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

by Manda Mellett

  I glance up. Clouds are gathering, darkening the light from the moon. She could well be right.

  “Best get back inside. Max should be off that leg anyway.” We’re not long back in the warmth of the cabin before raindrops start to hit the roof hard.

  There’s something comforting about sitting in front of a log-burning stove while lightning flashes, and the sound of rain hitting the cabin vies with the rumble and crack of thunder for which can be loudest. Stevie jumps when there’s a loud crack right overhead, and again my arms ache to hold her.

  Max, completely unperturbed, lies at her feet.

  Ignoring the elements outside, we put on a DVD and watch it. Well, I view and describe. It seems the most natural thing in the world now. Then it’s time for bed. Not wanting to strain Max’s healing leg, Stevie goes up alone, satisfied with my promise I’ll look after her four-legged friend tonight.

  She doesn’t know I’m observing her take every step, recognising her reluctance to leave him and to sleep alone. But it’s for the best. She knows it is too.

  As the days pass I notice there’s a change in Stevie now she has her dog back with her. She seems lighter, happier, and her smile comes to her face quicker. It’s as if he completes her, as thought he was a missing limb. Max stays glued to her side, staying so close I catch myself feeling jealous of a fucking dog.

  Demon keeps in touch, I make sure to give him a list of things that we need which the prospects will bring up in a few days and reassure him all’s as it should be on the cabin front.

  Max is walking better as every twenty-four hours pass. I checked with James and the vet told us we could remove his bandage now, and his cone if he doesn’t worry the stitches. Carefully unwrapping his leg, I describe it to Stevie. The operation scar is quite small, looks good and clean, and the stitches are dissolving just as they should. Being a good dog, when his cone is removed Max licks the wound then ignores it when told.

  I continue searching for parts of the Indian I’d unearthed. I find a box of treasures and start sorting them out and cleaning them; the oil pump, the engine. Why someone stripped it down and left it I’ve no idea. The thought grows that they hadn’t come back because they couldn’t.

  I decide I’ll do the work, put it back together again; I’ll finish the job they started as a tribute to an unknown biker. Maybe Hellfire would know who it was? I’ll ask next time I see him.

  If Stevie is bored with our simple life, she doesn’t show it. She finds pleasure in small things, like sitting in the sun with her dog by her side, her hand ruffling his fur as she listens to me tinkering with the bike. I’ve grown used to hearing her giggle when I swear at something that’s not going the way I want it. Her lack of complaint, her amusement at my frustration rather than fearing my outbursts are yet more things I admire about her. Despite her disability, living with her is easy, comfortable. Things I have now were exactly what was missing with Sally. Stevie’s independence shows in everything she does. I don’t think I’ve ever admired a woman more in my life.

  Why is it when I’ve found someone who seems perfect, I can’t keep her?

  Briefly I toy with the idea of going wherever she goes. Taking on a new identity, giving up everything I am. Leaving the brotherhood of the Satan’s Devils. Much as I admire Stevie, I’m not sure that would be fair to either of us. I’d be restless, lost. I’ve been a Devil most of my adult life, and don’t know if I’d be the same man without the patch on my back. Despite Stevie’s hopes of returning to her old life, I’d have to take that step knowing the chances are it could be permanent. I’m not ready to commit to that.

  Damn it.

  I’m sorting through the parts I’ve found when my phone rings.

  “Prez.”

  Demon’s tone is sharp, and he wastes no time. “Got Warped Jokers on the way. Looks like they’re heading in your direction.”

  Fuck!

  “Where are they?”

  “Still on the highway, about twenty minutes out. Could be wrong, Beef, but you need to get out of there.”

  He’s right. I do.

  “Go straight up from the cabin. There are tracks you can follow, and then veer off out of sight into the forest. Hopefully the Jokers won’t have a tracker with them. We’re getting together now and coming up behind you, but you’re on your own until we get there.”

  “Got it, Prez.” I’m already outside the door when I end the call.

