“Could have been a staging point.” The suggestion comes from Devil. “But wherever she’s gone, we have to assume they’ve got ways of finding her. Lennox agrees with me. Someone, somewhere in the US Marshals headquarters is plying them with information. Can’t be anything else.”
“What the fuck do I do?” My thoughts voiced aloud.
“Beef.” Wraith’s there beside me. “Man, we’ll find her. We’re working on this.”
My eyes water as I look at him. “If Lennox knows someone’s dirty, presumably they’re looking into it. If the marshals can’t find their own leak, what the fuck is the chance we can?”
“You’re looking at this wrong, Beef.” Devil’s voice remains calm, but not calming. “You’re right. The marshals are looking to clean their house, particularly focused on who’s responsible for the death of one of their own. Our problem is Stevie and finding her.”
“She could be dead,” I state bluntly.
“No sign of a dead body,” the Englishman replies. “Sean’s checked out the morgue and police reports in Denver.”
“Buried out in the desert?” RIP puts in, unhelpfully.
“She’s clever. She could have gone underground herself. Maybe this Handson wasn’t where he was supposed to be, perhaps didn’t turn up to meet her. She could have hidden.”
“Unlikely,” Drummer responds to Demon. “If she was fully sighted, I’d be thinking that way too. But blind?”
She might be blind, but she’s resourceful. But I have to agree with Drummer. It’s not impossible, but not likely. How would she know who to trust, or more to the point, who not to?
“We start looking in Denver,” Wraith suggests.
“If she knew she’d been located, she’d have wanted to get away. Hop onto the first Greyhound I’d think.”
“Good point. We’ll check out the bus terminals.” Devil makes a note on his phone.
“She could be fuckin’ anywhere.”
“Mouse is working with his friends on the deep web. He’s trying to get a trace on her.”
But it will be as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. So far we’ve got that she could be dead and buried somewhere no one will ever find her, or out on her own, anywhere in the US. I don’t like either option.
“You’re missing something,” Demon states. “We’re talking about the Warped Jokers. They’ll still end up in court whether or not the state’s prime witness is there. Could go either way, may still be enough evidence to convict them. Half of their gang is already in jail awaiting the trial. Already she’s caused more trouble than they can handle. It may be they’re out for revenge, and not just to silence her. Remember what Cray and Seeker told us.”
For a moment I can’t speak.
“Their skin trade,” RIP breathes. “She could go into their pipeline, disappear forever, and spend the rest of her life wishing they’d taken her out.”
Fuck. He couldn’t have said anything worse. What was it Cray had said? A blind woman wouldn’t care who’s between her legs.
I remember how different it was to make love to a blind woman. The same thing I found a turn on, wanting to give her pleasure by touch, could arouse men for a totally different reason. A woman they could torture because she couldn’t see what was coming. I turn, my hands smashing down on the table, tears from my eyes starting to run down my face.
“We’ve got to find her!” I yell in frustration, feeling so useless. This morning I woke up and Stevie wasn’t there, but at least I hoped she was being looked after, that someone was watching out for her. It wasn’t much, but it was some comfort at least. Now we know fuck all about where she is, only that she’s been missing for twenty-four hours.
“Why now, Devil? Why didn’t you tell us yesterday? Before any trail went cold?”
Devil’s eyes turn icy when he lays them on Drummer. “Because it’s marshal business. Lennox didn’t inform me until today. Updated Drummer as soon as I got here, and he got on to Mouse. We haven’t been sitting twiddling our thumbs, Beef. Until a few hours ago, I thought my update was simply that she was safely in the hands of the marshals. Got Sean looking into it. Just before I came in I got the update that he couldn’t locate a body.”
Not yet. But I’m not hopeful they won’t. All my dreams and plans. Yeah, I knew I’d lost her, but I was going to get her back. As Judge had suggested, if all else had failed, I’d been planning on turning up at court. One way or another I’d get her back. Or at least, give her the chance to come back to me.
