Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3

by Manda Mellett

  “You’re a Satan’s Devil. Might not have put the patch on your back ourselves, but you’re one of us.”

  “Yet there’s that little thing you mention, trust.” I state the fact.

  He scoffs. “More that we don’t know you. All we know is you’ve had a cosy time of it babysitting a bitch.”

  I bristle at the word he’s using. Jay’s just a kid. Well, not so much nowadays. I lose my focus as I think about how she’s grown and changed. Almost time to move our friendship up to the next level…

  I realise I’ve zoned out when his hand crashes down onto the table. “Pay attention, damn you.” He waits for a second while I snap my eyes to him sharply. “You’re with me today, okay?”

  My plan to go see Jay, demand she sees me and tells me what the hell’s going on disappears in a flash. I can’t say no to the VP. “Sure,” I reply, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice.

  “My mom’s looking after your girl.” Astutely he gets to the root of my problem. “Might do you both good to have some space. Look, Pal. Reason why I want you with me? You’re a sharp lad. Things you came up with in church? Would welcome your fresh eyes on our security. Our cameras came out of the Ark, and need updating, more maybe, and better placed.” He breaks off, places his hand against his mouth and looks thoughtful. “Fact is, Brother, I’ve been thinking about a new business.” He gives a short laugh. “Fuckin’ stupid idea it’s now turning out to be. Security. When we can’t even mind our own premises.”

  “Easy to get complacent and rely on a reputation.” I give him an out.

  “Well, it’s just at the idea stage. Whatever you might think, I happen to have taken to you. Like that head on your shoulders. You and I do okay today? Then let’s think about both of us throwing in with Cad and getting a new business off the ground.” He gives me a wink. “Get’s you away from Taser at least.”

  Wow. I hadn’t expected that. “Security was a priority in Tucson,” I respond, eagerly. “We were all hot on that shit with the Herreras and others gunning for us. Learned to spot weak points. I’m all up for that. Thanks, VP.” I’m excited. A new opportunity for me. A chance to get in on something from the start. A challenge I could get my teeth into. Part of me had been worried I’d just be a lackey for one of the brothers running the other established businesses.

  “Let’s get going, shall we?” Demon puts his paperwork away and stands.

  As we go out to the bikes, the VP throws an amused look my way when I start to enthusiastically talk about vantage points and computer monitoring systems.

  He’s coming with me to the police station first. It could be moral support or just practical as I don’t yet know my way around. When we get there, I’m pleased to see it’s all been organised as I’m immediately introduced to the club lawyer, a man called Sykes, who’s already there. While Demon waits, glaring at the officers in the reception area, Sykes takes me to a quiet corner and has a few words with me. Then I’m soon called back to go meet with one of the detectives. Initially he seems as suspicious of me as the men in the club.

  “Dominic Marsh.”

  My government name takes me by surprise. I haven’t been Dom in years. During school and my prospecting days I was just called Marsh, then Paladin over the last two plus something years. It seems an alien handle now as though it belongs to somebody else. I realise even Jay doesn’t know it.

  “Yes, sir.” I decide to show respect. The lawyer beside me nods as the detective consults his notes.

  “You came up from Tucson two days ago. You ever been to Pueblo before? Got contacts with anyone here?”

  “I’ve met some of the MC, the Satan’s Devils before, when they’ve come down to the Tucson chapter, but otherwise, no. I’ve no contacts with anyone in the city.”

  “Why did you, what do you call it, transfer?”

  I shrug, unable to tell him I’ve come with a girl who needed to get away from a criminal gang in Tucson. “Just wanted a change of scenery. Hellfire had an opening, I jumped at the chance.” Sykes had already coached me.

  “Got a dirty record in Arizona?”

  “Nah, I’m clean.”

  “As you’ll see if you check.” Sykes leans forward. “Mr Marsh has no convictions. Not even a ticket.”

  “Hmm.” The detective looks between me and Sykes, then leans back and folds his arms. “Tell me how you found the dead body? Take me through it from the beginning.”

