Ink's Devil: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #5

by Manda Mellett

  Following my lawyer, I shuffle, now with my hands and legs in chains, and am taken into an interview room. This one kitted out with a recording device, and high on the wall, a camera.

  “I’m Detective Barker, this is Detective Hastings. For the recording, please state your names.”

  “Joseph Sykes. Attorney at law.” Sykes nods at me.

  “Damon McNeish. Otherwise known as Ink.”

  “Thank you. Now, Mr McNeish, our reports show you were found in possession of two kilos of heroin on Third Street behind Tits Up, the strip club owned by the Satan’s Devils MC. Your club.”

  “No,” I refute.

  “No? Please explain.” A raised eyebrow and a small challenging smile suggest Barker thinks I can’t.

  “I was there with other members of my club. Dealing behind Tits Up had been going on for some time, users were shooting up in the bathrooms, leaving used needles around.” I frown. “That isn’t good for business. The Satan’s Devils MC do not deal in drugs, and every member hates dealing and using with a passion.”

  “Is that so?” The detective smirks.

  “It’s so unless you have evidence to the contrary,” interjects Sykes.

  “It appears to us that you are very much involved, Mr McNeish. Our evidence shows that you were caught handing over a vast amount of heroin to one Fender Childs.”

  “At gunpoint,” Sykes puts in.

  Barker continues as if that point is of no interest to him. “What is your relationship to Fender Childs, Mr McNeish?”

  “I don’t know the man.”

  The detective seems to sneer at my honest reply. “Mr Childs has a record for dealing. Only small fry up to now, but it looks like he may have upped his game. Do you deny you were passing him his stock?”

  And admit I was supplying drugs for sale? No way. “I do deny it.” My tone is forceful, my voice strong.

  Now Hastings steps in. “If you weren’t handing them over, and it was as your lawyer purports, at gunpoint, perhaps you were intending to sell them yourself?”

  I shake my head fast. I’m becoming frustrated. “No. Are you interested in hearing what actually happened?”

  Barker leans back and folds his arms, half turning to Hastings, he raises an eyebrow seeming to telegraph this will be good. When Hastings smirks back, he offers magnanimously, “Go ahead.”

  “As I said, dealing had been going on behind the club, and at our other premises. Satan’s Devils are known for keeping that shit away, so we presume someone saw sites other dealers were staying away from. Somewhere with a demand and no one supplying.” I draw in a deep breath, knowing I need to choose my words carefully. “We don’t need the wrong sort of reputation. We were there last night to try to keep that business away, not encourage it. We even knew there was going to be a heavy police presence and a SWAT team coming in.”

  Barker’s eyes widen. “How?” he snaps.

  I shrug. “You brought our VP in for questioning. He overheard a conversation.” I’m not dropping Beef into anything. He’d done nothing wrong, it was them who were careless.

  “You should have known to stay clear in that case.”

  “I did. Or tried to, at least.”

  He waves to indicate I should carry on, but his yawn suggests he’s bored.

  “I was waiting with Sparky. A man appeared from behind us. He was tall, not far off my height. Slim build. He was carrying a rucksack and something about him looked suspicious.” He, him. Keep emphasising he was male to throw them off the scent. “I knew he wasn’t the dealer.”

  “How?” Hastings interrupts.

  My shoulders rise and fall. “Supposition. This man was nervous, scared. Could have been a user himself. He didn’t have the confidence to be dealing. Also, he was totally unaware of his surroundings, whereas a dealer will always be on his toes, keeping one eye open for danger. Anyway, as he came past me all I could think was that bag might be holding drugs, and that he was a delivery boy. So, I went to confront him.”

  “He was heading toward the cops,” Barker interrupts.

  “I didn’t know exactly where you’d set up. I thought there was a chance you could miss him. Tits Up is important to us, we have sworn to protect its reputation. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking straight, all that was in my head was stopping drugs coming onto our premises.”

  “Carry on,” Barker prompts, but his disinterested tone of voice suggests I’m not convincing him.

