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

by Mellett, Manda

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Shayla

  It was like one of those movies yesterday which are comedic and tragic at the same time. The bikers had exited en masse, kidnapped a man for all the right reasons and brought back a stranger who ended up in the last place he wanted to be, the club.

  Mace had been devastated, as broken as I’d ever seen him. On one hand, he’s pleased his friend is alive and looks like he’ll be staying that way, on the other, he’s not his friend anymore. He’s not the man he rode with or shared drinks and, I’ve heard rumours, women with—not that I’ve witnessed that myself. Since I’ve been here, he’s obviously being very discreet about where he gets his needs served or who with.

  I knew Mace would need a friend and thought I had something to offer him. However much I want to hold my own in a man’s world, women and men tend to think differently. Men are about action, wanting to rush and take down their enemies brandishing their swords, while women, not having the superior strength, tend to use their heads and bring a different perspective to things. It’s why the vast majority of murderers are masculine, often crimes in the heat of the moment. Women tend to think twice.

  Men are supposed to keep their emotions locked down. I could tell Mace was upset and needed someone who’d listen while he let his sadness out. I hadn’t missed the moisture in his eyes which betrayed him.

  Mace will be confused and must find it difficult to comprehend the change in his brother and friend. Of course, all his brothers will be feeling the same to some degree. Only Vanna would fully understand how they’re feeling. But each will be suffering in different ways, their primary response being what action they should take, while they all should take a moment to process.

  Ink, I think, will be the next most affected, but he’s got Beth to help him through. Mace, though, who’s he got? No one, except for the club girls and I’m not particularly impressed by them, from what little encounters I’ve had. My gut feel is that if you’re able to live in the physical world not needing any lasting connection with the man you’re fucking, you’re probably lacking on the emotional front yourself, maybe having a lower self-esteem either gained through nature or nurture.

  While I certainly can’t provide to Mace the comfort someone like Tulia or Breezy could, I have something to offer. Just being there, listening, and giving him a safe place to be as sad and down as he wants. Sometimes you have to let the sorrow out, to hit rock bottom before you can climb up and allow grief to overwhelm you as it’s going to do at some point.

  I’d sat with him, listened to him, let him talk it out. Commiserated, but never suggested there was anything wrong with the way he felt.

  That he trusted me to see him at his lowest point hadn’t escaped me.

  And, it was me giving him something back, when all this time I’d been mainly taking.

  Mace is a good man. He’s asked me for nothing.

  Would he want more if I was able to offer it?

  What if I wasn’t damaged beyond repair? What if there is some way out for me, a way back to something akin to the person I was?

  My job at the auto-shop has given me purpose. It has given me a reason to get up every day and feel I’m contributing. When I first started working, I was scared, not so much of Mace, Ink or Pyro, but of the civilians they have working there. But wearing my overalls, with no makeup and my hair pulled up in a messy bun, I’m not so much female as asexual.

  Whether Pyro had had a talk with them or not, no one had made so much as a suggestive comment in my hearing, and as I proved my skills could match theirs, I began to be treated just as a co-worker. It triggered memories that I’d forgotten were there, and soon I found myself as comfortable working at the shop as I had in the job I’d been forced to abandon over a year ago.

  I don’t deal with customers as I’m wary of strangers. I stay in the service area working on the cars and bikes. I jump at loud voices, when someone drops a tool suddenly, or when a door bangs or an engine misfires. But I’m not the only one who has problems. Sid, a mechanic, had gone white one day when thunder boomed right overhead. It didn’t surprise me to learn he’d served overseas, and his reaction was a result of PTSD. It explained why no one had regarded me as an oddity.

  I like my job, like the men I work with. I’m feeling a little more confident each day. Do I still want to move on? No, I don’t. I want to stay here, but should I? That’s the question. At times, I get a tingling sensation as if not all’s right with the world, as if someone’s watching me. As if Major is closing in. He could be casting his net to catch me even now.

  I’ve stayed too long.

