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

by Manda Mellett

  Seeing they won’t be getting an admission out of me, I’m returned to the cell.

  The drunks have mostly sobered up and gone. There’s a man snoring off alcohol in the corner, but Monday night isn’t a busy one. The place still stinks though, and I already know what to expect when the drunk awakes and his hangover hits. Obviously depends on how much he imbibed, but I expect to be woken by vomiting or retching sounds again, or at least, a loud long piss hopefully in the correct receptacle.

  I never thought I’d long to be sent to a proper jail where I’d have a cell, hopefully with a bunk to myself even if I had to share the room. Anything would be better than this. It’s a punishment all in itself.

  My chin lowers to my chest and I allow myself to doze, keeping my senses on alert in case the drunk isn’t as incapacitated as he seems.

  It’s another long night. When dawn breaks, I’m almost pleased that I’ve got something different today, my time in court. I tamp down any optimism of thinking I might make bail, it would only cause disappointment if I don’t. I resign myself to not being away long before I’m returned to a cell.

  I expect the advisement hearing to be a formality. In Colorado, there’s a brief appearance before a judge, and then the arraignment will follow sometime later. Most people are allowed to walk free between the two court dates, but I already know from what I’ve seen with my brothers, wearing a one-percenter patch means those niceties aren’t often afforded. The prejudgement you’re a criminal is already made.

  Obediently, I hold out my hands for the handcuffs to be attached before being led out of my cell. Sykes is waiting for me in the courthouse.

  I’ve been to these hearings before, but only to give support to my brothers, never as a suspect myself. I’m shocked at how nervous I am, and how there’s an underlying feeling of guilt even though I’ve done nothing wrong. It seems all set up to intimidate.

  We wait our turn, then I’m called in front of the judge. I notice Demon in the courtroom, but nobody else from the club, and no Beth which both pleases and disappoints. He gives me a chin lift of support, then my attention returns to the most important man in the room. The man who controls my future.

  The judge takes off his glasses, stares at me for a second, then turns back to the paperwork in front of him.

  After I’ve confirmed who I am, the judge asks, “Are you aware of the purpose of the advisement hearing, Mr McNeish?”

  “I am, Your Honour.” I’ve seen it before, and Sykes has already taken me through the process.

  “Hmm.” I seem to have taken the wind out of his sails, but then he continues his normal spiel apparently just in case. “I will advise you of the crime you have been arrested for, and the charges the district attorney intends to prosecute. We will then discuss bond and whether it’s applicable in your case.”

  A legal man coughs, making the judge glance at him. When they exchange nods, I presume it’s to acknowledge the judge has already been advised against setting bail. I didn’t expect they would, so their unspoken conversation comes as no surprise.

  The judge looks down at the documents again. “Mr McNeish, you are accused of being in possession of two kilos of heroin that you were supplying with intent to sell. These are the charges which will be brought up at your arraignment. Do you understand?”

  At this preliminary hearing there’s no need for me to admit or deny my guilt, but I can’t help getting my dig in. “I understand how the police are twisting it.”

  “A simple yes or no will suffice, Mr McNeish.”

  As Sykes shoots a warning glance at me, I shrug. “Yes.”

  “Have you got an attorney, Mr McNeish?”

  I want to ask if he’s blind as Sykes is sitting right there in front of him but bite my tongue. “I have.”

  “The DA has advised bail is not appropriate in this case—”

  “Objection, Your Honour.” Sykes gets to his feet, tossing a glare at the other lawyer. “Mr McNeish is a Marine veteran with an unblemished record. This is his first arrest. There is nothing in his background to suggest he’d commit the crime of which he is accused, and in fact, everything points to it being unlikely.”

  “Your Honour, Mr McNeish is a member of the outlaw motorcycle gang, the Satan’s Devils.” the other lawyer gets in fast.

  The judge raises his eyebrow toward Sykes.

