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

by Manda Mellett

  I close my eyes, trying to block out everything except thoughts of Ink. Wondering what would have happened if Connor had never left those drugs in our house. Would we have continued our relationship? Would there have ever been a chance he’d have made me his old lady? It’s an impossible dream, but better to cling onto than consider the reality that’s facing me now. I hope he really does hate me, then he wouldn’t get upset when he finds out I’m gone.

  Mom. I’ve tried to ignore the thought that she must be going crazy. She’s supposed to be burying her son, now she’s lost her daughter as well.

  The journey seems to go on forever and the men won’t stop talking. I want to scream, Shut up. I don’t want to hear any more lack of respect for women. I don’t want to know what it’s like to force your cock into an unwilling partner. But I stay silent, knowing they’re only trying to taunt me.

  It’s not even a relief when we finally draw up to some gates which seem to slide open automatically. Phil’s lair, I suppose. I have a sense of being about to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. All I can hope is that I don’t get burned too badly.

  My father has arrived before us. I’m shown into a pleasantly furnished room. He’s standing in front of a fireplace holding a glass of something which is either whiskey or brandy, but I don’t get to know as he offers nothing to me. One of the men who’d brought me in, closes the door with himself this side of it, as if emphasising I can’t escape.

  My father takes a sip of his drink and then waves the glass toward me. “What’s your relationship with the Satan’s Devils?”

  “My boyfriend rides with them.” He knows that already. “Other than that, I have none.”

  His eyes narrow. “Why the fuck did you give eight kilos of heroin to them? Heroin that was mine.”

  I shrug. “They just came and took them. I wasn’t at home.” Again, the truth.

  Suddenly he puts down his glass and strides toward me. “Who told them where they were? You?”

  My brother’s dead, there’s nothing more Phil can do to him. He might as well take the blame. “I don’t know, Connor perhaps? Maybe Connor had worked out a deal with them?”

  “Connor wouldn’t have been so stupid,” he spits into my face. “He knows the Devils don’t deal in drugs.” His hands twitch at his sides, and for a second, I fear he’s going to hit me. Then, as if making an effort to control himself, he turns and says, as if he’s voicing an idea, “I suppose anyone can change their views for that amount of money.” He’s quiet for a moment, then accuses, “I think you know a lot more than you’re saying.”

  In truth, I don’t. The Devils took the drugs because I told them they were there, and we wanted them out of the house. What they did with them, or plan to do with them is a mystery. I tell him a version of that. “I don’t care what happened to the illegal substances. Had Connor told us what was there, we wouldn’t have allowed him to leave it.”

  “Don’t fucking care about something with a street value close to a million dollars?” His eyes widen in disbelief, and his jaw clenches betraying his anger.

  I shrug. “Heroin kills people.”

  He snorts. “It kills people, whoever distributes it. I assure you, my naïve daughter, whoever took it will sell it and walk away with my money.”

  He’s right. Most people would. But I know in my gut the Devils wouldn’t.

  “What are you going to do if the Devils don’t give the drugs back?”

  He stares at me as if I’m stupid. “You better fucking hope they do.” His eyes flash me a warning. “But if they don’t? I’ll take them, of course. They can’t have shifted that volume already. No one gets away with crossing me. But what am I going to do about you either way is another question.” He eyes me in a manner I don’t like, then goes back and picks up his glass, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t think for a moment this is a fond family reunion, and don’t bother playing on our relationship. I already got burned when I took your brother under my wing. I left you when you were a kid, never wanted to know about you. Thought Connor might have been useful, but he fucked up. I don’t think of either of you as family. You got that, Bethany?”

  It’s hard to hear, but I’d already guessed there was nothing humane in him to appeal to. I nod.

  “So you think on that. If you know more than you’re telling me, if this was some plot you and your brother cooked up with the Satan’s Devils to steal from me, my men will get it out of you. If you don’t have anything useful to offer, then you’re going to wish you had.”

  There’s a chuckle from the man standing behind me.