  I don’t want to leave.

  I helped carry the load during the past week when Lizard was in the hospital, comfortable enough to continue to go to the auto-shop even without the brothers there. Sid and the other civilians had said nothing, but little gestures, the odd word, told me they had my back. I’d become more convinced than ever that Pyro had spoken to them.

  Between the civilians and I, we kept on top of the urgent jobs, but with three men out, the work was piling up which is why today, Sunday, I’ve come into the shop with Mace to catch up on the backlog.

  “You mind Cas being here with us?”

  “Of course not, Mace. You needn’t ask.”

  “Demon suggested it. He’s sending Vanna to the tattoo parlour for a couple of hours with Vi and wants Cas out of the way too. He thinks if Lizard’s forced to mingle with his brothers, he might get more comfortable around the club. Sure has got some weird thoughts about what we stand for,” Mace explains, but then his lips press together. “I don’t know if it will work. He might retreat without his family as a buffer or never appear in the first place.”

  I don’t respond having no idea how it will go either.

  It’s an hour or so when I hit a snag.

  “This is so darn fussy!” I complain.

  Mace leans over to see what the problem is. “Hey, let me.” Though his fingers are much fatter than mine, he’s still able to reach under the engine and tighten the bolt.

  Swallowing the blow to my pride, I quip at him, “I’m used to working with things you can actually see and get hold of.”

  He smirks and winks. “I can see how large things you can get hold of are better.”

  My mouth drops open, but instead of wanting to put distance between us, I bat his arm at his comment delivered in a suggestive tone and admonish sternly, “Mace.”

  Instead of pushing it, he looks around, calling Cas over. “Want to see how this is done?”

  Cas is turning out to be a quick learner, and Mace a good teacher. I’ve been impressed with how much Cas has picked up. Mace has been showing him how to tune a motorbike engine this morning. It’s involved a lot of joking around, and I’ve enjoyed both their company. I especially enjoyed that of Mace who’s in much better spirits today, and I like to think I was partly responsible for putting that smile back on his face.

  I was a bit taken aback when Mace couldn’t resist showing him how to hotwire the variety of cars that are waiting to be fixed or serviced, not actually doing it, but pointing out where the ignition wires are in each of the different vehicles. My concerns were eased as I also heard him giving Cas a strict lecture that the kid is never to act on the new knowledge he’s gained.

  By the end of the morning, we’ve just about cleared the backlog of work that piled up when they were keeping vigil while Liz was in the hospital, or distracted when he woke up and dismissed them. I’m glad I volunteered to come in and help. I’ve really enjoyed myself and it’s been good spending time with Mace.

  Particularly as there are signs Mace isn’t immune to me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, there have been a couple of times when I’ve noticed Mace pausing whatever he was doing to stare at my ass as I leaned over an engine. It’s weird, but I don’t feel freaked out. Maybe it’s because Cas is here and Mace can’t act inappropriately, or maybe it’s down to Mace himself. Something inside made me f
eel powerful that I could have such an effect on him.

  My old boyfriend Rodger would be way down the scale, maybe a two or three, but as I’d no illusions I’d be more than that myself, I was happy to think we suited each other. Mace, now, he’s more than a ten. He’s off the top end of the scale. His short hair and beard frame a nicely shaped head, his features aren’t delicate or pretty, rugged I suppose, but in my eyes so damn handsome. His arms are muscular, his t-shirt clings to well defined pecs, and his arms are a canvass of colourful tattoos.

  That such a man, who women would probably die to get him just to glance their way, is staring at my ass, and, if I’m not mistaken, has to adjust himself after, is astonishing. Not that he let me get more than a glimpse of that, he’d turned fast and discreetly, his face reddening as though embarrassed. It probably matched the shade of my own cheeks.

  I should be scared.

  It’s Mace. He’d never hurt me.

  As I’m trying to work out if I’m the stupidest woman in the world not to be running a mile at the thought Mace might be attracted to me, and acknowledging I may not be totally immune to him, a phone rings interrupting my thoughts.