  “I confronted him. There wasn’t time to tell Sparky, and I needed to be quiet.” I grimace as though annoyed. “I thought Sparky would be right behind me, instead he stayed where he was. Turns out he isn’t a mind reader.”

  “So, you say you challenged this man?”

  “I did. I grabbed the rucksack, and he ran off. I didn’t think I could catch him, so decided to bring the bag and its contents to your lot. I was walking with it when the dealer… what did you call him? Fender? Like the guitar?” I wait for their nods. “Well, this Fender stepped out from the shadows and held a gun on me. I had no option but to pass him the rucksack, and the rest you know.”

  “You are correct that Mr McNeish had drugs in his possession, but only for a matter of seconds. He also was unaware exactly what was in the rucksack. Mr McNeish was performing a civic duty at the time.” I could kiss Sykes for his excellent summation, but refrain.

  “That’s your story?” Barker scoffs.

  “That’s the truth,” replies Sykes, giving his own look of challenge. “Mr McNeish has never met this…” he looks down at the notes he’d been taking, “Fender Childs in his life. He has no connection with Mr Childs.”

  “Then he was going to be dealing himself.”

  Sykes eyes widen. “Few things wrong with that. First, the Satan’s Devils have no reputation for dealing drugs, in fact, the opposite. The police know they keep them away from that area of Pueblo.”

  “That could have changed,” Hastings suggests. “Or Mr McNeish is the person responsible for dealing either with or without the blessing of his club.”

  Sykes shakes his head and continues, “Second, Mr McNeish and his club were aware that the police were staking out Tits Up and the surrounding area that night. Under those circumstances, if the dealer was aware of the presence of the cops, he would be a million miles away from the action. Not walking toward it as my client had done.”

  “So, Mr McNeish isn’t the brightest tool in the box. Maybe he had customers he couldn’t disappoint and thought he could get away with it.”

  Sykes eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. “My client is a Marine. I presume he’s passed his aptitude tests.”

  “Mr McNeish is an ex-Marine. People change.”

  I seethe. Once a Marine, always a Marine. But I keep dumb. I’m worried about opening my mouth and anything I say being twisted.

  “Do you need money, Mr McNeish?” Barker asks. “Are you dealing on the side?”

  “I have a good job. I’m a mechanic and I work at our auto-shop. I live at the club, so my expenditure is small. I have more than enough for the things I want in life.”

  It’s Hastings turn to scoff. “Anyone can get greedy.” He taps the table with his fingers, then after a few seconds, proposes, “If we buy your story that another man was there, how about you just being opportunistic? Seeing what you thought were drugs and taking them, not to give up, but to sell yourself, or share with the club to provide funds?”

  I do not want the club being dragged into this.

  But Sykes gets in first. “Mr McNeish has just told you exactly what he was doing. He was heading toward the cops. He was going to turn what he’d found in. It’s a shame the man slipped past him, but you have gotten the drugs off the street and have arrested this Fender Childs who presumably was going to sell them. I do not think you have a case against Mr McNeish and ask you to release him.”

  “We are continuing our investigations. While we do, Mr McNeish will stay on remand.”

  As I expected, I won’t be going home to my
club. Not today. Maybe never. Barker and Hastings weren’t at all convinced by my story, and if I’m honest, I wasn’t myself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Beth

  “What’s going on?” I ask for the hundredth time, as Demon walks past.

  “Beth,” my mom says, “when they know something, they’ll tell you.” Her voice sounds tired and she looks pale. It had come as a shock to her to have been woken at dawn and then to find out she had boxes containing an unbelievable amount of drugs in her son’s old bedroom, which Connor had stored without her knowledge and definitely not her approval. When she’d appeared in the clubhouse, she’d been shaking and demanding to know what was going on.

  I think partly to shut her up, Demon had agreed I could bring her up to speed. She wouldn’t have stopped without a full explanation of why I, and now she, were here. One question led to another, and I found I’d been unable to hold anything back as Mom used her best mother’s investigative techniques to get to the bottom of what, who and why. With the result, she’s now also having to deal with the information that her son is missing, and possibly injured or dead. In my view, she’s holding up remarkably.

