I hadn’t thought of that. The implications slam into me. “Are you saying we’ve got to leave them where they are? Oh my God. Mom’s alone,” I cry out. “What if someone comes for the rest?”
Demon stares at me, then voices his thoughts. “If they’re left there, someone may not take them gently. If they’re not, they might take it out on the person who was storing them, unknowingly or not. Fuck.” He turns to Mace. “Know you’re suspicious of Beth, Mace, so am I. But her mother?”
With a glance my way as if the last thing he wants to do is something to assist me, the enforcer gives a resigned lift of his chin. “If you don’t need me here, Prez, and we’re not setting off anywhere, I’ll go check it out. I’ll take Rusty with me, and we’ll bring whatever’s there back.”
He means take the drugs. “But wouldn’t it be worse if they turn up for them and find them gone?” I’m so worried for my mom. She’s done nothing wrong. “What if they hurt my mom, trying to find out what happened to them?”
“Bring Beth’s mom back with you.” Demon shakes his head. “Fuck, this is getting complicated.”
Now one of the older bikers, Bomber, appears. “Ink’s not been charged yet, but that will be coming. Got Sykes out of bed and he’s at the station.”
“Bet the lawyer liked that,” Mace scoffs.
“For what we pay him, he better be there with a smile on his fuckin’ face,” Demon retorts.
Ink. Them talking about cops and a lawyer makes it real. I start to cry in earnest, saying through my sobs what I tried to tell them from the start, “Let me go. I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell them what happened, I’ll say Ink had nothing to do with it—”
“No, you won’t,” Demon says.
“But this is all my fault,” I protest, and hiccup. “I don’t know why Ink took the bag off me, but he was arrested when it should have been me.”
“Exactly.” Now, Prez is crouching in front of me. He brings out a knife and slices first through the ties holding one leg, and then the other. He nods at Beef who goes behind me and frees my hands. At last able to, I wipe at my eyes. Demon continues, “Ink knew whoever was caught with those drugs could be arrested—he knew the area was swarming with SWAT. He made a call that that wasn’t going to be you. Until I know what was in his head when he did it, you’re doing nothing to put yourself in the sights of the cops.”
Demon rises, I get to my feet as well, rubbing my wrists to get the circulation going. We stand looking eye to eye.
“Fuck knows why Ink did what he did,” Demon eventually tells me. “For some reason he thought it was better to be him than you. Maybe he thought there was a chance he could get away with it…”
“Could he?” Hope stops me breathing.
“No fuckin’ chance.” Demon’s eyes flare. “He was caught handing drugs to a fuckin’ dealer.”
I slump, my hand reaching out and finding the back of the chair I’d so recently been held captive on, needing its support to remain standing. The stark words sounding dreadful now they’ve been voiced.
Taking pity on me, Demon suggests, “Maybe Ink cares a lot for you Beth. Face it, doing prison time is not something anyone would do lightly. The question whether you’re worth it or not hasn’t yet been addressed.”
My head moves side to side. Is there anything in what Demon is saying? Does Ink really care for me? Is that the explanation for what he did? I try to work it through, speaking my thoughts out loud, “Ink took the rap for me. He knew he was likely to be arrested.” Never in my life would I have dreamed anyone would do so much. It makes it ten, a hundred times worse. I would never have asked him to do something as reckless when any trouble should have landed on my head. “He shouldn’t have, Demon. I could have explained to the cops…”
“Could you?” Demon doesn’t look or sound convinced. “Beth, what would you be doing if you were questioned right now? Would you be dropping your brother in it? What difference would that make? You knowingly took drugs to deliver to a dealer. That’s as bad as selling them yourself. You were caught supplying them. You think they’d buy your story of being coerced?”
Would I drop my brother in it? If he was telling the truth, involving the police would mean he’d be killed. Connor’s life or Ink’s freedom? What a choice. But Demon’s is a moot point. I’m not being questioned by the police. I have damned all idea where my brother is, whether he’s alive or dead, or whether he’d been lying or truthful. All I know is the man who I’d started to have strong feelings for is in a jail cell right now. I’m vaguely aware tears continue to fall down my face as I acknowledge how helpless I’m feeling.
