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

by Mellett, Manda

  Shayla almost leaps to her feet. “Sure,” she says, stuffing the rest of the cake into her mouth. “Lead the way.”

  I smile after her as she walks off. The happier she is here, the longer, hopefully, she’ll stay.

  Her seat doesn’t stay vacant for long, and soon Ink is sitting opposite me. “Beth’s been roped in for taste testing.”

  “Shayla too,” I tell him.

  “What’s between you and her?” Ink asks. “You looked quite cosy sitting there.”

  “Nothing,” I reply, while admitting to myself I’m starting to wish that there was. “She’s thinking of moving on, and I was trying to persuade her to stay.”

  “Why would you stop her leaving, Mace?” Ink queries, leaning back and stretching out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “If she stays, we’ll need to watch our backs in case Major catches up with her.”

  “If she goes, and he does, she’ll be facing that problem alone. That thought doesn’t sit easy with me.”

  He gives me a long look. “With Beth and I it was sex,” Ink starts. “Instant sexual attraction. I denied it was more than that, of course, but once I had her, I knew I didn’t want anyone else.”

  My brow furrows as I wonder where he’s going with this.

  “You and Shayla? You’re friends first, aren’t you?”

  “Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “Yeah, I’m friendly with her. She needs someone in her corner.” I think how she told me about the asshole of her ex. “You know me, Ink. I’m not a one-woman man. And one thing’s for certain, Shayla needs someone to be there for her. She’s not out for a fling, or anything for that matter. The last thing she needs is a man who’ll fuck her and leave her, and what more have I to offer than that?”

  He laughs. “Not so long ago, I was saying exactly the same thing, Mace. And you know what? The more I protested, the harder I fought, the deeper I fell.”

  I’m not falling for Shayla. I’d like to fuck her, yes. Especially now her figure’s getting more rounded as she’s putting on weight—probably from taste testing everything Mel bakes. But to take her as my old lady? To take anyone as my partner? No. Simply not going to happen. No way.

  I tell him precisely that.

  Ink, the bastard leatherneck just laughs. “We’ll see, fucker.” He’s looking over my shoulder.

  I’ve served, I’ve learned how to stay alive, so I’m aware that someone is approaching behind me. A heady perfume meets my nostrils, so I don’t jump when arms circle my neck, and the smooth soft skin of a female cheek settles close to my ear.

  “Want some fun?”

  I don’t have to turn around to know who’s there. I unwrap her arms, firmly pushing them down and away. “Not now, Tulia.”

  Ink raises his eyebrow and smirks.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lizard

  The Advil had finally kicked in and the headache had soon receded to a dull ache. I’d felt exhausted though, like I often do after one of the attacks hit. Although I hadn’t seen the need to keep up with my scheduled appointments, now I’m beginning to accept I have to talk to someone about these sudden blasts of pain. Heaven forbid one should hit when I’m out on my bike.

  I get checks because of the blow I’d received to my head. They always follow the same pattern, every appointment going the same way. Seems the doctors still want to prod me and probe, but I can’t see the point.

  Got any memories back?

  No. I know there are a few things I don’t remember, but as long as I don’t forget the important shit, I’m no longer bothered.

  Any problems?

  No. As long as I can live, ride, fuck, and do my job, I’m happy and content.

  See you next year.

  That’s why I stopped going.

  Although I didn’t think I had a problem with my sight, I had banked on being prescribed glasses which might stop these headaches. But no, my eyes are apparently better than fine. Although, like the vast majority of people, I’ll probably need help to see well in time, but there are no signs of degradation now.

  Having to acknowledge I’m getting more head pain than a woman PMSing, it’s time, as I admitted to Mace, to get myself seen.

  Especially as it’s fucking with my life. It’s Saturday night, and I’ve gone to bed early missing the party. This is not me.

  Sleep comes easily.

  But then I wake, dripping with sweat with the bedsheets twisted around me. I scramble for the details of the dream I just had, but as normal, they evade me.