  Demon’s eyes flicker with concern as he views my mom before his expression turns stern when he addresses me, “I’ve got no news, Beth, other than what I’ve already told you. Cad hasn’t been successful getting any answer from the phone, and he’s still working on finding your brother’s location, or at least, where he made the calls from.”

  Yes. I knew that. Cad’s been doing all he can to find Connor. That I can understand his difficult task, doesn’t mean I like it. “It was more than twelve hours ago I last spoke to him,” I cry out, reminding Demon. “Connor might be dead.” I ignore the gasp from my mom, but it’s not the first time I’ve voiced that fear. She already knows that either willing or not, her son set up her daughter, and that it was only Ink sacrificing himself that means it’s not me locked up in a jail cell right now. I get to my feet and take hold of Demon’s sleeve as if to stop him moving away. “Demon, there must be something we can do. Let me try to contact Phil…”

  “Beth,” he says sharply, “Phil Foster is a man we’ve got in our sights, but I want more information before I confront him. We’ve got to step carefully for now. I will do nothing that could jeopardise Ink getting his freedom—unless you know more about him than you’ve already told me?” When I shake my head—neither Mom nor I have anything other than the belief Phil’s into shady dealings with no specifics at all—Demon continues, “I need to know whether Phil Foster is involved, and if so, in what way, before we approach him.”

  “Beth, come and sit down.” Mom clearly realises Demon is fast approaching the point where he’s going to stop being tolerant of my constant questions.

  I release my hold on his sleeve, and Demon steps away. I sit again beside Mom on the couch. Jeannie appears, and two fresh cups of coffee are placed in front of us.

  “You okay?” she asks, looking from one of us to the other.

  Mindful Demon asked me to keep what I know to myself, I meet her eyes, and just confirm the little she already knows. “As much as anyone can be when the man they’ve been seeing has been arrested.”

  Her expression softens. “Seen it too often before, sweetie. Just sit tight and let the club sort it out.”

  That would be easier were it not all my fault, and if I wasn’t the reason Ink had been taken by the police. Something everyone other than the women are very aware of.

  Jeannie might have been sympathetic, and Mel, of course, is supportive though doesn’t know the half of what’s gone on. On the other hand, Ink’s brothers who know it all give off a vibe they really don’t want me here. So much so, rather than a friend of the club, I feel like an intruder. I shiver at just some of the looks sent my way and wish I were anywhere else but here. Question is, where’s better? Cad’s my best hope of finding Connor, and Demon is waiting on information about Ink. I’ll just have to grow a thick skin around men who are blaming me that Ink isn’t here.

  Without Ink here, I’m nothing to the club, other than a friend of Mel’s. No greater connection than being the fuck buddy of a brother who, down to no fault of his own, is now in jail.

  I wanted to be something to Ink. Hell, I was going to talk to him about starting a real relationship, wasn’t I? That he’d done what he did, stopped me from being arrested, surely suggests he’s got feelings for me too? Fuck Connor for messing up two lives. Though I’m trying to hang onto the hope that Ink might walk free and we can have the discussion I’ve been planning. Though it’s more likely, he’ll want nothing to do with me. No one else has bought my explanation for what I did.

  Everyone here, including Mom, thinks I’ve been stupid. I can’t criticise them for that. There are a hundred other routes I could have taken, none of which would have ended with their innocent brother behind bars. In the cold light of this Sunday morning, my reasoning last night is questionable at best, and it’s not just me being punished for it. That the man who could have been the love of my life is lost to me now, tears my heart in two. But what shreds it into pieces is when I wonder what he’s going through. What’s he thinking? I feel so damn miserable, and so damn guilty.

  When Jeannie walks off and is out of hearing, Mom turns to face me. Her lips thin. “Take me through it again, Bethany. Starting with why you didn’t tell me Connor was in trouble.”

