While Violet’s overjoyed she can sit Theo on a blanket outside and is currently helping him throw a ball for Max—well, roll it along the ground really as he can’t run too fast or jump yet—the preparations just serve to remind me that my woman isn’t here.
Hellfire wanders over and passes me a beer. In order to stop him asking how I’m doing, which seems to be everyone’s opening gambit now, I get in first.
“While I was at the cabin, Hell, I found the frame of an Indian. Engine and bits and bobs where it had been stripped. Looked like someone was going to rebuild it but didn’t go back.”
Glancing at him, I see a shadow pass over his face. “Forgot about that, Beef. Yeah. It was Furnace’s.”
“He was Blackie’s VP, wasn’t he? Became the prez when Blackie died?”
Hell’s face blackens at the reminder of his father, and I hurriedly remember that there’s some dark history in this club that I vaguely remember hearing about. Didn’t Hell kill his father? I backtrack fast. “You were Furnace’s VP.”
“I was. Decent fucker, he was. Totalled his bike. Yeah, that was his Indian, he was going to rebuild it. Got as far as stripping it down before he died. No one had the heart to touch it after that, been so long, I’d forgotten about it. You want it, Beef? Doubt anyone will challenge you if you want to take it. Finders keepers and all that.”
“It’s the club’s, Hell.” It’s a generous offer. If I take it back to Tucson, Sam could help me do it up.
“You’re club, Beef,” he says, sharply. “Only Bomber and Rusty would remember it in any event, and, I suspect, like me they’ll have forgotten it was there, and even if they did remember, wouldn’t want to put in the work. I, for one, would be quite happy to see it ridden again.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” If I can’t have Stevie, might need something to focus on to help me forget.
“Take it if you want it. Better than it rotting away.” A quick glance, then he adds, “Furnace would have liked you.” A chin lift, then he walks off.
I watch him leave, see him picking up his grandson and throwing him in the air, smiling for a moment as I realise family is as important here as it is in Tucson. I’m club, as Hellfire said, welcome wherever I am. The feeling brings me comfort, even if my heart and arms feel empty.
Mo joins Hellfire, Demon’s arm’s around Vi. Pal and Jayden are laughing together, Sindy’s with Buzzard and Bomber with Jeannie. Fuck, even Skull is standing close to Melissa.
Whereas I don’t know where my old lady is, or, even if I have one.
The sun may be shining, but I feel as cold as a dreary winter’s day. This might be a celebration, but there’s no pleasure in it for me.
When the time comes, I munch mechanically on a hamburger, barely tasting the food in my mouth, sneaking more of it to Max than I manage to consume. I escape to my room as soon as I feel my absence won’t be noticed. Not that it’s much better there, all I can see is Stevie lying on the bed.
Though she’d bundled most of her clothing and taken it with her, I’d found a pair of her panties forgotten at the back of a drawer. Clean, unworn, but still something of her. Like a pervert I twist them in my hands, imagining her wearing them, imagining her being here with me. Lying back on the sheets, I close my eyes, picturing her lying next to me, conjuring up that memory of her perfect tits, pale brown nipples, that soft rounded stomach, that pert little ass.
My cock swells. When I place my hand on it, I try to dream up her scent, the feeling of her touch, trying to make believe it’s her hand that’s stroking me, up and down, her fingers squeezing then loosening, her palm surrounding me as she increases the speed, pumping my dick hard.
Ribbons of cum cover my stomach quickly cooling in the draught from the air conditioning.
I feel no relief, instead I’m consumed by an emptiness. Had it been my fault? Had I had my head so far up my ass I didn’t see what was in front of me until it was much too late? What if I’d told her how I felt earlier? What if…
What if I never find her?
What if my memories are all I have left?
They aren’t enough.
Wetness on my cheeks tell me I’ve tears rolling down from my eyes. I lie, silently weeping, unable to bear the thought of a future without Stevie in it.
How will I survive?
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Beef. Get your ass back to the club. We’ve got company.”
I stare at the phone, the call abruptly disconnected. The questions I wanted to ask not even voiced, let alone answered.
“You off?”
“Yeah.” I put down the wrench that I’d been using to loosen the nuts on an engine. “Sorry, Ro. Boss wants me.”
Pyro waves me off. I don’t need to explain more. When Demon summons, you respond. My bike is parked out front of the auto-shop, already facing away from the building. It takes but a second to get on, start the engine, and let those pipes roar as I shift through the gears and back toward the compound.
After yesterday’s barbeque I’d been in a foul mood. Helping out Pyro by tinkering with an engine he couldn’t find the fault with at least focused my mind and let me think of something other than the time passing with no word about Stevie. It’s got so that I’m not even expecting news today. Half of me is wondering whether it’s nearing the time when I’m outstaying my welcome in Pueblo, and whether I’ll be given my marching orders to get back on the road.
What good am I doing here? I’ve not done the job I was sent here for. Demon’s no closer to finding a VP than when I arrived. My enquiries at other chapters has so far turned up nothing. I’ve failed both him and Drummer. Will Drummer even let me go home? It was my request to go nomad, if it suited his purposes he could send me on to another club rather than letting me return.