  I go cold as I read between the lines.

  “But tonight, I’ll see what Patsy gets up to. I’ll give her a chance to get my drugs back.” A twisted grin comes onto his face. “Straitlaced Patsy will have to walk into an outlaw MC if she wants her daughter back. Whether she’ll walk out alive is another matter entirely. Men like that,” he shakes his head, “don’t care who they step on. And don’t get your hopes up, a million dollars is a fucking lot of money. They won’t give it up for a woman, I can tell you that. But if she hasn’t contacted them already, I may need to send her a finger to prompt her. George, show her to the guest room, will you?”

  The casual mention of cutting off one of my fingers is terrifying. He doesn’t care about the danger he thinks he’s put my mom in, forcing her to ask favours of an MC. I didn’t know men as evil as him existed.

  “Want me to keep her company?”

  My father looks over my shoulder for a moment while I forget to breathe. Surely, he wouldn’t let his men rape me?

  But he seems to give it some consideration. “Not tonight. Time for that later. Let’s see if the Devils make contact. We might need her… undamaged… to tempt them to hand the drugs over. Unlikely, but possible.”

  “Shame,” I hear from behind.

  There’s another man waiting outside in the hallway with what I can only describe is a look of anticipation on his face. George gives a rueful shake of his head in his direction, then points me to the stairs and follows me as I ascend.

  Like the rest of the house the room I’m shown into is clean, tidy and well-furnished. The windows though are locked securely, I know as George checked and pocketed the key. There’s an en-suite bathroom, and a bed which would look comfortable in any other situation. All I see when I look at it though is George and/or another man forcing me down on it and me being raped.

  George sees me staring down at the comforter and palms his crotch. As I look up in horror, he mouths, ‘Soon’, then, thank goodness, he disappears out of the door. I’m not surprised to hear a key turn in the lock.

  As soon as the door closes behind him, instead of relief, my body starts to betray me. My eyes lose focus, a wave of heat floods through me making me sweat. I feel nauseous and dizzy, as though I’m about to faint. My breath comes in fast pants and my heart races.

  I sink to the bed before I fall to the floor and, with my head in my hands, try to force myself to slow my breathing. I fight with the feeling that I’m dying, one half of my brain trying to rationally explain that I’m not, the other half swearing I am.

  In, out, I breathe. Slow, slow, I tell myself. Making my lungs expand and deflate to a regular rhythm instructed by the sane side of my brain.

  Gradually, my panic begins to subside, and then the tears start. Everything is overwhelming me. One minute I was enjoying life with my new boyfriend, looking forward to seeing him again. Then, because of my vain attempt to save my brother, he was arrested, and Connor died despite my efforts to keep him alive. Now I’ve been kidnapped, and I’m beginning to realise, even if the drugs are returned to him, Phil won’t let me go. Everything with him is about making a profit, and I hate to think how he could make one from me.

  Will I ever see my home and Mom again?

  Will George get his chance to carry out his threat?

  No, no. I can’t think of that.

  My body, if not my mind, calmer, I view my pri
son. The only upside is it’s probably more pleasant than the one where Ink is detained, but four walls you can’t escape from means I’m as much a prisoner as he is. The thought crosses my mind that I might have had a more pleasant future if I’d turned myself into the police. At least there’d be some authority I could appeal to if I was mistreated. Here there is none.

  I lie on the bed. To say I spend the night with one eye open is an understatement. In fact, I have both. I stay fully clothed, wanting nothing to make me feel more vulnerable than I already am. There’s nothing I can use as a weapon conveniently left lying around, and even if there was, I don’t think it would be something I’d use. There’re easily enough men here who could overpower me and taking them on would only end up with me being hurt. From what I’ve seen, the men here would love the chance to manhandle me. I’ll have to use my brains to escape, not the brawn I don’t have. Why do I run and not work out? Sure, my legs are strong, but I’ve no impressive muscles anywhere else.