RIP and Chaz have been muttering together, in such a low tone I can’t distinguish their words. Nods, chin raises, shakes of their heads tell me nothing. I’m expecting the two Soulz’ prez’ to get up and walk out, saying it’s our problem and nothing to do with them, when Chaz bangs the table and surprises me.
“Drummer. You and I go way back. Sent us some lucrative business not too long ago as well.”
I remember the drug trade we didn’t want to dip into but passed on the tip to the Arizona Soulz. I frown. I’d been close to death at the time. Now inside I feel all over again that I’m dying.
For a reply, Drummer raises his chin.
Chaz continues, “I fancy myself a trip to LA. Let’s go capture us a Joker. Get info on their houses where they take the girls. If they’ve got her stashed there, we’ll find her.”
“Stinger might help. I’ll call him, see if we can get a step ahead in this game,” RIP offers. Then seeing my confusion reminds me gently, “The LA Soulz prez.”
“Jokers will have gone underground, now you’ve taken away their charter.”
“Not so sure of that, Drum. They’re not the brightest tools in the box. No. I think RIP and Chaz are onto something. Anyway, us going to LA is better than kicking our heels here.”
“You want in on this?” Drummer asks Devil, sounding surprised.
Devil’s eyes blaze. “You know me, Drummer. I’ve seen enough of the trafficking business. The thought of a helpless woman being caught up in that, and for nothing but wanting to stand up and tell the truth? Yeah, I’m with you.”
“We’re in too.” Four heads, two prezes, two VP’s are all nodding at RIP’s words. “Just need to get to LA. If she’s with them, that’s where they’ll have her.”
“Been a bit of time since I’ve been in the thick of the action,” Chaz confirms.
Devil holds up his hand. “One, I can get a private plane to take us all down there. We might even be ahead of them if they’re driving her down. I doubt they’ve got the resources for a jet and won’t be able to take her commercial. Two, get Stinger spreading a net. Three, just in case she got free herself, I’ll keep Nessa and Sean searching.” He pauses as though to gather his thoughts. “I got a couple of men I can get on the ground there too.”
“Mouse and Cad will work with Sean,” Drummer confirms.
“Expected that.” Devil nods, then looks around. “Am I missing anything?”
“Only that if she’s got free, she might contact Beef,” Wraith suggests.
I shrug. “I’ll have my phone, but she doesn’t know the number.”
“She knows the club owns businesses. She’s resourceful enough to find one of their numbers. I’ll get everyone listening out for a call for help. We’ll get brothers to her if she makes contact.”
“You staying here, Demon?”
“Yeah. Just in case she tries to get here. I’ll send Thunder with you, Beef. You need to have a brother with you.”
I’ve already got two. My real brothers, Drummer and Wraith. But I appreciate the gesture and that Demon has started to see me as one of his own. Won’t for long, of course, I’ll be headed back to Tucson as soon as possible. I frown. Without Stevie at my side, I can’t see myself anywhere.
Devil stands and leaves the room with the parting comment he’s off to make the arrangements. RIP follows him out, and I know he’ll be calling Stinger. Demon isn’t far behind them, but he returns shortly with a tray full of beer bottles. They’re only half drunk wh
en the other two men return. Devil saying a plane will be waiting for us in two hours at Pueblo Memorial airport, and RIP reporting Stinger will try to find a Warped Joker. His grin and slight shake of his head suggests the LA Soulz prez isn’t fazed by the task he’s been set.
Four hours later we’re setting down in LA. I’m hopeful we’re not far on the heels of Stevie if this is indeed where she’s been taken. The drive from Denver would take eighteen hours, and that’s if they drove or rode without stopping. We’re less than a day behind her.
Surely not much could have happened to her in that time?
When we disembark, it’s to find three SUVs waiting for us. Stinger, himself, has arrived to escort us to his clubhouse. Chaz and RIP ride with him, I find myself in the next with Drummer, Wraith and Thunder. Charmer, Bull and Devil take the third.
Automatically I go to shrug out of my cut before getting into a cage and catch Wraith’s eyes.
“Feels naked, without one, doesn’t it?”
I’ve worn a cut for fifteen or so years, so it certainly does. But we’re not in Satan’s Devils territory, so couldn’t bring them with us.
