He’s also been clever. Leaving it so late, I’ve no option if I’m going to try to save him, but to follow his instructions to the letter. I don’t have the time to call for help or stop to wonder whether there was a better way to extricate him from whatever trouble he’s in. If I’m going to make the meet, I can’t involve the cops, tell Mom or go to Ink for help. There’s no time.
But still there’s a niggling doubt at the back of my mind, there’s a chance he might just be using me to do his dirty business. Can I take that risk?
No, I can’t. He’s my brother, I couldn’t live with myself if he died because I hadn’t done what he’s asked. But if he’s stringing me along, he’ll wish he was dead later.
I’ve got to get moving.
I’m not stupid. It’s cold, and I’ve got gloves in the pocket of my jacket I’m already wearing. Taking them out I slip my hands into them, then pick up two blocks and, already feeling like a criminal, take them back to my room and place them in an old rucksack I remember being hidden behind my winter boots in my own closet. The packages drop to the bottom and feel heavier than their weight.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be part of the drug world. I don’t want to feed someone’s habit when they should be getting help instead. How many children are going hungry because their parents are shooting themselves up?
I could sacrifice my brother and take this all to the cops.
But Connor could die.
I’ve barely enough time to get to the place I’m supposed to go. No time to think about how to handle this better. Connor’s played me well if it is a game, an appeal to my caring nature, an appeal to his big sister who still wants to redeem him which wouldn’t, couldn’t, go unheeded.
I stifle a sob. Why Connor, why? How did you come to this? Is this what Phil has gotten you involved in?
I hear a sound and freeze, but it’s only the house settling and not, thank goodness, my mom stirring. She must never know what Connor is up to, it would kill her. As for finding out I was going to be driving around Pueblo to deliver drugs? I don’t think I’d survive her fury.
I can do this.
His instructions were simple. Get to my destination and hand the bag over. I won’t even bother taking the drugs out, I’ll gladly forego the rucksack if I can get out of there faster. Then I’ll return, report that it’s done and hopefully save Connor.
I get in my car and start the engine and reverse off the driveway. Tomorrow I’ll speak to Ink. He or his club will probably know better than I how to dispose of the remainder of the drugs that have been left in our house. One thing’s for certain, the other packages won’t be staying there one more day. I’ll set fire to them myself if I have to. Once I know Connor is safe. I can salve my conscience by believing the bulk of the drugs will never hit the streets.
I drive carefully, obeying all the rules of the road, scared witless I’ll get pulled up in a traffic stop. If they find this amount of drugs on me, I’ll surely end up going to prison. While I don’t want my brother to hurt, I don’t want to end up doing serious time for him either. To be locked up in jail? Not something I think I’d be able to survive. There’s also the very good chance that if I’m caught, Connor will be killed as I’d have failed to make the delivery.
I keep to the speed limit, not one mile above or below it. I eye every traffic light ready to come to a halt. At intersections, I check very carefully. A cruiser passes by on the other side of the road, and I sneak glances in my rearview, holding my breath until it disappears out of sight.
The short journey across town seems to take ages, and I’m violently shaking by the time I pull up. I pass a building with an unimaginative name and glaring neon sign, then doing what I’m told, navigate around it until I’m parking in one of the back streets to the rear.
It was Tits Up I’d passed, the strip club owned by Ink’s club. Help could be near. There were motorcycles parked up in a line out front.
But Mel’s assured me the club doesn’t run drugs. They may want to stop me handing them over, preferring them off the streets instead. What help would that be to Connor? He might end up dead if I don’t play my part. I thump the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t want to deliver drugs, but if I want to save Connor, I don’t see I have any choice. The clock on my dash shows time has all but run out.
I shrug off my jacket and pull up the hood of my hoodie, shoving my dyed blue hair inside, trying to make sure no strands are showing. My distinctive feature a drawback tonight.
I can’t stop trembling as I turn and lift the bag gingerly off the back seat as though it’s going to bite me.
