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

by Manda Mellett

  The newest members, Deuce, Reboot, Keeper and Niran seem almost bored by the vote. Dusty and Bones taking it more seriously, knowing that bringing in any outsider could be a risk. At last, the vote comes around to Salem.

  The enforcer raises his hand. “I want to know if Grumbler’s fucked her. If he’s not as yet, then this might be a waste of our time.”

  Seriously? I mouth at him.

  “Good point that.” Pennywise backs up his friend.

  “Unless the old man can’t get it up,” Kink suggests, his eyes filling with sympathy. “You need to get your script for Viagra filled?”

  I can take quite a lot, but this hits so close to home that I snap. “Don’t need fuckin’ Viagra. My dick works great as it happens. It’s in good working order.” Too good, I think to myself.

  Lost wipes his hand over his face and sighs. “Let’s do this another way. Any valid objections? No. Right.” He bangs the gavel. “You’re cleared to give your patch to your ol’ lady, Sergeant-at-arms.”

  I give a sharp nod, wondering how I, a long-confirmed bachelor, who thought I’d be that way when I died, had picked up a woman I wanted to live with for the rest of my life. I’m still wondering if it’s a lingering effect of the accident I’d had, when there’s a knock at the door and, after Lost calls out permission to enter. It’s opened.

  All heads point in that direction. Expressions are varied—some welcoming, some not so, some downright curious. It doesn’t help when the woman striding in is holding a leash, on the end of which is a black spaniel dog.

  “Oh Jeez.” Brakes rolls his eyes. “She’s brought a fuckin’ lap dog.”

  “Hey, where’s your ol’ man?” This comes from Dusty. “Road okay with letting you out without him?”

  The man who’d entered, who I deduce is Bolt, stiffens and raises an eyebrow at Swift. She reaches down and murmurs something to him, causing a wide grin to appear on his face.

  Then, they wait, until Lost directs them to the seats waiting for them.

  Swift pulls out her chair and points down to the dog getting settled at her feet. “This is Apollo, well, everyone calls him App. He’s my hearing aid dog. You okay with having him here, Prez?” Her brow rises in challenge.

  “App?” Scribe queries.

  The other newcomer Bolt chuckles. “You know us tech guys. We’ve got an app for everything. Just so happens Apollo’s her hearing app.”

  “You’re fuckin’ deaf? Can. You. Hear. Me?” Brakes asks.

  Swift rolls her eyes. “Perfectly. As long as you don’t all talk over each other. You know, you show your good manners like your mummas taught you.”

  “Where you from?” Pennywise asks. “Picking up on an accent, here.”

  “England.”

  “Well,” Bones drawls, “if you enunciate clearly, we might just be able to understand you.”

  Prez bangs the gavel. He bangs it hard three times to get everyone to settle. “Thank you for coming to help.” He emphasises the last word with a glare at the San Diego members.

  “How’s Road settling in?” the VP asks.

  “Good.” Swift nods at Dart. “Getting up to speed fast. He’s on a mission right now, which is why we had to fly commercial. Preacher’s taken the plane for that.”

  “While we’re talking about old friends…” Salem’s voice is hard. “What about our dear friend, Stormy?”

  If I thought Salem’s face had gone hard, Swift’s becomes even colder. “Dead, if he knows what’s good for him. But if you’re asking if we’ve heard anything of him, we have not.”

  Salem’s not going to let it drop. “You’re here as fuckin’ experts in technology. What fuckin’ good are you, if you can’t find one of your own?”

  It’s Bolt who answers this time. “Yes, we’re experts, but so is Stormy. He knows ways of disappearing, reinventing himself so he could never be found.” Both of his hands fist on the table in front of him. “Nothing concrete, but my gut feel is he’s gotten himself out of the country.”

  “Fuckin’ coward,” Pennywise remarks.

  Swift actually gives him a chin lift, but Bolt shakes his head. “He’ll come back and take his punishment. The way I see it, the man’s got issues. Maybe he’s putting those to bed first.”

