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

by Manda Mellett

  It makes me wonder how they can live this way, being kept in the dark and never knowing anything. I don’t think I could do it.

  I’ll probably not have a chance. Ink was just pleased to see me safe. He’d left me with those awful words hanging in the air, we’ll talk later. Every woman and every man alive knows that normally preludes something they don’t want to hear said.

  He’d given me a message he didn’t want to see me again. Though he had given a quick explanation it was to keep the police away from me, surely he could have softened it? Explained it was only for now, or as long as he was sent away? The words that had been given to me sounded so final. Now seeing him has resurrected my hopes. I don’t know what he’s going to say. The waiting is driving me crazy.

  “Beth, Patsy? Could you come speak to Prez?”

  I glance up to see Ink standing outside his prez’s office, a serious look on his face. Mom and I exchange glances, both wondering what it is that Demon will have to say.

  “Karl’s not back with the women yet,” I tell Ink as I walk past.

  Surprisingly his mouth quirks and his eyes sparkle. “He’ll probably still be held up behind that accident.”

  Yes, that will be it. But what is it about an obviously fatal crash that’s amusing? Or is Ink just laughing as Karl’s stuck waiting in what Ink calls a cage. I narrow my eyes as I pass him, failing to understand the joke.

  The small office just about accommodates me, Mom, and Beef seated on chairs in front of the desk with Demon sitting behind it. Ink remains standing, leaning up against the door.

  “Patsy, Beth,” Demon starts by acknowledging us. “You’ve heard the term, club business?”

  I snort. “Yeah.”

  “There’s good reason behind it,” Beef tries to explain. “What you don’t know can’t hurt you. It’s not that we don’t trust our women, but we keep some shit quiet, so it can’t inadvertently be given away, or we have to ask people to play dumb or even lie if someone asks questions.”

  Demon takes over, “There are times when we need to share info that we’d otherwise not. This is one of those times. But I need both of you to give me your word you won’t talk about the first thing until it’s common knowledge.”

  He’s got me intrigued. It’s Mom who voices her reservations, “I’ll reserve judgement until I hear what you’re going to tell me.”

  “Fair,” says Demon. “The first thing is to put your minds at rest. I’m not telling you how, who, or why, but I’ve received information that Phil Foster is dead. That news is not to leave this room.”

  I sit forward. Phil might have been my father, but that was only because of his sperm. He killed my brother or condoned his death and was going to consign me to a living hell because he preferred money to his kids. It’s the best news I could have heard. “You’re certain? Who? When? He left this morning… he said he had a meeting with you.”

  “Beth,” Ink’s voice chides from behind me. “Prez has just told you there are some things he can’t share. We’re only telling you now so you can relax. And act fuckin’ surprised when you hear officially.”

  I glance at Mom, wondering how she’s taking it, she was once married to the man after all. “Phil was behind Connor’s death,” she spits out. “He got what he deserved, I’m glad he’s gone.”

  “About that.” Demon looks awkward. Then he sits forward. “We’re now entering the territory of shit that can never be spoken about. I won’t ask for your word, because it will all become clear and you’ll know why.” He’s about as serious as I’ve ever seen him, an MC prez for sure, as he starts talking again, “Your son, as you know, got involved with his father. Phil got him into some shady shit.”

  “We know that. Running drugs for him…”

  Demon shakes his head. “You’re wrong.”

  Mom’s mouth snaps shut, mine opens and my eyes roll. “Ten kilos of heroin left in our house is a fair indication.”

  “Connor stole those to get them away from Phil.”

  I shake my head, disbelieving what he’s saying. “But why? Was he going to sell them himself?”

  “No,” Beef says. “Look. We need to backtrack a little. Connor got himself arrested while working on Phil’s protection racket. He was offered a chance to stay out of jail, he took it. He’s been working with the feds. Connor had the opportunity to spirit the heroin away and took it. Only problem was, his contact was taking three weeks off. Hence he had to store them somewhere until he returned.”

