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

by Mellett, Manda

  If Beth is the woman I believed her to be, I’ve got a problem. If she’s as sweet natured as I thought, there’s a good chance she’ll sacrifice herself to give me a chance to walk free. That certainly wouldn’t work. Cops cheer when a biker goes down, and they’ve got me, caught red-handed. She wouldn’t free me, she’d only convict herself.

  I’ve got to convince her to let me go down. How the fuck do I do that?

  I could do my time as long as I knew she was happy and free. Cops can’t stagger across a hint of anything that connects me with her. But how?

  I’ve got to cut all ties with her.

  No visits. No enquiries. No putting herself in the sights of the cops. It’s the only way I can protect her.

  Fuck, but I must have it bad. Even knowing she’s the reason I’m here, and I’m unclear as to her motives, there’s still this urge inside to keep her safe. If I can’t enjoy my life, knowing she can, will make up for a lot. Even if she deserved the punishment, I can better serve it. If she has made a mistake, this is her chance to learn from it. Do my time knowing she’s happy and protected? There may not be much sense to it, but it makes me feel easier.

  My club will know what to do.

  Suddenly I turn on my back, my arm flung over my face. Am I being a fucking idiot? The club’s not going to throw themselves behind Beth. Not when she’s the reason I, their brother, is inside.

  She’s new to the club, and I haven’t led anyone to believe she’s anything to me but a casual fuck. I sit bolt upright. What would I feel if Mace or Liz were in jail when it should be their fuck buddy instead? Christ. Will they blame her? Running it through in my head, I realise of course they fucking will. Instead of protecting or helping her, they might already have banned her from the club. Or worse, sort their own retribution on my behalf. Especially if they think she had anything to do with the drugs.

  A drunk farts loudly, a few seconds later the foul stench reaches my nostrils. But even that doesn’t distract me. How can I get the club on Beth’s side?

  Ask them, tell them what I want. Hell, I’d probably sound as deranged as I think I am. Especially when I come up with the answer, the one thing I can do to extend my protection to her when I’m not there to do it myself. I claim her.

  I almost laugh aloud at the ludicrousness of it. Me, claim a woman? Commit to her for life? If I was a free man, that could be where Beth and I would be heading, but I’d have taken my time and made sure it was right. Fuck knows if she feels the same way, we hadn’t exactly discussed it. In fact, we discussed anything but that, and persuaded each other we were happy with a few fucks. If I claim her it would be in name only. I couldn’t expect her to wait three decades until I get out.

  But, if the club know she’s mine, they’ll have to support her. To give me peace of mind, knowing she’s safe and being cared for while I’m locked up, it’s the only answer.

  Then what would she do? Act like an old lady? Would they allow conjugal visits in prison? Or would I have to marry her for that? Perhaps I wouldn’t mind putting a ring on her finger if it gave me her cunt to look forward to while I was doing serious time.

  My mouth twists slightly upwards, then turns down when I realise the problem. I can’t have the cops looking into Beth, not if I’m right about Connor. Who knows how deeply he’s dragged her into his world? Nope, don’t want the cops to go sniffing around her. They can’t have any idea she was there last night.

  She’ll be feeling guilty. So it won’t be much of a stretch for her to believe I want nothing to do with her. If I was in my right mind, that should be where I’m headed. I’ve got to make her believe I hate her.

  I shake my head slowly. She’ll never know I’ll have done the stupidest thing in my life. I’ll claim her to get her the protection I can’t provide. Her believing I’ve cut her loose is the only way to keep her out of this mess. If she gets arrested and goes inside too, my sacrifice would have been for nothing.

  Fuck being sensible. The thought of never seeing her again hurts worse than any other sentence I could be handed, but I can’t see any other way around it.

  Hate. Love. One coin, two sides. She’ll never know which landed up.

  “McNeish. You’re wanted.”

  It was only a matter of time.