Only a few hundred yards and I’ll be passing it over. Then, my one and only foray into a life of crime will be finished. Fuck you, Connor. I decide to make sure he’s alright, then cut him out of my life. If he’s going to live a life where he puts himself in danger, then that’s on him and shouldn’t fall back on me or Mom.
Mom has still got the remaining eight packages in her house.
I’ll call Ink and ask him for help as soon as I get back.
Connor might die if someone knows there are more, and they don’t turn up.
I don’t care. Tonight I’ll do what he wants. Tomorrow I’ll get help. I shouldn’t have come here right now, but it’s too late to have doubts.
Almost paralysed with hopelessness and fear, I glance at my phone. Time to go. A couple of minutes to get to the rendezvous, and then I’ll be in the clear. And Connor will be safe. Fuck Connor. Fuck my fucking brother to hell and back.
Getting out of the car I glance around, checking the landmarks Connor had told me to watch out for. I’m parked by the Jade Lion just like he said and easily spy the alley I’m supposed to go up. It’s narrow and runs up beside the massage parlour, closed now, of course.
My fingers curl around the strap of the bag and then locking my car carefully—heaven forbid someone steals it and leaves me stranded—I take the first step into the night.
It’s dark. The light from the streetlamps behind me quickly fades and it takes me a moment to adjust to the light only from the moon. I shiver, the temperature has dropped, and after slipping on a patch of ice which stubbornly had refused to melt, start picking my way more carefully.
A shadow appears in front of me, still tens of yards away. It doesn’t draw closer, as though waiting for me to go to him. I’m certain it’s the man I’m supposed to hand this to. Who else would be waiting in an alley in the dead of the night?
But before I can reach him, I feel a presence behind me and a hand clasps over my mouth. Instant terror floods through me and I freeze, my body preparing to kick out when I recognise the voice that speaks right into my ear.
“Get out of here, Beth.”
“Ink?” It can’t be. Why is he here? He can’t be part of this. His club doesn’t do drugs. But there’s no time to explain, the man who holds my brother’s life in his hands is waiting. “I can’t, I—”
“I think you’ve got something of mine.” The man moves further out of the shadows twenty yards or so away.
I was right. This is the man I’m supposed to meet.
A tug and I lose my uncertain grip on the rucksack. Ink’s got it in his hands instead.
“Get out of here, Beth,” he commands, strangely in that voice he normally uses during sex. My brain, already attuned to him, interprets it as instruction. Wanting nothing more than to escape, I start to back away as Ink moves toward the man. Then, not understanding Ink’s involvement, or how he’d turned up, I take my opportunity and flee.
I’m aware of a commotion behind me and am thinking maybe I should stop when powerful arms come around me and I’m yanked up against a hard chest. I open my mouth to scream, but for the second time tonight, it’s covered by a palm.
“Shut the fuck up, Beth.”
In my mind’s depths I recognise this voice too, but not being Ink’s, panic takes over. All I know is, I’m trapped. I kick out with my leg hearing an oomph as I hit his
knee. I bite down on his hand.
“For fuck’s sake, Beth. It’s me, Sparky.” As he talks, he’s dragging me back. “I’ve got to get you out of here. Ink would go apeshit if you were caught up in this.”
Sparky? But what’s he doing here? Then I register his desire is the same as mine—to get as far away from here as possible. But I’ve failed, haven’t I? Or did Ink hand over the drugs.
I stop fighting. Connor, I’m sorry. I tried.
He doesn’t let go of me completely, but now has just one hand with a firm hold of my arm, and he’s tugging me along. Then we’re running. I easily keep up with him, my long strides matching his.
“Where’s your car?”
I stop. “I’ve got to go back…” I’ve got to make sure the drugs were handed over. An image of Connor with a gun to his head, a bullet flying… “Sparky…”
“Where’s your fuckin’ car, Beth? There’s no time.” He grabs hold of my biceps and shakes me.
What can I do? Ink’s here, so’s Sparky. There could be more bikers. My head’s spinning. What’s happened to the drugs? And what will be the outcome for Connor?
I’m so far out of my depth, I’m drowning.
“Your fuckin’ car?”
