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

by Mellett, Manda

  “And a few cuss words.” I grin now.

  “That too,” he laughs. Then, spying Demon, walks off.

  “What was that about?”

  “A gym. For Ink,” I explain to Lizard. He calls Judge over, and I tell him too. Next, it’s Ro.

  I drink beer and spend the next few hours discussing plans for the gym. The notion seems to have gone well. We’re heading into spring which will mean longer, warmer days when we can get work done after we’ve finished our day jobs.

  “Let’s walk around tomorrow,” Rusty suggests. “See how much needs to be done. Could always get Viper and Bullet’s crew up from Tucson if the fabric of the building needs more work than we can handle. They did a fuckin’ good job on the repairs to the clubhouse.” He indicates the new brick matched in with the original walls, damage we’d had to repair when the Mafia came visiting a while back.

  “Good call,” I tell him. Looking around with a second pair of eyes would be useful and means I’ve got some practical suggestions to bring up at church.

  “Mace. Can I do something for you?” Titsy approaches with a wide grin on her face.

  Now there’s an idea. I’d not have been in the mood had she asked me earlier but having spent some time talking about doing something positive for Ink, I’m certainly in a better place. As I stare down at her tits in such a low-cut top that her nipples are almost visible, my cock starts to get hard.

  I begin to give her the answer which is a very definite yes. I’m opening my mouth to form the word when I’m distracted.

  “See you tomorrow!” Ro shouts to no one in particular as he walks toward the door.

  A usual occurrence. He normally spirits Mel home when the club girls come out to play. I turn back to what I was preparing to do. “Yeah, doll.” I look over and see the pool table’s not in use. Like Ink, I have no difficulty getting my rocks off in public, and the idea of my performance being watched is often a turn on. “Over there, yeah?”

  My hand’s on her ass as she starts to walk over, but my attention is on Pyro and Mel’s progress across the room, wanting to keep it PG while his old lady’s still in sight. So, I see him forced to step back and pull Mel out of the way as the door flies open, and in runs a distraught woman. “Help, I need help,” yells Beth’s mom, Patsy. She’s followed by an anguished Dirt, one of his eyes seems to be shut and swollen.

  All eyes shoot to her. She might be small, average height for a woman but tiny to us, but at the moment she’s commanding the attention of the room.

  “Phil’s got Bethany. He wants his drugs back.”

  Beef moves fast and is over to her before I can get my feet moving. “Demon’s office.” He gives her no choice, taking her by the arm and leading her across the clubroom. His eyes catch mine and he jerks his head suggesting, or more likely demanding that I come along too. He gives the same signal to Thunder.

  I pause only long enough to glare at the club girls and even spare one for Jayden who’s sitting on Pal’s lap. Pyro’s got his arms around Mel, holding her back and talking fast into her ear.

  Bella and Titsy mime zipping their lips shut.

  Beef’s talking on the phone as he opens Demon’s door. “Prez, need you back here fast.”

  Then he points Patsy to a chair. Taking the one next to her, he turns it to face her, and reaching forward takes hold of both of her hands. “Tell us exactly what happened, Patsy.”

  She needs no encouragement. “After he,” she indicates me with a tilt of her head, “came to tell me my son was dead, Bethany and I discussed it. It didn’t seem right, and maybe it’s just optimism, but we didn’t believe it.”

  Christ, and there I was thinking I’d gotten away with it. I exchange a glance with Thunder, an apology in mine.

  “Where does Phil come in?”

  “I haven’t had contact with Phil for years, but he hasn’t changed his number. I called him to see if he knew about Connor’s death. If he was dead, well, I wouldn’t put it past him that he was behind it. And now he’s got Bethany…” Angrily she wipes a tear from her eye as if she’s got no time for it.

  Strength runs in the family it would seem. She’s distraught but will leave her inevitable breakdown until later.