  I glance at Prez. So far, they’re saying nothing more than we knew from the reports he’s passed us from Snatcher. But do we believe them? I’m not sure. Could Stormy even now be hidden by the Utah club?

  Token looks grim. “To be honest, this is one situation where I had hoped that Stormy could magically take over my PC and give me all the answers. So far, I’ve got shit, and I don’t like it one bit.”

  He’s complaining about the time when he was trying to solve the mystery surrounding Lost’s old lady. Someone had planted pop-ups and messages direct to his monitor. At the time, he never knew who sent them and it annoyed him immensely. But truth be told, had Stormy not contacted him, we would never have known Patsy needed protecting.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Grumbler

  I notice Swift doesn’t squirm or look embarrassed, she just acknowledges Token’s comment, and then looks down the table at the prez.

  “We’ve found out some shit. Shit that you need to hear personally. That’s why we’re here.” She nods at Bolt who reaches into the bag he’d brought in with him.

  As he does, all of us stiffen, and a few hands go to rest on guns in their holsters. Trust only goes so far with Utah. The last thing we want is for him to produce an AR-15.

  Swift notices and grins. “Easy, he’s just getting our laptops. If we wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t need weapons.”

  “Fighting talk,” Salem drawls lazily. He points at Swift. “Heard about you. How about you showing me what you got in the ring later?”

  Bolt’s eyes go to the enforcer sharply, then he shakes his head. “If I were you, I’d take that back, Brother.”

  Salem bristles. “I can take the both of you on.”

  Lost bangs the gavel and glares at Salem. “What have you found?” he asks, directing his question to the end of the table, getting us back on track.

  Swift grimaces. “Grumbler?” She knows I’m the sergeant-at-arms, so picks me out of the lineup. I raise my chin to show she’s got the right man. “What your girl got herself into is a whole heap of stinking dung. Devon Starr, or Ad Wilson or any of his other identities is small fry in a very large and very disgusting pool.”

  Bolt, who now has his laptop open, takes over. “You all know about hard porn, hell, probably have watched some of that shit. Subscription only channels, but they’re there to find if you want in. But underneath that is another level of hell. Token?” Our own tech guy nods when he hears his name. “Your members educated on the deep and dark webs?”

  In case we’re not, Token reminds us. “Websites on the internet are searchable by easily remembered website addresses. We see the names, the computer directs you to the IP address of the domains. Easily found if you know the right search terms. Underneath that is the deep web where no one can go without knowing the IP address first. That’s where your bank, or a company will store their customer or business details.” He pauses to make sure we’re all following along. “At the bottom is where nefarious activity takes place. It’s where contracts are put out which you only want interested parties to answer, or,” he nods toward Bolt, “if you want hard-core porn that goes beyond which any normal person would want to watch. It’s where the bottom feeders dwell.”

  “Kink probably knows all about that.”

  Kink’s eyes widen, and his face flushes as his hand hits the tabletop. “I’m kinky, not into that fuckin’ shit, Brother.” He rounds on Keeper. “Sex clubs of the type I frequent are aboveboard and of all things, consensual. I suspect what we’re hearing about is non-consensual shit, like Owen talked about.”

  Bolt nods as if Kink’s answered correctly, but adds, “And non-consensual will include snuff movies.” He pauses for a beat to let that sink in. “Yo
u want to see a woman—or man—killed for your personal gratification, well you’ll find it on the dark web.”

  “That’s sick,” Dart says, but he doesn’t attempt to deny it doesn’t exist. “And our photographer is into that shit?”

  Swift opens her own laptop and stabs at a few keys. Then, she slides the device down the table. Brothers look at it, then a quizzical look comes onto their faces, then it’s passed on. When it reaches me, I do the same. On the screen is a page of pictures of young and pre-teens, both girls and boys. The only thing they have in common is their Hispanic features.

  “What are we looking at, Swift?” Lost asks, when I pass it to him.

  Swift’s lips press together. “We couldn’t get back to you earlier, I’m afraid, hence the delay. But in trying to locate your girl’s video, we stumbled across a porn site catering to the most deviant of bastards. Rape, mutilation, death. These were some of the victims.”