  Standing, I walk to the door feeling the indignity of my pants slipping down as I’m missing my belt. My motorcycle boots have buckles so at least I don’t need to shuffle in the way I’ve seen men who are missing their laces have. Hoisting up my jeans as best I can, I straighten my shoulders and follow the guard down the short corridor and step into the room that he opens. I let out a breath as a sigh of relief when I see who’s waiting and step forward with an outstretched hand.

  “Sykes. It’s good to see you.”

  He shakes my hand automatically. “Fuckin’ Sunday. Why’s it always a Sunday? If you could have heard my wife—”

  “What you get for us paying you an extortionate amount to be our lawyer.”

  “There is that.” He nods, seriously, then points to a chair one side of the desk. “How about you sit down, and I do my job and get us both out of here as soon as I possibly can?”

  Sounds good to me. Impossible, though it may be. He’ll soon be going home to his wife and me? Well, I’ll be going back to my cell, and from there to a penitentiary.

  “So, Damon—”

  “Ink.”

  He knows us well so doesn’t argue. “Ink. What happened?” He stifles a yawn suggesting he has indeed been pulled from his bed.

  “This room got ears?”

  “Shouldn’t have. Lawyer-client privilege. But I do need to know everything that happened, then I can best prepare your case.”

  “What am I looking at?”

  Sykes shrugs. “The charge will be possession with intent to sell. You had two kilos on you. Depends whether they try to link you with large-scale heroin distribution, if that’s the case it could be anything up to thirty-two years. At the other end of the scale, the minimum is two.”

  “It was heroin?” As I ask for confirmation, I huff a mirthless laugh. I hadn’t even known what was in the bag.

  At my strange question, Sykes sits back and folds his arms. “Mexican brown,” he confirms. His eyes sharpen. “That you didn’t know what you were carrying suggests there’s a story there. Now give me something to work with.”

  For the next half hour or so, I explain why I had been there in the back alleys behind Tits Up, and how I’d come to so briefly be in possession of two kilos of a controlled substance.

  “Unbelievable,” he says at last. “You’re prepared to do serious time for a woman you’ve known only a couple of weeks? Who could be up to her neck in this business?”

  “She’s not,” I say firmly. I don’t know why I’ve come around to that opinion, but while I can’t think of the explanation, I’ve become convinced there must be a good reason why she was there last night. “I don’t know what went down or why, but I do know she doesn’t have anything to do with drugs.”

  He rolls his eyes as if I’m the biggest idiot he’s ever seen, and working for the likes of us, he’s seen quite a lot. “You had the bag for less than a minute?”

  “Sparky will back me up.”

  “You didn’t know it was even drugs.” It’s a statement, so I stay quiet.

  “Right, what’s her full name?”

  I don’t give him his answer but explain instead. “I don’t want her dragged into this, Sykes. I don’t want the police to get her in their sights. I can deal if I go down, she can’t.”

  “She could prove your innocence—”

  “Only by trapping herself. As you said, they’ve got me on possession. I’m a Devil, they’re not going to cut me loose. We’ll both end up fucked.” Or not, I think with disappointment.

  “You don’t make my life easy.”

  “That’s why we pay you so much,” I mutter under my breath.

  “This brother of hers. You think he might be involved? Have you got
the club checking him out?”

  “I haven’t spoken to anyone in the club.” I haven’t had a chance.

  “Of course, you haven’t,” he confirms. “It’s early. Forgive me. I’ll speak to Demon and give him the heads-up. Trouble is, Ink, we don’t know how much the cops saw. Did they see you take the rucksack from someone? If so, they’ll be trying to find out who it was.”

  “The fucker who was expecting the delivery held a gun on me,” I tell him. “They might have seen that. I had no option but to pass the bag over.”

  “Useful.” His hands move in the way the prez’s son, Theo, does when he wants something. A ‘gimme more’ gesture.

  “I found the bag and was taking it to the cops? The dealer saw me?” I think more. “A fucker was coming along, saw me and Sparky, dropped the bag and ran? That’s why I picked it up?”

  “That’s something I can work with. Of course, it all hinges on how much they witnessed. Any cameras that might have picked something up?”