  I march straight in. “Stevie. Get your shoes on. We’ve got to get out of here. Got to go on foot and find somewhere to keep low.”

  Her eyes widen, but the urgency in my voice means she doesn’t protest or argue, asking simply, “Max?”

  “He’s coming too. He can make it, Stevie.” He’s been getting stronger, and that leg is weight bearing now. I can’t risk leaving him for those sadists, and if he does do any damage to his healing leg, it’s better than him, or us, being dead. “I’ll grab his collar and lead.”

  I know he’s well trained, but don’t want him running off on the scent of some animal or other. As Stevie gets her trainers, I go to the pile of doggy stuff the prospects had brought and which we’d so far left untouched.

  Picking up the collar I stare at it. “What the fuck is this, Stevie?” There’s a square shaped object hanging from it.

  “It’s a…” Her hand covers her mouth, and she swallows hard before completing her sentence. “It’s a GPS tracker. In case he gets lost.”

  Swearing, I rip it off the collar, then place the leather around Max’s neck and buckle it and attach the leash. Someone has known exactly where Max was since he came to the cabin. They must have been biding their time to arrange an attack assuming where her dog is, that’s where she’ll be. Fuck.

  There is no time to waste. Quickly I herd both Stevie and Max out of the cabin, eyeing the slope above us. The ground is rough.

  “I’ll make it.” Something in the tension of my body must have conveyed my concern.

  “The ground’s uneven.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  The first hundred yards isn’t too bad. Then she stumbles and almost falls over a root which I hadn’t noticed in time to warn her. Luckily my grip on her elbow prevents her tumbling to the ground. We carry on, making slower progress than I’d have liked. While Demon thought we’d be able to find somewhere to hide, there’s nothing but tree trunks to shelter us here.

  I stop and crouch down. “Get on my back, Stevie. We’ll move faster if I’m carrying you.”

  “I’m too heavy…”

  “Stevie. Just do it. I carried packs heavier than you in basic.”

  She’s not heavy at all, or at least, not now. Maybe if we go too far I’ll start to feel it.

  “Is Max okay?”

  “He’s fine. Now hang on.”

  I’ve got a weight on my back and one hand on the leash, but at least we can start moving faster. I take care to watch my step, not wanting to trip and hurt either of us, and turn off the trail into the trees. Now I don’t have to watch Stevie’s every step, and I don’t need to find an even path. I just have to remember to tell her to duck when there are low-hanging branches.

  Behind, in the still air, I hear the sound of motorcycle engines. I try to count them, more than a couple, definitely. Four, five?

  My gun is loaded. Extra ammunition carried in my cut. My knife is in my belt. I strain my ears for the sound of the Devils Prez promised to send, but the sudden silence of the engines means the Jokers have arrived at the cabin, and, for now, as I’d been warned, we’re alone.

  At last we come to a clearing. My eyes scan, settling on something. Telling Stevie I’m putting her down, I crouch so she can slide off. “Stay here.”

  As I thought, camouflaged and almost hidden from sight is what looks like an old deer blind, presumably used by hunters in hunting season.

  I lead her over to it and settle her inside. “I want you to stay here, Stevie, you and Max.”

  “Don’t leave me, Beef.”

&nbs
p; “Stevie, if they’re out searching then I can lead them away from you.”

  “What if they catch you?”

  “I’ll make them think I’m out here on my own.”

  “They might shoot you, then come for me.” She sounds so understandably terrified it breaks my heart.

  While I yearn to stay and hold her, I know that’s not the best way to keep her out of their hands. All I’ve got to do is hold them off until the cavalry arrives.

  Shamelessly I play on her love for her dog. “Max is limping,” I tell her, exaggerating his condition. Actually, Max looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying his forest walk. “You stay in the blind and get him to rest awhile. All this clambering over rough ground isn’t doing him much good.”