  Rolling onto my back, I reach out my hand to the left side of my bed. It’s empty, not even warm to show someone had been there.

  Why should there be? Placing my hands under my head, I give myself a mental shake. Christ, maybe the dream I can’t remember is still fixed in my brain.

  I close my eyes.

  I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC and have done for the past ten years. I’m twenty-six years old, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. I’m leaving on another fucking tour, and I’ve got a bad feeling about it inside me.

  What the fuck?

  This time, I do shake my head. I’m thirty-eight for fuck’s sake. I get out of bed and pull on my jeans, then stretch my hands over my head.

  I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC and have done for the past ten years. I’m thirty-eight years old, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m a tattoo artist and I run Devil’s Ink on behalf of my brothers. I’ve no ties, no family and intend to stay that way.

  There. That’s right. I’m going on a tour…

  No, no. Again, I shake my head. That’s not right.

  Entering the bathroom, I stand in front of the toilet bowl. Fuck. Left the seat up again. She’s going to be mad at me.

  Who?

  I feel a cold chill go through me, and again physically try to shake it off, while raising my eyes to look into the mirror. My lips curve. Not my hair or eye colour, but my nose, my mouth. That’s what my baby boy inherited from me. Christ, I’m going to miss them when I’m overseas…

  Baby? What the fuck? And I’m going fucking nowhere. I’m right where I belong. What fucking dream has gotten hold of me?

  I finish my piss, automatically tug my dick back into my pants, but I can’t drag my eyes away from the reflection of my face. But it’s not my face that I see. It’s younger, red hair and green eyes, but the features are mine.

  The features are mine.

  The features are mine.

  I’m seeing red hair.

  The features are mine.

  The eyes are green.

  My baby boy’s eyes were green.

  My head starts to pound.

  The image in front of me shimmers. The hair colour morphs from dirty blond to red. Hazel eyes turn to green.

  I close my eyes. Cas. Castiel.

  No. No. No, no, no, no, no. I was twenty-six when I went on tour. My boy was two.

  I’ve got no kids. No. No way.

  I was twenty-four on my last tour.

  Cas is not related to me.

  And Vanna? She’s not my type…

  Vanna. She’s not my type. Not my type. Not my type…

  I hear a keening sound that seems to be coming from me. My head explodes with pain, agony so great I can barely see. I stagger back into my room, grab my cut and take out the bottle of Advil. It’s fucking empty.

  I launch myself toward the door, weaving like a drunk, slamming into the wood as though my limbs don’t belong to me.

  Mace. Mace will get me something for my head. He’s in the next room. All I’ve got to do is open the door, take a few steps, and he’ll get me some relief.

  Fuck, but this is the worst one yet.

  I open the door, take the first step, then crash into the wall, dropping to my knees, my hands cradling my head.

  “Help,” I cry weakly.

  “Who the fuck’s crashing
around this time on a… Liz?”

  For Christ’s sake stop! Someone is banging on a door, each thump slamming into my head.

  “Liz? For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong, Lizard?”

  “Cas…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mace

  Who the fuck is crashing around this time of the morning?

  I smile as I hear Judge’s voice. It’s not just me they’ve woken up. Judge will sort it. I turn over, plump my pillow, and close my eyes. I’m going back to sleep.

  But apparently, I’m not as a loud banging on my door sounds. “What the fuck now?” I grumble to myself, knowing the enforcer side of me is going to come out if I’m being disturbed just because someone’s had too much to drink.

  I open my door and immediately spy my brother on his knees.

  “Liz? For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong, Lizard?”

  “Cas…”

  Then he’s flat on the floor.

  “Liz? Come on, Brother. Wake up. You lay one on last night?”

  “He went to bed early, Mace.” Sparky, also disturbed it seems, informs me as he comes up hastily buttoning his pants. “He could have had a bottle in his room, but I didn’t see him drink.”