“We’re going to have to sort out how to deal with this.” Beef steps up beside Demon, delivering a scowl in my direction. “Christ, what a fuckin’ mess.”
Is he talking about me? Startled, I realise I’m a blubbering disaster at the moment. I scramble in my pocket to find a tissue and blow my nose loudly.
My brother could be injured, dying, or already dead. My lover could rot in jail. My mom’s life could be in danger if my brother told whoever’s got him the location of the rest of the drugs.
This is too big for me to handle. There’s only one thing to do, even though Demon had told me not to. I straighten my back. “I’m going to the cops. I’ll tell them everything. At the very least I’ll get Ink out of jail. I’ll go now.”
“No, you won’t,” Demon announces equally firmly. “You’re staying here. Where we can keep an eye on you.”
“Demon, it’s the right thing to do. I need to take responsibility for any decision I’ve made. The cops may let me off, I didn’t think I had a choice…”
“You think that would clear you? Christ, woman, I’ve already told you. You were an accomplice at the very least. In their view, as soon as you found the drugs you should have turned them in. I doubt they’ll accept any excuse.”
“So, I get arrested. I’ll do the time.” It might kill me. I’ve never been enamoured by the thought of being locked up. I shudder as I recall what I’ve heard about going inside, but I can’t let an innocent man suffer for actions I’d taken. Why Ink? Why? What had made him decide to do what he’d done when he must have known what was likely to happen when he took that bag from me? “It’s the only way, Demon. I’ll give myself up. Admit it was me and that Ink knew nothing—”
“No, you won’t,” Demon says, his tone broking no argument. “Ink made the choice. He knew what would happen.”
“But maybe he didn’t,” I protest, trying to justify Ink’s actions. “He can’t have known the cops were so close.”
“Ink knew exactly where the SWAT team was positioned tonight, and what they were looking out for. Odds on that he’d be arrested. If,” he holds up his hand as I go to speak, “if Ink thinks enough of you that he’d do the time instead, then I’m not letting his fuckin’ sacrifice go to waste. You go to the cops? They’ve got you both. You’ll probably achieve nothing, and I doubt that they’ll let him walk.”
“But it wasn’t his fault. It was mine.”
Demon shrugs. “He handed the drugs over. That’s what they saw.”
I turn away, my hand covering my mouth feeling as though I’m going to be sick.
“What the fuck’s going on?” A new voice, one I know well. It’s Pyro. “What’s this about Ink being arrested and that it’s Beth’s fault?”
I zone out as I hear Beef explain. Since Connor had called the first time today, I’ve been running on adrenaline, caught up in a world I know nothing about. Suddenly thrust into a universe where people use torture to get what they want, narrowly escaping it being used on myself. I’d got my lover arrested, and all for what?
“Mel’s upstairs, love. Come on, let me take you up to her.” Pyro’s voice sounds close to my ear. “Come on,” he repeats, patiently, when I don’t move.
“Mel shouldn’t have come,” I say, absently. “She’s pregnant.”
“Yeah, but not fuckin’ ill. I couldn’t keep her away once she heard someth
ing was up with you and Ink.”
“Ro,” Demon attracts his attention, “I know your wife and Beth are close, but in other circumstances, Beth would be a fuckin’ enemy of the club. She’s no friend of ours, but it appears she might mean something to Ink.”
“We’re offering her our protection?” Pyro gives me an assessing look.
Demon’s statement hadn’t surprised me, I’d be a fool not to sense the animosity in the air. Shifting a little uneasily, I don’t blame them and can appreciate the conundrum they’re now in. They might offer protection to me and my mom, but it’s not out of the hand of friendship.