  But hell, she’s right to be worried, and so am I. Phil stood by and watched two of his men kick and punch his son almost to death. What a fuckup of a job we’ve done of protecting Ink’s woman. Now Beth’s been kidnapped by a monster. I have no confidence she’ll be returned unharmed. What if he hurts her like Connor? I shift in my seat, knowing I could never look my brother in the eye again. Maybe if I hadn’t been so inclined to blame her, I’d have protected her myself. What did we do? Pass her and her Mom on to two hangarounds who we’re not even confident enough to patch in as prospects yet.

  Thunder’s voice pulls me back to the here and now. “Go over the conversation you had with Phil.”

  For a second, Patsy bows her head. “It’s my fault,” she says, quietly. “I shouldn’t have called. But Bethany was convinced Connor wasn’t dead, and I wanted to know if Phil knew. When he said he did, I, er, I asked him whether he knew Connor had left drugs with me.”

  Phil might not have had that knowledge until she opened her mouth. Alder had, Connor had said his father had left the warehouse by then.

  “And?” prompts Beef.

  “He was mad, furious. He asked if I still had them. I told him persons unknown had taken the drugs.” She pauses, and her brow creases with pain. “That was the end of it. Until, a couple of hours later he turned up in person.”

  “Didn’t Dirt confront him?” That man is never getting patched in.

  “Phil bashed in the front door, came in with four other men. Dirt didn’t have a chance. If he’d tried to shoot him, he’d have ended up dead. They disarmed him and tied him up, hit him when even then he tried to help. I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice cracks, and she takes a pause to swallow a couple of times. “They searched the house as if they thought I was lying. Left it in a hell of a mess, but of course, they didn’t find anything. And then they… then he… he said he was going to take Bethany.”

  “She was forced to go with them?”

  “I thought I could stop him,” Patsy wails. “I thought—or I wasn’t thinking. I thought he’d leave her with me. I’ve just lost a son, I couldn’t risk losing my daughter.”

  I stiffen. I notice Beef has too. It’s Thunder who asks, “What did you do?”

  Patsy swallows. “I told them the Satan’s Devils MC had taken them.”

  Jesus H Christ she’s dropped us right in it.

  “But he took her anyway?” Of course, he did. It’s why she’s here.

  “Yes.” She’s sobbing now. “He said she’d be staying with him until he gets his drugs back. I’m sorry…”

  But who can blame her? I’d just told her, her son was dead. She was a mother doing anything she could to protect her only remaining child.

  Beef, Thunder and I exchange glances while she quietly weeps. Behind us the door opens and the prez comes in. His eyes take in the distraught woman and then go to Beef with a raised eyebrow.

  Beef sums it up succinctly, “Phil Foster has kidnapped Beth. He’ll release her when he gets his drugs back.” My eyes flick to Patsy and then back to the prez. “Phil knows we’ve got them.”

  “Fuck.” Demon pushes back his hair with both hands. “Dirt?”

  “Unharmed but overpowered. Seemed he couldn’t do anything. Phil came mobbed up.”

  “He had instructions to call us—”

  Beef shrugs. Guess Dirt’s going to have to come up with an explanation for us. Can’t see him getting his patch unless it’s good.

  Demon turns and smashes his fist against the wall. It’s not hard to know what he’s thinking. Satan’s Devils have been pulled into this mess. Our brother Ink asked for one thing and one thing only, to protect Beth. Now she’s been kidnapped, and if we give up the drugs to save her, there goes our leverage to get Ink released.


  “Thunder? Get Rusty.” Prez eyes are full of concern for Patsy. She’s a complete mess, doubled over and crying unconsolably, now having given into that breakdown I’d been certain was coming.

  Demon taps his VP on his shoulder, and when he stands up, takes his place on the chair in front of Beth’s mother. “Patsy,” he starts, his voice quiet. Then it sharpens when he repeats her name. The third time gets her looking up. “Will you listen very carefully to what I have to say?”

  She makes a visible effort to pull herself together. Beef’s produced some tissues from somewhere, and he passes them to her. After blowing her nose loudly and mopping at her tears, she raises her eyes to Demon. “I’ll do anything. I can’t lose both my children in one day. Look, I don’t know what you took the drugs for. I know they’re worth a lot. Maybe I can buy them back off you? I’ll sell my house, do anything…”

  “Fuck woman!” Demon roars. “I don’t want your money. We didn’t take the drugs to sell them. What the hell do you think we are?”

