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

by Mellett, Manda

  “Thirty-one. Though he could pass for a lot younger, and, indeed has. That's part of the reason why he was asked to go undercover in the first place.”

  Taking Mel’s hand in mine, I tighten my fingers around it. There’d never been a need for her to worry about what she’d thought was a large difference in age. But what’s one more crime laid at his door?

  Clare resumes, “He was a cop, did some work with the feds, and was recruited from there. He’s worked undercover on and off. The longest before this time was a year. The feds must have thought this was a serious enough job to let him stay under for such a long time.”

  Red interrupts and explains, “Undercover assignments normally last no longer than six months. They need reapproval after that time, and then again after each half year passes.” He looks at the woman sitting beside him, his eyes softening slightly. It was very different to how he’d viewed her when I last saw her in the club. “I’ve explained to Clare about prospects needing to serve their time. Skull, Donavan, would have known it was going to be a long commitment, that he probably wouldn’t find anything until he was patched.”

  “And not even then,” I break in. “He found nothing, which must be why he was pulled out.”

  Clare nods. “That’s what I suspected. I didn’t know what he was doing, he kept his work secret. I didn’t mind, me not knowing kept him safe. I couldn’t say anything out of turn, even if I wanted to. Six months passed, I expected him back, but no. His assignment was continuing. Then another five, and he’d returned for a month. I must admit I was scared for him to return to whatever he was doing after that, but he told me it was safer than ever.”

  Bastard. Because by returning he’d allayed our suspicions. My eyes meet Red’s, his face is grim.

  Something clicks. “He wore his patch for six months after that.”

  Red raises an eyebrow at me. “Sounds to me like he wasn’t given approval to extend his time. Seems a mighty coincidence and could explain why he was recalled.”

  Mel breathes out audibly. “You think he applied for another extension and was refused?”

  “Could be,” Red shrugs. “Or maybe he made the request himself as he realised he was wasting his time.”

  Bad timing. I remember the words Mel had said he’d used. The bastard had known his time was up. Whether at his request or someone else’s, he knew he was going to leave.

  Mel digests her own thoughts for a moment, then turns back to Clare. “Did you have any contact with him while he was undercover?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I knew what to expect. It was too dangerous for him to expose himself, but his handler would get the odd message to me. I never had any idea what he was doing. But, one thing I never suspected was that he’d be unfaithful.”

  “He hadn’t all that time,” Red reassures her. “Prospects get mighty friendly with their hands.”

  “Unless he went with a woman outside of the club,” I say, with a frown. “But I’m unable to say whether he did or did not.”

  Clare makes a gesture that conveys she’d believe almost anything of him now.

  “After… after everything was exposed, Don tried to reassure me that we’d be okay. He told me agents sometimes suffer from Dissociative Identity Disorder when they’re under for such a long time. That’s when they become the person they’re trying to be. He said he’d only ever ask for short-term assignments again.”

  I huff a short laugh. Bastard’s defence is that he believed himself to be a biker? Well I’m a true one, and I’d be fucking faithful to Mel while I knew I had her waiting at home. I certainly wouldn’t go out of my way to start a relationship.

  “If it’s a recognised condition, did he receive counselling?” Red asks.

  “No. He didn’t want to have it on his record that something was wrong. Because of your complaint, Mel, he didn’t want to lose his job. But, he had changed.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know, he was angry, angry at you, me and Cordelia, that’s our daughter. And while he was angry, instead of trying to pacify him, all I could think about was the injury done to me, and to you, Melissa. He’d gone from your bed to mine without a thought. He’d been careless enough to get you pregnant, and, when he heard about your miscarriage, he was pleased. A problem had been solved.”

  Mel tenses. “I expected that.”

