Grumbler's Ride: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #2

by Manda Mellett

  Lost considers for a moment, his head bowed and his fingers pinching the brow of his nose. “It’s quiet, but he might be there. We’ll proceed as though there’s someone home, and if not, well, we stake it out. Either way, we’re close to him now.”

  “We pick the locks then,” Dart observes. “No outward sign that someone is waiting.”

  Token is fiddling with the controls and after a short while, the drone returns. Picking it up and putting it under his arm, he raises his chin. “I’m gonna need to get in the truck for a moment. See what info I can call up on the security system he has. I’ll try and disable it remotely.”

  Token disappears. I shift impatiently while I’m waiting. To pass the time, I take a few steps away from the others and light a cigarette. By the time it’s burned down to the filter and I’m stubbing it out on my boot, carefully pocketing the evidence, Token walks back to our group.

  “I think that’s it,” he informs us. “But just in case, I’ll have my jammer at hand.” I note he’s carrying a small device.

  Dart and Lost have been re-examining the drone footage saved on Token’s phone. Lost comes to a decision. “We’ll go in the truck,” he starts. “Connor will pull up outside the front. Salem, Dart and Pennywise—when we stop, you get out via the back doors and make your way around the back of the house. There’s some shrubbery you can use for cover. Once you’re clear, I’ll take one of the boxes of spares in the van, and pretend I’m making a delivery. If he comes to the front door, we’ll take him. If not, Token will get us in. All clear?”

  All fucking clear. Chins are raised in acknowledgement.

  “I’ve got my lock picking shit. Just give me the heads-up and I’ll get us in from the rear.” Salem pats his pocket.

  “If we can, we’ll just come back and open the door,” the VP states.

  Taking off our cuts, we squeeze into the cage, the enforcer and the others getting into the cargo bay. Lost indicates that Connor should move to the rear passenger seat so if Devon’s at home, he’ll only see Lost driving the truck. Connor takes the middle seat, I sit one side, and Token the other. It’s not particularly comfortable, but there’s only a short way to go.

  When Lost pulls away, it’s hard to keep my leg from bouncing in anticipation. I’m so close, I can almost smell Devon’s blood on my hands. If I get my hands on his scrawny neck, it will take a lot to persuade me to loosen them. Owen might have been the one to seduce Alicia, but it was at Devon’s command.

  My body stills as we drive up the street. There’s a man out washing his car, but he doesn’t give the truck more than a cursory look. Devon’s house is further along. Most of the houses have privacy fencing or shrubbery, so luckily, we can approach virtually unseen. Lost makes as though he’s turning the truck with two results. One, is that the truck is out of sight of the road, the other is that the back doors are close to the camouflage that the three who’ll be heading to the rear can use.

  When the engine stops, Lost gives the prospect his instructions over his shoulder. “Wait here until we’re inside. Then get back to the bikes and wait.” Prez then gets out and goes to the back door of the truck, whistling as he walks unhurried.

  The building is more impressive when seen in the flesh and not on a smartphone screen. Rage rises within me, thinking how Devon’s built his empire on ill-gotten gains. My thousand dollars pales into insignificance.

  Token whispers as though he can read my mind. “He didn’t get this from cheating models.”

  Lost has got the rear doors open now and is reaching inside taking out a box then replacing it as though checking for the right package. This gives Salem, Pennywise and Dart time to ease out and begin to sidle around the boundary, using what shrubs they can to reach the back of the house unseen.

  When they’re out of sight, the prez steps up to the front door of the house, package in hand. He rings the doorbell, then respectfully steps back and waits. It doesn’t matter if Devon looks out of the peephole, he’ll have never seen Lost before.

  I’m holding my breath as I wait for the man who I haven’t seen for weeks open the door. But as time stretches out, it’s obvious no one’s coming.

  Prez turns, waves his hand, and Token exits the truck and goes to join him. I, too, ease myself out, and then wait as Token works his magic, knowing if the alarm system goes off, we’ll have to make a quick getaway.

