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

by Manda Mellett

Barker nods thoughtfully. “Where were you last night, Ms Foster?”

  “Last night, I stayed in. I read a book and went to bed early.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “My mother.” Or that’s where she’d thought I’d been. Quite truthfully, she’ll be able to cover for me, I’m sure. Or at least, perhaps I better start praying that she does.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mace

  Cad had managed to pull up the driver’s permit photo of Connor Foster and has sent it to our phones. At least we’ll be able to recognise the motherfucker. There is definitely a familial resemblance to Beth. Facial features, that is—his hair is blond, not bright blue.

  As predicted, the storm moved off, temperatures have risen overnight, and the forecast looks promising enough that we can take our bikes. It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive in Denver, and we draw up in an almost empty country park on the outskirts. The crash truck pulls up behind us, and out jumps Pal carefully carrying his and Cad’s most recent acquisition, the drone.

  “What’s the range of that thing?” Beef asks him, his eyes critically examining what looks like little more than a toy.

  “It’s limited by battery power and the time it can stay in the air,” Pal informs him. “What’s more important is that the warehouse is a quarter of a mile away from here, so for our purpose, it can easily get there and back, and I can have some time to fly it around to check the lay of the land and what’s going on.”

  “What do you need to control it?” I ask, noticing Pal’s not carrying a control device.

  Pal grins and pulls out his phone. “I just use this.”

  A fucking app. Who’d have believed it? Well I suppose there’s one for everything now.

  “I’ll get it set up. I’m using here as the home point it will automatically return to, should I lose contact for some reason. I’ve already programmed in the coordinates of the warehouse. I’ll get it in the air while we’ve still got some light.”

  Pal looks excited, it’s the first time he’s using his new toy in a real situation. For me, it’s anti-climactic when, without fanfare, the drone lifts smoothly into the air, rises above the trees, then disappears behind them.

  Pal’s attention now switches to his phone. Looking over I’m impressed by the quality of the image as the drone flies over the park and out across the landscape. It’s not long before it reaches its destination and the warehouse appears below. I have to admit I’m impressed and already thinking how useful this shit is.

  “That’s the place.” Looking over Pal’s shoulder, Beef points to the screen. It’s easy to recognise from the Google images Cad had pulled up and shown us back in Pueblo, but now we can home in on the detail. It’s small, hardly worthy to be called a warehouse but must have been useful for someone at some time. What it’s being used for now is of more interest. At first glance it would appear not much, it’s almost derelict. But that could be a cover of course.

  “No cars or trucks.” Pal sounds disappointed.

  “None?” Beef takes the phone for a moment and examines it. “Could they have parked inside?”

  Pal takes it back from the VP, then taps and slides his finger across the screen. After a couple of minutes, he informs us, “No loading bay they could have driven into. I’ve circled the whole of the outside.”

  “Doesn’t mean no one’s there,” observes Hell. “Could be they’ve left people behind, dropping them off then picking them up to hide what they’re up to.”

  “Or, it’s not a base at all. Just somewhere he used to make the calls from in case they were able to be tracked. Look at that.” Thunder points to the device Pal’s holding. “It looks abandoned to me.”

  Fuck. I smash one fist into my other palm. “Wild goose chase. There’s nothing there.” Frustrated I pull out my cigarettes. Liz is the only other person to take one though I offer them around. “What’s the plan?” I ask the VP. “Go to the dad’s place instead?”

  “I still think we need to check it out.” Beef frowns. “I’ve known meth labs set up in places like this. Just because it looks abandoned doesn’t mean it is and could be a disguise. Maybe if we go in we won’t find anything, but what we do know is that Connor was there yesterday. There may be something we can find.”

  “If Beth’s brother was hurt, there could be blood,” Hellfire suggests. “If he’s dead, there might be some sign, or even a body.”

  “And if there’s no evidence of a scuffle, he was lying through his teeth.” I state what I fully expect to find. Nothing at all.