“Yes,” Demon tells him, having come to a decision. “For now, Beth and Patsy are under our protection. At least until we know what’s happening with Ink, and what part this Connor played in the drugs flooding into Pueblo.” He turns to me. “If I get word you turning yourself in could help Ink out of his predicament, I’ll take you to the cops myself. And,” his voice deepens, “if you’ve been telling me a pack of lies, you’ll be taking your last breath.”
I gulp. Knowing he means it. But my only danger is him catching me out in a lie, and all that’s come out of my mouth is the truth.
Pyro nods as if a message has been telegraphed and understood, but warns, “I need something to tell Mel if we’re keeping Beth away from her.”
“Nah. She can talk to Mel.” Demon turns to me. “But for fuck’s sake do not give her any details of what happened tonight. Can I fuckin’ trust you on that?”
It’s Mel’s man who persuades me. “Keeping ol’ ladies out of club business is keeping them safe. You get dragged into this mess? Your friends might be questioned. If she doesn’t know anything, she can’t implicate herself or the club. Got it?”
I nod. I’ve got it. “She’s pregnant, Pyro. I won’t hurt her again. I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’ll do nothing and say nothing that could upset Mel.”
“Yeah.” Pyro gives a twisted smile. “Just say it’s club business, and she’ll give you sympathy without questions.”
I suppose that makes sense, but I highly doubt Mel will be able to stop herself from interrogating me. But as I don’t know what’s going on myself, there’s little I can give away. If I’m honest, I’d prefer not to admit I have a brother I never talk about, who’s tried to get me involved in criminal activity carried out by the man who, however much I dislike it, is my dad. Not quite the kind of family you bring up in idle conversation.
Chapter Nineteen
Ink
As a Marine, I was used to making split-second decisions. I’d been a sniper and it’s ingrained in me how to quickly assess what is a threat and what is not. Any hesitation might mean the death of my comrades. I see a situation and sum it up fast.
Her stature and figure were immediately familiar, and then that telltale blue hair left me without the slightest doubt it was Beth. I didn’t even stop to think why she was there. One split second was all it took to realise that I couldn’t let her get taken in by the cops. I didn’t stop to rationalise anything, just acted entirely on instinct to save the woman I must have serious feelings for. Else, why would I put my freedom on the line?
I was brought to the station and searched. My cut, wallet, phone and belt had been taken from me—my gun and knife had already disappeared when they’d handcuffed me at the scene. I’d been photographed and fingerprinted even though my prints are already on file, as previously, I’d been rounded up before with other members of the MC for something we hadn’t done.
Beth’s appearance, my arrest and processing, it had all happened so fast, moving me along like a stone crashed against the rocks by the tide. Now the action has stopped, I have the first chance in hours to consider what’s happened. As my situation catches up with me, I realise what a fucking bind I’m in.
Pushed inside with the door clanging behind me, I get my first taste of where I’ll be spending the remainder of this god-awful night. It’s a Saturday, the station is crammed and busy. Clearly no cells are available, I’ve ended up in the drunk tank of all fucking places.
Most of the inmates around me are currently sleeping off their excess, those that aren’t, I intimidate with a glare and a flex of my muscles. Then, confident I’ll be left alone, I sink down onto my haunches and, ignoring the snores, belching and farting as best I can, take a moment to process and think.
Beth. Fuckin’ Beth. What the fuck was she doing there? If she were here standing in front of me, it wouldn’t be my palm on her ass she’d be feeling, but my hands wrapped around her neck as I shook whatever it was that had gotten into her out.
Fucking hell. I’d all but decided to claim her, and she was carrying drugs to a drop-off point. Is she the one fucking with my club?
Too frustrated to rest, I abruptly stand. One of the drunks staggers to his feet.
“You fuckin’ kicked me,” he slurs.
“I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you don’t sit back down.” I’m longing to hit out at anyone, and he’ll do if he doesn’t shut up.
My rage gets through his alcoholic haze, and wisely for him, if disappointing to me, he sits once again.
What the fuck was Beth doing there?
Beth supplying drugs?