  Leaning down I smell his breath, I get the odour of body sweat, but no alcohol.

  “Liz?” I give his shoulder a gentle shake. “Liz, Bro, you’re worrying me. Wake the fuck up.” Then I shout to no one in particular, “Get Rusty.”

  Only minutes later when Liz still hasn’t stirred, Rusty appears, his fingers scratching at the ginger hairs covering his bare chest. “What’s up with him?” he says through a wide yawn.

  “Don’t know. Just found him like this.”

  “Drunk?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  As Rusty folds to his knees, creaking sounds coming as he does so, I watch as he checks Lizard’s pulse, then gently raises his eyelids.

  “I don’t like this, Mace,” he admits, his worried eyes rising to meet mine. “Think we need to call a bus.”

  “Can we take him?”

  Rusty shakes his head. “The faster the paramedics are here the better. Hell, if he’s not passed out drunk, fuck knows what could have happened. His pulse is erratic, could be a heart attack or a stroke for all I can tell.”

  Sparky is already on his phone calling nine-one-one. He’s relating what Rusty has just said.

  “Brother, hang in there,” I’m crouched down again. I take Lizard’s hand, it seems cold. It’s only then I remember what he had said. Cas. Or had he? Had he been trying to say something else? Perhaps he’d been trying to tell me he can’t breathe or something. Maybe I just imagined he’d said his son’s name. Wishful thinking perhaps.

  Or had he remembered, and the shock had been so severe as to have such drastic results? Fuck, I hope not. It would have been my fault allowing Vanna to bring Cas here.

  The sound of sirens is a welcome relief, especially when the sound is cut off as it means help is here.

  Beaver ushers the paramedics up the stairs.

  “Stand back,” one speaks authoritatively.

  Looking around, I spy all of the brothers who live here are now out of their rooms and gathered around. Getting up, I enforce the medic’s instructions. “Give them some fuckin’ space.”

  “Has he been drinking?”

  “We don’t think so,” I answer the medic. “Could have, but I’d say no.”

  “He was on his knees, then just collapsed,” says Judge.

  “Pulse is weak and erratic,” Rusty observes.

  The medics check everything for themselves. It’s no surprise when they decide to take him in. I remember just as they’re putting Liz onto a stretcher.

  “He’s been getting severe headaches. They’ve increased in frequency lately. Oh, and he was invalided out of the Marines as he suffered a severe brain injury from being too close to an explosion. He lost parts of his memory which have never returned.”

  They’re clearly wasting no time. Neither am I. As they take Lizard away, I’m back in my room pulling on a shirt and my cut then my boots and picking up keys, using my fingers to comb down my hair. I’m not the only one to have gotten hastily dressed and headed down the stairs and out through the main door. There’s a lot of company with me as I run for my bike.

  Lizard, you old fucker. You’re going to be alright. He’s got to be. He’s still young, got a good life ahead of him. All he’s got to do now is wake up and live it.

  The waiting area becomes more and more crowded, and in the end the hospital personnel moves us all to a room where we can wait in private. Before an hour’s gone by, even the brothers and old ladies who live off-compound have turned up.

  Demon’s pacing left to right. Frustrated that he’s a man down and he doesn’t know why. He comes to a halt in front of me, a fist slamming into his palm.

  “If someone had taken a shot at him, I’d be after that fucker now. Feel so damn helpless, Mace. His body has turned against him.”

  Beef comes over to join us. “Should Vanna be here?” He glances around presumably to check no one overheard his quietly spoken words.

  “No,” Demon answers him. “We’ve not been told anything. He might have already woken up and be chasing the nurses by now. Bring her here and we’d have to explain their relationship.”

  “Family of Norton James?” A male nurse has appeared by the door. When everyone stands, he scans all our faces. “The doctor would like to talk to someone about the headaches Mr James has been getting.”

  “I will.” I step forward, liking to think I know my brother more than most.

  “Is there any news?” Demon physically moves me to one side.