  I tell him the truth. No need to hold anything back. “The security footage of Tits Up showed some suspicious activity at the back of the club. I was assigned to go along with Taser…” I break off as the detective raises a brow.

  “Jesse Devin,” the lawyer supplies.

  I resume at the nod. “We looked around, didn’t find much. A few cigarette butts which could have been left at any time. There was a dumpster. The security camera wouldn’t have been able to cover it, I thought I should have a look inside.”

  “Why you? Why not this,” he consults the notes in front of him, “Devin?”

  “I’m younger, more athletic. Didn’t think twice about hauling myself up. Didn’t expect to find anything inside.”

  “One look would have showed you the dead body. Why did you jump in?”

  “I’m clearly not as familiar as you are with dead bodies. Thought there could be a chance he was still alive.”

  “Did you touch the body?”

  “Yeah. I turned him over. He could have been drunk, hurt, needing help. But one look at his face showed me he was gone. His skin was stone cold.”

  The detective again moves his eyes toward Sykes who’s sitting impassively, then they come back to me and narrow. “Now, the thing is, Mr Marsh, I’ve got to consider that you were responsible for killing the man, and that you conveniently were the one to find him so any fingerprints could be explained away. What have you got to say to that?”

  “The truth, sir. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t know him. More than that, I didn’t have the opportunity. I was at the clubhouse and didn’t go off the compound all night.”

  “Have you got any evidence to the contrary, Detective? How about time of death? Do we know that yet?” Sykes butts in.

  The detective raises and lowers his shoulders. “Medical Examiner is backed up with cases. He’s not given this one priority.”

  “Have you ID’d the man yet?” Sykes asks.

  “Not yet. You sure you don’t know him?” That’s to me.

  “I’m certain,” I stress. “Never seen him before. He looked like a bum to me, but of course, the smell and staining could have come from the dumpster.” I’m trying to be as helpful as I can.

  It’s hard to stay silent, not adding more protestations of my innocence. A guilty man is more likely to do that. But as the time stretches out and no other words are spoken, I realise the detective’s waiting for me to let my mouth run.

  I start to comprehend just how bad my position is. I’m a stranger in town. A biker. A member of a one-percenter club, and my fingerprints are all over that dumpster and body. I’d rolled him over, even touched the man’s face to make sure he was cold. If they find no one else, I could be facing a murder charge. All I can hope for is that the man was killed, or crawled into the dumpster and died, before I arrived in Pueblo. My concern grows that I’m going to be arrested. Fuck this. I start to grow angry.

  As if he can see my body tensing, Sykes speaks. “My client has come here voluntarily, Detective. He’s told you all he knows. He’s willing to give you his fingerprints for the purposes of elimination. I suggest you tell him he’s free to go.”

  The detective stares at my face, clearly searching for signs of guilt. After another pregnant pause stretches out, he finally sighs, then his eyes sharpen. “You’re free to go. For now. But stay local. I may want to question you again.”

  I’m taken to another room where I obediently press the tips of my fingers against the tablet screen. Doing so, I wish once again I’d never left Tucson. My fingerprints are now in the sys
tem. Something all of us try to avoid. Fuck it.

  Demon’s still waiting, and not very patiently. He jumps to his feet as soon as I appear. I don’t miss the flicker of relief that I’m walking out of here a free man. The club might not trust me, but no Satan’s Devil wants to see a brother behind bars.

  Then we’re all outside in the fresh air. I’m taking in a deep lungful as Demon gives me a nod and discreetly steps aside as he begins a quick head-bowed discussion with Sykes.

  When that’s done, as we go toward the bikes, the VP turns to me. “Two days you’ve been here and you’re already costing the club. ‘Bout time you got working and earned back the lawyer’s fee.”

  I suddenly round on him. “You saying Taser wouldn’t have jumped in to check if he’d seen the body first? It could have been him here, not me. You seriously think he’d have let that shit go?”

  The VP shakes his head. “Taser would know enough not to touch a dead body. You’ve got a lot to learn, Brother.”

