“Well, it will be good to have you back around the table.”
I’m caught in a dilemma. If I turn around and go, I’ll be back at square one—with no home and no purpose. That would have me staring at the bottom of a bottle very fast, and maybe into the barrel of my gun. On the other hand, how can I stay? Maybe I just need time.
Or, maybe again, I’m wrong.
It’s the first church after my return that shows me, and my MC brothers, how I’ve changed. I don’t mean to, but I can’t filter the words coming out of my mouth. Almost from the word go, I’m behaving like an ass, even when I don’t mean to. I can’t seem to stop the sentences which have just one intention and effect, that of pushing people away. Deep down, I know I’m avoiding them getting too close, trying to stop them from meaning more to me than they do already.
I snipe at suggestions, shoot holes in plans. It’s clear at first they put my asshole behaviour down to the fictional death of my mom, though I try to get them off that topic fast. Every time she’s mentioned, I watch and listen with care, but no one seems to have tried to track me down or disprove my story.
Pip gives me two weeks during which I manage to piss off just about everybody before calling me into his office.
“What’s your fuckin’ problem, Stormy? You’re acting like you don’t want to be part of the MC anymore.”
I clasp my hands together, having nothing much to offer. “I kind of got used to being on my own in California.” It’s a lame excuse, but the best I can come up with.
“Well.” Pip sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess it’s hard losing a parent. You handing in your patch?”
The suggestion put so starkly shocks me. Such harsh definitive words makes me realise that’s the last thing I want. What am I if I’m not a Devil? Hastily, I try to think of something which won’t be so dire, but will see me away from the club where I don’t feel responsibility for my brothers.
“I kind of want to work on my own for now.” My eyes rise, and I see his gesture for me to carry on. “I was thinking nomad. I could still work for the club, reporting directly to you, Prez.”
His fingers drum on the desk. “Stormy, that’s the last thing I fuckin’ want. But I’m not sure I can argue. You’re upsetting the team. Everyone’s either pissed with you, or talking about the last thing you’ve done or who, this time, you’ve upset. It’s not only in church I’ve seen it, but whenever brothers try to talk to you, you’re more likely to snap their heads off. Whatever’s crawled up your ass, Stormy, I want it gone. It’s no fun walking on eggshells around you.” He sighs. “Nomad? Well, that gets you out of everyone’s hair. But can I trust you?”
The more I think on it, the more it’s what I want. Just like my visit to Afghanistan, I’d be on my own, not having to carry anyone else. “You can trust me, Prez. I’ll go where you send me. Work on whatever you want. Use me as a scout to get advance information on missions, if that would be useful. As one man, I can go where a team can’t. I can still hook into the databases and use the systems. I can dig out information and shit for you, maybe even keep an eye out for jobs.”
His lips purse. “I can’t have you upsetting everyone, Stormy. If it wasn’t for your personal issues and the shit with your mom, then maybe I’d take your patch myself. But perhaps some time out will help get your head on straight.”
Thinking I’ve got what I want, I start to thank him, but he brushes my appreciation off.
“I’ll be watching you, Stormy. You might not be here, but I still want you to play nice. You do every fuckin’ thing I tell you, or I will have your patch. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
For the first time in weeks, maybe in months, I leave the room feeling lighter.
I just hadn’t taken much account of the saying, be careful what you wish for.
The feeling of freedom was amazing. I was elated to be out on my own, not having to look over my shoulder to make sure no one had fallen by the wayside, nor having to watch the back of a brother in front. I still had accountability to Prez and the MC, but I was under no obligation other than to do things my way.
It was perfection. Just what I needed. Pip sent me work, I did it. If it was information needed, I got it. A reconnaissance job? No problem. A hit to take out a child molester, well, Pip called me and I got it done. To track someone of interest to the club? Well, get in touch. Give me a problem that needs investigating? Just ask.
I had no base, simply moved around the country, going to where my club needed me. I was living the life and enjoying it, all under the pretence that at heart I remained a Devil.
Did I miss my brothers? At first, I had. It had taken longer than I’d thought it would to not turn around and expect to find someone there. But as time moved on, I thought I was better, faster, more capable on my own.
My mental outlook started changing. I couldn’t say when, but now that I no longer had a team relying on me, I started to believe I couldn’t rely on them. Pip was the constant, my only contact with the club. It was he I took orders from and he I’d report to when a mission was done. I often wondered whether he discussed my missions in church, or whether he used me as a resource of his own. Either way, it didn’t bother me. I still paid my dues to the club and received payment into my bank account each month. I also still wore my cut, albeit with a nomad patch on the back.
I was happy, I thought. No one depended on me, and I had no one to depend upon. Bliss. The only mistakes I could make were my own, and the sole person to suffer was me.
Imperceptibly at first, I was beginning to keep more and more to myself. I was still taking missions from Pip and fulfilling them, but not so regularly updating him. I started to follow my own leads. It wasn’t something that happened overnight, it was years in the making. Maybe I’d been too long on the road, maybe solitude wasn’t actually good for me. In my mind I was settled, content, and as far as I was concerned, I was doing no wrong.