  My concern was for nothing, it all goes to plan. Token has the door open in seconds, then steps inside. Again I stop breathing, wondering if alarm bells are going to blare out. But luck, or rather Token’s skills, are on our side. It’s only seconds later that Lost is turning and beckoning for me to join them.

  Leaning back into the truck, I instruct Connor, “Go kid.”

  “We’re in,” he tells Salem using the Bluetooth connection. Then to us, Lost instructs, “Check this fuckin’ place is empty.”

  The three of us fan out. There’s no hiding place in the large open plan living area, and in the kitchen, the coffee pot feels cold to the touch, as does the stove. Seems like Devon is an early riser and has long left.

  I then check out the study, carefully looking for any sign of a panic room, but I find nothing. By the time I’ve inspected the bathroom and half bath on this floor, I’m content I missed no one.

  Returning to the living area, I find Lost, and then watch Token come down the stairs. “No one’s home,” he announces.

  “Grumbler’s coming to let you in.”

  I dip my chin but pause before going to open the door for the others. “There’s a computer in the study,” I inform Token, who looks like a kid on Christmas day.

  “Now we might get fuckin’ somewhere,” he states, grinning.

  It takes a matter of seconds to open the back door, and let Dart, Salem and Pennywise in. When I return to the study, it’s in time to see Token opening a small bag he brought into the house. I assumed it was just carrying the jammer, but it appears to hold other stuff as well. One item he brings out is his laptop.

  Having booted up the PC, I’d be stumped at the login password, but Token’s hands fly over the laptop keys, and plugs a small device into one of the USB slots. Within moments, the home screen awakens.

  “Bingo,” Token announces. “I’m in.”

  With his fingers flying fast, Token goes through the files on the PC. He talks as he works. “Okay, as I suspected. There are pictures from his photo shoots all in various galleries. They look kosher to me.”

  Apart from the little fact his models don’t get paid, of course.

  Dart leans in to look. He’s alone, Pennywise and Salem have taken up position close to the front door to warn us of any approach.

  “Contracts for photo usage and model release forms are all here,” Token continues. “No videos though. They must be buried under some secure levels. Possibly not even held locally.” Token tries again, following searches on the PC, tracing fuck knows what.

  He sighs, shakes his head, clenches his jaw, but the PC won’t give up any secrets. “Jesus H Christ. It’s got to be here somewhere. Maybe it’s obvious…” Token clicks on a program, and video editing software appears. “Jackpot,” he says softly, his eyes intent on the screen.

  “Alicia?” I try to see over his shoulder. It’s not footage of her and Owen. It’s far, far worse.

  “Fucker must still be editing this. He hasn’t deleted it from the PC yet.” Token touches another key, and the video starts playing.

  “I want my mommy,” the child, who’s little more than a toddler, wails.

  The man with her laughs. “Your mommy doesn’t want you, kid. But now you’ve got a new daddy. Call me daddy, yeah?”

  The toddler does nothing but cry.

  “Daddy’s going to give you a bath. You want to get all clean, don’t you?” The man roughly overpowers the little girl and despite her protests and wriggling, removes her clothes. “You’ve got to be nice to your new daddy.”

  “He’s dead. So fuckin’ dead,” Lost pronounces. H
e covers his eyes with his hands, then, manfully, looks back.

  Me? I turn away, my stomach revolting.

  “Oh God, no.” I don’t need to, can’t look at this. Token’s commentary is bad enough. “He’s got his dick out. He’s—”

  “You really need to watch that, Token?” the VP sounds in the same amount of distress as me.

  Token clicks a key and minimises the window. “I feel I have to man, but you don’t.” He puts headphones on. “Leave me be, okay?”

  Lost places a hand on his shoulder, and Dart and I follow him away.

  Out of sight of the PC, Prez shudders. “I want to bleach my eyeballs just from the little I’ve seen.”

  “We need to shut him down,” the VP states. “Christ knows where he got that kid from. Surely, someone, somewhere is missing her.”

  “Could be the parents are involved,” I suggest. “Twisted fucks selling their daughter.”

  “But we know Devon doesn’t like to pay,” Lost points out.