  “He had no other contact?”

  “No. Or none that he trusted.”

  Something starts to make sense. “So that’s why he was beaten. Because he’d stolen from Phil and Alder.”

  “Yes. As you know, when Connor called you Beth, he was telling the truth. He was being hurt and feared for his life.”

  “You also know,” Beef again takes over from Demon, “we managed to track down where that call had come from and that we’d gone to see if we could find him. At the time, Ink was sitting in jail, and we were desperate to find anything that could help get him out. Well we did. We found Connor.”

  I notice Beef’s voice has deepened, and his delivery slowed, as if what he’s saying carries merit. I close my eyes, not wanting to hear any more details about how they found Connor dead, Mace had told me enough of the suffering my baby brother had gone through. Mom reaches out and clasps my hand, and I don’t know whether it’s for my benefit or hers.

  “We found Connor. Well, at first we didn’t know it was a man, it was a bloody heap of rags, skin and bone.”

  Mom gasps and covers her face with her hand.

  Beef relentlessly continues, “Until it groaned.”

  “He was alive?” Mom asks, her voice breaking.

  “We brought him back. Arranged for a doctor who’s friendly to the club to treat him. He produced a death certificate in his name.”

  Treated him? “You don’t treat a corpse and give them a death certificate.” I thought I’d just thought that, not voiced it aloud.

  “Connor Foster is dead. Dan Forster is alive and getting well.”

  “My son?” Mom’s voice is hesitant and filled with cautious hope. “Are you telling me my son is alive? Don’t give a damn what he’s calling himself now. But he’s alive?”

  “He is.” Demon leans forward. I always wondered how he got his name. I stop wondering now as gold flecks glow in his eyes making him resemble his namesake. “But he’ll only stay that way if you don’t let that information leak out of this clubhouse. No one, apart from my members who I trust, know Connor’s real identity. No one else must know his real name.”

  “Got to be clear here, Beth.” One of Ink’s hands lands on my shoulder, and his other on my mom’s. “Patsy. We’re hoping to make the deal with Agent Caruso, his handler. Alder’s still around though Phil has gone. Connor—Dan—will leave Colorado and start a new life under his new name.”

  “Witness Protection?” Mom asks.

  “That’s what we hope. If the FBI doesn’t come through, if eight kilos of heroin and certain knowledge that your son has in his possession don’t persuade him to help, then we’ll spirit Dan away and set him up on our own.”

  “Will we know where he is?”

  As Ink’s fingers press into my shoulder, I realise his tactile support is confirming that we won’t. I squeeze Mom’s hand. “It’s better knowing he’s somewhere out there alive than thinking he’s dead, Mom.”

  She’s quiet. Everyone gives her time. Then, slowly, she nods. “I’ve been through hell thinking he was gone. Thinking I’d failed him by not protesting harder when he left to live with his father. Though short of locking him up, I don’t know what more I could have done. He’s not dead, but he could have died had you not found him when you did. You’re right, he can’t stay in Colorado, and can’t come home. I don’t want to resurrect him only to bury him for real. I hate it, but if this is a chance for him to turn his life around, he should take it.”

  “You’ll hav
e to continue with the funeral arrangements,” Demon says.

  Mom and I exchange looks. I hadn’t thought about that. I squeeze her hand again as she says, “We can do that.”

  As Mom agrees, I reckon we’ll be crying hard enough to convince anyone. Connor might not be dead, but from what Demon has said, once he leaves Pueblo, we’ll never see him again. As estranged as he might have been, he’s still family.

  “You can have some time with him before you have to say goodbye,” says Demon. He takes out his phone and checks it. “I take it you want to go see him now.” He glances at Ink and adds, “Skull’s old room.”

  “I do want to see him.” Mom stands.

  “Patsy? He’s a family friend, okay? That’s all anyone here except the members know.”