Becoming aware of a snake called Major, I began to keep my own records of what he was doing. I’d located him in Vegas and quickly found any air he breathed was a waste. I’m not naïve, what Major had been doing was fulfilling a need for the most deviant of men and that need would remain whether or not he was there to provide it. But taking him out was a good start.
He’d taken women, held them captive, then provided them to men whose desires went way beyond vanilla sex, and way out of the realm of kinky. You wanted to choke a woman to death? Well, for a fee, Major would provide her, then dispose of the remains with no questions asked. Brand her with a hot iron burning her flesh? Whip her until she bled? If you had the money, Major would let you take your choice.
He was evil, no other word for it.
How had he survived so long? Because he’d made so much money and had such powerful friends, he was untouchable.
A resourceful girl had escaped, along with a teenager and had made her way to Colorado. One of Major’s faults was that he didn’t like to lose, and he was determined to get them back. I knew this, I’d been watching him carefully, infiltrating his security systems, his computers, and even, in disguise, one of his parties.
I knew he was going to make the attempt to retrieve them, even though they were miles away and under the protection of the Satan’s Devils MC chapter in Pueblo.
Maybe the old me would have done things differently, but I’d gone from being grateful for having no one beside me, to actively being suspicious of everyone else. I could have approached the Colorado chapter as a nomad from the same club, but that notion had never occurred to me. The most I did was drop anonymous hints to their tech guy. That’s when I made my only slipup when I failed to adequately hide my location, but I thought I would get away with it. I put any concerns aside, any errors would fall only on me. If I had fucked up, I owned it and would deal.
I knew Major would catch up with Shayla Yonovich and young Esme, it was only a matter of time. He’d be out of Vegas, away from his base which was protected like a f
ortress, and I’d have my chance to take him out.
I tracked his movements, predicted where he’d be and when. When I knew all that, I seized my chance. Perched in my sniper’s nest high on a roof far away from proceedings, I staked out the Satan’s Devil’s Colorado clubhouse. I didn’t care about sleeping, eating or anything else. I stayed still, unseen, watching for the opportunity. I knew Major would turn up—I’d been studying the man long enough.
When he did, I took my shot. One bullet and he was dead. I’d even grinned at the looks on the faces of my Colorado brothers, expressions of shock, confusion and fury.
I’d drawn a firm line under the affair. Major had money, he was drowning in it. I couldn’t trust that the Colorado club wouldn’t accept payment to send Shayla Yonovich back into his clutches, worse, bring them into his fold either as customers or suppliers of more women. What did I know of the brothers I’d never ridden with, even though we bore the same patch on our backs? I didn’t even consider it. I took that excuse for a man out without a second thought. I couldn’t take the risk he could buy them.
This time Pip and I are having a rare face-to-face. I ride to meet him. He’d driven to a convenient halfway point. He even has a beer waiting for me.
I reach over the table and shake his hand, then sit opposite him.
“Stormy,” he admonishes lightly, “you could have left it to them.”
A rebuke, sure, but only a gentle one. I often thought Pip and I were on the same page. “Nah, Pip. I did what I needed to do. Couldn’t risk that motherfucker walking free.”
He raises his whisky, takes a sip, and asks, “You think he might have cut a deal with them?”
I shake my head, putting my beer bottle to my mouth and swallowing. “Who knows what people will do if the price is right?”
Pip snorts. “You don’t trust many people, do you?”
“Nah,” I agree. “I trust me and my rifle. Oh, and you.” When did I start being so suspicious of people’s motives? It’s hard to say. Sometime over the past four years it had slowly crept up on me.
“I feel honoured.” He grins. “Oh, and I have another job for you.”
“Someone else in the same business?”
“Trafficking this time.” He chucks a folder across to me.
Opening it, I skim through it. “Ah,” I exclaim after a moment. “This will have me crossing state boundaries again.”
“Why do you think I’ve given it to you, Stormy? You’re a loner, you get itchy feet staying in one place too long.”
“And I live to remove scum from this earth.”
“That you do.” He chuckles softly. “Wish I could have seen their faces when Major hit the ground. They have no fuckin’ idea who took him out. Their mysterious contact has disappeared as well.”
I give him a sheepish look. “Sorry about that.”
“Fuckin’ schoolboy error, forgetting to cloak your IP address.”
“It won’t happen again,” I promise.
“See that it doesn’t.”
“I know the score, Pip. What we do only works if we keep underground.”
Underground. So far under the radar I’m certain he doesn’t even update his club. I’m sure of it. While I wouldn’t want to return to Utah and justify myself around the table, Pip never even asks. It doesn’t bother me. Why talk to brothers I no longer have faith in?
Me, myself and my gun. That’s how I like it.
10
Stormy…
The case Pip had handed me had so many strings it had me burning the midnight oil to figure it out. Once I had, I’d had to have a whisky myself. This one involved not one, but two chapters of the Satan’s Devils. I was going to pitch myself against brothers flying the same colours again. Maybe I could have brought them onside, worked with them openly, but that wasn’t my style. Everything in my psyche told me to work alone, anonymously from the outside.
