Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6

by Mellett, Manda

  Reaching out his hand, he pats my leg. I try to push my own emotion down. “We’re a biker club, we’ve got our methods of retribution…”

  “Don’t tell me more,” he warns.

  “There’s nothing more to tell. Before she lost the baby, before she had that to add to her misery, we had decided to put the fight into her hands rather than the club acting on her behalf. Give her something to focus on. Let her take back the control he took from her.” I now have my doubts, and whether she’ll ever be in the right mindset. “She wanted to report him and what he’d done. Take him to whatever court she could. It seems a good case for misrepresentation and his successful attempt to involve an innocent citizen in what he must have thought was a criminal underworld.”

  Once again, his lips thin, and he tilts his head. “You’re right,” he says after a moment’s thought. “And now more than ever, she’ll need something to focus on.” He goes still, the wheels turning in his head as he considers, then, a grin just as evil as I’ve seen from any of my brothers spreads over his face when he informs me, “It’s a good thing I’m a lawyer.”

  It’s my turn to widen my eyes. “Is this where I give you a dollar?”

  The grin disappears and is replaced by a sad smile. “If you want, but on behalf of my daughter.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Melissa

  There are times when a woman needs her mom, whatever age she is. Especially with things only another woman can understand, even if they haven’t been there themselves.

  I know there’s a chance any pregnancy might not go to term, it’s the fear of any woman carrying a baby. A fear my mother would have had at the back of her mind when I was inside her. That the worst didn’t happen to her doesn’t affect her ability to comprehend exactly how I’m feeling.

  Grief, first and foremost. Sorrow I won’t get to know my son or hold him in my arms. Misery that my body’s now empty. The difficulty of coming to terms with my loss, wondering how or if I’ll ever be able to accept it.

  Guilt, that it was my fault. Was it that too hot shower followed by the cold? Maybe that I’d travelled when pregnant? Or, was it that my reaction to Skull turning up had been overdramatic?

  Anger. Rage. That Skull caused me to miscarry his baby.

  When Pyro and my dad had disappeared, the doctor had returned, but provided no answers to my questions. It might be my first miscarriage, but certainly not his. It can happen with no reason, he told me. If I miscarry again, maybe then they’ll look for a cause.

  “Sometimes it just happens,” Mom tells me reasonably after he’s gone.

  But I’m in no state of mind to believe that. There is a reason. If Skull hadn’t reappeared, I’d still be carrying my baby.

  I swing between despair and rage as I wait to be discharged. Pyro’s being as supportive as he can, but I can see he’s trying hard not to say the wrong thing, opening his mouth as though wanting to speak, then second guessing himself and shutting it again. In my more rationale moments I know he’ll be hurting too, he’s lost a son the same as I have. Yet, I can’t help being selfish, wanting all the misery myself and not being able to share his.

  He’s been talking in whispers with my dad. Under other circumstances I’d be pleased at how they’re getting along, now I’m suspicious as to what they’re so animatedly discussing.

  I veer between wanting Pyro close at hand and wanting nothing to do with him. My head’s muddling everything up. If I’d never been drawn into the club, I wouldn’t have stayed with Skull. But how can I hate people for being nice and accepting me? Everything in my head is fucked up.

  Mom’s patient, but my swiftly changing moods are trying her parenting skills. If she tries platitudes I end up frustrated, if she encourages my anger, I swiftly change it to guilt, and if she tries to tell me I’m not responsible for killing my baby, I tell her all the reasons why I am.

  I’m a complete mess.

  Two days back at the club and I’m feeling no easier. Even though I’m not really ill, I’ve spent most of the time up in the room we’d been allocated when we first arrived in Vegas. I wish I wasn’t in an alien place, would much rather be in my own home, but due to the bleeding that’s still continuing, Pyro and my parents don’t want me to fly.

  “Hey, Mel.” Pyro stands, hesitantly in the doorway.

