Stormy's Thunder: Satan's Devils MC Utah

by Manda Mellett

  Having vacated my last night lodgings and leaving my meagre possessions in the car, I walk to the nearby park, needing to clear my head of yesterday’s hangover. Sitting on a bench, I’ve got my head in my hands wondering how my life has become so fucked up when my phone rings.

  “Finn Palmer.” I’m not Stormy anymore.

  Except, it seems to the man who’s called me, I still am. “Stormy? Just wanted to call. Our leave’s been cut short. Before we’re wheels up to get back to the sand pit, I was wondering how you are?”

  Hungover? Lost? Missing my team? I settle for, “I’m okay.”

  Tailor pauses as if recognising the lie in my words, but not certain whether to challenge me. Thankfully, he doesn’t. “I needed to let you know some shit before we headed out. Smythe was out of line, we all agree. Well,” he pauses for a second, “Gun’s been speaking up for him, but you know how Gun likes to be.”

  I suppose it’s nice that at least some people have my back, and yeah, I’m well aware that Gun can take the opposite view just to cause an argument.

  “You heard the rumours about Smythe?”

  “That he’s in line for a fuckin’ promotion?” I growl. I had heard. One more tour and he’ll be taken out of the firing line. I suppose it means he won’t be able to fuck up again. But still, it hurts. I’d had the whole fucking book thrown at me.

  “At least he’ll be Stateside.” Tailor sounds like he’s happy about that. “Hey, I wanted to say, I’ve got your bike in storage.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to sell it, then I rethink. I love riding my Harley, driving my car not so much. Though a car is more useful, it’s at least a place where I can sleep if I need to, but of the two, I’d prefer to have my bike. Crazy, perhaps.

  “Thanks, man. Can you leave the key with Tanya?” Tanya being his long-suffering girlfriend.

  “Sure. I’ve already done that.”

  “I’ll come pick it up when I can.”

  “You got anything settled?”

  “Not yet,” I admit. “I’m considering my options.” To be truthful, considering what options I don’t have.

  Another pause, then, “You called the number the Admiral gave you yet?”

  I shake my head, then realise he needs words. “Not yet.”

  “I would,” he says, decisively. “You don’t know what’s there for you unless you try.”

  I suppose he’s right. “I’ll think about it.” Even now, I’m hesitant to commit myself.

  “We’ll get together when we’re next on leave.”

  “Sure.” I try to inject enthusiasm into my voice, but I’m not sure it worked.

  “You should have spoken up.”

  “You know how shit works.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, I do. Take care, man. Watch your back.”

  My own back, as no one will be there to have my six. Christ. Twelve years I’ve been used to someone being behind and beside me. That will take some getting used to.

  Ending the call with my instruction for them all to stay safe, I look around. It’s early still, but bright blue skies are overhead, and the day is already warming up. Moms and their kids are emerging to get some time on the play equipment before the day gets too hot.

  My eyes are focused on a little girl, about the age of Marjan who’s the reason I’m here and not flying out with them. If I had my time, I’d do it all over again. She’s alive. But my thoughts are tempered as usual by the anger that Pooh had died. Apart from the guilt that he’s dead, it’s compounded that I haven’t gone to see his wife. Haven’t been in contact with her at all. However much I know it’s the expected thing to have done, I’m wallowing under the weight of my culpability. If I’d obeyed, Pooh would still be alive.

  If I’d followed orders, those children would have died.

  Would his wife agree the lives of two kids in a faraway land are worth more than the feel of her husband’s arms encompassing both her and his child? She would not.

  He never got to meet his son.

  I like to think I’m a strong man, but I’ve no strength for thoughts like that. It destroys me every time. I’ve been stripped of my rank, turned out of my job. Nothing shouts guilt louder than that.

  The park is filling up. A man, rough looking, sitting on his own is attracting attention. It reminds me I haven’t shaved for days. I’ve barely remembered to shower.

  I’ve got to do something.

  Seeing no other option, I take out from my pocket the crumpled piece of paper that the admiral had given me what seems like a lifetime ago. After a moment’s hesitation, I think fuck it and place the call.

