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

by Manda Mellett

  The bastard’s dead. Alder is going under.

  “But Alder found out later there was more?”

  Connor looks down, then up and provides me with the answer, “Guess I’m not so clever. There’s honour among thieves. He trusted the Mexican suppliers more than his son.”

  “So, you admitted it, and told them where you stored them.”

  He grows animated. “What the fuck type of idiot do you think I am? First, I might not get on with my mom, but I wouldn’t want to let loose the likes of Alder and Phil on her. And second, as soon as I told them, I’d be dead.”

  “Which they now think you are,” I remind him.

  A wan pained smile crosses his face. “I feel like I am.”

  “You are an idiot,” I tell him with no sympathy at all. “Once Alder knew Beth could get her hands on two kilos, when they knew there was more, they knew where it had to be stored. Men have already paid your sister and mother a visit.”

  Fucking asshole. The moment he used Beth, he sent those motherfuckers to her door.

  “They got the drugs?” This gets to Connor. “Oh, fuck, man. Are Beth and Mom okay?”

  “They’re fine,” Beef reassures him, his face grim. “But the drugs are gone. That mean you’ve lost your bargaining chip with Caruso?” Beef doesn’t let on they are in our possession, not his father’s.

  “Cops got two kilos,” Connor states slowly. “Perhaps that will be enough.” Then I swear a tear rolls from his eye. “I never wanted Beth to get into trouble. Thought she’d just hand it over and then walk away. How could I know she was walking into a trap? That your brother would swap places with her. Fuck, man,” his eyes find Beef’s, “I didn’t know.”

  Even I have to admit he looks contrite.

  “What was your plan if the drugs were still there? To offer them to Caruso?”

  “Getting that much heroin off the street would look good on his record. Yeah, I’d have bargained with that.”

  “When’s your handler back from his fuckin’ sex trip?”

  As Beef grins at my description of a vacation following wedding nuptials, Connor answers, “Saturday.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mace

  “So, there you have it,” Beef finishes his summary of the conversation with Connor.

  “He’s telling the truth?”

  “It’s plausible and fits with the evidence,” the VP reassures the prez.

  Hellfire looks thoughtful. “By now Phil will have been told his son is dead, but will he take his henchmen’s word for it? There’s no body, only a lame story about bringing him home to bury. So, we need to do something to convince him, and my suggestion is that a burial has to take place. For that we need Beth and her mom to believe it. They’ve got a funeral to arrange, and a body to put under ground.”

  “We’re going to let them believe their son and brother is dead?” Fuck. I might torture people when there’s a need, but unless I’ve finished the job, physical wounds heal or whatever scars left can be lived with. Letting women think they’re putting a family member six-feet-under? The pain will be there for life.

  Hellfire sits forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. “We’ve all heard what Connor said. Though he doesn’t yet know it, he’s still got, or rather we have, his bargaining chip. We’ve got the drugs. We can pass them to Caruso, and he gets, what, ten kilos in total off the street. But it doesn’t get him closer to Phil Foster, or this Alder. From what you say, Connor thinks he’s a foot soldier, hasn’t inherited the brains of his dad. But I reckon that’s what he’s been told all his life. Patsy probably thought she was right comparing him to Beth’s achievements, and Connor probably read it wrong. There’s a five-year age difference, of course she’d be getting ahead. Connor underestimates himself. He managed to intercept and take the drugs. Fuck knows how he did it. But he could have a lot of info in his head, info that would be of use to Caruso.”

  “Suppliers and routes for a start.” Demon nods. “But is it enough to get our brother out of jail?”

  Crease lines appear around Beef’s eyes. “Caruso knows Phil’s in this up to his neck, but the fed is looking in the wrong direction. Alder’s the kingpin here. Ten kilos of H sounds a lot to us, but easy to replace. That shit’s flooding over the border, we all know that. Caruso might play ball if Connor gives him the man at the top.”

  Demon’s eyes snap to his VP. He looks thoughtful. “It could work,” he says. “Give him the chance to stop the trade rather than just putting a dent in it.”

