then having to get revenge for that, well… nothing else would get done. Know what I mean? Conflict is so goddamn time-consuming and takes total concentration and paranoia to do it right, and Wolf had shit that he wanted to do. I think the man focused on the big picture, and decided to stay on course and fuck the distractions. He wanted to change our lives, and he just put his head down and did that. He has done it.”

  “That simple?”

  “I think so. He’s a man of commitment, patience and his word. We all always knew that about Wolf, but we just never saw any of those things this way before.”

  “Wow.” Nell stared at Silver for a few seconds, admiring his unquestioning loyalty to his President. “I – yeah. I guess it is that simple.”

  “Mmmm-hmmmm.”

  “New topic?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Nell laughed. “So are you back up this way sourcing bike parts from Roberta?”

  “Yep. Custom-restore on a 1920 Indian Scout.”

  “Holy shit. No way.”

  “Way. When the kid rolled it into The Garage, nobody could believe their eyes. I legitimately tho
ught that Jinx was going to lose his mind. He had an Indian Scout as a teenager, and he still talks about that motorcycle like it was family.”

  “Where’d the kid get it?”

  “Inherited it from his grandfather. I doubt he’s serious about ever riding it, but he got some cash in the will too, and he’s decided to use it to restore the bike as close to original as possible. But finding parts for the gearbox is a bitch. Been up in Minnesota for two days, then spent hours this morning in Iowa looking at Ernie’s shop, but no luck. This job’s going to be a challenge.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I’m dropping by Roberta’s tomorrow afternoon, so fingers crossed.”

  “If anyone can help you out, it’s her.” Nell looked around briefly, saw that her two bartenders were being run off their feet as she stood there and gabbed. “I’d better help the guys serve up a few drinks, it looks like.”

  Silver grinned. “And here I thought that being owner got you out of doing any actual work.”

  Nell rolled her eyes. “I wish, believe me. But hey, it just occurred to me – you need a cabin?”

  “You got one free?”

  “Sure do.” She checked the room keys behind the counter. “Number two. Good?”

  “That’s the one with the massive, claw-footed bathtub?”

  “Nope, that’s number seven, and it’s already taken.”

  “Damn.”

  “You bring your scented bubble bath all this way for nothing, handsome?”

  Silver laughed aloud, accepted the key for number two and stuck it in his jeans pocket. “Scoot now. Get to serving, gorgeous.”

  She did and he looked around the massive room again, more leisurely this time. The Roaring Red was a great bar and apparently, it always had been, but the word was that ever since Nell had taken it over about ten years ago, it was an awesome bar. Naturally, Silver loved Satan’s (his own club’s bar), fiercely and first, but he always looked forward to getting back to The Red.

  He sipped his drink, idly noted that the clientele was getting younger and better-dressed. That was good for Nell, he knew, because if she could get the kids in, the ones with jobs and some cash and keep them happy, they’d be steady and regular. A bar owner’s dream.