  “I’m sorry, no. Mr James is still unconscious.”

  So much for chasing the nurses. I give Demon a nod, then slide around him and follow the nurse.

  I’m shown into the emergency bay where they’re treating Lizard. He’s hooked up to machines and looks so damn pale. For a moment, I just stand staring, suppressing the impulse to shake the doctor and tell him to fucking wake him up. To do anything to get his eyes to open and his mouth to start working. But Lizard stays asleep, and the only sound is that fucking machine beeping.

  “Thank you for coming back here Mr…”

  “Grey,” I supply. “Fox Grey. But I’m known as Mace.”

  “Mace you prefer, I take it?”

  I don’t care what he fucking calls me as long as he tells me Liz is going to be okay.

  “Someone, you perhaps, told the paramedics that Mr James has been getting headaches. Were these unusual for him?”

  “Yes. Oh, he’d occasionally lay one on and get a hangover like we all do, but then he started complaining of headaches at odd times during the day. They’ve been getting worse and increasing in frequency. He got his eyes tested as he’s a tattoo artist and uses them a lot, but his sight is okay.”

  “When did the headaches start?”

  I think back. “Five, six months ago? I can’t really pinpoint it. Maybe before that, but I didn’t notice. Oh, and he had a traumatic brain injury about twelve years back. When he served.”

  “Yes, I’ve got his medical and TBI records. Had anything happened to start the headaches off? Did he come off his bike? Knock his head at all? Get into a fight and receive a blow?”

  “No.” I don’t even have to think about it. “He hasn’t come off his bike, and he’s not been fighting.” If our gym had been up and running there could have been a chance, but as it is, we’ve nowhere to spar. “He might have had a friendly slap around the head, but nothing serious. Oh, but that injury he had. He lost his memory.”

  “That was also noted in his records. His short-term memory improved I see, but there’s a big gap in his life. Has that started to come back at all?”

  I’m unsure whether it’s worthwhile mentioning, but I do anyway. Anything must be a help. So, I tell him about Vanna and Cas, and that for the past two weekends, they’ve visited the clubhouse. But as
the doctor says, his headaches started long before that, and in his view, those are the symptoms he should be worrying about.

  “MRI’s free now, Doctor Hollister.”

  “Let’s take him down. Can you find your way back to the waiting room?”

  I say I can.

  “Oh,” he stops me as they’re transferring the portable monitoring equipment to his gurney. “If this woman is his wife, perhaps she should be here?”

  “They’ve lived apart for more than ten years, Doc. No divorce, but only a couple of my brothers know what she is to him. When Liz comes around, he’ll think it’s an invasion of his privacy if she was informed and his past that he can’t remember comes out. It was his therapist’s advice that they live separately.”

  His eyes widen at that. “His official next of kin is listed as one David Black.”

  I nod. It would be. “That’s our Prez.”

  “He’s here?”

  Again, I nod, then step aside so they can take Lizard away. As I watch him being wheeled down the corridor, I wish I believed in some sort of deity so I could offer up a prayer. I don’t. I just hope his time to meet Satan hasn’t yet arrived.

  “He’s gone for an MRI.” I update everyone as soon as I enter the room they’re in. “Hopefully we’ll know more after that.”

  “Why wasn’t that the first thing they did?” Cad snaps.

  I shrug. I don’t know. But maybe he had to wait his turn or be stabilised or some such shit.

  “Man, this is bad. Never thought anything could stop that man.”

  I nod at Wills. Lizard has always been active and healthy, his ability to shake off a cold is renowned. To see someone like him brought low affects us all. But now I know about the blow to the head and the severity of it, I’m wondering if my brother was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode.

  Did any of us cause it? I’d told the doctor the truth about him not having any serious bangs to the head, though I’d cuffed him on the ear myself a couple of times. But hell, some of the things he comes out with, he deserves it. Could a jesting blow have caused him to collapse? Christ, I fucking hope not.