  Suddenly, I hear a chair moving so fast it falls over. Token rushes past, and I hear him being violently ill in the bathroom I’d inspected earlier. Hardening my resolve, I stride back to the PC, but all it’s showing is an innocuous scenic image.

  When Token returns, the back of his hand wiping his mouth, he informs us in a harsh, disbelieving whisper, “He raped her. She was… she was hurt bad, Prez.”

  Jesus. I stop breathing. Then when my lungs can do without air no longer, I inhale, and say, my voice almost unrecognisable, “That kid?” I don’t need his confirmation. It leads me to say the words I don’t often utter, “We’ve got to get the cops involved.”

  Prez, white as a fucking sheet, considers for a moment. “I think we go one better.” He pulls his phone out of his cut, selects a number then calls it.

  “Snatcher? I think we’ve got one for you.” He explains what we’ve found in gory details that I hope never to remember while only too well aware it’s going to haunt my nightmares for nights.

  Lost updates the Utah prez on what we’ve just found, adding, “Token thinks it’s recent footage he’s editing. Can’t find anything else. Maybe he only keeps it locally until the final product is done. Yeah, I’ll pass you over.” He hands the phone to Token.

  “Brother? Yeah. Here’s what I got.” Returning to the computer, Token gives Snatcher the location, and the computer’s IP address and various other technical details which go over my head. He finishes up with, “Yeah, Swift, you’ve got remote access.”

  “Swift?” I ask.

  “Yeah, Snatcher pulled her in to discuss the technical shit.”

  “You called her brother,” Dart remarks.

  Token shrugs. “Don’t know what else to call her. Sister doesn’t work. From the little she said, she knows her fuckin’ shit, and Utah has the resources.” He grimaces and waves his hand toward the PC. “This shit must stop. Fuck, Lost.” His eyes fill with distress. “I’ve never seen anything like this. That kid…”

  I won’t be the only one having nightmares, that’s for sure.

  I stomp to the window. I thought I was looking for Devon because he hadn’t paid me what I was due. Then, it was to avenge Alicia and that fucking asshole Owen who’d filmed her and destroy what in comparison to what we just found was a fairly innocuous video. Now we’ve fallen in deeper and have found kiddie porn of the worse possible type. Have we reached the depths of his depravity now, or is there more to discover? One thing I’m grateful for, I didn’t have to watch it play out. Did the kid even survive? From what Token said, maybe not unless they got her medical attention. Motherfucker!

  What sick fuck gets their kicks watching shit like that? What even sicker fuck gets a kid to call him daddy while he’s molesting her?

  My hands bunch at my sides. They are all dead.

  “Now we know how Devon affords this house,” Lost states grimly. “Nothing remotely legal about that footage. Now it makes sense there’s a subscription service somewhere where equally sick fuckers pay a fortune to watch it.”

  I kick at a table so hard, the leg splinters. “We wait for him to come home,” I growl. “This is that fucker’s last day of living.”

  “I want to take that PC back to the compound,” Token exclaims.

  Prez’s narrowed eyes show he’s not convinced. “Are you likely to find anything more?”

  Token purses his lips. “I might.”

  “Utah’s got access,” I remind him.

  “It’s not a good idea, Token.” Prez fixes him with his eyes. “We still might have to get the cops or the feds involved in this. What are they going to say if the most incriminating piece of evidence is removed?”

  Token tugs at the latex gloves he had used on the keyboard. His shrug shows he’s conceded the point. “I’ll give myself remote access too. If Swift turns nothing up, I’ll take another look.” He cheers up and goes to sit in front of the screen again.

  Prez calls out for Salem to join us, then leads him, me and Dart into the kitchen. He props himself up against the countertop and folds his arms. “Fuck knows when Devon could come home. Maybe soon, maybe tonight. Maybe he’s gone filming outside the state. I think we should get back to the compound. We’ll leave Pennywise and Connor here.”