  I frown. “So, we offer that up to get Ink back? But how do you get from there to a funeral?”

  “Phil and Alder are still walking free men, if they’ve got suspicions that Connor’s alive, they’ll never stop looking for him. They’re still out ten kilos, remember, and by taking it, Connor’s revealed just how much information he’s got in his head. If they believe he’s dead, Connor can start somewhere else without looking over his shoulder. And,” he holds up his hand before I can ask why the fuck we should care what happens to Connor, “they won’t try to use Ink’s woman to locate her brother.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Though it will hurt them, believing Connor’s dead will protect Beth and Patsy.

  Demon hasn’t finished. “It also buys the feds time to set up Alder. If they think Connor’s silenced forever, they won’t think they’ve anything to worry about.”

  “Wit Sec,” Beef says. “I know all about that. It’s a fuckin’ hard option. I stood by Steph, remember, when she had to give up all contact with her friends and family.”

  Hell shrugs. “Seems to me Connor burned his bridges a long time ago. Do you think Patsy and Beth will ever really forgive him, or trust him again? Nah. He’s got to stay dead. And his mom and sister have to believe it.” Hell looks at me directly. “How well could they act if they know the truth?”

  I shrug. “They might be able to pull it off. They were estranged from Connor, it’s not exactly a close relationship. Patsy knows what her ex-husband is and must have been half expecting it. If they don’t shed many tears, won’t be anyone to overly question it.”

  “Too big a risk, Mace. If they believe it’s real, they won’t have to act. Their grief will be genuine.”

  Fuck. Hell’s right. It just goes against the grain to cause those two women such distress.

  Demon looks from me to his father seated at the opposite end of the table. “I agree with Hellfire. I doubt any of us like it, but everyone outside of this room has to think Connor is dead. That includes the ol’ ladies. They can shed a few tears and support Beth. You know what women are like at funerals and weddings.”

  There are murmurs of agreement from all around. I’m nodding my head. Christ, every female had a tissue in their hand at Mel’s wedding to Ro.

  “Are there any whispers about Connor being on the compound?”

  Beef reassures Demon. “All anyone knows is that a Dan Forster is being given refuge for a while. Prospects have been dealing with his food, I’ve kept his door locked when no one’s on guard. Of course they’ve seen Ironside coming and going, but as to who we actually have here, we’ve left them in the dark. The ol’ ladies, they know not to ask questions.”

  Or if they do, they’ll go unanswered, I finish in my head. Then put in, “There’s no reason for Beth to think Connor is here.” And even his sister would be hard put to recognise him.

  The VP reminds us, “Caruso’s back at the end of the week. I’m thinking we’ll set things in motion. In the meantime, we’ll get a funeral organised. When Connor can make contact, he can offer up the drugs and his info in return for Ink’s freedom. Connor must agree to leave Pueblo and have no contact with his family again.”

  “And if Caruso doesn’t buy it?” Lizard asks. “Soon as we admit we know where the drugs are, we put the MC in their sights. I, for one, don’t want to be fuckin’ followed half the time or pulled over to make sure I’m not carrying.”

  “I don’t think that holds an appe
al for any of us.” Bomber looks disgusted. “Connor know we’ve got his stash?”

  Beef gives a negative shake of his head. “I’m leaving him to stew for the moment.”

  Prez is thinking. His fingers are at his nose again. Used to his mannerisms, we all look toward him.

  “Okay,” he says at last. “Hell’s made some good points. Whether or not Caruso officially puts Connor in witness protection, he’s better off dead. All we need is to find ourselves a suitable body, and someone to volunteer to break the bad news to his mom and sister.”

  “Hopefully the body will already be dead?” Pyro asks, a half-smile on his face.

  “Rusty, you still got that friend who works in the crematorium?”

  Rusty grins at the prez. “If he hasn’t been arrested for, let’s say, his unusual attention to dead bodies, yet, yes. And sure, I’ll ask if he can look out for a suitable one that won’t be missed.”

  “So, who’s up for visiting the family?”