No. That’s not the woman I’ve come to know, that’s not her, is it? I rake my hands through my hair, trying to understand, thinking back to what I saw. She’d emerged from the alley nervous and on edge, not as though this was something she did all the time. When I took the drugs from her, she’d tried to protest, had been hesitant when I told her to run. That’s not the reactions of a supplier of drugs. Why was making the drop so important?
Why the fuck was she there?
Why did I set myself up?
My fist hits my palm.
A loud window-rattling snore reminds me where I am. I’ve given up my freedom, for her. For a bitch who most likely doesn’t deserve it. A fucking bitch who I thought of making my old lady. Well, being locked up has at least saved me from making that mistake. Women, never good news.
I glance around, almost hoping one of these fuckers gives me a hard time. I won’t start a fight, but it sure would be me as the last man standing.
I’m in jail. I’ve done nothing wrong. Cops will never believe me.
I may not get out. Unless I can come up with a story that’s convincing. How the fuck do I do that?
My—I snort at the idea I refer to her as mine—woman may have let me down, but my club will never desert me. I can depend on them and know they will already be arranging a lawyer. Sykes, if I’m not mistaken. Maybe between us we can work out something that the cops will accept.
Fucking Beth. And fucking me. My desire to protect her had me doing just that, when more thought may have stopped me acting impulsively.
Why had Beth appeared, at that time of night and at that place and carrying what I know now, and at the time assumed, were drugs? Is she not the innocent civilian I’d thought her to be? Nothing about her behaviour seemed to suggest otherwise. But I could be wrong. Take Skull, for example, he’d lived a double life which none of us had ever expected. Was Beth an undercover cop? No, unlikely. She works for the government, yes, but does something with Mel in the land registry department. From what she’d said, and Mel would have caught her out in a lie, she’d worked there since she’d left school.
Was she not as innocent as she’d appeared? Was she in cahoots with her father and was he responsible for the drugs flooding into Pueblo? Unlikely. The way Beth and her mom had talked about Phil, nothing would have convinced either to get involved with him. Unless both women were good enough actors to be nominated for an Oscar, there’s no way they had me fooled.
Had Beth known I was going to be there behind Tits Up tonight? Devils run the strip club, it was obvious some of us would be around. But unless there was provocation, and in this case, the drug dealing which I hadn’t told her about, we were unlikely to frequent the alleyways behind the club. So, no, my presence had to have taken her by surprise.
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How did she know the dealer was going to be there? Is she earning extra money by being a courier, or even dealing? After all, working for the government is not the highest paying of jobs. While I hate drugs with a passion, having seen a childhood friend get hooked and finally overdose and die, she might think they’re fairly innocent. Fuck it, no. Who could look at that shit in a rosy light?
My head drops into my hands as my brain goes around in circles. Connor. That waste-of-space brother of hers. It makes more sense he’s involved. Both him and his father he thinks so much of and works for. Could he have put pressure on Beth? Persuaded her to drop drugs off with the dealer? Was Connor there himself tonight? Was it an associate of Connor’s who I’d passed the stash over too? If so, why the fuck is he involving his sister in that shit? Or, are they in it together? And why the hell hadn’t I insisted Cad drop everything else and investigate him and his father?
Fuck my life, which now as I know it could be over. The cops are going to throw the book at me. After all, I was found with drugs in my hand. Enough witnesses in uniform to properly finger me for whatever they want. They won’t go easy on a Satan’s Devil. Fucking hell. I’m done for. Will I ever see the outside of a prison cell again? Age wise there’s every possibility, not that I know offhand how long a sentence for possession with intent to sell would carry, but say even if it was thirty years, I’d be sixty. Christ, Hellfire’s age or thereabouts. Trouble is, while I’ve not been inside, I’ve known people who have, and some who’ve never gotten out. Being a Devil would plant an immediate target on my back, everyone wanting to be the big man and take a member of an outlaw MC out. It’s quite possible I, too, wouldn’t be alive at the end of my sentence.
I didn’t serve my country to go to prison for a crime I didn’t commit. But it now seems, because of Beth, I might.
Ink's Devil: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #5 Page 19