“There.” I point to the end of the alley. “It’s just there.”
When it comes into sight, I press the key which is in the pocket of my hoodie and it unlocks with a loud beep.
Sparky curses then opens the passenger door. “Get in, I’ll drive.”
What? “No.”
“Don’t argue, Beth. This place is crawling with cops. I’ve got to come with you. Give me your keys.”
“Aren’t we waiting for Ink?” Maybe he’s gone the other way to his bike.
Sparky looks at me, the streetlight shows he’s incredulous. “Didn’t you fuckin’ see?”
“See?” I frown. All my thoughts had been on the fact I’d failed my brother as Sparky had dragged me away. I’d left Ink and the man behind me, more intent on getting free.
“Keys,” Sparky repeats tersely.
Cops, Sparky had said. What the hell does he mean? I’m not a criminal, but I’ve probably just knowingly committed a crime. I don’t want to be arrested, what help would I be to Connor then? He wants my car key. Wordlessly I hand it over. He doesn’t have to adjust the seat, just slides in and starts the engine up, then we’re moving and we’re off.
I’m hyperventilating as though I’ve just run the best part of a marathon. It’s not long before I realise it’s probably lucky that I do have a chauffeur. Tears prick in my eyes as I bow my head, struggling to breathe. One minute I was holding a bag full of drugs, scared witless in case the man I was to give them to proved violent, the next, Ink had them instead. My brain tries to make sense of it all.
Ink.
“What happened to Ink?” I ask, suddenly convinced something has.
“He was fuckin’ arrested,” Sparky snarls.
Oh. My. God. I draw in a sharp breath. “What? Why?”
“You fuckin’ tell me,” he snarls. “In fact, you can tell the prez.”
Sparky sounds so angry. Looking sideways, I notice his jaw is set. I also notice he’s not taking me in the direction of my home.
“Where are we going?”
But it seems he’s done talking to me, and anyway, my question quickly becomes pointless as the compound comes into sight.
I don’t want to be here. “I have to get home,” I wail, needing to try and call the number Connor rang from to check he’s okay; to find out whether somehow this clusterfuck of a night turned out right. If I take his words at face value, now I’d failed, he might be dead.
Sparky spares one glance for me. “I suspect Ink will prefer to be heading home too.”
Ink. Oh my God, Connor. What have you done? What have I done? My mouth opens to ask what exactly has happened to Ink, but everything happens so quickly.
The gates slide open after Sparky leans on the horn. He throws the car into park then dives out. My door is flung open. His fingers curl around my arm once more and I’m pulled roughly out.
I try to remove his hand, it’s impossible as his grip is too strong. He doesn’t seem to care I stumble as he drags me along and in through the door of the clubhouse.
“What the fuck’s gone wrong?” Demon is standing right inside. “Mace called but I couldn’t make any sense of what he was fuckin’ telling me. Why the fuck have the police taken Ink in?” I swear sparks are flashing from his eyes. Then they land on me and flare. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
“She,” Sparky starts in a tone full of disdain bordering on hate, “was delivering fuckin’ drugs to the dealer. She’s obviously deep in this shit. Ink saw, took the bag off her. Cops got him in possession of them.”
What?
Suddenly it all falls into place. “No!” I scream, but my body goes weak as my head spins, it’s only the biker’s tight hold on me that’s holding me up. In my panic and confusion, I hadn’t joined all the dots or realised the implications. Ink arrested for possession of the drugs? The drugs I took there. Ink’s got nothing to do with this. Me, yes, by association with my brother and my desire to save him. But Ink? He’s not to blame at all.
“Fuckin’ yes.” Sparky rounds on me.
Demon pinches the bridge of his nose while looking over his forefinger and thumb to Sparky. “Are you fuckin’ sure?” he asks, in a voice as cold as any I’ve ever heard before.
Sparky has one moment of hesitation. “What was in the bag, Beth?” It’s easy to see he’s praying to some deity that he’s got it wrong.
“Drugs,” I miserably confirm.
The word seems to hang in the air. Then their prez issues an instruction, “Basement. Now.”