  “You got Pip.”

  “Er, Phillip Hound?”

  “That’s me.” He sounds cautious.

  “My name is Finn Palmer. Admiral Hillier suggested I give you a call.”

  “Stormy?”

  I purse my lips. Seems my contact wasn’t unexpected.

  “That’s me.” It’s my turn to be wary now.

  His voice lightens, and I believe I can hear amusement. “I hear you’re in need of employment.”

  I am, but I don’t deny or confirm it.

  “I may have something to suit. Can you find your way to Utah?”

  Utah? A landlocked state. Not the best locale for a sea-loving SEAL, but perhaps, as I’m that no more, a change might suit me.

  I’ve wasted days wallowing in self-pity. The idea of having a direction in which to head, a destination to aim for even if the job isn’t one I’d want to take, makes me feel lighter. I don’t hesitate to say yes. “I’ve got to settle up a few things here. I can be there at the end of the week.”

  “I’ll text you the address. Friday, at eleven am?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He ends the call almost abruptly.

  6

  Swift…

  Another week has passed. There’s been no change in Stormy, though the doctor is hopeful he’s stabilised to some extent.

  Another church, this time without Grinch, Goofy and Mystic.

  Snatcher bangs the gavel as I reach down to stroke App’s head, bringing my attention back to the prez as he kicks off the meeting.

  Prez brushes his hand down his face. “We’ve been alerted by his security that there’s been suspicious activity around the family of a senator in Ohio.”

  “As in what?” Cowboy asks.

  “There have been sightings of the same men more times than to be coincidence. Or that’s their gut feeling.”

  “Hasn’t he got enough security?” Bolt queries. “His own bodyguards can’t handle that?”

  “They’ve been clocked, that’s their worry. Would appreciate some new bodies going to check it out.”

  Piston glares. “Isn’t that what the cops and feds are for?”

  “Isn’t this where we earn our money?” Snatcher retorts. He stares Piston down for a moment, then relents. “Look, I know we want to keep hands on deck to investigate our own problems. We’ve been lucky and had it quiet for a while, but I’m not about to turn work down. Especially where kids are involved.”

  “If you need me to go, I’ll volunteer.” Road holds up his hand.

  “Me too,” Rascal offers.

  Prez raises his chin at the two who’ve spoken. “Four should be enough. So, if it’s not too much of an imposition, Piston, are you okay to go?”

  Piston sighs dramatically. “Yeah. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m presuming you’ll want me with the plane.”

  Preacher assumes right and also gets a chin lift. A few more details are thrashed out, then Snatcher looks at me. “Swift. How’s Stormy?”

  “Stable. For now.”

  “Any sign of him coming round?”

  I shrug. “It’s up to him. The doctors are weaning him off the shit that keeps him in a coma.”

  “Who the fuck beat him up?” Rascal throws the question out there, but his head moves in a negative way as though he’s not expecting an answer. We’ve been searching but
haven’t found out anything further. Even knowing the identity Stormy had been using hasn’t moved our investigation along. Without a trace of where he’d been and what he’d been doing, we’re stumped.

  “Whoever it was, wanted him dead.” Preacher frowns. “Even a beatdown from us wouldn’t have left him with wounds like that.”

  “Did he escape, or did they let him go?” I wonder aloud. “It’s a fucking miracle he managed to make it back. Talk about running on fumes, he had nothing left in his tank.”

  “Did he upset someone recently, or does it go far back?” Prez asks, not seeming confident he’s going to be given an answer.

  But Pip raps the table causing Snatcher’s eyes to go his way. “I’m looking into that. We’ve agreed Stormy changed four years back. Has he been hiding from something since then? Did his past finally catch up?” He’s yet another who poses a question that no one can address. “He might have upset someone in the months he’s been gone, or it’s linked to an event from years ago. I decided to start there. I’ve spoken to the admiral who recommended Stormy to me.” Pip pauses, and seems to gather exactly what he wants to say. “Seems that order Stormy disobeyed caused the death of Pooh, another SEAL.”

  “Christ,” I breathe. That’s about as bad a crime as you can get.