  “Hang on. Look.” Pal waves us back over to him. I finish off my cigarette, stub it out on the heel of my motorcycle boot, and pocket the end. It’s an ingrained habit not to leave evidence behind.

  I glance over his shoulder. “Well, fuck me. Can you zoom in?”

  Pal does, and a face of a man who shares the same bad habit as I comes into view. He’s just lit a cigarette himself.

  “Not Connor.” I’ve just compared his face to the photo on my phone.

  “Hey, what’s that. Under the lean-to there?” Pyro’s looking more carefully now.

  “Bikes,” says Judge. “I can see two rear wheels.”

  “Connor ride?” Hell asks but gets no answer. None of us know.

  “You sure you’re not missing a car or truck, Pal?”

  “Certain. I’ve double checked everywhere.”

  As he zooms back in at the man having a smoke, I chuckle, getting a few looks of surprise. I point to Pal’s phone. “He’s got no fuckin’ idea we’re watching him.”

  “Move it away,” Liz says suddenly. “I don’t want to see his fuckin’ cock.”

  Sure enough, the man’s turned, and is taking a leisurely piss against the wall.

  “Offends your sensitive eyes, does it, Liz?” I chuckle again.

  “See enough fuckin’ cocks in my line of work,” he complains. Well, he was the one who suggested extending the tattoo business to include offering a piercing service.

  “Circle the drone around so we can get an idea of how best to approach, then bring it back,” Beef suddenly decides. After Pal’s done exactly that, the VP stares off into the distance for a moment, then states, “Going by the transport they’ve got, we’ve got two, possibly four of them if they doubled up on their rides. There’s nine of us.”

  “How do you want to play this, Beef?”

  He looks around. Dusk is falling fast, and the last citizen car has pulled out of the parking lot and gone. “We’ll leave the bikes here. Everyone will squeeze into the crash truck, then we’ll take the road that runs along the rear. Didn’t notice much traffic using it, but I saw at least one car. Pal, you drive. Drop us off, then come back here. If they’re listening out, that shouldn’t be too suspicious.”

  Pal nods.

  “We’ll go through the back fence. Everyone see that gap?”

  I nod, and so do my brothers. Seems we’re all as sharp-eyed as the VP.

  “Put those fuckin’ vests on,” says Thunder. “Don’t want anyone going back with a hole in their chest.”

  “We don’t know what we’re heading into,” Beef agrees. “They’re into drugs. If they’re sampling their own product, they could be unpredictable.”

  “Or have a fuckin’ good reason to protect their investment,” Hell observes.

  “What about damage?” I ask as I slip into my Kevlar armour. “Do we mind if they get holes in them?”

  “We need to have a conversation, so disarm and capture if possible,” Beef instructs. “We definitely want Connor alive if he’s there to be found. Ink’s freedom may depend on what he says.” He focuses his gaze on me and Liz. “You up for going first and doing some reconnaissance?” Both of us nod. “Right. Once you report back what we’re dealing with, we’ll firm up on a plan.”

  It all goes like clockwork. Pal drops us off then zooms off with the crash truck back to where the bikes are parked. Though the car park was empty, none of us like leaving the bikes unattended for long.
Pal had joked it was like being a prospect again, but he needn’t feel bad about being away from the action, he’s played his part well today. That drone had been a fucking good idea, the information it fed back meaning we’re not going in completely blind.

  Liz and I slide through the gap, while the others stay outside. Under the cover of the now darkness, we carefully pick our way across the uneven ground. It was concrete once, now that’s cracked and overgrown with weeds. If we hadn’t seen the man and two bikes with our own eyes, we would have dismissed this place as totally deserted.

  Lights go on in two of the windows. Lizard and I glance at each other and nod. We now have a destination to head to.

  Once I estimate I’m within range should anyone look out, I drop to the ground and begin the military leopard crawl. Dressed as we are in black, it’s unlikely anyone would spot us as Liz copies my action, and on our bellies, we approach. I take one window where a dim light glows from inside. Liz takes the other.