  Well, he’s just heard me dismissing my mom and not very pleasantly, I’ve no doubt his cautious approach is him questioning my mood right now.

  I sigh. “It’s okay, come in.” What’s unfair is that Pyro and I had been so close to cementing our relationship until Skull stepped in and blew that away.

  What’s he going to say now? I’m fed up with people asking me how I’m feeling, as I don’t know. I could tell them the truth, then only a moment later, find out that had been a lie, as I’m now feeling something else.

  But he surprises me. He stands just inside the door, not coming right in. “Mel, will you come with me?”

  “Where?”

  He shakes his head. “Trust me, okay?”

  Go with him? I notice my parents are standing behind him. Dad looks serious, mom’s expression holds a mixture of grief and oddly, anticipation. She’s also nodding encouragingly.

  Downstairs, it gets even stranger. Leather clad men are milling around, on seeing me, they fall silent, then start walking out the front door.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, looking around. Then my eyes fall on a tiny coffin, resting on a black cloth on a table.

  I gasp, my hands covering my face. Feeling guilty I hadn’t asked what had happened to the baby. I’d just assumed the hospital would deal with whatever was left and hadn’t wanted to know the details. When I’d left I’d been too befuddled with the residue of the anaesthesia, when I’d thought about it, I’d been too scared to ask.

  “Is that…?” I ask to be certain.

  “Pyro arranged it,” said my mom.

  It’s Pyro who steps forward and carries him, so lovingly and carefully as though he was a living child. I follow him out and watch as he places the wooden box containing my son into the back of an SUV, then sit in the rear seat with my mom, while Dad and Pyro are in the front.

  It looks like every biker from the club is following behind. I don’t know where, I don’t ask why. My mind focused on the loss. My hands rest on my stomach. That’s where my son should be, that’s where he belongs. I should be able to feel him moving… But he’s not there. He’s gone, and his remains are in that box.

  We go to a graveyard on the edge of the desert, grass beneath our feet kept watered and green. Escorted by bikers wearing their Satan’s Devils cuts, I follow Pyro to one part of the burial ground where all the gravestones have one thing in common—the Satan’s Devils name etched into the granite.

  A small hole has been dug, just the right size for the tiny coffin Pyro is holding.

  Red steps up, as Pyro carefully lays it down. “We’ll never know if Baby Martins would have become a Devil, but he was conceived in the club, and is one of our own. Here he’ll lie, knowing he has brothers watching out for him. Even though he never knew life, in death he will never be alone.”

  I feel choked up. Tears blind my vision.

  “Sleep, baby boy.” Pyro’s voice is deep.

  “Sleep in peace, child,” says my dad, though Mom is openly weeping against his shoulder.

  Someone hands me a rose. When I step forward to place it in the grave, a shadow briefly passes over the coffin, looking up I see a kestrel flying. Symbolic, as if my child had grown wings and flown.

  I’m incapable of speech, so I think the words instead. Bye baby. I love you so much.

  Then I’m crying, hard, wracking sobs shaking my body. Pyro’s arms hold me tightly as he rocks me, his tears mingling with my own.

  I hadn’t realised I needed to say goodbye. There’s no doubt it had helped. No contrary view that the support of these men who can be gruff and rough helped me get through those first dark days.

  After
the funeral, I had no longer kept to my room. No longer felt awkward when a man simply patted my shoulder as he passed me. No longer had the need to hide when I heard snippets of conversation, as their feelings only mirror my own. There’s only one outcome I can focus on. The reason I lost my baby has to be resolved. Skull has to be taken down.

  But he can’t be killed. Even if I wish he’d remained, at least in my head, no longer breathing. I can’t risk the safety or freedom of the man I love or these men I call friends.

  “Mel?”

  I raise my head as Dad and Pyro walk over.

  “Skull needs to feel our revenge. Are you strong enough to do it?”

  They pull up chairs and sit down. My eyes narrow. But they soon elaborate on their plan.