  My lips, copying her expression, press together and I shake my head. “I don’t even know if that was a lie, Mom. Maybe he knew the cops were staking it out and didn’t want to be caught himself.”

  Mom frowns. “I don’t have any time for your father, you know that. But I thought Connor would come to his senses one day, not that he was beyond redemption. If he set you up, Beth, then there’s no hope for him. I can’t believe my son would do that.”

  Neither can I. “Perhaps he’s an addict himself, Mom? Perhaps he’d do anything to score.”

  “Score?” An incredulous laugh escapes. “He doesn’t need to score. Not with ten spare kilos of H he can leave in his old room.”

  She’s got a point.

  “You okay?” The older biker with ginger hair comes over and sits down. Like Demon, his concern is for my mom. “Still feeling shaky?”

  Mom shakes her head. “I’m not okay, but I’m starting to deal. I’m just so pleased you’ve taken that stuff away.” She shudders. Rusty leans forward and puts his hand on her arm, then moving his fingers down feels her pulse. She lets him. He’d introduced himself as a medic. He doesn’t appear to have much time for me but does for my totally innocent mom.

  Anxiously I watch his face, but he doesn’t seem worried.

  It’s been a shock for us both. For a week we’ve stored an incredible amount of drugs in our home. What if the police had come searching? Or rival criminals? Or disreputable friends of my brother who’d left it there? He must have known he was putting both of us in danger. There are so many unanswered questions. Who do the drugs belong to? If Connor, where the hell did he get the money to buy them? And if, more likely, it’s someone else, who, and what lengths will they go to, to recover them?

  My thoughts prompt me to ask, “What did the club do with it?”

  Rusty’s eyes narrow at my question. He rests back in his chair. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  “Has it been destroyed?”

  He doesn’t deign to answer. Instead he gives Mom such an intense look, she shifts a little uncomfortably. “You’ve had a shock, darlin’. You start to feel rough? You just say.” With that he stands and moves off.

  “I wonder what they’ve done with the drugs?” It seems I can’t get that off my mind.

  Mom considers for a moment. “They might not destroy them immediately. Might need them as leverage, I don’t know. Offer them up to the cops, perhaps? Plant them on someone?”

  I stare at her, my eyes wide.

  “What?” she shrugs. “I watch crime shows. You know, where bad guys are set up.”
>
  Just like that she’s reminded me of Ink. “Like I set Ink up,” I say, glumly.

  “I still don’t know why you did something so crazy, Bethany. You should have informed the police as soon as you found that Connor might be in danger, and definitely when you found what he had stored. Then Ink wouldn’t be in the position he is.”

  “What would you have done, Mom?” I challenge angrily. “Connor could have been, might still have been, telling the truth. His life could have depended on me doing what he said. I didn’t have any time, I was too scared for him to think of myself. Of course I knew what was in it as soon as I’d opened that damn box. The last thing I thought of was calling 911. It didn’t even cross my mind. I couldn’t take the risk that Connor would have been killed.”

  “Or that’s what he told you.”

  “That’s what I believed at the time, or if those drugs are his, he could have been arrested.”

  “Then the right man would be sitting in jail.”

  I gasp. Her blunt statement is the truth. Trust Mom to give it to me straight. “I’ve been so, so stupid.” She’s right. If Connor’s dealing heroin, he’d deserve a long sentence, much more than the man who is locked up.

  Her hand comes out and rests on mine. “You’re a good sister,” she says, her tone gentling. “What would I have done?” She thinks about it for a few seconds, her brow creasing. “If I had been put on the spot, needing to make a fast decision while being told it was a matter of life or death, I’d like to think different, but have to say, I’d probably have done the same thing as you under the circumstances.” She pauses, then looks straight into my eyes. “Ink must think one hell of a lot about you, Beth, to do what he did.”

  I could tell her Ink’s a good man, that he’d have done it for anyone, but I’m pretty certain that’s not true. He did it for me, even though I didn’t ask him to. “I think he must,” I reply at last.

  “And what about you? What are your feelings for him?”