  “He’d been gone almost eighteen months straight, with just those few weeks in between when he was hurt. I had to survive on my own, and I found that I could. What I found harder to accept, was him back in my life, knowing what I did.” She leans forward again, staring intently at Mel. “I can’t thank you enough. If I hadn’t been confronted with you and Don, I’d never have known what had happened. I’d have been left in ignorance.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been better?” asks Mel. “You might still be married.”

  She nods. “Yes, but to who?” She shudders. “He cheated once, he’d do it again, I’m sure. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. It was better to know.”

  “Skull hit her,” Red puts in, clearly wanting to speed things up. “She came to the club for help. Skull wouldn’t take no for an answer from her, but he’s had to take it from us.” Again his eyes soften as he looks at her, and she responds with a small smile. It makes me wonder just how personally involved Red is. But he quickly knocks that on the head. “Rosa’s taken Clare under her wing, and Cordelia, Delly,” he grins, “has been accepted by the club.”

  “You living here?” I ask.

  Clare shakes her head. “Not now, but I did, for a bit.” Again, she addresses herself to Mel. “Red said you were going to be talking to the feds. Don had told them how you discovered who he was. He must have told them kidnapping was involved. They questioned me, I said it was nothing of the sort. That I was invited to the Vegas compound and went of my own accord.” Now she glances to Red. “I didn’t want to get anyone into trouble, not people who were doing what they could to right a wrong.”

  She pauses to take a breath, but no one interrupts, seeing there’s more she wants to say. “Melissa, I don’t know how you coped. I don’t know how you’ve come through. I’ve, er, I’ve been trying to put myself in your place. A man just walking out? Then finding out he was alive and not dead? That anything he ever said had been a lie? That…”

  Don’t put it into words, I silently beg, seeing how still Mel’s gone by my side.

  “Clare wanted to pay her respects, Mel,” Red says, ensuring she doesn’t complete her list. “I took her and we put flowers on his grave.”

  Mel stands, her hands covering her face, then she pushes past and I’m fast following her out the door. In the hallway outside I pull her into my arms, and she sobs. When her tears start to slow, she stammers out, “She’s a stronger person than I. To do that, Ro? To visit a grave of her husband’s child? A child that wasn’t hers?”

  “She wanted closure too, Mel.” Red appears in the doorway. “I held her myself when she saw the headstone and she cried. It’s the visible sign of Skull’s crime against her, against you and against the club.” His eyes come to mine, a question I interpret as, Is she alright?

  Mel’s next words give him the answer. “I can’t go back in, Ro.”

  “You don’t have to, Mel,” I reassure her.

  She turns in my arms and looks at the Vegas prez. “Can you thank her for coming to tell me her side of the story? We were both duped, weren’t we?”

  “I’ll thank her. Oh, and Ro. One other thing you should know. Skull’s undercover again.”

  “Where?” I clip out.

  But Red simply shrugs. That we don’t know and may never discover.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Melissa

  Pyro had been concerned after I again gave into my sorrow when speaking to Clare, but it had been that touching action she’d taken that had gotten to me. That she, faced with her own hurt, had addressed mine as well, just showed her humanity. Once I’d processed her words, I’d realised there were two women in this, both hurt, an
d for the same reason. It just added to my determination to get justice.

  I walk into the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation with my head held high, and my attorney, my father, beside me.

  “Thank you for coming to see us Ms Martins. Mr Martins, you’re here in your capacity as your daughter’s attorney?”

  “I am,” Dad replies. “Though on this occasion she’s foremost my client.”

  “I’m Agent Forsyth, and my colleague is Agent Booth. This is an exploratory meeting to enable us to get a better understanding of your complaint. We will record it…”

  “I’d like a copy of the tape.”

  “Of course, Mr Martins.”

  Forsyth looks down at a copy of the paperwork my father had sent him. I know it by heart, having read and re-read it, to make sure I don’t trip myself up.

  “You made some serious allegations against Agent Jordan. Ms Martins, would you like to tell us what the basis of these allegations are?”