In truth, the nomad patch is starting to annoy me. Conversely, the thought of returning to Tucson doesn’t fill me with delight. Pueblo is my connection to Stevie. Going back with her is one thing, but returning alone? Would seeing Rock and Becca be even worse, now I know I could have had what they do, but had let it slip through my fingers?
While I’m not optimistic about Demon’s reasons for calling me away from the job I was tackling, I didn’t expect the summons would be for anything significant. I’m therefore surprised, when I draw up to the clubhouse, to see Drummer and Wraith’s bikes parked outside, alongside a few more I don’t recognise.
My thoughts return to me with full force. Will I be returning to Tucson with them, knowing I’ve let down my prez? Or will Drummer give me orders to move on somewhere else?
Since Stevie had been taken, all thoughts of helping Demon solve his problems have gone right out of my mind. Before entering the door, I bang my fist against my head. I’ve fucked up, fucked up everything it would seem.
“In church,” Beaver calls out helpfully from his position behind the bar as I step inside.
Breezy flaunts her tits at me as I walk past. I wave her off. I wouldn’t be interested even if I hadn’t had to get somewhere quickly. The club girls have all been willing to try fresh meat, but I won’t do that to Stevie. I’m not even sure I could get hard for another woman right now, even if I had the inclination. Yeah, me, addicted to one pussy. With Sally I’d been fighting temptation to stray, which should have been my first warning sign, whereas Stevie is the only woman my dick seems to want.
I’m undecided whether to knock or just enter when I get to the meeting room, but the decision’s made for me as the door opens and Demon strides out, looking behind him, and saying, “I’ll hurry him up.” He bumps into me and stops. “Oh, there you are.”
Was I tardy? He knows how long it takes to get here, and I came as fast as I could. But the apology I believed wise to offer falls from my lips as I view the people seated around the table.
Drummer, mother chapter president and his VP, sitting alongside RIP and Charmer. Next to them, Chaz, the president of the Arizona chapter of the Wretched Soulz and his VP, Bull. But the man who’s
brought me to a halt is Devil. I did not expect to see the Englishman here in person.
“Beef.” Both Drummer and Wraith stand and come over to me. We share a moment of man hugs and back slapping, then they take their places again. It hits me Demon’s the only one without a VP present, and for a moment I wonder why he hadn’t called Thunder in.
The question is answered without me having to raise it. “Sorry I’m without a VP this morning. Thunder’s dealing with a problem at the strip club.”
I hear a growl from Drummer’s throat, and his eyes briefly meet mine. All I can do is give an almost imperceptible shake of my head, but he understands the message I’m sending. No progress as yet. He won’t criticise Demon, or not in front of our other visitors. No club wants to expose a weakness.
Though Demon’s up at the top of the table, it’s Drummer who kicks off proceedings.
“We’ve got business we need to bring Beef in on, but some other things to get out of the way first.”
I glare at Drummer. He’s here for a reason, and if it involves me, I’d prefer him to start with that.
But my prez has other ideas, continuing, “I’d like to introduce those of you who don’t know him, to Jason Deville, or Devil as he is known.”
Having met him before, I just raise my chin at the man with a heavily scarred face that makes him look like he’s permanently scowling and wait while the others introduce themselves. It appears I hadn’t missed any of the meeting.
“I run Grade A Security based in the UK along with my partners. I tend to work in the field and provide consultancy to whoever wants to pay me.” Devil’s taken over his own introduction. “Sometimes I work with the feds, sometimes I investigate for them. I’ve a team working with me who can get into virtually every computer system there is.”
“Useful,” RIP observes.
Devil tries to grin at him, but as only one side of his face moves, it doesn’t quite work.
“You’re the law?” Chaz pulls out a packet of smokes and lights one. Demon shoots an ashtray down the table.
“No,” Devil answers seriously. “But I’m usually on the right side of it, though some of my methods aren’t quite legal. Hence why I’m called in when there’s dirty work others like to keep their hands clean of.”
“I won’t tell you, you can talk freely in front of Devil, but I can say he’s always been straight with us,” Drummer explains.
“You trust him?” RIP asks frankly.
“To some extent,” the Tucson prez replies.
Devil doesn’t seem upset by the response. My leg is bouncing, I’m more interested in why he’s here than his credentials.
RIP and Chaz put their heads together and have a murmured conversation punctuated by grunts and growls. In the end it’s Chaz who takes the lead. “You’ve always been a crafty motherfucker, Drummer. We’ve got an update, don’t mind ears hearing who might pass it onto the feds. Good call, Drum.” Both dominant prezes nod their heads.
RIP takes the lead. “Sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you. Had to arrange a few sit-downs to thrash things out. Cutting a long story short, we’ve come to an arrangement with LA. Warped Jokers have lost their charter.”
I breathe in sharply. That’s the news I wanted.
“As far as the Soulz are concerned, the Warped Jokers are no longer an MC who are welcome in any of our territories. Anyone wearing their patch, well,” he pauses and looks quickly toward Devil before resuming, “let’s just say they won’t get a friendly greeting.”