  No one meets Prez’s eyes.

  Ink’s my fucking brother, he’s often been my right hand. If I trust him to have my back, I’ll not give him a reason to be unable to say the same. This won’t be a pleasant job, but then mine often isn’t. What’s one more black mark on my soul?

  “I’ll do it,” I find myself volunteering. “Reckon it should be someone who found him in that warehouse.”

  “And we’ve left it until today…?”

  Good point. I think for a bit. “We’re not exactly on best terms with Beth. Just telling her on our time, not hers.”

  “Well, don’t leave it much longer. I’ll get onto Dr Ironside, he’ll make sure the paperwork stands up.”

  I wait only for the news there’s a death certificate ready to be collected. I’m the type of person who when there’s something unpleasant to be done, I get right on and do it. By the time I’ve detoured past the doctor’s office, I’m pretty certain Beth will be home from work.

  It’s only a couple of hours later when, minus my cut which I left back at the clubhouse and with a beanie pulled down right down to my eyes and a scarf hiding the lower part of my face, I’m knocking at the front door of Patsy and Beth’s house.

  When I hear footsteps coming to answer it, I carefully school my features.

  “Er, the lady of the house is… Fuck me, Mace? Didn’t recognise you.”

  “You the doorman now, Dirt?” Glancing down I see his Glock held by his side.

  “Ain’t taking any chances. Told them to stay back while I check it out.”

  “Mace? Is there news? About Ink? Or Connor?”

  “Beth,” I acknowledge the woman who’s appeared behind the hangaround. “Patsy around? I want to talk to you both.”

  “She’s upstairs just finishing off some sewing.”

  “Patsy’s fuckin’ good at that shit,” Dirt tells me, admiringly. “Woman’s had some good news. One of the big stores has approached her wanting to use some of her designs for taller women.”

  I’m confused.

  After going to the stairs and yelling for her mother, Beth returns. “Mom took up making my clothes when I couldn’t get any to fit,” she explains, her voice showing she’s proud of the parent who makes her money in legit ways. Totally different from her other.

  Patsy descends the stairs. “You’ve got news?” she’s asking, before she reaches the bottom step.

  “Ink?” Beth queries hopefully. “Has he been released?”

  “No.” I carefully examine her face as I give my one-word answer. I’d have to be blind to miss her pain. It’s been increasingly harder to maintain my animosity toward her having seen the condition of her brother. I’ve also a grudging admiration that she hadn’t wanted to involve the club or specifically Ink, so had taken the task on all by herself. I finally admit it wasn’t her fault he’d been there and got caught.

  As the last vestiges of my ire disappear, I soften my voice. “Can we sit down?”

  “Of course.” Patsy leads the way into the sitting room. “Do you want a beer or something, Mace?”

  “Not at the moment. Thank you.” I take a breath. “There is news, but it’s not what you’re wanting.”

  “Has Ink been hurt?” Beth covers her mouth and seems to stop breathing.

  “This isn’t about Ink. It’s about your brother. Your son, Patsy.”

  Patsy’s face pales at the mention of her errant child. “You’ve found him?”

  There’s no easy way to deliver this. Taking a deep breath, I get it out fast, “I’m very sorry to tell you, but he’s gotten himself killed.”

  “Noooo!” Beth cries out.

  “No,” Patsy says, any remaining colour leaching from her face. “He can’t be. What happened? Why are you saying this?”

  I decide to tell them as much of the truth as I can, easiest way to maintain the deceit. “He didn’t lie to you, Beth. Cad eventually managed to get a fix on where his calls had come from. It was a warehouse outside of Denver. We went to check it out. He’d been, he’d…”

  “They beat him to death?” Beth says what I couldn’t. Then her head drops into her hands, and I hear her quietly sobbing. “It was all for n-n-nothing.”

  Christ. It kills me to see her guilt, but I’m not sure how I can soften it. “You did what you could, Beth. What anyone would have done. You tried to save your brother.”

  “No. He can’t be dead. He’s my son. I’d know it.”