  My father sits forward. “The basis of our complaint is that a federal agent failed to protect a civilian from harm. That in order to obtain information, he dragged an innocent person into what he considered at the time, to be the underworld of crime. As a result of ensuing events Ms Martins is suffering PTSD.”

  Agent Forsyth looks slightly bored as he turns back to me. “I know the bones of the facts are contained in the report, but to make the situation clearer, Ms Martins, if you would, can you take us through how you met Agent Jordan, and how he allegedly drew you into this life of crime?”

  I take a breath and look at my father, he gives me a nod and a quick smile of encouragement.

  “I was out for a drink with friends from work. Skull, that’s the name Agent Jordan was using,” I pause, but there’s no acknowledgement at all, “well, uninvited he came and joined our group at the table. I didn’t think he was interested in me at the time, but my friends thought he was, and invited him to a party on the Sunday. I hadn’t expected he’d turn up.”

  “You knew the man who became known to you as Skull was a biker at that point.”

  “Yes, he was wearing his cut.”

  “And that was exciting? A walk on the wild side? What did you do to encourage him?”

  I bristle. “I did nothing to encourage him. Quite the opposite in fact. I tried to put him off, but he was insistent. The fact he was a biker initially made me cautious. His approach struck me as strange.”

  “Why strange?”

  Now I shrug. “I’m older. I thought he was only about twenty, then he told me he was twenty-five. But still it seemed odd. I’m hardly what you’d think of as a biker chick.”

  “Nevertheless, you entered into a relationship with him. Did the biker lifestyle appeal to you?” Booth interjects.

  “Not at all,” I tell him, truthfully. “That was part of what put me off. You hear so many things about biker clubs. Men passing women around, stuff like that. Leaving aside their reputation for illegal activities. No, a biker for a boyfriend was the last thing I wanted.”

  “And you told him that?”

  “I probably didn’t use the exact words, but yes, that was the impression I gave him.”

  “I’ll ask again,” says Booth. “Why did you agree to become his,” he consults his notes, “old lady.”

  “I didn’t. Not at first. But he was persistent and encouraged me to go on a date with him, and then another and more after that. You could say he wore me down, and it became easier to say yes to exploring a relationship.”

  “Are you sure it was that way around?” Forsyth resumes. “Are you certain you weren’t pursuing him?”

  “I’ve enough witnesses who’ll say exactly which way around it was.”

  “Bikers?” snaps Booth.

  My dad growls quietly, and cuts in, “I’ve a list of names prepared for you. These people all work for the local government office in Pueblo. Ms Martins hadn’t met any other bikers at that point.”

  The two agents exchange a look with each other.

  I decide to stand up for myself. “The probable situation as I now know it, is for some reason, Skull needed a woman to infiltrate the club and get information which the other old ladies, particularly Violet Black, wife of David, the president, might have. On our first date, Skull went out of his way to tell me specifically the club wasn’t into illegal activities. This must have been contrary to what he believed at the time, otherwise he wouldn’t have been placed there.” Booth goes to speak, but I don’t give him the chance. “The fact is that I, as an upstanding citizen, wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the club had I known he’d had suspicions about them. He deceived me and entrapped me with false information.”

  “That’s what you say now.” Booth seizes his chance. “But I offer a contrary view. You went in with your eyes open as you wanted excitement in your otherwise quite boring life.”

  “Objection,” my dad throws in as though we were in a court room. “Can we please stick with the facts? You are in no position to say what Ms Martins state of mind was, nor whether she considered her life satisfactory or not. The case is she did not rush into a relationship with a biker, as will be confirmed by numerous witnesses. Agent Jordan pressured her until she accepted. They had several dates before he took her near the club. I have a list of places and dates and times they took place. There’s nothing to suggest this is the behaviour of a woman who wanted to join a biker club.”

  The agents put their heads together and speak in hushed tones, Booth pointing to parts of a document in front of him.