“You gonna be okay, Beef?” Wraith’s eyes are watching me carefully.
I shrug, not knowing how to answer. If we can’t find Stevie, I’ll wish I hadn’t risen from the dead last year. I’d believed I had something to live for, but without her, it seems I’ve lived only for life to have a chance to torture me. Why had it taken so long for me to pull my head out of my ass and know I wanted to claim her? If I hadn’t friend-zoned her for so long, I would have been the one she’d turned to instead of Lennox.
“We’ll find her.” It’s Thunder who sounds adamant. “You’ll have her back, Beef.”
He can’t know whether that’s possible or not, but the sentiment is something I have to hang onto.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to be positive. “When,” yeah, when, not if, “when we get hold of a Joker, I want to take lead, Drum.”
He fastens those steel-grey eyes on me. “Know you do, Beef. And I would if I were in your shoes. But the fact is, we’re in the Soulz hands now. On their territory and will be in their house.”
“But—”
“Beef,” Wraith interrupts. “You’re likely to kill him. You’re too emotionally involved and I don’t fuckin’ blame you for that. If it was Sophie, yeah, I’d want my fists on him too. I’ve no doubt the Soulz will make him hurt, but they’re likely to get him to talk. You let fly? Break his jaw? Might cause him pain but won’t get your woman back.”
LA traffic is a bitch. We seem to be stopped more times than we’re moving and I long to be on my bike. Lane splitting is legal in California and getting through this traffic would be a breeze on two wheels. On four it’s hell on earth. I hate being enclosed in a cage at the best of times. At least the air-conditioning works. The way the road is shimmering as I look ahead reminds me it’s high summer, and the temperature will be hot as hell. Not quite as hot as to what I was used to in Tucson. The climate in Pueblo is slightly cooler, that’s one thing going for it. Though, I wouldn’t be looking forward to snow in the winter. Uh uh, not this Arizona boy. Not that I’ll be there to experience it.
Stupid thoughts, but I welcome anything to get my mind off Stevie and what she might be going through. I long for a call from Pueblo to say she’s reached out for help, or for Devil’s guys to find she’s on a Greyhound bus and that they can track her. Devil managed to get a plane fast, he can probably manage to get her picked up from whatever bus station she arrives at. Yeah, Stevie’s got away and is safe, and we’re here on nothing more than a wild goose chase. That’s the thought I’ve got to hang onto. The alternative is something I don’t have it in me to even consider.
I swear the journey from the airport to the clubhouse takes longer than the plane ride. As the SUV pulls up, I’m subjected to the full heat of the sun for just a few seconds before being waved on through the door without having had a chance to examine the exterior of the Wretched Soulz clubhouse. Inside it’s much the same as any club I’ve been to. A bar in prime place, pool tables, games machines and an odour of cigarette smoke, stale beer and sweat. A man’s environment. A girl is down on her knees sucking cock, a sight I wouldn’t usually object to, but the thought that Stevie could be forced to do what the club whore is doing voluntarily makes me go cold to my gut. I turn quickly away.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Despite the heavy traffic, we arrive at the LA clubhouse only minutes behind the first SUV, and the third no more than a few seconds behind us. We’re in time to see the various Wretched Soulz prezes meet. Arms clasped, backs slapped and then hugs. I try to suppress my impatience while the greeting ceremony takes place, and the obligatory small talk which follows. Then, finally, when to my mind an inordinate amount of delay has passed, Stinger comes over to us.
Gritting my teeth, knowing we could have been out searching, trying to find a man with knowledge of where Stevie is, I do my best to be polite when he gets to me.
“You’re Beef.”
I raise my chin and hold out my hand.
Stinger’s face splits into a grin. “Got some news you might like.”
I tilt my head to one side.
“Found us a Joker.”
“Where is he?” I rasp.
He jerks his head as though indicating somewhere behind him. “Secure. Got my enforcer softening him up. Letting him know what to expect. Left the actual questions until you got here.”
“How’d you find him so quick?”