Again, Sparky drags me. A door is opened which leads to a set of stairs, then I’m being taken unceremoniously down them.
“Wait, please. I have to make a phone call. Wait, please.” My eyes open in horror as a light is flicked on when we get to the bottom, my gaze immediately landing on a variety of tools laid out on a workbench. “Please, I can explain…” My voice trails off as I wonder what I can say in my defence as the results of the actions I’d taken tonight begin to sink in. Ink, my lover, and one of their brothers has been arrested, and it’s all my fault. It should have been me instead. Surely the cops will let him go? He’s innocent. They must.
Demon kicks out a chair. “Sit her down.”
“No,” I cry out, turning around to face him. “I can explain. I’ve got to go to the police. Ink’s done nothing wrong.”
“No, Ink’s done nothing wrong except it sounds like he’s been stupid. But you fuckin’ have. You are going nowhere until I get answers. Sit. Her. Down,” Demon shouts at Sparky, enraged.
I try to stop them forcing me onto the chair, somehow sensing I’ll not be leaving anytime soon after they get me seated. Again, I try to get loose. Someone comes over to help, and I recognise Mace. Together they manhandle me, keeping just shy of painful as they kick my legs from under me and push me down.
Within seconds, my arms are pulled around the back of the chair and secured. This time, I don’t feel the slightest bit aroused at being tied up. Instead I struggle, protest and kick out.
They overpower me, of course. Sparky takes one leg, Mace the other. Despite having strong leg muscles from all my running, soon my ankles are restrained to the chair. Demon was right. I’m going nowhere.
A thunder of footsteps and Beef appears in the doorway. “What the fuck’s going on, Prez? What’s this about the cops getting Ink?”
“That’s what we’re just about to find out,” Demon calls over his shoulder, then focuses his stare on me. “This bitch got him arrested. She’s about to start fuckin’ talking.”
I’d admired the height of the bikers, I’m revising that opinion as I start to feel small, me with my height advantage taken away sat as I am on the chair, and them towering over me.
It’s human to be scared, but my fear isn’t
for me, but for someone else. Two someones in fact. But I’m a bad sister, as there’s one who concerns me most. “Ink?” I cry out. “What’s happening to Ink?”
“Fuck if I know, but whatever it is, it will be something he doesn’t fuckin’ deserve.” Demon couldn’t have said anything I’d agree with more.
“Let me go!” I demand, knowing there’s only one thing for me to do. “I’ll go to the cops, hand myself in. Tell them it was me and not Ink…”
But Demon shakes his head, and snarls, “Not until we know what the fuck’s going on, and whether that would make things better or worse. Right now, I don’t give a fuck if you rot behind bars, but I need to know what’s best for Ink.”
“Just talk, Beth.” Beef steps into my line of sight, his words are unthreatening, his tone and expression are not. “Don’t like hurting bitches, none of us do. But a brother of ours has been arrested, and from where I’m standing, that’s all down to you. You’ve got no choice but to tell us fuckin’ everything.”
Chapter Eighteen
Beth
They seem to think they’re going to need to use force to get me to speak to them. But why should I hold anything back?
My eyes water with tears I can’t wipe away. Ink’s in trouble, there’s no denying it’s my fault. Mine, as I was persuaded by Connor to be some sort of drug mule for him. I’ve been a fool from start to finish.
Had Connor been lying about everything? Had anything he’d said been the truth? Was he really injured, being tortured and under threat of death? Or did he play on my sympathy? Did he involve me as he thought it would be too dangerous to deliver the drugs himself? Had he set me up, knowing there were going to be cops there tonight? Preferring to see his innocent sister arrested, rather than risk doing time himself? Could he hate me that much? If so, why? What have I ever done to hurt him?
Or had he been totally honest? In which case, now that it’s all gone south, my failure could mean whoever’s holding him will kill him anyway. I should have refused to help. Connor would get what he deserved for living the life that he does, and Ink would be free to live his. I made the wrong choice. But, the devil on my shoulder whispers, How could I have stood back and done nothing?
Ink's Devil: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #5 Page 17