  “He is indeed a member of a local motorcycle riding club,” Sykes refutes sternly. “The club runs several businesses in Pueblo and pays their taxes like everyone else. They contribute to the local economy and create employment for the community. That they ride motorcycles should not count against them.” He holds up his hand when the other lawyer tries to speak. “There’s been no trouble between the police and the Satan’s Devils MC for many years now, and in fact, the reason that Mr McNeish was arrested was because he was trying to help the police in their drug raid on Saturday.”

  “We’re not here to try the case, Mr Sykes.”

  “I am aware of that, Your Honour.” Sykes humbly accepts the rebuke. “I will confine myself to expressing Mr McNeish’s family is the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club. He lives and works in Pueblo where he’s been since leaving the Marines. Mr David Carter, the president of the MC will personally vouch for him and is prepared to put up bail.”

  “We object, Your Honour. Mr McNeish is a flight risk.”

  Again, the judge takes off his glasses and studies them. He then looks over toward me. I try to make myself look as small and unthreatening as possible, which isn’t easy for a man of my size. I have no expectations other than being returned to jail.

  The judge doesn’t disappoint me. “Application for bail denied. Mr McNeish will be remanded in custody until his arraignment.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mace

  “Bail denied.”

  We’re all waiting in the clubhouse. Prez had wanted to refrain from a mass presence at Ink’s hearing as he didn’t want the judge to feel threatened, so only he’d been in attendance. But keeping our distance apparently hadn’t worked. I hated staying away, wanted to be there to show Ink he’s loved, missed and supported. Will he think we’ve abandoned him? Fuck, I hope not. We’d never do that.

  “Church,” Prez announces, as he quickly spies everyone waiting around. Our businesses are today being left to the civilians to run having all hoped, rather than expected, Ink to be coming home even if only on a temporary basis. Everyone had wanted to be here to greet him.

  Prez waits for us to sit down. “Where are we at?” he starts.

  There’s nothing more to say about Ink. He’s in jail. Now we’ve got to concentrate on what little we can do to get him out, or, if that fails, to seek vengeance.

  “Connor will live,” the VP pronounces. “I’m going to be able to question him today. Up to now he’s been circling in and out of it.”

  “I’ve stopped the strong shit as per Ironside’s instructions,” Rusty announces. “He’s just on normal pain relievers now. Should give him a clearer head.”

  Connor had been unconscious since we brought him back Sunday night, partly it sounds, due to medication. It’s good news he has improved and maybe we can start getting some answers. I’d hoped that would be the case. When I’d looked in on him earlier, his eyes were less swollen, and Rusty had assured me he was sleeping, rather than in a coma. Seems once all the blood had been washed off, his injuries, while painful, aren’t fatal now the deepest cuts had been stitched and his blood levels topped off.

  Demon’s looking down at his hands which are clasped on the table in front of him. When he looks back up, he states, “I didn’t expect Ink to be granted bail. Not for the charge they think they’ve got him on. But I tell you, Brothers, I’m not certain how he’s going to get out of this. Judge didn’t even attempt to put a monetary value on his freedom.”

  “What’s Ink’s state of mind?”

  Demon stares at his VP for a moment before answering. It’s not that he doubts the veracity of the questio
n coming from the man who perhaps knows him least, it’s because he’s deciding how to answer.

  “Hard to tell from his brief appearance. But Sykes says he’s holding up okay. He’s worried sick about Beth being interviewed by the cops. What’s most important to him is that we do what we can to watch out for her. If she goes down…” Demon pauses to shake his head. “Well, everything Ink’s sacrificed will be wasted.”

  “Did you tell Sykes about Connor? Does Ink know?”

  “I called Sykes yesterday morning, but all I said was Beth’s in the clear, just to give Ink some comfort. The less either he or Sykes know, the better at the moment. Any temptation to embellish his story, or drop Connor’s name into it, might do more harm than good.”

  “The only reason he’s inside is to keep her out of it,” Thunder, serious for once, states. “If he knew the truth of it, he’d go crazy. Does he know about the incident at her house? Or that Connor stored drugs there?”