  Dad puts it into words. “Skull started a relationship with you under false pretences. Those false pretences included making you a spy to get information on the club which he otherwise might not get. He got you pregnant…”

  “There’s no proof,” I interject, my mouth twisting as I remember he’d tried to deny it.

  “We’ll get proof.” Pyro shifts uncomfortably. “You’ll be sent the copy of the baby’s DNA test.”

  I just stare at him, shaking my head.

  “I’m sorry, Mel. I asked the doctor to do it.”

  He had? I have only two words for him. “Thank you.” It will be something concrete that Skull won’t be able to deny. “How do we get Skull’s?”

  “There’s probably something left in his room,” Pyro suggests.

  “Or we demand that he provides a swab,” Dad suggests. “What he put you through Mel, was psychological torture. There’s no way of proving that led to you losing the baby, but your suffering when he left, then when he turned up again, should be enough.”

  “He raped me. I didn’t give my consent.”

  Dad shakes his head. “I don’t think we’ll get him on a rape charge, though we can try. He didn’t force you into bed, even though he misrepresented who he was.”

  “Will he go to jail?” I ask hopefully. That’s the outcome I want—to know he’s suffering every day for the wrong that he did.

  “I can’t promise you that, Mel. There are so many factors. But we’ll take it as far as we can.”

  “We don’t know where he is.”

  Pyro raises an eyebrow toward my father.

  Who responds, “We know his real name, and his employers will certainly be able to find him. He’ll be working for the cops or feds.”

  “I’ll have to face him.” My tone gives away neither one thing nor another.

  Dad grins. “You’re my daughter. As soon as Pyro suggested we give you the lead in getting retribution, I knew this was what you needed, and that you are fully capable of following it through.”

  “You’ll be my lawyer?”

  “I’m an attorney in the state of Colorado where the crime occurred. So yes, I’ll represent you.”

  As I realise I’ll be expected to tell my lawyer everything, I press my lips together and shift a little awkwardly. Seems I don’t need to explain.

  “Strange as it may seem, I do know how babies are made.” He smiles.

  I glance down at my hands. In some ways getting revenge, making Skull face up to his crimes sounds good, in others, well, it won’t give me my baby back. Though knowing he hasn’t walked away unscathed would be some comfort.

  Pyro seems to read my mind. “Be interesting to know whether Clare’s still with him. Might be he’s lost his own family.”

  Is it wrong of me to hope that’s what happened? To know that Skull will lose his own child and know one-hundredth of the pain I’m feeling is welcomed.

  “You don’t have to decide or start anything now.” Pyro leans over and covers my wringing hands, stilling them.

  Dad looks from him to me, then stands and leaves us alone.

  “It’s just so hard, Ro. I, I…”

  “Come with me, come outside.” His arm comes around me to support me as we go out into the rapidly setting sun of the Vegas evening. He leads me over to a bench and sits down, patting the wooden seat beside him. “Can I just hold you, Mel?”

  “I’m not being fair to you,” I start.

  “Life’s not fair.” He stares up at the stars just starting to show. “Fair is none of this happening. Fair is for us to have recognised Skull for what he was long before he was patched in. Fair is you never meeting the man.” He pauses. “But if things were fair, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  “You’d have been saved a lot of pain then.”

  “No, Mel. This rough patch, I know neither of us can see a way through, but we’ll get there, I promise you.”

  “Maybe you should find someone else.” Someone who’s not broken.

  “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I promise you, good or bad, we’re in this together.”

  His pained expression makes me remember the different one he wore just two-and-a-half weeks ago, the joy on his face when we heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time and saw the picture on the screen. His pride when showing the photo of his son around. He lost his baby too.

  For the first time, guiltily I allow him to share my loss. “Are you hurting, Ro?”

  His hand grips mine. “More than I can fuckin’ put into words.”

  He’s a man, so he doesn’t let it show.

  “We should grieve together.” That’s what we haven’t been doing. I’ve been selfish, just thinking of me, and not about what he lost too.

