Devil's Marker (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 4)

by Victoria Danann

  “Wise woman.”

  “She was.” Catcher looked at a red box on the wall. “Boss wants you to learn about the emergency system.” He got up and walked over to it. “You’ll notice these all over the place. Anybody could pull the lever. And if they did, everybody would know it. Right away.

  “All the rooms have big flat screens, but the TVs come under security purview in emergency and the whole place becomes a single sound system for broadcasting information. If somebody was watchin’ TV, we’d take control to make an announcement. It’s typed out on the screen and backed up with a verbal instruction. If the TV was off, it’d come on. Doesn’t happen every day. In fact, it’s never happened since I’ve been a prospect.”

  “How long’s that?”

  “Almost two years. If somebody sets off the emergency system, it’s assumed the problem is a big one.”

  “What if the system is tripped and you aren’t here?”

  “Lots of people qualified to follow the protocol. Operation is idiot ready.” He lowered his chin and gave Win a serious look. “Do not repeat that I said that.”

  “What? Idiot ready? People don’t mind bein’ called idiots. If they did, the Idiot Guides wouldn’t be so popular.”

  Catcher grinned. “You gotta point. Maybe I should call the protocal the Idiot Guide to the Marauder Emergency System. Wait. I just got an image of Boss’s face when I run that past him and I’m back to thinkin’ the best policy is to avoid use of the word idiot.”

  “Secret’s safe with me.”

  “Good. So whoever is here would make their way here first, type out a message on that keyboard.” Catcher pointed to a red laptop in the far corner.

  Win shook his head. “Blown away. How many clubs have setups like this?”

  “No way of knowin’. Everybody’s pretty secretive about their methods.” He chuckled. “For all I know this is the only one like this.”

  “Boss told me the skylights have titanium covers that close and seal automatically.”

  “That’s one of the things that happens in an emergency. Auto lock down. The skylight covers operate on one of three protocols. Manual. Solar sensitive. Emergency.”

  “Solar sensitive? You mean…?”

  “Yeah. They close and seal at dark. Open when the sun comes up.”

  Win couldn’t have hid his appreciation if he’d wanted to. “Very, very sweet.”

  Catcher leaned back and looked around like he was trying to see it through Win’s eyes. “Thanks.” He nodded.

  “Where’d you learn all this stuff?”

  “Mostly from Uncle Sam, but a couple of things are my own design.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, Win said, “You patchin’ in soon?”

  “Think so.”

  “I gotta ask. Has this been tested?”

  Shaking his head, Catcher said, “Nope. Lots of drills. That’s it.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  “You know it.”

  “What goes on in the drill? You got a system. Like muster?”

  “That would be the usual scenario. Get weapons. Gather in the commons for further instructions from Boss if he’s here or Zipper if he’s not.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Win said, “What else? You got a weapons stash?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Bo said. He pointed to the door across the hall, visible through the security room doorway that had been left open. “Wanna see?”

  “’Course.”

  Bo put in his code for the door across the hall. “We gotta keep it locked. Sometimes we have kids in the building on family days.”

  Like the security room across the hall, the arsenal door responded to Bo’s code with a click and then opened a crack.

  “Did R.C. design these spaces, too?” Win asked.

  “Oh, yeah. She knows every inch of the place. I guess Boss figures if he can’t trust her…”

  Bo pushed the door open. The weapons room was identical in size to the room across the hall, but configured entirely differently. Four walls displayed racks of weapons arranged according to category, from floor to eight feet high, just about the reach of most grown men. There were also two standing racks of weapons in the center, like stacks in a library.

  Win whistled softly. “There’s enough fire power in here to stave off a siege by the National Guard.”

  Bo grinned. “I know. Club’s done well for itself, huh?”

  Win nodded. “Sure has.”

  “How does it compare to the Huns?”

  Win slanted a look at the prospect. “You know I can’t share that, don’t you?”

  Bo looked sheepish. “I guess.”

  “Just testin’?”

  Bo’s smile fell. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Swear.”

  “S’alright. Let it go. So does everybody use the same code?”

  “No. We’ve all got our own. Boss knows ‘em all.”

  “Okay.” Win wondered why he’d been given a patch but no code, and made a mental note to ask Cue when things settled down.

  He took the incident involving Hop’s beating as a signal that the Rangers were right. The two clubs were on the verge of war, which meant a lot more people were going to get hurt before it was over. Oddly, R.C. came to mind along with the thought that he was glad she was back in Austin, well away from it.

  “How many of the members stay here and how many have their own places?”

  Bo shrugged. “Most have a place that’s not here. Even the ones who stay here most of the time. About half have families. That’s what the third door is all about.”

  Win cocked his head with curiosity. “Show me.”

  Bo punched in the code on the third door. It opened into a space that looked like a smaller version of the clubhouse except that it was clearly geared for families. Playroom instead of pool tables. Rooms off the common area, but not so many. No murals on the wall. Tasteful neutral colors that would soothe kids instead of excite them.