  “These dates…”

  “I have a list of them,” Dad puts in, sliding over a piece of paper. “There will be receipts I’m sure, unless Agent Jordan didn’t expense them.”

  “Agent Jordan claims you were enthusiastic about getting to know about the club. That bikes had always intrigued you, and that you hinted their illegal activities excited you.”

  “Look at me,” I cry out. “Do I look like a woman who’d ever think she’d be comfortable riding a bike?”

  “How did you get to Denver?” Booth asks.

  “I drove, in my car,” I reply honestly. With the forecast of snow Pyro didn’t want to risk either of us on his motorcycle.

  “But it’s true you regularly ride on your boyfriend’s bike?”

  I’m getting annoyed. “I do now, but back then I thought my weight would unbalance it. It was riding with Skull that showed me I could enjoy it. When he first picked me up and expected me to ride I was horrified.”

  “So you say now,” Forsyth mumbles.

  Dad gives me a little shake of my head. Don’t get emotional, he’d told me. They’ll try to trip you up.

  Now it’s my father who steps in. “Getting back to the illegal activities you mentioned. Are you saying Skull briefed Ms Martins on things that he suspected were going on in the club? If he’d found no evidence before he met her, any information in that vein would have been false, and another example of how he set out to entrap her. I don’t need to have the relationship I do with Ms Martins to know any such discussion would have sent her running. Again, I refer you to my list of witnesses who can all attest to her character. Ms Martins hasn’t had so much as a speeding ticket in her life.”

  I want to high five my dad but restrain myself.

  Dad’s got the bit between his teeth. “Agent Jordan took Ms Martins to the club under false pretences, that is undeniable. Then he commenced a sexual relationship with her where he undertook responsibility for contraception, a responsibility he neglected on two occasions, the second resulting in a pregnancy, unwanted by him, but wanted by Ms Martins who’d been led to believe, by the fact he publicly claimed her, that he was in a long-term and permanent relationship with her.”

  As Dad lays it on the line, both agents make a move forward, but he doesn’t let them speak.

  “Agent Jordan disappeared. Ms Martins had to assume, as the months passed, that as the man she knew had given her every expectation he’d return to her that d
ay, that he was lying dead. She was pregnant and alone, suffering devastating grief.”

  “She went back to the outlaw motorcycle gang. Not the action of an upright citizen.”

  “She went back to the motorcycle riding club,” Dad corrects, “who might call themselves outlaw for historical reasons, but the fact is, nowadays they engage in no criminal activities. They regard themselves as a family. Skull, or Agent Jordan as we now know, was accepted as one of their members. They were grieving too, so it was natural they took Ms Martins in, so they could grieve together. They are good men and women who stood up to offer support to who they saw as one of their own. Ms Martins wasn’t a girl who’d walked in off the street, she was a claimed woman of one of their members and had been treated as family. I think that’s the actions of any woman who found herself in such dire circumstances, seeking support from those around her. Seeking out the company of people who were also trying to make sense out of the bizarre and distressing situation she’d found herself in. They were seeking their brother, her man. They were in the best position to help her.”

  “What methods were they using to try to find him?”

  “They reported him missing to the cops.” I shut any idea they were doing anything illegal down. If they were, I didn’t know about it. “If the cops knew he was alive and well and working for the FBI, they never fed that information back to us. They never said a word to ease my grieving.” I add fast, “I didn’t know he was married, nor that when he’d left me, he’d returned to his wife and child.”

  Saying it aloud makes me start shaking. Dad sees, twists the cap off a bottle of water, fills a glass, and passes it across.

  “When I found that out… If I’d known,” I try again, “I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near him. It’s one matter to represent himself with a different identity, quite another to hide that his lies about commitment were just that, lies. He wasn’t free to make any promises.”

  Booth and Forsyth exchange a look between them.

  Forsyth is the one to speak. “When undercover, our agents have to become the person they’re representing. If it had been expected…”