  The ex-prez looks sharply at me. “That he wasn’t court-martialled and that he had the Admiral’s support suggests there’s more to it.”

  Nodding sharply, I acknowledge there’s truth in that. I’ll reserve judgement until I know all the facts.

  Now Pip continues, “The Admiral did tell me that Stormy’s old team was killed in action, all except one member. And that man, Gun, never forgave Stormy for Pooh’s death. He was pretty vocal about it at the time. Oh, Swift, Admiral Hillier asks you to give his wishes for a full recovery to Stormy.”

  I acknowledge the aside—I’ll pass on the message but doubt Stormy will be able to hear me—and ask, “You think this Gun could have held a grudge for, what, seven years, then came across Stormy…?” My sympathies lie with this Gun if he had evidence against Stormy. No one forgets a fallen team member, though waiting seven years for revenge seems extreme. Unless Pooh had been a very close friend.

  “It’s unlikely I know.” Pip scoffs at the idea he’d just proposed. “But any lead at the moment could be one to follow. Gun’s the first name I’ve found who could have a hard-on for our boy.”

  “Was Gun close to the man who was killed?” I test out my theory.

  “I have no idea,” Pip admits.

  “Know which unit he’s with?” Snatcher prompts.

  “No.” Pip’s brow creases. “Hillier mentioned he’s moved on and left active duty, coincidentally just before the time that Stormy had a break from the club.”

  “Got a government name and recent location for this fucker?” Honor asks, his eyes sharp and interested.

  Pip shakes his head. “Gun is a Jeffrey Morgan, but so far I know nothing more than that. I will say Hillier laughed when I asked whether he might be holding a grudge. What for? was his answer. Sure, they were all upset when a team member died, but to hold onto that seven years later?” I nod, Pip’s just voiced my thoughts.

  Duty sighs. “Sounds like we’re going to be hacking into the Navy records. This man’s the only lead we’ve got.”

  “You think this is a path worth exploring, Pip?” Snatcher challenges.

  It’s interesting, and not the first time I’ve noticed a change in dynamics. A few months ago, Pip would have said jump and, as his VP, Snatcher would have asked how high.

  Pip briefly closes his eyes. “Stormy’s always had a temper, but he knew how to rein that shit in. He wouldn’t have gotten through his prospecting time if he couldn’t control himself. All I can say is he became the man he is now after he took time out.”

  “We’ve been over this. He didn’t become an asshole until he got back. That was unlikely to be connected to losing his dear old mom.” Thor’s looking thoughtful. “You say the whole team with the exception of Gun were lost? That shit can hit a man hard. Does that timing fit?”

  Thor’s right. It can.

  Pip shakes his head. “It was about the same time. I suppose he must have learned of it, but he never said. Even if his friends’ deaths upset him, I can’t see how it’s linked to the current situation.” He pauses, then states carefully, “Someone did their best to kill Stormy. Who, or why is a mystery. We can’t discount it’s connected to the club and not to his past in the Navy.”

  “Because he was a lone biker on the road? Could it be as simple as that?” Piston wonders aloud.

  “His choice,” Snatcher states. “Stormy’s been nomad too long. It was his choice not to have a team at his back. Who knows who he could have upset when he was out there on his own? Stormy didn’t trust anyone.”

  “Demon and Lost would have reason to seek revenge.” I grimace as I put the hard truth out there.

  Prez’s eyes snap to me. “You think they could have come across him?” He scratches his nose, then continues, “Possible, maybe. Maybe Utah’s not the only chapter to keep secrets.”

  “We’re fucked,” Thor states. “We can’t ask them or Drummer, without revealing we’ve found him.”

  “All the more reason to keep his presence secret,” Piston drops in. “They might want to finish what they started.”

  “Well, that’s what we’re fuckin’ doing, isn’t it? Adding to the list of his enemies. I agree, Demon and Lost should be at the top.” Prez rubs his hand over his forehead.

  Jeez. I hadn’t wanted to start anything. Pointing fingers at the Colorado and San Diego clubs sounds serious. But like Snatcher, now it’s come into my head, I can’t discount it.