  I’m happy with that. All I know is that I want some fresh air. Something to clear my head of what I’ve just seen. It was like all the evil in the world coalesced into a short half hour of film. No matter how many times I shower, I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Grumbler

  Back at the compound, Prez calls everyone into church and quickly gives an update on what we found in Devon’s house. The mood grows steadily darker, sombre as he speaks.

  Sure we’re all men, and none of us could deny having jerked ourselves off sitting in front of a television screen watching porn stars getting it on in front of our eyes. Hell, most nights, we’re subject to a live show in the clubroom.

  As far as I’m aware, anything I’ve watched before has been consensual. I’d even once met an actress who starred in a few of my favourite spank bank shows, describing herself as on the path to a successful showbiz career. From her I knew some of the porn stars could make their fortunes and be revered wherever they go. Though also, that many more would be spat out and left adrift, at least when their looks faded, or their outlook on sex became jaded, and they just couldn’t pretend to perform for the camera anymore.

  I have never, ever, watched anything depraved, shying away from anything non-consensual or bestial. Sure, I knew it was there, just never wanted to go looking. As for kids? Hell to the no. Looking around the table, I note the men I ride with seem to be of the same view.

  “Caught Snake playing with his dongle in front of some questionable shit once.” Bones looks around. “But even he wouldn’t sink that low.”

  “Kids, man, that’s twisted.” Keeper looks pale. “You think Owen knows?”

  “I think I fuckin’ want to ask him,” I growl. “Perhaps give him more of an incentive to come clean about anything else he might have knowledge about.”

  “If he knows anything else, I’ll make sure he doesn’t keep it to himself.” Salem catches my eye. “Now we know what we know, we can dig deeper.”

  Deuce snorts. “He’s not going to admit to any kiddie fiddling. He has to know that’s his death warrant for sure.”

  Token looks toward Deuce, then it seems like a light bulb’s gone off. “I reckon he’s got to know more about the site and the login details. Vain fucker like that would want to know how good his ass was looking.”

  Token might be right, but I’m not so certain. Something like that would be a tightly guarded secret. Would Devon trust Owen with something that could put him inside for a very long time?

  “If he does, I’ll find out,” Salem promises. “Knew there was a reason we left him breathing.”

  “Grumbler? Get Wrangler to go take Niran’s place watching your woman. He’ll want to be in on this.
I don’t want her and the girl unprotected while Devon’s on the loose.”

  I agree one hundred percent, but I brought his ride back to the compound. “Niran will need to ride the prospect’s bike,” I tell Lost, to a chorus of sniggers. Yeah, Wrangler’s ride is a work in progress to put it politely. It needs a full paint job to get the tank and fenders to match, and that’s just for starters.

  Prez, himself, gives a quick grin, then grows serious. “He’ll take a moment to get here. He can catch up on the proceedings when he arrives.” He takes in a deep breath as though he’s mentally preparing himself. “Okay. No point wasting time. Let’s go talk to the fucker again.”

  To say Owen looks sorry for himself is an understatement. Curtis, now the only prospect guarding him—he certainly doesn’t need more—is idly flicking through a bike parts book as the strung-up man seems to give off almost constant low-level groans. His limp dick still offends me just as much as it had earlier on today, but I can’t summon up one ounce of sympathy, particularly now we’ve got evidence of some other games he might like to play.

  He doesn’t even seem to be aware that we’ve walked in on him.

  Salem jerks his chin toward me, and I walk up and kick one of Owen’s legs from under him. The chains rattle and pull at his arms as he tries to find purchase with his feet again. When he gets his balance, he opens red raw eyes and squints at me.

  “Please… please. Let me go.”

  “Not yet.” I phrase my words so he can find a glimmer of hope in them, even though I know the only release he’s going to find is death. The answers to my questions will determine the level of pain that will entail.

  Pulling over a wooden chair, I rest my foot on the seat and fold my arms over the back. “Tell me again about the kind of home movies you star in Owen?”

  “Some soft porn. Some like with Alicia.”

  Shaking my head, I let him know I’m not satisfied. “Not a fuckin’ chance of releasing you unless you give me more, Owen.”

  “We’ve got Devon’s PC,” Token puts in, winking out of Owen’s sight.