  “Lock down for families,” Bo said.

  “It’s nice,” Win said. “But it’s a fire trap.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “First, there’s not much to burn. No wood aside from the furniture. No fabric aside from clothes and bedding. No drapes. No carpet. Come on.” Bo started walking toward the back wall. As he went, he said, “You know that abandoned warehouse across the street?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We own it, too.” He stopped in front of a door that looked like a broom closet. When he opened it up, that’s exactly what it was.

  “Always good to know where to find a broom.” Win looked around. “Or a mop.”

  Bo smirked. He stepped toward the back wall that was shelves containing a wide variety of cleaning products. He pressed on the molding and a snick caused it to pop open.

  “Fake front,” Win said.

  “That’s right.”

  Bo pulled the shelving unit open to reveal a four-by-six room designed for no purpose other than to house steep steps. The whole was dark until Bo stepped within a foot of it. That triggered lights.

  “Tunnel? Goes to the warehouse across the street?”

  “Yep. Comes up into a room just like this one. Broom closet with a fake front.”

  “That tunnel must have cost a fortune.”

  “I guess. I’m not part of the accounting. So I don’t know for sure. But it’s not the only one. There are two more in the main part of the building.”

  “You gonna tell me where?”

  “All part of the tour.”

  “How many people know about this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, members. Wives. Who else?”

  “Nobody else.”

  “What about the people who worked on it?”

  “Boss is smarter than that. Cue told me he brought a Spanish speakin’ outfit in from Monterrey. Got ‘em work visas. When the job was done, they went home without ever findin’ out what kind of operation they built tunnels f
or.”

  “Huh. The money must be damn good.”

  “College kids. They want drugs. They have money. Easy as pie.” He sniggered. “Like a lot of the girls over there. They want drugs and a taste of biker. They’ve lived real narrow lives. Think a roll with a biker’ll give ‘em somethin’ to think about when they’re bein’ bored to death with whatever insurance salesman they’re gonna end up married to.”

  “You’re that same age, aren’t you?”

  Bo nodded.

  Win could see why girls Bo’s age might be attracted and think a turn with the bad, bad boy could be the one adventure they could smile about on their deathbeds that would, no doubt, be made up with hundred percent Egyptian cotton sheets.

  “Show me the other fire exits. I got a healthy fear of burnin’ up.”

  “Okay.”

  Bo put things back the way he found them, stopped at the security room door. “You need anything?” he asked Catcher.

  “Cranberry juice. Next time you’re comin’ this way.”

  “You got it.”

  The Huns would have teased Catcher into the twenty-second century for asking for cranberry juice. Win was learning that there were a lot of things about the Marauders that were laudable, including the freedom to request what you really wanted to drink.

  Twelve club members returned after another hour. Win was sitting at the bar watching them on monitors. The gate swung wide to let them in and a few minutes later they were filing in, looking grim. By the time they reached the bar, Bo was behind the curved counter taking drink orders.

  Cue sank down on the stool next to Win.

  “That bad?” Win said.

  “They messed him up good. Broken bones. Even internal organ damage. He’s gonna recover, but it’ll be a while. In the meantime, we’re gonna be thinned even more cause we need to keep a couple o’ guys at the hospital. S&B fucks are just the sort to come back for seconds.” Cue looked at Bo. “Give me scotch with ice.”

  He looked at Win. “You get a tour of the innards?”

  “Yeah. Blown away.”

  “Special, huh?”

  “Your operation. It’s somethin’ worth protecting. One thing. I don’t have a code that operates the childproof doors.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. Boss’ll need to do that later. He keeps the list in a safe in his office. Check in after he’s had time to think on our next move.”

  “Next move?”

  “Well, we can’t let this stand. You know that.”

  Win nodded. “I do. Gotta go careful though.”

  Cue narrowed his eyes. “We’ll do whatever Boss says needs to be done.”

  “’Course. Goes without sayin’,” Win was quick to respond. The last thing he wanted to convey was that his britches were getting too big. Cue was obviously devoted to Boss to a fault. Win needed to keep his observations and reservations to himself.

  The rest of the week was quiet while Boss was presumably working out the details of their next move against the Stars & Bars.

  On Friday Boss called a meeting.

  “Sources tell me that there’s a new club in town. A few S&B have been seen there out of uniform, lookin’ like citizens, leavin’ with girls who, so far as we can tell, don’t never make it home.”

  “Christ,” said Zipper.

  “I’m thinkin’ we need to send somebody over there to check out what’s goin’ on. Somebody old enough to drink. Young enough to attract the little ladies. Somebody nobody knows is affiliated with us.”

  Every pair of eyes turned to look at Win.

  Win laughed. “Gentlemen. Take another look at my face. At the Boss’s birthday party the young ladies told me not to go out, that I would scare small children.”

  “That was then,” Boss said. “Now you’re less black and more maroon. Your nose is about half the size it was a week ago and I can hear you’re breathin’ like a human being. Another week and you’re gonna be downright cute. Carla told us that gettin’ you iced down right away was gonna ensure that you’d heal in half the time. And she would know.”