  “Fuck no,” Demon says, adamantly. “You think I want to heap that on him too? How would any of us feel if we had an old lady and couldn’t lift a finger to protect her?”

  I wouldn’t know and am unlikely ever too. But from Beef and Pyro’s reaction, even Hellfire, Buzz and Bomber’s reaction, it wasn’t something they’d want to even contemplate.

  But I add mine to the murmurs of agreement around the table. It’s best not to add to Ink’s worries. If anything happened to Beth, either as a result of the law entrapping her or physically because of those fucking drugs, if he knew she’d been moments away from eating a bullet, Ink would go out of his fucking mind.

  Since Sunday night I’ve been revising my opinion of how Ink had come to be arrested, and the part Beth had played. Beth’s close brush with death had focused my mind, had made me realise how high the stakes were and to what lengths people would go to continue their drug trade. I’d started to understand the pressure that must have been brought on her to make her act out of character and deliver those drugs. I decide to give my brothers the benefit of my new thinking.

  Raising my chin, I sum up, “I know none of us like the fuckup that happened on Saturday night, or like Ink’s woman for her part in it. Simply put, if Beth hadn’t been there, Ink wouldn’t be inside.” I pause for the inevitable nods, and some growls of agreement. Then, carry on, “There’s now no doubt in my mind having seen the state her brother is in, that he must have come across as convincing. As it turns out, it’s only by luck that he didn’t bleed out. Doc said that if he’d been left unattended in that state for much longer, that may well have been the result. Beth did what any of us would have done for a brother, she did what she could to help him. Beth was right to be concerned.”

  “She should have come to us,” Pyro objects.

  I find myself doing what I never expected, advocating on her behalf. “She had no time to think what to do. Whether she’d called us or gone to the cops, she was told Connor would be dead if she didn’t act there and then. Remember, she didn’t know what she was being asked to deliver until she found the drugs.”

  “She’s a bitch.” Liz opens a pack of smokes. “Can’t expect any sense from them.”

  Some laugh, some grumble. I leave it at that. I’ve said my bit.

  Prez glances my way, then gives a slow nod. “I’ve spoken to Beth a few times and have had to be pretty forceful to stop her turning herself into the cops thinking it would get Ink out.”

  “See? No sense as I said.”

  “Liz,” Prez growls. Then starts again, “She’s doing no more than Ink. She’s prepared to sacrifice herself to help another. Just as she was prepared to do to help her brother.”

  “Ever get the impression she’s had no one to rely on? That she’s used to doing shit on her own?” Eyes go to Hellfire.

  Bomber scoffs. “Girl lives with her mom.”

  Hell shrugs. “Sure. But look at Beth. Does she look like someone to lean, or be leaned on?”

  I’ve got a suspicion I think I know where he’s going with this. “Whatever Beth is like, she comes across as big and strong, not a woman who needs someone to stand up for her. So it makes sense she didn’t call for help, she’s used to doing shit on her own.” I think about it a bit more and find myself uttering words I wouldn’t have thought would come out of my mouth a day or so ago. “You have to admire the bitch, she’s probably got no one in her corner.”

  “Even her brother went straight to her for help,” inputs Judge. “He didn’t give a thought to her safety, just offered her up.”

  Hell picks up when other voices trail off, “Look at what she didn’t know rather than what she did. She didn’t know the cops were there that night, didn’t know Ink was anywhere close. Even if she did, his actions took her by surprise. Pure accident the part she played in putting Ink behind bars.”

  Lizard is frowning, looking at his now properly stitched and bandaged hand. “I suppose you, Prez, or you, Ro, can better understand why Ink is so intent on protecting Beth. Can’t myself, never found a broad who would make me give up the life that I know. In some ways, I wonder whether it’s how Ink’s justifying what happened, rather than what he feels for her. He’s looking at being charged with something he didn’t do. He can’t get out of it, but if he’s doing it for a reason, it becomes worthwhile. Fact is, as we all know, if he hadn’t stepped in, it would be Beth looking at thirty years.”