  I don’t think Patsy’s aware that she’s got tears streaming down her face. I spy a box of tissues and pass them over.

  “The last thing I said to him was for him to get out of my house. If…”

  Beth’s hand’s fast holding on to Patsy’s. “He wouldn’t have stayed, Mom. He was too much under Phil’s influence.”

  If only I could tell them the truth, I could admit he’d discovered too much about his and Beth’s father and wanted out of that life. But in order for our plan to work, to get my brother back riding his bike, I’ve got to harden my heart to their distress and keep on with this charade.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.” I school my features again, this time into an expression of regret.

  “You did the best you could.” Patsy’s comfort in my direction means I’m the one now filled with guilt. “Where is he?”

  “We brought his body back. He’s at the crematorium.” Well, by now I hope a suitable someone’s body is.

  “I want to see him, see for myself.”

  “Sorry, Patsy. It’s best if you don’t. He… he’s not very pretty. He was beaten pretty badly. Keep your memory of him intact so you can remember him as you last saw him, not as he is now.” I’m crossing my fingers hoping I can persuade her.

  “What was the actual cause of death?” Beth seems intent on torturing herself. Her words might be coming out in the right order, but she’s trembling, clearly having trouble holding herself together.

  “Loss of blood from penetrating trauma caused by multiple stab wounds,” I say quickly, as I pass over the right paperwork that they’ll need to arrange the funeral. “I’m so sorry, Patsy, Beth.”

  Patsy reads the death certificate, then puts it down beside her. I notice her hand is violently shaking. “I disowned him when I knew he worked for his father,” she says, her words punctuated by sobs. “Now I just want him back. I should have tried harder to keep him in Pueblo.”

  “Hey.” Leaning forward, I take hold of her hands, trying to still her trembling. “I doubt there was anything you could have done to change how things turned out. He was what, eighteen when he decided he wanted a change of scenery? No talking sense to a man of that age.”

  “I should have tried harder,” Patsy repeats.

  I spare a look for Beth, she’s weeping silently. It’s more disturbing than if she was making a sound. She mumbles something, I struggle to hear it. I ask her to repeat what she just said.

  “I should have gone to the cops. They might have found him sooner. I didn’t.” Beth’s voice at last gets lo
uder. “I didn’t go to them when he called me, nor later because I’d have had to admit we’d been storing drugs. I didn’t want to make it worse for Ink. I sacrificed my brother, and Ink’s still locked up.”

  “You didn’t sacrifice anyone,” I say sharply. “You were not the one to yield the knife. You thought if you did what they asked for, that you’d keep him alive and safe. Not down to you he ended up dead.” I try to make it easier. “If it makes any difference, the men who did this went further than they should.” Which is true. “Killing him was a mistake.” Well it would have been, had they actually done so.

  Hell, I’m an enforcer, not a therapist. I’ve made it worse not better.

  “A mistake? A fucking mistake? My brother’s death was a mistake?” Beth spits out. “You think that makes it any easier?”

  “Who did it?” Patsy asks, suddenly. “Who killed my son?”

  Do I admit her son’s father was there? I decide that might be too much, so limit myself to the information I was told at the time. “A man called Alder.”

  “Alder?”

  “You know him?” I ask sharply.

  “Phil’s brother-in-law.” She stops her sobs long enough to speak through gritted teeth. “If he was in on it, Phil knows about it, those two were always as thick as thieves. My ex-husband killed his son.” Patsy looks like she could commit murder herself.

  Well fuck. I’d tried to spare her that knowledge. “Do you really think he’s capable of that?”

  “Oh God, I don’t know.” She’s crying again. “There could have been a rift between him and Alder. I haven’t had anything to do with him for almost two decades. Perhaps Connor got caught in a dispute between the two of them?”

  I decide to stay dumb. I don’t want to make matters worse, or admit I’d been talking to her son.

  “Do you have anything else to tell us?” Beth looks a mess. Her face is red, her eyes swollen, but she’s casting worried looks toward her mom. “Because if you haven’t, I’d like you to go.”