  “I don’t know,” wails Patsy. “I just know Phil’s got my daughter, and I want her back. The fastest way is to give him what he wants.” Her eyes close then open again. “He’s a psychopath, with no emotion. He’d hurt her without a second thought.”

  “And what happens then?” Demon challenges. “We give the drugs back. Do you think he’ll simply let Beth come home? You know too much, what’s to stop you going to the cops? He hasn’t been busted for drug dealing, he’ll want to keep it that way. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it won’t stop with a simple exchange.”

  I’m immediately on Demon’s wavelength. Giving into Phil’s demands won’t solve anything. Beth and Patsy know far too much, I doubt Beth would be coming home. And Patsy? Well, she might be controlled over threats to her daughter, or more likely, she’ll meet with a fatal accident of some sort. Even we’ll not be safe. If we roll over and give Phil his H back, he could try and turn us into his bitches, threaten to take us down unless we work for him. Now it’s my turn to smash my fist against the wall. Fuck. What a mess. Ink, I’m so fucking sorry. I failed you in the one thing you asked.

  “We go to Denver. Face him head on,” I suggest.

  “What’s the size of his organisation, Patsy? Anything you know could help.” Demon’s voice and my proposal have Patsy straightening her spine.

  She, in turn, ignores Demon and addresses me, “You’d get her back?”

  “Patsy,” Demon shoots me a threatening look as he gets her attention again. “We’ll do everything we possibly can to bring her home but racing off blindly isn’t going to help anyone. Tell us everything you know.”

  “Thank you,” she says, but I notice she’s trembling. “I don’t know much at all. His brother-in-law, Alder, used to be his business partner years back. He said he had a falling out with him, but I don’t believe that’s the truth. He said it was Alder who’d hurt Connor. Oh my God, Connor,” she wails his name as her double loss comes back to her.

  I hold my breath, wondering whether Prez will ease her mind and tell her, her son is alive. In the state she’s in now, I don’t know if that will make anything better or worse, or whether she’d be able to deal with the knowledge rationally. She could rush out and shout his survival to the world, which would cause his death.

  “I’m sorry about your son.” Demon sounds genuinely sympathetic, and he probably is because he’s keeping back information she should know. “But I promise you this. We will get Beth back.”

  She might not know the reason, but Prez has just made a vow. One we’ll keep. For Ink.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ink

  I raise a questioning eyebrow at Sykes seated beside me. He gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Neither he nor I have any idea why the detectives want to talk to me this morning. More of the same, I expect. A repeat of the same line of questioning, wanting to trip me up so the prosecutor can build a strong case.

  I’d spent the night trying to come to terms with the idea I wouldn’t ever have my freedom again, would never watch the pavement rushing past under my wheels, or feel the wind in my face as I rode.

  I thought I’d accepted that the first night but must still have had a kernel of hope. It hadn’t come as a surprise that bail had been denied. Anyone who wears a cut of an outlaw MC can expect no mercy once they’re in the clutches of the law. But for my sanity I’d held onto the notion that I could have some time to ride my bike, and to give Beth a fucking she’d remember forever before I went inside for the best part of my life. That I wasn’t even going to be able to say goodbye properly had hit me hard.

  I’m a hardened biker, a veteran, but last night I’d had to wipe tears from my eyes. If I’d deserved such a punishment, maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to accept. I’m doing it for Beth.

  Does she deserve it?

  Yeah. She does. I might not know the ins and outs of it, but she wouldn’t have been there that night without good reason. I’d already known it in my gut. Demon’s message via Sykes had only confirmed it. I’d feel worse if I was the one on the outside, and she was locked up.

  Have I really claimed her as my old lady? Seems like I have. A small smile curves my lips as I dream about a future I’ll never have with the tall woman who it seems I’ve become fonder of while we’ve been apart. Outside, I’d never have allowed myself to think of a wife and a family. Now I no longer have a chance, that’s all that I want, along with my bike and club, of course. Like I know the Satan’s Devils are the brothers I want to ride with, the only woman I want by my side is Beth.