  Fuck. Again my thoughts go to her and not me. Where had Beth parked? Was there CCTV on the street? “Tell Demon to get Cad reviewing footage. I’m serious Sykes. I want Beth kept out of it.” If she’d driven there as I suspect, her car might have been clocked all over Pueblo, but only if they’re looking for it. They couldn’t follow up every vehicle driving last night, so Cad just has to try and doctor sightings of her in the vicinity. Even while I won’t be directly able to speak to him, I know my computer expert brother will do what needs to be done.

  Suddenly Sykes leans forward. “Throw her to the wolves, Ink. You barely know her, and I earn my money for the club. My instructions are to get you out of here.”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m claiming her. She’s mine.” She just doesn’t know it, and unless I get out, never will. “Her being brought into it doesn’t exonerate me, just makes her an accomplice, and she’ll go down as well.”

  Sykes breathes in loudly through his nose. “I can’t guarantee you’re not wrong in that. Okay, I’ll stay away from her. But she may come forward herself, if what you obviously feel for her goes both ways.”

  That’s my worry, the nail he’s hit right on the head. “She’d do it for anyone, Sykes. She’s not the type to see an innocent man locked up. But in this case, she has to be persuaded she has to, for her sake and mine. If we’re going with the flimsy story of the man who dropped the bag and ran away, she’d only make things worse if she starts telling the truth.” It’s hard to tell him what I’ve decided, but it’s for the best. “I’ve got two messages for Demon.” I pause while my eyes find those of my lawyer’s and wait for the jerk of his head that shows he’s noting what I’m saying carefully. “First, impress on him she’s mine, I’ve claimed her. Second, get him to tell her to keep the fuck away. Hell, let her believe I hate her if that’s what it’s going to take. She’s got to understand I don’t want to and won’t see her.” Fuck, it hurts, but to protect her, Beth must believe whatever this was is over between us.

  His brow creases as he jots down some notes. “You clearly think a lot of her, Ink. If she’s of the same mind, might be hard keeping her away.”

  “Then Demon will have to find the right words to say. He’s got to convince her.” He’s inventive and resourceful. It’s why we voted him in as the prez.

  A warning knock, and then the door opens.

  “Detectives Barker and Hastings are ready to speak with Mr McNeish.”

  Sykes raises his brow, I give a returning raise of my chin. Guess I’m ready as I’ll ever be.

  Following my lawyer, I shuffle, now with my hands and legs in chains, and am taken into an interview room. This one kitted out with a recording device, and high on the wall, a camera.

  “I’m Detective Barker, this is Detective Hastings. For the recording, please state your names.”

  “Joseph Sykes. Attorney at law.” Sykes nods at me.

  “Damon McNeish. Otherwise known as Ink.”

  “Thank you. Now, Mr McNeish, our reports show you were found in possession of two kilos of heroin on Third Street behind Tits Up, the strip club owned by the Satan’s Devils MC. Your club.”

  “No,” I refute.

  “No? Please explain.” A raised eyebrow and a small challenging smile suggest Barker thinks I can’t.

  “I was there with other members of my club. Dealing behind Tits Up had been going on for some time, users were shooting up in the bathrooms, leaving used needles around.” I frown. “That isn’t good for business. The Satan’s Devils MC do not deal in drugs, and every member hates dealing and using with a passion.”

  “Is that so?” The detective smirks.

  “It’s so unless you have evidence to the contrary,” interjects Sykes.

  “It appears to us that you are very much involved, Mr McNeish. Our evidence shows that you were caught handing over a vast amount of heroin to one Fender Childs.”

  “At gunpoint,” Sykes puts in.

  Barker continues as if that point is of no interest to him. “What is your relationship to Fender Childs, Mr McNeish?”

  “I don’t know the man.”

  The detective seems to sneer at my honest reply. “Mr Childs has a record for dealing. Only small fry up to now, but it looks like he may have upped his game. Do you deny you were passing him his stock?”

  And admit I was supplying drugs for sale? No way. “I do deny it.” My tone is forceful, my voice strong.