  “That’s what I want, Mel. To help you through this, as you’ll help me. We both need to heal, and for that, we need to go home. When the doctor clears you to fly, we’ll go back to Pueblo.”

  I’m pretty sure I’ll get the okay from the doctor on my next check-up. The bleeding, that final physical reminder of everything I’ve been through, has, at last, stopped. “Can we visit the grave again, before we go?”

  “Of course we fuckin’ can. I’d like to as well.” Pyro gives a small smile. “Seeing him there, among brothers, seems right. Comforting, somehow. We can come back to Vegas whenever we want or need to.”

  He’s right. It’s weird but buried where he is makes me feel I’m not leaving my son alone, or unprotected. There’s a peace, a comfort in having a place where my baby lies. I don’t know what strings Red pulled, or whether he just did it not caring about rules, but it was the right thing to do.

  We sit, letting the night descend around us, no need for more words. I’m happy he knows there isn’t anything more to say. Not right now.

  The next day my parents are getting ready to leave.

  “Come back to Denver, Melissa.” My mom’s concerned eyes meet mine.

  “No, Mom. I’ve got my job, my friends, and… Pyro.” I look at them. My parents dropped everything to come be with me and ended up in the midst of a biker club and seem to have taken it all in their stride. While they’ve stayed at a hotel, they’ve been here every day. I do wonder what they really think about my continued association with the club, which is why I hesitated before saying Pyro’s name.

  “Skull dragged you into this world,” my dad starts, his face serious. “This club isn’t to blame for anything that happened to you, unless there were illegal activities for Skull to find out.”

  I stop him. “We assume he found nothing…”

  “I agree,” he replies fast. “I’ve had conversations with Pyro, got to know Red and Crash a bit too. I put my judgement on the back burner and listened to what they had to say. I’m an attorney, Melissa. To you I’m your dad, and I’ve not brought my work home, but I’ve seen, and heard, a thing or two. The Satan’s Devils may live by their own rules, but if they step over the lines, I guess it’s with good reason.” He glances at my mom. “I like the way this club supports you—not every MC treats its women in such good ways. What I have to admit worries me is that your mom and I, well, we accepted Skull, though we didn’t much like that he was a biker. He seemed a good man for you. I still can’t get my head around how
he had us all fooled. I’m concerned about it happening again.”

  “It won’t.” It’s all become clear in my mind. “Skull was an anomaly. There’s no reason to suspect Pyro isn’t exactly what he seems.”

  Suddenly the arms of the man we’re discussing come around me, pulling me back against his firm chest. “I’ve nothing to hide. Get someone to investigate me.”

  Dad looks at him with respect. “You understand it will be for our peace of mind?”

  “Long as you know the club won’t share much. But I’ve managed the auto-shop for years, and my service is a matter of record.”

  Dad reaches out his hand, Pyro takes and shakes it. Saying, as he does, “I’ll bring Mel up to Denver as soon as she’s ready.”

  “I’ll start finding out what needs to be done,” Dad agrees. “And how to best put the case together.”

  Then Mom’s hugging me, and I’m hanging onto her, a hairbreadth away from changing my mind and going home with them after all. The main thing that stops me is somehow sharing Pyro’s pain lessens mine.

  All too soon they have to leave, and a prospect drives them away in the club’s SUV.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Pyro

  “Good to have you back, Brother.”

  “Fuckin’ good to be here.” I nod at Demon sat at the top of the table, then return chin lifts with each of my brothers in turn.

  “Don’t know what to say to you.” Beef shakes his head, large sorrowful eyes meeting mine.

  But they don’t need to put it into words. I hold up my hand. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve heard enough platitudes to last me a lifetime. “Mel and I know you’ve got our backs, that’s enough.”

  “Is it though?” Hellfire spits out from the opposite end to his son. “I take as much responsibility as anyone else for not seeing what was wrong with Skull. I was the one who patched him in.”