  But I can’t have her.

  She thinks I hate her. Was I wrong to shut her out? Yes, because I miss her. No, because cutting her out of my life might keep her safe. Might. The rucksack and her connection to it has been going around and around my head.

  My smile which had already slipped disappears completely as the door opens, and two men step inside. Detectives Barker and Hastings.

  I sit back and fold my arms, preparing myself. Have they found more evidence they can twist and use to stitch me up?

  Barker doesn’t look as full of himself as he had two days ago. He sounds tired, when he states, “Fender Childs. What’s your relationship with him, Mr McNeish?”

  “I don’t know the man. Never heard his name before you brought it up last time.” Nope. They’re not going to trip me up and make me contradict myself.

  “Do you know this man?” He slides a photo across the desk.

  I take it and study it, keeping any emotion from my face as my mind whirls fast wondering how much to admit. I decide to go with the truth. “It’s Connor Foster,” I say at last. “I’m pretty certain, though I only met him briefly once that time I went to Beth’s house.” Staring at the photo I realise how similar the siblings are. Same height and same facial features, though Beth’s are softer and more feminine.

  “Was that the man you took the drugs from that night?” Barker asks.

  I stare at the photo again. I have a moment of guilt before I speak next. He might not have been there, but it was his drugs in that bag. He deserves to be locked up far more than me or his sister. “It was dark,” I begin. “I couldn’t see his features. But from the build it’s very likely. How tall is he? The man who was there was almost as tall as me. And slender. But I couldn’t swear to it.”

  Barker looks down at his notes. “Foster is six foot three.”

  “Then quite possibly.”

  “There’s a good chance?” he presses.

  I shrug. “As I said, I didn’t get a look at his face and might not be able to pick him out in a line-up, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

  “But you definitely saw Connor Foster at Ms Foster’s house?”

  “I did.”

  The detectives exchange glances.

  It’s Sykes who makes the suggestion, “If Connor Foster was seen at Ms Foster’s house, then he would have had the opportunity to take Ms Foster’s rucksack.”

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nbsp; They remain impassive, but what he’s said makes sense.

  “Fender Childs has been talking,” Hastings suddenly speaks. “He’s told us he was to pick up a package that had been in the possession of Connor Foster.”

  Fender’s been spilling everything? That’s music to my ears as he has nothing to implicate me or my brothers.

  “I take it you’ve made a plea bargain with him?” Sykes question is also an explanation.

  Again, they make no comment.

  My lawyer, though, speaks, “Have you spoken to Mr Foster?”

  Barker presses his lips together. “Connor Foster is apparently dead. His death certificate, dated last Sunday, came up when we searched for his name.”

  “What?” The question’s surprised out of me. Beth will be in pieces. Anyone would be, even if they were estranged. Losing a blood relative isn’t easy. Her mom will be beside herself. Fuck that I can’t be there to support them and help. “How?”

  “He was beaten and stabbed. Died of his injuries.”

  Briefly I wonder whether the club had had a hand in it but dismiss that fast. If they’d tortured and killed him for a part he played in getting me arrested, no one would ever find his body.

  I suppress a smile at how frustrated these detectives must be. They’ve made a bargain with Fender Childs, but the only person he’s presumably fingered, has turned up dead. I’d laugh if I could get away with it. Then my mental amusement fades. Connor dead? Oh, Beth, you’ve lost so much. All I want to do is be there and hold her. But it’s impossible. Fuck.

  Sykes taps the table. “I can’t see how you’ve got any case against my client. Any jury or judge would agree that it was more likely Connor Foster took the rucksack from his sister’s house. He was the one who brought the bag to the drop, and Mr McNeish’s story holds water. Mr McNeish scared Connor Foster off and was taking the bag and contents to the cops, having made the reasonable assumption that anything being brought to that location on that night was likely to be something the police would be very interested in, the police who I’ll remind you, Mr McNeish was very aware of being close that night.”