  Now Hastings steps in. “If you weren’t handing them over, and it was as your lawyer purports, at gunpoint, perhaps you were intending to sell them yourself?”

  I shake my head fast. I’m becoming frustrated. “No. Are you interested in hearing what actually happened?”

  Barker leans back and folds his arms, half turning to Hastings, he raises an eyebrow seeming to telegraph this will be good. When Hastings smirks back, he offers magnanimously, “Go ahead.”

  “As I said, dealing had been going on behind the club, and at our other premises. Satan’s Devils are known for keeping that shit away, so we presume someone saw sites other dealers were staying away from. Somewhere with a demand and no one supplying.” I draw in a deep breath, knowing I need to choose my words carefully. “We don’t need the wrong sort of reputation. We were there last night to try to keep that business away, not encourage it. We even knew there was going to be a heavy police presence and a SWAT team coming in.”

  Barker’s eyes widen. “How?” he snaps.

  I shrug. “You brought our VP in for questioning. He overheard a conversation.” I’m not dropping Beef into anything. He’d done nothing wrong, it was them who were careless.

  “You should have known to stay clear in that case.”

  “I did. Or tried to, at least.”

  He waves to indicate I should carry on, but his yawn suggests he’s bored.

  “I was waiting with Sparky. A man appeared from behind us. He was tall, not far off my height. Slim build. He was carrying a rucksack and something about him looked suspicious.” He, him. Keep emphasising he was male to throw them off the scent. “I knew he wasn’t the dealer.”

  “How?” Hastings interrupts.

  My shoulders rise and fall. “Supposition. This man was nervous, scared. Could have been a user himself. He didn’t have the confidence to be dealing. Also, he was totally unaware of his surroundings, whereas a dealer will always be on his toes, keeping one eye open for danger. Anyway, as he came past me all I could think was that bag might be holding drugs, and that he was a delivery boy. So, I went to confront him.”

  “He was heading toward the cops,” Barker interrupts.

  “I didn’t know exactly where you’d set up. I thought there was a chance you could miss him. Tits Up is important to us, we have sworn to protect its reputation. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking straight, all that was in my head was stopping drugs coming onto our premises.”

  “Carry on,” Barker prompts, but his disinterested tone of voice suggests I’m not convincing him.

  “I confro
nted him. There wasn’t time to tell Sparky, and I needed to be quiet.” I grimace as though annoyed. “I thought Sparky would be right behind me, instead he stayed where he was. Turns out he isn’t a mind reader.”

  “So, you say you challenged this man?”

  “I did. I grabbed the rucksack, and he ran off. I didn’t think I could catch him, so decided to bring the bag and its contents to your lot. I was walking with it when the dealer… what did you call him? Fender? Like the guitar?” I wait for their nods. “Well, this Fender stepped out from the shadows and held a gun on me. I had no option but to pass him the rucksack, and the rest you know.”

  “You are correct that Mr McNeish had drugs in his possession, but only for a matter of seconds. He also was unaware exactly what was in the rucksack. Mr McNeish was performing a civic duty at the time.” I could kiss Sykes for his excellent summation, but refrain.

  “That’s your story?” Barker scoffs.

  “That’s the truth,” replies Sykes, giving his own look of challenge. “Mr McNeish has never met this…” he looks down at the notes he’d been taking, “Fender Childs in his life. He has no connection with Mr Childs.”

  “Then he was going to be dealing himself.”

  Sykes eyes widen. “Few things wrong with that. First, the Satan’s Devils have no reputation for dealing drugs, in fact, the opposite. The police know they keep them away from that area of Pueblo.”

  “That could have changed,” Hastings suggests. “Or Mr McNeish is the person responsible for dealing either with or without the blessing of his club.”

  Sykes shakes his head and continues, “Second, Mr McNeish and his club were aware that the police were staking out Tits Up and the surrounding area that night. Under those circumstances, if the dealer was aware of the presence of the cops, he would be a million miles away from the action. Not walking toward it as my client had done.”