  “That’s right,” Zipper affirmed, giving his wife a vote of medical confidence.

  Boss went on. “If there’s still a little residual bruisin’, it’ll probably just bring out the sympathy nurturin’ thing that women like to do.”

  Win stared trying to sort through how he felt about spying on the Stars & Bars as an undercover Marauder while spying on the Marauders as undercover on behalf of the SSMC. Tricky. Complicated. Dangerous. Also, if he was being perfectly honest, interesting.

  “You’re serious.”

  “One hundred percent,” Boss said. “You’re what you call the ideal candidate. Heaven sent.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m the only one who’s gotta know. You don’t gotta know. You just gotta do what I say. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Glad that’s sorted. You think you can pretend to be upstandin’?”

  “You mean like a stock market investor?”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  Win hesitated for effect before saying, “I think so.”

  “Good. Done. Next Friday, week from today, you’re gonna show up at Night Flight in a BMW lookin’ like a player on the prowl.”

  Win nodded. What else was there to do?

  CHAPTER Eight

  The next day marked a full week since Win had arrived at the Marauders’ club. He’d become a near fixture at the bar because it was the hub of clubhouse life and not much got past his hearing from that vantage point. That made it an ideal post for spying. And that was where he was at one o’clock when R.C. came strutting her stuff through the door looking good enough to jump, in a thigh-length green silk dress and sandals that tied around the ankle.

  Her eyes adjusted to the softer light and found Win at the bar right away.

  Win opened his mouth to tell her how good she looked, but didn’t get a chance to utter a single syllable. Boss had been alerted that R.C. had come through the gate and he was rapidly approaching with a yell like a thunder god.

  “R.C. What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

  “Nice greeting, Pop. This mean you don’t want to see me anymore?”

  “O’ course not. That’s a bum-headed thing to say. But I wasn’t expectin’ you and this is a business weekend. Got no time for beautiful shenanigans.”

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed.

  Boss, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being played, became a puddle. “Sorry, sweetheart. We got a situation that’s requirin’ all my attention. Give me a month and then I’m all yours.”

  “Okay.”

  “Since you’re here…” Boss looked over at Win. “Hang on.”

  Boss walked over to Win. “Take my little girl out to lunch, would you? It’ll be good practice for you to learn how to talk to nice women. Leave your cut. Go in her car. And take her someplace where S&B would never go. Sushi or some such shit.”

  Win took off his cut and handed it to Bo. “Hang onto this until I get back.”

  He walked over to R.C. “Ms. Greer. Since you’re here, would you allow me to buy you lunch?”

  She looked over at her dad then whispered to Win, “I told you I’m not interested in you.”

  “Come on. Do me a favor. I’m new here, which means my presence isn’t essential to powwows and my prez gave me an order. You like sushi?”

  “I do like sushi, but I don’t like bein’ set up because my dad is busy.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I won’t enjoy it, you know.”

  She looked his face over. “You look different. Better.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  “Okay. Sushi. Then I’m bringing you back here.”

  “After you.”

  Win turned back to Boss. “Later.” He gave a half salute as he followed R.C. out the door.

  The sushi place on the lake had patio seating and it was a nice day. So they sat out on the water.


  After they ordered, she said, “The rosy color under your eyes brings out the navy blue.”

  “That a compliment? You like the color of my eyes?” he teased.

  She shrugged and looked away as if she wasn’t concerned. “It’s a designer comment. I notice color. No big deal.”

  “Why’d you come this weekend, Arcy? D’you come to see me?”

  She gaped and almost spluttered. “Certainly not. You think I’d drive a hundred miles just to see you?”

  “Hope so. I’d drive a lot further than that to see you.”

  “Well, that’s your problem. Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested. You own nothing but a motorcycle and a leather vest.”

  He smiled and did nothing to indicate otherwise. He simply said, “I do own those things.” After eating a fish roll, he said, “You been thinking about me all week?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “That’s not ridiculous. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

  He saw something change in her eyes, but she immediately brought her guard back up. “If I did have any interest in you, it would be extremely short term and extremely casual.”

  Win’s lips twitched. “You’re sayin’ you want to get familiar with me?”

  “I might be persuaded if there was a clear understanding that I’m talkin’ short term.”

  His smile widened and looked a little wolfish. “You mean you might deign to give me a tumble but then you want me to play like I never saw you before.”

  The server brought pretty fish rolls and set them down on the table. She took a sip of water, suddenly looking nervous.

  “That sounds harsh.”

  “No. It doesn’t sound harsh. It sounds like a dick move.”

  Her eyes jerked to his and she laughed. “You got me, Garrett. This is the first time anybody’s ever called me a dick.”

  “I’m findin’ that hard to believe.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “Did you ask a question?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Not on your life.”

  “You’re kind of on the complex side for a biker, aren’t you?”