  Pip’s scowling. “I never sanctioned what Stormy did. You know that. Stormy took their kills all by himself. Trust and Stormy definitely parted company along the way.”

  “Did he trust you?” Snatcher asks.

  “I gave him his chance. He wasn’t just introduced to me, he was recommended. I cut him slack as I was well aware of the kind of man he was, once you got under the prickly exterior. Obviously he didn’t trust me enough. I only found out he didn’t trust the other chapters after he took Major and Alder out.”

  “For which he nearly brought down the club,” Snatcher reminds him. “I don’t care what personal shit he had going on, he doesn’t get a pass due to that.”

  Pip’s lips curve slightly. “Which is why you’re the best man for that seat, Snatch.”

  “Hard as fuckin’ nails is our Prez,” Thor chuckles.

  Snatcher looks down at his hands as though he doesn’t know whether he’s been given a compliment or not. When he looks up, he shakes his head. “So, we’ve got Gun on the list but still don’t fuckin’ know whether Stormy’s absence a few years back had anything to do with him being a SEAL. Or whether Gun had such a close relationship with the SEAL who died that he’s seeking revenge seven years later. Now we’ve added Lost and Demon, who, I’d suggest, are equally unlikely.”

  “Or Red,” Preacher says. “He wasn’t impressed with Stormy. Maybe Stormy took a trip to Vegas and his luck ran out.”

  Snatcher bangs his hand on the table. “Before we start accusing other chapters, let’s focus on Stormy’s past. I want Gun looked into.”

  “We’ll get onto it.” Honor nods at Duty.

  “You going back to the hospital today, Swift?”

  Giving myself a mental shake at the change of subject, I raise my chin toward Bolt. “Got to. He’s having another brain scan today. After that, we’ll know more.”

  “Has he even got a fuckin’ brain?” Piston widens his eyes. “Or is the scan to prove he doesn’t?”

  Bolt, sitting next to him, slaps him around the back of his head.

  “What are they looking for?” Thor asks, trying to get the conversation back on track.

  I shrug. “What’s keeping him out of it, I suppose. Another bleed perhaps.”

  Preacher slams both fists down
. “After everything, Stormy could die with his fuckin’ secrets intact, or survive without being able to speak of them.”

  I grimace, knowing he’s right. We might never get to the heart of Stormy’s issues or know who left him for dead.

  “Okay,” Snatcher picks up the gavel, “Piston, Rascal, Road and Preacher, you get ready to fly to Ohio. Swift, you get back to the hospital and play your part of the grief-stricken spouse.”

  “Prez?” Snatcher raises his chin at Road. “We still keeping this from Drummer?”

  Thor snorts. “Seems like we’ve dug ourselves a hole. Two weeks back we thought Stormy would recover or die, not leave us stuck in limbo like this. What the fuck can we say now to Drummer? Especially if there’s a chance another chapter could be involved.”

  Prez wipes his hand over his face. “Drummer gave him three months. There’s two weeks left. Two weeks to pray we get some answers.”

  Pip’s fingers drum on the tabletop. “We’ll just put our thinking hats on. We’ll come up with something to satisfy Drummer. If we need to that is.”

  I just wish I had his confidence. Drummer chills even me. He’s not a man to cross.

  “In the meantime, we’ll get going.” Preacher looks down at his phone. “Mystic’s at the airfield. He says the plane is ready and fuelled. Half an hour enough to get your shit together?”

  Road, Piston and Rascal raise their chins to him.

  As Snatcher declares the meeting is at an end, I glance down the table at Road and nod. We stand together, and I walk behind him deep in thought as we go to our room, App trotting along by my side.

  Before I met Road, I’d only one weakness, and that’s that I’m deaf. Now he’s added one more, a deep-down fear that I can’t dislodge, that he’ll go off on a mission and not return. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, but each time he goes, it seems worse than before. I wish I was going too, then I could watch his back and make sure nothing creeps up on him unawares.

  Was this the reason I kept to casual liaisons before I met him?

  I’d always thought it was having kids that would make you weak, but I never expected to feel the same way about a man. Now I wonder how I’d survive were anything to happen to him. How would I go on without him by my side?