  There are two men that I can see. They’ve got a bottle of amber liquid in front of them, and cards in their hands. Two metal cups alongside. As I watch, one takes a long swig. I study them hard, but neither looks like Connor. The drinking man is Hispanic which immediately rules him out, the other is white, but his hair is dark.

  I glance toward Liz who makes a few hand signals that show he’s seen no one inside, in response I hold up two fingers. Again, he makes signs, this time letting me know he’s going to circle the building going around to the right, I reply I’ll take the left side.

  I peer in windows, then edge along cautiously with my back to the wall as I move to the next. By the time I meet up with Liz I’ve seen no other sign of life. It appears he hasn’t either.

  Jerking my head toward the fence where Beef and the brothers are waiting, I drop and start crawling again, just able to hear Liz doing the same right behind me.

  When we’re at the point where it’s safe to stand up, I notice Liz holding his hand.

  “What’s up?”

  “Fuckin’ piece of glass. Put my palm down hard right on it. Pierced straight through my glove.”

  Shit. “Deep?”

  He holds out his hand and looks the other way. The shard is still in there. Shielding the beam from my Maglite by turning my back to the warehouse behind us, I examine his injury. “That needs to come out.”

  “Pull it,” Liz instructs, still with his head turned.

  “Fuckin’ pussy,” I tell him. But I waste no time. As soon as it’s out, I take his glove off to get a better look, but blood is now flooding out.

  “Is it bad?” he asks, sounding like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

  “Nah, just a scratch. Give me your bandana and I’ll wrap it up.”

  He does. I do.

  “Can I look?”

  I remember and chuckle softly as I reassure him, “My temporary bandage is doing its job, Brother. Nothing to see now.” Well, only a slight reddening where the blood’s seeping through.

  Doctoring done, Liz and I make our way back to Beef and the others.

  “What happened to you?” Thunder asks, noticing how Liz is cradling his injured hand.

  “Liz got a piece of glass in his palm,” I explain. “Went in deep.”

  “Fuck,” says the sergeant-at-arms with feeling. “You need to stay back, Brother?”

  Beef steps forward, his flashlight landing on Lizard’s hand. Then he turns to Thunder. “What the fuck you talking about? Man’s got a scratch, that’s all.”

  Like I’d done moments before, Thunder chuckles. “Liz might pass out if he sees his own blood.” Yeah, Lizard tends to faint if he gets cut. If someone bleeds out in front of him? He doesn’t blink an eye.

  Beef looks at Lizard, he’s shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re a fuckin’ tattoo artist. You see blood all the time.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not mine,” Liz protests, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “And I’ll be fine, Thunder, thank you for fuckin’ asking. Now we doing this, or what?”

  Beef’s still staring at him incredulously, then after a moment, asks, “Well, what did you find?”

  “Two men. Drinking and playing cards casual as you like. No sign of Connor.”

  Beef exhales loudly. “Still need to talk to who’s there. They might know where he is.”

  I nod sharply. If they do, they won’t be keeping that information to themselves. Not when I apply my trade.

  “There’s a door at the back, flimsy looking.” Liz notes what he’d found.

  “Can we pick the lock?”

  “What fuckin’ lock? It’s hanging off its hinges. One kick and I reckon the whole place would come down.”

  “Good enough. Where are the men in relation to that point of entry?”

  Liz bends down and draws a diagram in the sand. “Don’t know about internal walls, of course,” he taps at a point where he’s drawn an X, “but that’s where we should be heading for once we’re inside.”

  He’s seen more than I did. Useful shit too.

  “Okay,” says Beef, his head turned toward the building we’ll be entering, “me, Ro, Liz, and Judge will take the front entrance. Mace, you, Thunder, Wills and Hell will come in the rear. We’ll go in at,” he checks his phone, “nineteen hundred zero five.”

  This time it’s eight of us crossing the open ground carefully. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, half expecting to be spotted any moment. By the time I get into position by the rear door, which, as Lizard had said, looks like a strong gust of wind would blow it in, my forehead is covered in sweat, even though the evening air is chilly.