  When dawn breaks, I use the facilities but do little more than splash my face, wash my hands and clean my teeth with the toiletries provided. I’d love a shower, but I’m not getting naked when there’s no lock on the bathroom door.

  A short while after I’m ready for the day, I hear a key turning and the catch on the door opening. Trepidation floods through me, though it’s not one of the men. I notice with relief, it's a pretty Hispanic girl. She looks like she’s in her late teens or early twenties.

  Would she help? Perhaps.

  “Can you get a message to someone for me?” I ask quickly as she crosses the room and places a breakfast tray on the table by the window.

  “No hablo inglés,” she tells me. Then repeats so there can be no mistake, “No English.”

  And I don’t speak Spanish. Well, I suppose that would have been too easy. She was probably chosen as the person to deliver my food on purpose so there would be no chance for communication.

  She leaves, I don’t stop her. For want of anything other to do, I go to the tray. There are pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage links, together with syrup and a variety of sauces and condiments. There’s orange juice and a pot of coffee. It looks like a breakfast for the condemned man or woman for that matter.

  I’ve no appetite, but unsure when I’ll be able to eat again, I nibble on a pancake. I eye the orange juice and sniff it. Then scoff at myself. Why would Phil drug me if he wants me to talk? But what if he can get his hands on a truth serum? Oh, for goodness’ sake. All the films I’ve seen suggest that has to be injected.

  As I eat, I stare out the window. Phil’s done well for himself with his ill-gotten gains. The grounds of this place are spectacular. A man comes into view pushing a wheelbarrow. He’s another Hispanic. Somehow, I suspect Phil’s workers aren’t legal and probably paid far less than minimum wage.

  I have no watch, no phone. There’s no television in the room. I have no idea of the time, but it seems disproportionately long before the door opens. Again, it’s George.

  I’m not going to cower or show my fear, though inside I’m trembling.

  “Back on escort duty?” I ask snidely. “Haven’t you got a proper job to do?”

  He grabs hold of my hair as I go to walk past him, yanking on it hard. “I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head. Otherwise, you’ll find something between your lips which will mean you won’t be able to talk.”

  I smile sweetly. “Put that cock near my mouth and I’ll bite it off.” I give him my back and make my own way to the stairs, hoping he’s never heard of a dental gag—something I’d read about in a book. But I doubt George is one for reading.

  “This way,” he corrects as I head for the room I’d met my father in the night before.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ink

  “I want to fuckin’ go now. Hit them under the cover of darkness.” I slam my fisted hand down onto the table. I’ve been a free man for an hour now and already I’m sick to death of just hanging around.

  I’d had no idea what I was going to say when I first saw Beth. Clearly my reaction would depend on her own. What I wanted to do was dispense with words and simply pull her close and take her mouth while pulling her ass against my pelvis, leaving her in no doubt of my physical feelings toward her. Then, I’d comfort her about the death of her brother, and, in time, tell her she was mine. My only worry had been her reaction. Would she push me away as she thinks I hate her? Or, would she understand?

  I didn’t expect I’d not even have the chance to see her, let alone touch her.

  I thought I’d hit rock bottom when I was arrested for something I hadn’t done. Now I’ve reached a new low. My fear for Beth consumes me and hasn’t gotten easier while I tried to catch up with what’s been going down. Quite rightly, they’ve not wasted time walking me through everything, so I’ve had to get up to speed via piecing together the patches of information I’m hearing. One thing for sure, Phil’s bad news. He condoned the beating and death of his son. Now his daughter’s in his hands, I’m fucking terrified.

  I’m a man of action. I can barely sit still, let alone waste time going over old ground.

  As he’s already done a time or two during this meeting, Demon heaves a sigh, but keeps his calm. “Ink, I know you’re fuckin’ worried out of your mind. I’ve been where you are, remember? But we’ve got to come up with a foolproof plan. This is Phil Foster we’re talking about. We don’t know the lay of the land, who he’s got working for him, or how well he’s protected. We need information before we can move.”