Alder Cantor had his hand in many dirty pies. He trafficked innocent victims over the border to be sold into a life of horror. But his trucks didn’t return empty, he brought migrants back—men, women and children expecting to start a new life in the US. Instead, they found themselves slaves.
For that alone, he needed to be stopped. But this time, he’d taken a victim who was vital to get back. He’d kidnapped a State governor’s daughter as a favour to the cartel.
I’d been tracking him across the country, but he hadn’t stayed in business by being stupid, and I’d lost all trace of him. I knew his destination though, it was the Mexican border.
Alder also didn’t like loose ends, and there was one big one that was about to start unravelling. It involved a young man, Connor, who was supposed to be dead and who had relocated from Colorado to San Diego under the witness protection program. His mother, Patsy, from whom he’d been estranged for a while, had decided to accompany him.
The woman’s husband, and father of her son, though dead, had been Alder’s business partner. That alone had made warning hairs stand proud on my neck.
Patsy also had a daughter who was the old lady of one of the members of the Colorado Satan’s Devils. Though when Patsy entered the Witness Protection program with her son, she knew all contact with her daughter must stop. I knew she was going to slip up. A mother will never abandon her child. Except for mine. But from what I read about Patsy, she was a completely different sort.
Bait to attract Alder? Maybe.
The San Diego club was told to watch out for them, but not to get close. When I found danger was approaching the woman and her son, I decided to use them as pawns. San Diego thought they had a technical expert, hell, he’s still in kindergarten as far as I’m concerned. They weren’t even aware there was a threat.
I’m not averse to using people, and I needed to keep the woman and her son alive while I figured everything out. I couldn’t provide a personal protection detail, so I enlisted their help by sending anonymous messages direct to their tech expert, Token’s, screen.
Sure, they tried to discover who was sending them, but this time I made no rookie mistakes. It had the desired effect, Patsy and Connor were taken to the safety of the Satan’s Devils San Diego compound. Now they were protected, I had time to sort the rest of the mess.
Damn, they’re klutzes at this, I impatiently thought. They think Alder knows Connor’s still in the land of the living. Worried they were focusing their attention in the wrong direction, I sent more clues, and sit back chuckling as they worked it out.
I stayed close, close enough to see Patsy making a break for it. I followed, aided by the tracker I’d had the forethought to place on her car. I got close enough to send up a drone when she pulled off and parked, watching after her while Lost and his crew chased to catch up.
My hand had hovered near an immobilising device, ready to take out her engine should she start driving again. My problem was it would take out all the vehicles in the rest area, so I was loath to do that except as a last resort.
I hadn’t had to. They’d retrieved her.
San Diego had, after my prompting, done their work well. I admit to being impressed when they located the tunnel Alder used to get his cargo under the Mexican border.
Knowing what he was transporting this time, I knew the man himself would turn up. Again, I was in place to take the shot. A perfectly executed bullet went straight into his forehead.
Man, I could get used to this. I laughed as I once again saw confusion and anger on the San Diego members’ faces. But while I’d used them, unbeknownst working under my instruction, I didn’t trust them. Alder could pay his way out of anything, and those brothers? What did I know of the type of men they were?
This time, full of the success of my mission, I’d updated Pip with a phone call. This time, he wasn’t so lenient.
“I’m calling you back, Stormy.”
Er, fucking no to that. “I did what had to be done, Pip.”
A sigh loaded with exasperation comes down the phone. “No, you fuckin’ didn’t. You had a t
ask—”
“Which I completed,” I say, ire in my voice. “The governor’s daughter is back with her family. I hung around. The police collected her from the hospital.” I shake my head though. Fuck knows what damage had been done to that young girl. But at least she hadn’t been taken over the border and sold.
“I gave you the task.”
“I got it done. Lost and his crew were already all over it. We lost track of her coming across the country, but I knew where she was going to end up. They had the manpower, I just helped them along.”
“Without them, we would never have gotten the coordinates.”
“Which we had to decipher for them.” I sigh to myself, not understanding why Pip’s all over this.
“You really can’t tell, can you?” His voice sounds clipped. “They’re Satan’s Devils, Stormy.”
I let the pause draw out, then complain, “I pointed them in all the right directions.”
“You’re making a habit of this—”
“I made the kill.”
He snorts. “And left them frustrated as hell. You’re doing it too often. And enjoying it too much.”
Can’t argue with his last point. I grin as I come up with an excuse. “There was a chance they might cut a deal with Alder.”
“No there wasn’t.” Pip’s frustration comes down the line. “Two hits. Two clubs. How long until someone puts this together?”
“They needed my help.”
“Sure, they needed our help. And we gave it to them. But they should have been allowed to take Alder out themselves. You’re running the risk of exposing us.”
“I’m not,” I protest, loudly. “I was nowhere close. I knew I could make the shot, and I did.”
“Not questioning your fuckin’ ability. I question your method. Lost will be going crazy. It was his hit, not yours. No point arguing, Stormy. One time, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Not doing that again. You’re coming back to the nest.”
Stormy's Thunder: Satan's Devils MC Utah Page 11