“Assholes were still using their favourite bar.” He spits on the floor. “Stupid motherfuckers.”
“You going to clean them out?” Chaz calls.
“Yeah, will have to if they haven’t got the message by now.”
“We’re wasting time,” I interrupt.
“Respect, Beef,” Drummer says, warningly.
Stinger lifts his head and nods in appreciation at my prez, then his eyes narrow. “Him. He’s the one in with the feds?”
Him is Devil. Devil grins and, stepping forward, speaks up for himself. “Your house, your rules. But I work with, not for, the feds. Right now, I’m employed by Drummer to find Stevie Nichols.”
My eyes shoot to Drummer’s, he gives a confirmatory chin lift in return. I didn’t know Drummer was paying him. Fuck it’s good to have someone at my back.
“He straight?” Stinger asks Drummer, clearly still suspicious.
Drummer gives a twisted grin. “He’s watched Blade’s handiwork before, and we’re still here.”
“I can sit the questioning out,” Devil offers. “But could be he’ll let something slip I can get my guys following up on. Save time if I hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“You a fuckin’ Aussie?”
Devil snorts. “British.”
Stinger regards him for a moment, wasting yet more time, before giving a sharp up and down of his head. He points his finger at him and snarls, “You rat us out, you’re dead.”
Devil shrugs as though a death threat is water off a duck’s back and then, finally, we’re led out back, across a yard, and into a storage shed. The walls and roof are made of corrugated iron, and to say it’s hot inside is an understatement. I can immediately see why Stinger’s enforcer is stripped down to a naked chest.
They’ve got a man tied to something I’ve only seen on the rare occasion I’ve gone to a BDSM club. I’ve never been into that shit seriously, but I know enough to recognise a St Andrew’s cross that he’s been strung up to. Arms in a V above his head, leg’s in an inverted V tied apart at the ankles. It leaves him wide open and vulnerable.
“How’s he doing, Brake?” Stinger enquires as we walk in.
“Sweating.” Brake, who presumably is the enforcer, grins widely.
Anyone would sweat in this environment. I can already feel my tee dampening under my arms.
“Well, make him a bit more comfortable.” Stinger leans back on a workbench.
I stand,
my hands clenching into fists. I try to relax, but despite my efforts, each time I force them open, seconds later my fingers have curled inward again.
Clearly knowing what his prez is asking, Brake steps forward carrying a blade that even from here looks sharp and lethal.
“Stay still,” he warns in a gravelly voice.
The man strung up protests, “What you doing? I’ve done nothing…”
Then he goes silent as the knife cuts through his tee as easily as through butter. Brake then sinks to his haunches and begins carving his way up through the denim of his captive’s jeans. “Stay very still,” he warns again. “Or I might cut off your balls accidentally.”
Like any man would, he stills. But protests still come out of his mouth. “Don’t cut my jeans, no man, you can’t.”
But Brake can.
It’s hot, sweat is already running down the Joker’s face, and his face is flushed from the heat. But I’ll be fucked if he doesn’t go even redder as his pants and underwear hit the floor. Yeah, I can see there are benefits to a St Andrew’s Cross. Vulnerability. His legs stretched apart leaving his sensitive parts wide open.
Not that the Joker’s are currently very impressive. Mind you, in the circumstances I would think any man’s would wither.
Stinger leans in conspiratorially. “Blake’s got some fuckin’ good techniques. He put a cock cage, one of those real tight ones on a man once. He then fed the fucker Viagra and let’s just say he didn’t take heed of the recommended dose. You should have seen him. His eyes looked like they were popping out of his head.” He’s not speaking particularly quiet. The Warped Joker looks in complete distress, his eyes flicking around as if to spy what Brake has waiting for him.
“He die?”
“Nah. We let him go in the end. Took that cage off eventually, and, well, I swear this room still stinks of cum.”
Can’t tell whether he’s joking or not, but my story’s the truth. “Worse thing I saw happened to a brother.” I frown, remembering Rock. “Fuckin’ bastards flayed his tat off his back. He said it was the worst pain he’d ever felt.”
Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3 Page 102