  She’s scared at the idea of being left alone and I can’t blame her. But she gives me a resolute nod and reluctantly agrees as I’ve convinced her it’s best. For Max.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I didn’t want to leave Stevie scared and alone. But I didn’t think I had a choice. I’ve never been one to run away from a fight, and if we carried on, it’s possible the Warped Jokers might be able to follow whatever track we’d left and find us. At least by leaving her in a safe place I can go back and see what they’re up to, maybe take out one or two with my knife.

  I wouldn’t have the least repulsion in killing them up close, certain if they caught up with us, they’d take Stevie out. The stakes for them are far too high. If the RICO indictment goes ahead, every member of that club is looking at twenty years behind bars.

  Even if those on the outside don’t get rounded up and convicted, they’ll still be giving their all for their members currently inside. I’d do whatever it takes to free Drummer, Wraith or any of my brothers. But would I kill a woman to keep her silenced? No, I couldn’t do that. Find some other way to persuade her not to talk, perhaps, but not take her life. The Warped Jokers, though? With their reputation, if Stevie is kept alive, she’ll spend the rest of her days working on her back wishing she was dead.

  There is no way in hell I’m letting them get to her. I can’t take the risk of them finding and ambushing us.

  I’m a big man, but I can be quiet if necessary. It’s only Stevie with her heightened sense of hearing who can catch me out. I descend the route we’d taken carefully, keeping to the shadows of the trees and the scrub, my eyes now on the ground checking for twigs which would snap and betray me.

  I’ve been walking for a good few minutes when I hear a voice calling out.

  “Looks like someone’s come this way.”

  Fuck. I strain my ears as another voice shouts back.

  “How the fuck can a blind bitch find her way in the forest?”

  “Got the biker with her. Found some tracks, bike boots. I’m following them.”

  Not for long you’re not. I take my knife out of its sheath, running my finger over the edge, reminding myself how sharp it is. Even Blade, the Tucson enforcer, would be impressed.

  Jeez. I’d hoped they’d have no one with them with tracking skills, but again I’m reminded how big I am, and carrying Stevie’s weight, must have left a trail in the damp earth. Soon I hear footsteps, I shrink back behind a massive tree trunk and almost stop breathing.

  I analyse the sound. Only one set of footsteps. He passes me without a look in my direction, it’s easy to put my arm around his neck, crushing his windpipe, and slicing my knife across his jugular. As expected, he slumps in my arms, dead.

  One down. How many to go? I feel no remorse as I pull the body into the undergrowth and out of sight.

  In the distance I hear more motorcycle engines. Demon is on his way. Until then, they’ll have to go through me to get to Stevie.

  “Buck? Where are you, man?” a hoarse whisper carries in the air. “I think I’m following you but give me a sign to show me where you are.” Silence, then, “Buck? Where the fuck are you?”

  Sounds of rustling and twigs snapping warn someone is getting close. “Buck?”

  I haven’t heard anyone else. I take a chance. As soon as he’s close enough, I karate chop his arm making his gun drop to the ground, the strength of my blow having a paralysing effect. Almost in the same movement I have my arm around his neck, crushing his windpipe so he stays silent. The blade hovering close to his jugular makes him show the whites of his eyes.

  “You’re going to answer my questions,” I tell him in a conversational tone. Then hiss, “If you want to play hero, this blade is going to make a pretty mess of your throat.” I don’t add I’ve already dispatched his brother to meet Satan. “Uh uh, I wouldn’t try to nod if I were you. When I take my arm away, don’t scream or call out. Don’t think there’s anyone close enough to save you before I slice into your neck.”

  His face is going red because of the pressure I’m applying to his neck. I ease my arm away a fraction, and he takes a deep breath.

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Four.”

  “Who are you working with?”

  “No one,” he lies.

  One thing Blade had taught me was to always be prepared. Using just one arm to crush his windpipe again, I reach into my back pocket with my free hand and extract a zip tie. None too gently I then use my legs to sweep his out from under him. Whatever little air he’d managed to take into his lungs is knocked out of him as he falls to the ground. I come down hard on his back, and yanking his hands behind him, zip tie them together.

  I then pull him up.