  It’s Cas’s. He answers.

  “Yeah, Mom… Okay… Sure, no problem.”

  “You don’t need me anymore, do you Mace?” he asks as he replaces his phone in his pocket. “Mom’s on her way back to the compound, and said she’s going to swing by and pick me up.”

  “No, that’s fine. We’re about done anyway, aren’t we, Shay?”

  I love how he shortens my name. He’s the only one who does. I nod to show my agreement. Cas has been a great help. Apart from Mace teaching him some of the basics, he’s been sweeping and tidying up. Liz should be proud of his son, he needs someone to keep him the right side of the line is all. If he’s pointed in the right direction, I reckon he’ll turn out okay.

  Mace leans against the workbench and folds his arms, his eyes on Cas. “Are you getting on any better with your Dad?”

  Instead of brushing him off, Cas impresses me, as he clearly ponders how to answer his question. His brow furrows, and his lips press together, then he gives a little shrug. “I’d hated that he’d walked out and left when I was a little kid. I couldn’t understand. When Mom had told us he’d forgotten us, I didn’t believe it. How do you forget your damn son? Then I met him and realised it was true.”

  “It must have been so hard.” I take no shame eavesdropping on the conversation, interested to hear the situation from Cas’s side.

  “You, Mace. You and the rest of my uncles,” he gives Mace a quick grin, “well, I may not have had a dad, but I had you. Then Dad came back, but again, he’s a changed man, and wants to take me away from the club and my newfound family. He doesn’t know what to do with a grown-up kid, and he still treats me as though I’m a baby.”

  “It must be difficult for him too,” I observe. “He’s probably trying too hard and overcompensating, getting it wrong when he thinks he’s doing it right. Any dad wants to have a hand in bringing up their kid, but with you, it’s been left too late. You need guidance, not a heavy hand. It’s a bit like Mace, or one of the others, meeting a woman he likes, and she comes along with a teenage son. It’s a big commitment, in many ways more challenging than taking on a baby.”

  Mace gives me a look I can’t interpret, but my attention is quickly back on Cas again.

  He sounds glum. “I’m worried we’ll just butt heads all the time.”

  I chuckle. Sounds like a normal boy of fourteen to me. “Isn’t that always the way at your age, Cas? See, I used to work with a man who had a teenage kid. He used to tell me the usual words out of his son’s mouth were ‘I hate you, Dad’.”

  “She’s right,” Mace tells Cas. “You’re still a kid, but you’re growing into a man. At your age, everyone bucks the rules: screen time when playing games, homework, curfews. Grownups still set the rules for reasons you can’t understand.”

  Cas replies sagely, “I’ve found him at the wrong time, haven’t I? If I was younger, I’d want to do things with my dad, now I’d rather spend time with my friends.”

  “You’ll find things to do with Liz that you both enjoy,” Mace predicts.

  I hope, in time, they’ll find a common interest. Bikes for a start. That’s if, of course, Liz stays with the club.

  “Cas? You here?”

  “Hi Vanna,” Mace calls loudly. “We’re out back.”

  She appears. “Hi Mace. Shayla. Is it okay if I take him now?”

  “Yeah. He’s been a great help. See you later, Cas.” Mace winks at him, then we both watch as they leave.

  “You’re good with him,” I tell him honestly as the sound of the car fades into the distance. “You got any kids of your own?”

  “Fuck no,” he says fast. “I’ve always made fuckin’ sure of that.” He looks around. “Hey, we’re about done here now. Want to go get some lunch? Be a good time to see if you like riding on my bike.”

  I glance down at the latex gloves I wear to protect my fingers from the oil and grime. “I don’t know,” I say, hesitantly, my voice quieter and less certain now Cas has gone.

  “Come on,” he encourages me gently. “I’ll keep you safe, Shay. You might find you love it. We won’t go too far as it’s your first time.”