  The laptop’s been passed on from me, but those images are seared on my brain. “One was an information wanted poster.”

  “Indeed,” Swift agrees. “We set up reverse image searches on the clearest pictures we could get from the videos. These were the ‘before’ pictures if you like. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to see the after.”

  Beside her, Bolt shudders, and I have new respect for the members from Utah who’d presumably forced themselves to watch.

  “So who are they?” Prez asks.

  Swift doesn’t tell us immediately. “As you can imagine, risks are taken when creating these videos. The subscription fee is exorbitant to cover those costs. For someone willing to stoop to that level, the rewards are there to be reaped.”

  “By someone?” Dart asks. “The photographer?”

  “Photographers, models—if you can call them that—and I don’t mean the kids. I mean the men, and some women, who are the molesters. Then there’s the production factory and distribution. There’s good money to be made.”

  She glances around the table, then continues, “Devon Starr probably wanted to buy in. But to do that, he had to have something he could offer. There are hundreds of thousands of videos on that site, and hundreds of people making videos, some with adults, some with children. But this set, well we think it’s how Devon got his way in.”

  When Swift pauses, Bolt takes over. “The images I’ve just shown you are unaccompanied children who either made their own way over the border or got separated from their adults once they were here. We believe Devon has a network pushing these underage kids his way. Maybe criminals, maybe even border agents wanting to make good money on the side. Whatever it is, they disappeared when they reached California.”

  Swift lifts her chin at Bolt again. “What Devon could offer was untraceable victims who no one really cared about.”

  “I care.” Lost’s hand slams down onto the table. “I fuckin’ care. No kid, from wherever, deserves to be molested like that.”

  I stand, my chair flying over backward. “Where’s Devon now?” I yell down the table. “Give me a location and I’ll go take him down.”

  “Easy, Brother,” Swift comes back fast. “That’s what we all want. But taking him out isn’t enough. We need to shut down whatever pipeline he’s got going. It won’t just end with one photographer. Now we’ve found this, we’ve got a good chance ending this shit. And by that, I mean destroying the porn site and everyone facilitating it.”

  “We’ve already got a comprehensive list of all the subscribers.” Bolt grins. “When we’re ready, we’ll leak it to the feds.”

  “Why Grumbler’s kid?” Salem asks as I pick up my chair and sit back down. “Alicia’s ordeal was horrible, but not in the league you’re talking about. What did Devon want with her?”

  Swift’s eyes catch mine. “We got into Owen’s text message history. Seems Owen wants to do some extra modelling for Devon. It seems he obliged, apparently. On this occasion, Devon had seen the way Alicia had been looking at Owen and suggested he could use her. He told him to groom her, though those words weren’t used exactly. Devon’s clever enough to steer clear of saying too much in text. Again, he didn’t go into specifics, just told Owen to get him something juicy. Alicia was just one of his auditions.”

  I go cold. “So it could have been worse?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  Swift’s eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t say a word. I wipe my hand over my face thanking a deity that Owen didn’t do more.

  “We’d like to talk to Owen,” Bolt drops in. “See what else he knows.”

  There’s silence around the table. I’m opening my mouth when Lost admits, “Owen’s dead. We didn’t want him breathing our air.”

  Swift closes her eyes and her mouth moves. I think she’s counting to ten. When she speaks her voice is even. “We can take the servers down and destroy the videos. We can get the feds onto the subscribers and freeze all the assets of the fuckers running this show. But we can’t stop the key players starting this business up again. Not unless we can trace them, and so far, we have no leads.” She pauses, and glances around the table. “We need this photographer of yours. He’ll have the contacts, or at least some of them.”

  Bolt takes over. “We need Devon. This is a crime that crosses state lines. The subscribers are nationwide as far as we can tell. We need leads to leak to the feds, and that’s not going to go well unless we also hand over Devon.”

  And there’s the punchline. I’m not going to be given the pleasure of killing the man I hate down to the marrow in my bones.