  “I’d do the same for Steph,” Beef offers.

  “For Sindy too,” echoes Buzz.

  Hell and Bomber look at each other. Then laugh. Hell puts it into words. “May have to think on it for a moment. Things look a bit different after you’ve been married darn near forty years.”

  Demon’s eyes go large as they look down the opposite end of the table at his father. His mouth opens, shuts, then opens again. Then Hell snarls, “Fuckin’ with you. Damn it, I’d do the same as Ink, even though Mo can be a pain in my ass. What this club is about, isn’t it, Brothers? Protecting those we love. Especially the weaker sex.”

  Liz snorts. “From what Dirt said, Beth’s not weak. She disarmed that fucker who went to her house.” His observation is acknowledged with comments of begrudging respect.

  “Her mom was no slouch either,” Rusty reminds us all.

  I think to what Dirt had said. If Beth hadn’t reacted so fast, she’d probably be dead. I can’t blame Dirt though, he couldn’t shoot through her and had been unable to see the fucker’s head.

  “Seems like it’s time to bring this up. They were threatened at gun point. I really don’t like leaving her and her mom in that house,” Beef puts in. “Those motherfuckers could be back. They want answers and they want the heroin. The next time, they’ll know they’re not dealing with two powerless women.”

  “Agree with you, VP. But I can’t see another option.” Demon wipes a hand over his brow, drawing attention to the crease lines on it. “It’s likely the cops will question her again because her fingerprints were on that bag, and not unlikely, cops will pay us another visit. Any other time, I’d pull them in, but a link between us and them would only do more harm. The fact we’re not visibly watching out for her cements the view she was a casual fuck to Ink, and not his old lady.”

  Beef slams the table with his palm. “Then we protect them another way. Find out who the fuck we’re facing, and deal with them. If we can’t keep them out of danger, we stop it touching them. We need answers from Connor, and I’m in the fuckin’ mood to get them. Mace?”

  “I’m in.” Won’t even take much to make Connor hurt. All we were doing was waiting until he was fit enough to feel it.

  “Okay. We’ve covered everything we can for now. I agree with the VP, we get these fuckers and stop them. Connor’s got answers, VP and Mace will get them. Church over. But stay fucking close. Soon as we know anything, we’ll reconvene.”

  Like Beef, having gotten Demon’s blessing, I waste no time getting to my feet.

  As I walk past him, Hellfire stays me with a hand to my arm. “Wring that fucker dr
y,” he instructs unnecessarily. I raise my chin back. That’s exactly what I intend to do. We might have filled him back up with blood, but I’ll soon let it out again if I have to.

  When I open the door, I’m pleased to see Connor sitting up and spooning broth into his mouth, well more accurately, raising his spoon to his lips, then sucking in the contents, his jaw still being swollen. But hey, the man can eat, the man can talk. And I’m in the mood to make him.

  He pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth, looks to me, then the man behind me, and replaces it without partaking of the contents, putting the bowl down on the bedside table.

  “This is it, then?” he says, the words understandable if not well-formed. He glances from one to the other of us again.

  “You’re a dead man, Connor,” Beef tells him, pulling up a chair and turning it around, folding his arms over the back.

  Connor’s eyes close briefly. When he opens them, he asks, “You get far with that approach? Letting me know whether I speak to you or not, you’re going to kill me.”

  If he thinks we don’t know what we’re doing, he’s very mistaken. Though I must admit I was taken a bit aback by Beef’s opening words. My face, however, remains impassive as I wonder where the VP is going with this.

  “No,” Beef contradicts. “But whoever did this to you,” his hand indicates Connor’s bandaged body, “thinks that you expired because I told them you had. So yeah, it doesn’t matter what we do with you now. But it does, however, leave you with a choice, should you choose the right one.”

  Connor looks confused, but I understand Beef’s opening gambit now. If it works, I may not be called on to ply my trade.