  “I’ve got my knife and gun at your back. One wrong step and you’re dead. One shout of warning and you’ll wish you’d never been born. Now walk.”

  I hear motorcycles, lots of them. They seem to be close. Then the engines cut out. Help has arrived.

  Then I hear shots, screams come then are suddenly cut off. An automatic rifle firing followed by silence. All I can do is walk my captive down in the direction of the cabin, hoping the right side has won.

  I walk into the clearing behind the old building, sidle along the walls, then pause and peer around the front, my gun held at the ready. I inhale a lungful of relieved air at the sight meeting my eyes. Demon is standing, his arms folded, staring at a man writhing on the ground.

  As I step into sight, he grins in my direction and calls out, “One dead, one wounded. What you got, Beef?”

  “One dead, one alive.” I grin. Stevie’s safe. We’ve come out on top.

  “Buck,” my captive breathes out, his shoulders slumping. I ignore his reaction. A man wanting to kill an innocent woman deserves no sympathy.

  “What we going to do with them?” Ink asks.

  “Torture the truth out of them, then kill them,” Pyro suggests as he walks up and relieves me of my burden.

  “Got the prospects coming with a truck,” Demon tells me. “Want to talk to them yourself?”

  “Stevie?” I’m not leaving her alone in the cabin.

  “This place is compromised, Beef. Fuck knows how they knew she was here, but they did. Best bring her back to the club.” He raises an eyebrow. “She is safe, I take it?”

  “Yeah, got her stashed away in an old hunting blind.” My lips press together. She’ll have heard the shots and will be worried sick. “If you’ve got it under control here, I’ll go back and get her. Then I’ll bring her and the dog back in the truck. I’ll get my bike later.”

  “Christ. A fuckin’ dog on the compound. Not sure how Bitch is going to take to that.”

  “Twenty bucks says the cat wins,” Rusty calls out to Ink.

  “My money’s on the dog,” Thunder joins in.

  Demon throws them a look of disgust. His own tone is serious as he gets back to business. “Don’t know how the fuck they knew you were here, Beef. Been no leak from our end. Unless,” his face goes dark, “Beaver or Karl said something.”

  I want to know how the Devils knew the Jokers were coming. But I’ll ask later, the fact is, they did, and quite possibly saved our lives with the information. Now, it’s time to come clean.


  “Nah, you haven’t got a loose mouth in the club. Beaver and Karl didn’t see shit.” I take a breath. “Dog wasn’t wearing his collar, didn’t need it. I didn’t think to check out any of his stuff until we had to move. As he’s a service dog, there was a fuckin’ GPS tracker on his collar. Mystery is how a bunch of fuckin’ bikers knew of it, and how to track it.”

  He stares as if estimating my level of culpability in risking the club members’ lives. Then nods. “Would have been useful to know about that earlier, Beef, but can’t blame you for not looking. We know the how, but apart from this sorry foursome, we don’t know who the fuck else knows you’re here. You need to get her out of here as soon as possible. Get her back to the club, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Hold up, Prez.” I raise my hand to stop him walking off. “What about the Wretched Soulz? They want her silenced as much as the Warped Jokers.”

  He meets my eyes for a second, then looks away. “Shit.” The twisting of his mouth shows he’s realised giving Stevie our protection openly would be pitting us against the dominant club. “I’ll need to have words with Drummer. For now I want her where we can keep an eye on her. She’s blind, Beef,” he reminds me as if I wasn’t aware of the fact. “A helpless woman. Who in their right fuckin’ minds would turn her away?”

  His words ring in the air for a moment.

  “I could…”

  “Nah. Whatever you’re going to say, Beef, wait until we’ve sorted this shit here out. We need cleanup for a start.”

  “I’ll sort that,” Skull offers. “Christ, did it enough when I was prospecting.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Sure, ‘Ro.” Prez nods at Pyro, then Skull. “When we get back to the clubhouse we’ll see what we can get out of the Warped Jokers, then have church and decide what the fuck to do.”