  Cad nods across at me. “I’ve got messages out to all my contacts. If they’ve got any info that can help, I should start getting it anytime now.”

  “Beef’s gone to talk to Connor,” Thunder tells me. “He’ll give us what he can.”

  I stare at Thunder in confusion, but Pal makes a suggestion before I can query his statement.

  “If we wait for daylight, we can use the drone.”

  Drone? My eyes crease as I know nothing about what he’s talking about. I’ve gathered some of the details of what went down over the weekend but had clearly missed a lot of shit. And why’s Beef off communing with the fucking dead? “Connor’s dead,” I spit out. “How the fuck…”

  “He’s not dead. Who told you he was?” Prez says sharply.

  “The fuckin’ cops.”

  That causes laughter to go around the table.

  “They believed it?” Demon asks.

  “Yes, they fuckin’ believed it. Part of the reason they let me off. I identified him as the man who I’d taken the bag from on Saturday. Gets me off the hook and Beth in the clear.” I think for a moment trying to process this new information. “Patsy and Beth know he’s alive?”

  “No, they think he’s dead.”

  My eyes widen. Christ. Patsy must be in pieces. One child she believes she’ll be burying and the other… Well, what could be happening to Beth doesn’t bear thinking about. And Beth thinks she’s lost her brother? She must be out of her head with grief.

  “Where’s Patsy now?”

  “Here at the compound. Vi’s with her.” Demon’s sharp eyes meet mine. “You can’t tell her, Ink. She’s got to believe he’s dead. Don’t want to rehash the reasons while Beth’s freedom’s at stake, but just accept they’re good ones.”

  My club wouldn’t decide to mentally torture two women if there weren’t. I raise my chin, not liking it, but agreeing.

  I lower my head into my hands. I’ll have to go and see Patsy, but what can I say to her? Fuck all. I feel some responsibility toward her. I like the woman, and if everything works out how I want it, she’s likely to be my mother-in-law after all.

  “Are we ever going to tell them the truth?”

  Demon’s shoulders rise and fall. “First thing is getting Beth back. Worrying about sorting Connor’s mess can come later.”

  It certainly sounds like a fucked-up situation. But I’m happy Beth’s situation takes priority for now.

  “What if we
do nothing?” Hellfire suggests. “What’s Beth to us? Worth risking our lives for? I mean, she got you arrested, Ink.”

  In one split second I’m standing, leaning over the table and snarling at Hell. “I’ll remind you, that’s my ol’ lady you’re talking about.” I’m about as angry as I’ve ever been. “If you lot want to sit on your hands, then I’ll go fuckin’ rescue her by myself.” Never did I think they’d just abandon her, but when I turn to glare at the ex-prez, I notice a strange, almost twinkle, in his eye.

  “That’s the way of it, is it?” Pyro asks. “I wondered.” He looks at Thunder and holds out his hand. Thunder slides a twenty into it.

  My eyes narrow. “What the fuck?”

  “We were fifty-fifty whether you’d keep up the charade when you came out.”

  “Claimin’ Beth is not a fuckin’ charade and this is no joking matter.” My hands clench and unclench, then fist again. Maybe it’s because I’ve been cooped up in a cell, but I’m itching to take action.

  “Phil already knows we’ve got his drugs.” Bomber gets back on topic. “Even if we wanted to, can’t see how we can sit this one out.”

  My curiosity had been satisfied one thing at least, how Beth had come into possession of drugs, though I had been horrified to learn Connor had left such a large amount of heroin in Beth and Patsy’s home. I’d wanted to kill him myself at that point.

  The door is opened and then shut as Beef joins us. He chucks a diagram on the table. “Right,” he starts as he sits. “House is in a fuckin’ gated compound. Armed guards on the gate. Man’s got his own private fuckin’ army. Twenty guards on rotation, at least ten there at any time. Phil’s fanatical about his safety. He’s been threatened more than once.”

  “Connor have any suggestions?”

  Beef nods. “Yes, actually. He’s willing to come back from the dead and exchange himself for Beth.”