  “I didn’t know he was dead…”

  “Fuckin’ obvious, wasn’t it?” He’s shaking his head. “Get on your ride and follow me.”

  “Where we going?”

  “To the bowling alley. Let’s go check out the set-up there.”

  At least I’m not going back to the strip club and Taser. Rusty I’ve not had a lot to do with yet. All I know is that he’s older than the others, one of the originals who founded the club. I can only hope he, at least, is prepared to give me a chance.

  Unlike Tits Up the bowling alley is a family place. Brightly lit lanes, a food bar with a licence to one side, arcade games with lights flashing, and four pool tables. Already there are a few people knocking down pins. Music is playing, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of the balls rolling down lanes or the clattering of the pins falling then the machinery churning as they’re reset.

  “Rusty!” Demon calls out to get his attention. When the older man approaches, I notice he walks with a slight limp. “VP. What can I do for you?”

  “Want to check out your security system. Can you take Pal and I through where the cameras are?”

  “Sure can. You helping out the VP, kid?” I bristle at the term; it must show in my eyes. “Brother,” he hastily corrects. But I suppose I could let it go. He’s probably old enough to be my grandfather. “What kind of experience have you got?”

  I hate having no skills to speak of. I dredge up memories of some of the stuff I’ve done. Helping to bury dead bodies probably isn’t a great resume. “I helped out with setting some of that shit up back in Tucson. Installing cameras and the like. Checking positioning.”

  Rusty’s eyes gleam. “Sounds like you could be useful.” His eyes meet the VP’s. “Where do you want to get started?”

  Demon’s brow furrows. “I can take the inside. Can you take Pal out back?”

  As the VP moves off, Rusty eyes me up. “Okay, then, lad. Let’s go see what you’re made of.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jayden

  I’m beginning to think yet another day will pass with no news from Paladin. A dozen times I’ve picked up my phone, only to put it back down. I’m still angry at him and don’t see why I should be the one to make the first contact. It’s him who keeps putting me off.

  It’s hard to accept I’m not his priority any more. I’d got used to having him at my beck and call. Slick, too, at my back, often stepping in to make sure Paladin could drop whatever the club had wanted him to do, to take me where I needed to go. Biting my lip, looking at it through older eyes, I suspect the kindness I received from all the men in Tucson was because everyone knew how I’d come to be there. Some even witnessed my abuse first hand. I hate thinking about that. But it did mean I felt loved and supported, as if they were all my real family. Even the gruff sergeant-at-arms, Peg.

  I wonder what this club’s like. Now Moira’s explained the set-up, I won’t, as I’d previously thought, be just changing location, but meeting a completely new and very different group of men. At this rate, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever see the clubhouse. I’m also not certain that’s a bad thing. I know the reputation they’ve got, and that not all bikers are good people.

  I’d offered to help Moira with dinner, but she ordered in. Just pizza, but that was fine with me. I rinsed and put the plates in the dishwasher afterwards, then escaped to my room. I like Moira, but don’t feel comfortable being around her all the time, still feeling an intruder in her space.

  I’ve just finished FaceTiming with Ella, when a message comes through on my phone.

  Pal: Can I come over?

  I might not be feeling the tingling Moira spoke about, but I’m excited all the same as I tap out my response telling him he can. Now that I’ve had to wait for what seems like ages, I’m looking forward to seeing him again.

  I’m downstairs ready when his bike pulls onto the drive, and opening the door ready and waiting.

  He’s standing there, his eyes raking me over from head to toe, before saying, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too,” I respond breathlessly. That’s the truth. Then, “Are you coming in?”

  He nods as a voice calls out from behind me. “Beer’s in the fridge.”

  I cock my brow at him. “Want one?”

  “Yeah. Love one.”

  Standing aside, I let him pass, then my eyes catch Moira standing outside the family room. Suddenly I’m embarrassed letting my friend into another woman’s house, unsure of the formalities.

  “I’ll be in here,” she informs us. I might be mistaken, but her words seem to convey a warning.