The movable side of Devil’s face smirks. “Wise move. I know that club calls themselves an MC, but they’re acting like the criminal gang the feds lump you in with. Cutting them loose is a good step. If I have a chance, I’ll drop that into conversation. Won’t get the heat entirely off of you but may remove it in this particular instance.”
“What does that mean for us?” For Stevie.
RIP sits forward. “You claimed the blind bitch, Beef. So you’ve got a vested interest. It means that we won’t be on your backs. If you want to give her protection, you won’t get blowback from the Soulz.”
“But,” Chaz takes over, “that doesn’t mean she’s not still at risk. Warped Jokers may have lost their charter, but they still act as a club. They’ve got a lot to lose if she testifies.”
“Can you confirm you’re happy with that?” Drummer’s voice is firm. “I want there to be no misunderstandings.”
RIP shrugs. “Now they’re out on their own, as Devil here said, they’re just criminals. We’d like it if the feds don’t use the term MC in front of the judge but can’t see how we can stop it.”
“Stevie’s testimony will only identify the men who held up the bank. Who they are has nothing to do with her further than that.”
The two Wretched Soulz prez’ raise and dip their heads. “We’ve washed our hands of them. They’re on their own.”
I catch Demon’s eye. Looking straight at me, he steps into the conversation. “All well and good to say there’s no issue with giving Beef’s woman our protection. The problem remains, we don’t know where Stevie is—who has her, and whether she’s still breathing. You,” he nods at RIP and Chaz, “may no longer be looking for her, but that doesn’t mean the Warped Jokers have stopped.”
I swallow. Those are my thoughts but having them put so starkly is chilling.
“That’s where I come in.” Devil’s voice is steady as eight pairs of eyes land on him. “Beef, I know you want me to get down to business, but there’s background you need to hear first.”
Drummer focuses his steely glare on me. My mouth stays shut, even though I’m starting to feel uneasy that I’m out of the loop in some way.
Devil continues, “Drummer asked me to do some investigating. I’ve got my best people—Sean and Nessa—working on it. One person I have been able to find is Marshal Lennox.”
I breathe in sharply. “You’ve found him? Where is he?” I want to get my hands on him. Make him tell me everything. Hope starts to glow inside me. Maybe now I’m closer to finding her.
“Hold your horses, Beef. He’s told me everything, which is nothing.” Devil wipes his hand over his face while that slight burn of expectation is extinguished.
“What do you mean, he’s told you nothing?”
“He doesn’t know anything.”
My muscles start to tense. “Just let me have five minutes with him…”
“Lennox was compromised, Beef, as much as Stevie. He’s willing to help us find out how that happened, as he’s close to as angry as you are.”
That’s impossible, my glare shows my thoughts.
My expression has no noticeable effect on Devil. “Look, this is the situation. Lennox liked Ms Nichols, admired her. He was doing his job, but as he said, this was one time his whole heart was in it. Ninety percent of the time he’s providing a new cover for criminals in return for their information, a small wrong to put a huge one right. I’ve spoken to him at length, and I’m assured he put his everything into keeping that woman safe. He did it all by the book. New identity, new location. He stayed close until she was settled because she has particular needs. He’s feeling bloody guilty. He was happy to talk to me as we went through all the steps he had taken, and I’m convinced he didn’t put a foot wrong.”
“He stole her away from me,” I growl. “Took her away from our protection.”
“He thought he was doing right. You’re an MC, same as the Jokers—”
Now snarls refuting the similarity come from all around me. From the Satan’s Devils denials that we’re anything like them, from the Soulz it sounds more like they wouldn’t have been so stupid as to get caught. But nothing fazes Devil. He simply waits for the noise to die down, then continues.
“He had everything set up. A completely new identity. A new place for her to stay. Thing is, he knew nothing about it. Because he was compromised, he handed off to a trusted colleague. The only part he played was getting her out of here. He knew she’d go with him, and pr
obably wouldn’t with anyone she didn’t know.”
“But he knows where she is?”
If Devil could look sympathetic, that would be his expression. “No.”
“Who’s the new handler?” Drummer asks.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“What the fuck you mean that doesn’t matter?” I roar, suddenly impatient with all this pussy footing around. “I want to know who he is. I want to speak to him. I want to…”
Devils eyes meet mine. “I can tell you, it was Marshal Handson. But that won’t help you in the least. He’s dead.”
Oh fuck. My heart stops. I can’t voice the question.
My voice breaks. “Stevie?”
“Missing.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Unable to stay still, I stand. My chair topples over, I don’t bother to right it. I pace up and down the side of the table, my hands raking over my head and down my face. Rage bottles up inside me.
“Give him the rest, Devil,” Drum says tersely. “Whatever you know.”
“Accident, murder? And when?” I’m trying to get my head around there’s no one protecting Stevie.
“Yesterday. And I’m pretty sure you’d class a bullet through the forehead as murder,” Devil replies drily. “Crime scene’s been fully investigated. No sign of a struggle, or anyone else being there.”
“So Stevie wasn’t taken at the same time?” Demon asks. “And where was this?”
“Denver,” Devil replies.
“They didn’t take her far enough,” Drummer observes.
Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3 Page 101