  It’s that use of my shortened name again, sounding almost like a caress from his lips. Heaven help me, but it just does something to me. Suddenly I grin and meet his eyes, feeling a mischief I haven’t felt in so long as I tease him. “Not all the way, then?”

  He barks a strangled laugh, showing how much my bravado has shocked him.

  Is this where he tells me I’ve read him wrong? That he’s not interested in me that way?

  I’m holding my breath, not actually knowing whether I want him to slap me back down or encourage me.

  I’m not ready.

  I’ll never be.

  Then, with a cocky slant to his head as if knowing he’s trying his luck he suggests, “Maybe first base?”

  First base.

  If he’d indicated more, I’d have fled screaming. But those words suggesting he knows anything would need to start slow make me give consideration to starting this journey. With him. Only with him. A kiss.

  Lips meeting lips. Maybe arms trapping me. What if I run screaming?

  Mace is the type of man I’d have zeroed right in on if I’d met him before.

  Just. A. Kiss.

  A week, a day, an hour ago, I’d never have believed I do anything other than back away.

  What’s changed? Maybe it’s the realisation I’m not totally weak. Not when I have the power to affect this devastatingly handsome man standing in front of me.

  The question is, is he strong where it counts? Does he have command over his desires?

  I could let Major continue to ruin my future, or, I could go for what deep down I want.

  I could trust Mace.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mace

  First base, I’d suggested.

  Too much, too soon?

  I’d got a chubby earlier from just staring at her ass. I think she noticed, yet she’s still here. Maybe she’s not offended, or worse, scared.

  What is she going to say? I wonder, as she looks away, and then toward me again. I read her face carefully. At the first sign of unease, I’ll back away fast.

  She licks her lips. Hardly daring to breathe, I take a step toward her, then another, slowly, like a cat stalking prey, not wanting to scare her away. Placing my fingers under her chin, I use the soft touch to turn her face up. “I like you Shay,” I finally admit. “Not asking for more, but I’d really like to kiss you. That’s if you want that to.”

  “Can I say no?”

  “Of course.” I’m shocked, disappointed. I’d thought I’d been making headway.

  “You wouldn’t push me for more? I don’t want to mislead you, Mace. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready for that.”

  Perhaps it’s not a
no she doesn’t want to kiss me at all, but she’s just testing the waters out?

  “Shay, darlin’. I know what you’ve been through. I know you’ve still got that asshole’s name on your back. I’m so fuckin’ conscious that you never want to feel trapped again.” Seeing I’ve got her attention, I smooth my hand over my beard, while struggling to find the right words to say. “Getting a girl to fuck has never been hard for me. I don’t just mean the club girls who are there for that anyway, but my bike, this cut... Before then, my uniform and people knowing I served.” My shoulders rise, then I let them fall. “Whatever, but I could get a girl who just wanted to experience a bad boy in their bed whenever I wanted it.”

  She bristles. “You’re telling me you expect me to drop my panties for you?”

  “No,” I refute fast, seeing she’s looking like taking a step back. “I’m explaining I’ve never had to work for sex in my life. I know you’re not going to be easy. I know because of everything you’ve been through, I’ve got to go slower than I’ve ever gone before. I accept I might not even get to my destination. Whether I do or not, that’s down to you, babe.”

  “Stop, Mace.” Her head moves side to side. “I don’t know what I want.” Her arms go around her body as she hugs herself. “When I first got out, I never wanted a man to touch me ever again in my whole life, let alone talk about me in possessive tones. I never wanted him to refer to me as ‘mine’, never wanted to be someone’s again.”

  “Shay…”

  “Hear me out?” she pleads. When I nod, she resumes. “For the last few months all I was doing was existing. Trying to keep Esme and myself safe, moving around. Trying to get cash without selling my body. I had no chance to think about me, what I wanted or what my future would look like. Not a good track record is it? Staying with a man who it turns out was an ass, then being stolen by Major.”

  “Not your fault, Shayla.”