  Interpreting she probably wouldn’t be on board with the idea if I took Pal up to my room, I nod at her. Message received and understood. Then lead Paladin through to the kitchen area.

  “How are you settling in, Doll?”

  “Good. Moira’s okay.” Or is when she’s not criticising Pal. “Haven’t seen much of Hellfire.” I go to the fridge and take out a beer. Handing it to him, he pops the tab. There’s so much I want to say to him, but I’m feeling tongue-tied. It’s also hard knowing Moira’s in the next room, probably listening to every word.

  “You won’t see a lot of him. He takes his role of prez pretty seriously.”

  “Like Drummer.”

  “Yeah. Like Drum.”

  There’s something about the way he says it, a wistful tone that makes me wonder whether he’s missing Tucson. I’ve been selfish, thinking about myself. It must be equally strange for him. My fault he’s been uprooted.

  “What’s the compound like? How’s your room?”

  He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Different from Tucson that’s for sure. Hey, you won’t guess what happened last night.” As I raise my eyebrow, he continues. “Yeah, was warned to keep my door locked. I forgot. Went to bed to find Bitch already there.”

  My hands go to my hips. “A bitch?” I squeal.

  “Not a bitch. Bitch.”

  “There’s a club girl called Bitch?” And why is he telling me this? Is he listing all the conveniences on offer? And just how far did it go with Bitch?

  “I’ll tell you this. Bitch has got sharp claws.”

  My palm starts to itch. The type which can only be relieved by slapping it hard against a person’s face.

  I’m just starting to raise my arm, when he adds with a smirk, “Fuck knows why someone would call a cat, Bitch. Though it suits her. Was about what I called her when I tried to carry her out of the room.” He pulls up his sleeve to expose deep scratches.

  “Pal!” I admonish him, giving a snort of highly relieved laughter.

  He bumps his hip against mine. “Yeah, if your door’s not locked, Bitch jumps on the handle and opens it apparently.”

  A cat called Bitch. I’ve heard it all now.

  Paladin raises his beer to his mouth, I watch as he chugs it down, muscles rippling in his throat as he swallows. A sight I’ve seen a million times before. The familiarity of it touches something inside me. I’ve been with str
angers a couple of days, now I feel more relaxed than I have since I arrived in this strange town. I wave over to the stools either side of the counter.

  Watching him carefully, I lower my voice and ask, “How you really doing, Pal?”

  He gazes at me just as intently, then slowly shakes his head. “Harder here than I expected. Nowhere near learning the dynamics yet. They might be Satan’s Devils, but there’s a world of difference between the men here, and the brothers we left in Tucson.”

  I’m no psychologist, but I pick up on the words ‘men’ and ‘brothers’. It betrays he doesn’t think of them as family yet. That’s what I’ve caused him to leave behind. His two hands are placed on the counter; I reach over and cover one with my own. “I’m sorry, Pal.”

  His eyes flare, “What are you sorry for?”

  “Tearing you away from the one family you’ve known.” Over the years we’ve spent time talking. I know he was brought up in a foster home, just another body so his foster parents could get the money. He says there was no abuse, but there was. I know as well as him how hard it is for a kid with no one to support them. But it was different for me, while Mom had been distant, I’d always had Ella. Pal had had no one, until he joined the Devils.

  “Babe. It’s not your fault, and,” he looks so earnest, I have to believe him, “wherever you are is where I want to be.”

  With that statement, he washes away my resentment that he hadn’t made time for me before now. It hadn’t been his fault. “Hate that I can’t see so much of you.”

  “Me too, Doll. Me too.” He looks down at where my hand still lies, turning his over and squeezing his fingers around mine. “At the moment I’m finding my place, got no routine to talk of. I’ve got to pull my weight here, still hard discovering how best to do that. But I’ll get something sorted.” His lips press together, then his whole expression changes and he gives me a sneaky smile. “Got something on order. Should be arriving tomorrow. Think it’s something you’ll like.”

  I tilt my head.

  He doesn’t disappoint me. “A double seat with a sissy bar.”