  My heart is beating fast with anticipation, along with a kernel of excitement and hope. Right now, my brother’s sitting in a cell which is down to the man I’ve come to Denver to find. I’m determined I won’t be going home without him. He might not be in this tumbling down old warehouse, but the men who are will give me their secrets. I’m the enforcer, and everyone does, in the end. I’ve got a one hundred percent success rate at making people talk. Lizard might be immune to other people’s blood, in my role I’ve become impervious to their pain. Administering my torture with surgical precision when it’s the safety of my club, or one of my brothers, at stake.

  Thunder’s got his eyes trained on his phone. “Thirty seconds,” he mouths. Then “Ten, nine… one.” I turn to face the door and push on it. It swings open with a slight creak. With a mental image of the hastily drawn diagram in the sand, I move forward alongside my brothers.

  This place is indeed falling down. There’s a big open area for storage, and presumably what were once offices off to the side. Drywall has come away and fallen so the wooden partitions are almost see-through. The room where I’d seen the men is probably in the best condition. Maybe they’re there because they can keep it heated.

  Beef’s approaching from the other direction. When he signals with the gun that’s in his hand, Judge, Wills, and Ro fan out to check the hidden areas of the interior. The rest of us wait outside what looks to be another weak door.

  Beef kicks it hard with his steel toe-capped motorcycle boot. It puts up no fight.

  The two occupants are taken completely by surprise. From the way they stagger as they stand, I reckon most of that bottle of what I can now identify by the smell is whiskey, has gone down their throats tonight. They reach for guns, but their hands drop as they belatedly notice ours are already pointing at their heads.

  Quickly, Thunder and I step forward and relieve them of their weapons, searching to make sure they’ve no second piece or knives concealed on them. Then, I zip tie the hands of mine behind him, and none too gently.

  From the protest by the other, I take it Thunder has done the same.

  “Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Hellfire, can you find Ro? Tell him he can search with lights now and to tear this fucking place apart.”

  Hellfire snaps to it. If the situation wasn’t how it is, I’d be amused at how my ex-pr
ez takes orders from the new VP. Another reason why it was good to appoint someone from a different chapter. I think the years when it was ingrained we had to obey him would make it hard for any of us to dare tell Hell what to do.

  A quick glance behind me shows lights have now come on in the warehouse.

  “Right. Where’s Connor Foster?”

  “Look, man, don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be in the wrong place.” The one who asked who we were looks shiftily at his companion, his expression making me not trust him one bit. “We’re just two dropouts finding a dry place to stay for the night.”

  “Not buying it.” Beef picks up the whiskey bottle. “This is malt. Dropouts would buy a cheap blend.”

  “Dropouts wouldn’t have that kind of dough either.” Thunder points to a pile beside the cards. I can see at least one fifty-dollar bill.

  Beef growls. “Connor Foster. Where is he?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mace

  “We don’t know any Connor Foster, man. Why would we? We’re just squatting here for a few nights.” The Hispanic looks scared. It’s the worried look in his eyes which keep going to the area that Pyro and the others are searching that makes me think there’s something here to be found.

  “Look, just let us go. We’ll collect our things and be out of here. Didn’t know this place was owned by… who are you anyway?”

  Out of our territory we’re not wearing our cuts so we could be anyone.

  Beef gives me a tired look. I’m not the only one who’s been awake for thirty-six hours. “Mace.”

  My name, spoken in a tone of voice which only means one thing. I look from one to the other, quickly assessing which man can least handle pain. The Hispanic looks scared, but the white man? He’s all bluster, I’m sure.

  “Sit him down,” I snap to Thunder. “Hold him tight.”

  Taking my pliers out of the utility belt I’d thought to bring with me, I kneel on the floor and roughly pull off the man’s right boot. When he tries to kick out, Beef’s there with two sets of handcuffs. The VP soon has the captive’s legs fastened to the wooden legs of the chair. I nod my thanks at him when he stands.