  Swift reads the expression on my face. “Grumbler, I know how you’re fucking feeling. I want to tear this wanker apart, limb from limb. Would it help if I promised we’d trace the penitentiary he ends up in and get him taken out inside?”

  “How can you promise that?” Salem asks. “Depending on what the feds make of his crimes, he could end up anywhere.”

  Swift seems unconcerned. “We can. We will. He’s as good as dead already. But we’ve got to find him first. And, for that, we need your help.”

  “I thought you usually flew your lot in when you were on a mission?” Dart is shaking his head. “You normally do the track and trace work yourselves. Why not this time? Why come to us?”

  “Because,” Lost glances at his VP, “they’re trying to prove they’re team players. Have I got that right?”

  Bolt and Swift look at each other, then Bolt raises his chin. “We wear the same patch,” he confirms. “I have to admit, maybe Utah got arrogant, but in the technical area, we are the fuckin’ best—no disrespect Token.”

  Token gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Heard about your setup, Brother. You’ve got the computing power I can only dream of. No offence taken.”

  Swift takes over. “That raid, when,” she pauses, gritting her teeth, “Stormy took out Alder.” Another beat passes while she waits for the reaction she knows she’s going to get. “I don’t want to sound condescending, but San Diego can handle themselves. We wouldn’t have approached it any differently. So it makes sense. You’re here, we’ll work with you. As long as you can promise that we take Devon, alive.”

  “Does he need all his body parts to testify?” Salem asks, flexing his hands and making his knuckles crack.

  Swift spares him a glance. “I think we’ll find Devon resists arrest.”

  Salem, clearly speaking her language, gives an evil smile.

  “All this because you wanted to pimp your fuckin’ ride.” Dusty’s long hair swings as he shakes his head, his eyes settling on mine.

  “If I fuckin’ hadn’t, we’d have never known what was going on,” I retort.

  “We’ll get your modelling fees out of him before we hand him over,” Swift offers with a grin.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ model,” I grumble. “He just used my bike.”

  Prez gives a sigh, then asks, “Had you no idea this was going on?”

  “Hadn’t come onto our radar,” Bolt states. “Hate to say this, but Hispanics coming over the border illegally are ju
st one more statistic. If they get through the border patrols, then they do tend to disappear, even kids.”

  “The one with the missing poster?” I ask.

  “Was supposed to end up with an uncle. Never arrived,” Swift says, succinctly.

  There’s a brief spell of quiet, which is broken by the prez.

  “So, where do we go from here? How are we going to take Devon Starr?”

  Swift straightens, all business now. “We have a list of locations, studios he uses, places he frequents.” I notice Token shaking his head. He’s been trying to find info like that with no success. Swift eyes him too. “We use facial recognition software. We were able to pick him up.”

  “Duty and Honor are trying to track him at base,” Bolt explains. “Currently, we know where he’s been, but not where he is or where he’s going. They’re trying to rectify that now.”

  “When we have some locations, we’ll split up into teams. I brought communication devices with me.” Swift gives an exasperated sigh. “But your prospect wouldn’t let me bring my bag in.”

  Good on Wrangler. No recording devices in church. Well, not for the likes of them—visiting members who we don’t know.

  “We’re hoping to know enough to make our move tonight,” Bolt confirms. “The cover of darkness is always good, and if we catch him with his pants down, or off as the case may be, so much the better.”

  “Sergeant-at-arms, VP. Will you sort out the teams? Liaise with Bolt and Swift to see how many we’re going to need.”

  “On it,” Dart and I answer Prez together.

  “Everyone else stick around until you know who your team is, okay? Then you’re free to go but stay in communication. We’ll meet back here at…?”

  “Ten pm,” Swift inserts.

  It must be getting on for midday now. I’ll square things with the VP and the arrangements for tonight, and then I can go see Mary. Talking about tracking Devon down had taken my mind off my own problems. Now I start wondering what thinking she’s done herself, and whether she’s decided to take precautions. Lost in my head, I follow my brothers out into the clubroom.