  “Anyone seeing him will notice the family resemblance. He looks like me,” I tell him straight.

  “Not at the moment he doesn’t,” Demon replies enigmatically. Unless he’s talking about my blue hair, I have no idea what he means.

  A few minutes later Ink pushes a door open. It’s a room laid out similar to Ink’s. There, sitting on the bed, is a man. A man who, as Demon said, barely resembles me at all. One eye is swollen shut, the other open a slit. There’s a big cut down the side of a nose that’s also twice the size it should be. Same with his lips. As he turns his head to check who’s entered, the whole of the upper half of his body moves with it, as though he’s stiff as a board.

  One arm is in a sling.

  “Oh, Connor!” Mom runs over, then stops. Yeah, how could she hug him so it doesn’t hurt? There doesn’t look like any part of him that’s unharmed.

  “Dan.” He looks up. His expression doesn’t change, but I can hear some of the cockiness in his voice. “I’m Dan Forster. Nice to meet you.” His one working eye closes and opens again, so I reckon he’s tried a wink.

  He looks past Mom and views me. “Beth, I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

  “Don’t apologise to me.” I can’t keep the ire out of my voice. “Apologise to Ink.” I gesture to the man behind me.

  “No matter,” Ink tells him. “I think we’re even. I stitched you up and identified you as the one I took the drugs from that night. Fender Childs had already named you as who he’d been expecting, so I just confirmed it.”

  “Fender gave me up?”

  “Plea deal,” Ink explains. “Since you’re ‘dead’, the cops had nothing to go on.”

  “Fender was one of Phil’s trusted men.”

  “He was looking at thirty-plus years inside. You turned on Phil for less,” Ink reminds him.

  “You really going to make a fresh start?” Mom asks.

  Again, he does that full body turn. “When I went to live with Phil, I knew he was wheeling and dealing. But it was a buzz, you know? I couldn’t see what was wrong with what he was doing. But then it came about I could no longer turn a blind eye. He got me collecting loan repayments, and some of those people were addicts. I then found out that he was the one dealing to them or supplying the dealers to be exact. Then, worse…

  “You found out about the trafficking,” Ink’s voice booms out.

  Connor tries to shake his head and winces. “I can’t believe how stupid I was. Phil kept me out of the house when he was bringing women in and out. The basement was soundproofed, until someone went down and left the door ajar.” This time when his face twists, it’s not with physical pain. “I confronted him, he said he was branching out his business. When I got arrested, it was almost a relief.”

  “You were going to give up Phil for a chance to start afresh?”

  “Exactly.” Connor’s open eye meet’s Ink’s gratefully. Then he groans and holds a hand to his head.

  “You need rest,” says Mom, getting up and going over to rearrange his pillows and settle him back. “Sleep, now. I’ll be here. I’ll spend all the time I can with you while I still have you.”

  “And I,” Ink says, his tone unreadable, “need to have a talk with your sister.”

  Going over to the bed I lean down and place the gentlest of kisses to my brother’s head. It’s hard to believe he’s come back to life only for me to lose him again.

  “Patsy?”

  “Yes, Ink?”

  “Don’t forget you’ve got to arrange that funeral. It will be interesting to see who turns up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ink

  As we exit the room leaving Connor and Patsy alone, I place my hand on the small of Beth’s back and guide her to my own. Opening the door, I gently push her inside.

  Apart from the ride back from Denver which had allowed no conversation at all, this is the first time we’ve been alone together since before I was arrested. I’d let her know I never wanted to see her again, while conversely telling my brothers I was claiming her. The latter at first only to make sure my club kept her safe.

  We’ve known each other less than three weeks, and many people would say it was far too soon to know I could commit to her forever. But the nineteen days since I’d met her had been packed full of more than in the majority of most other people’s whole time on earth. I’d lived through so much, things I wanted to experience forever, like how good it felt to be in her cunt, and shit I never wanted to go through again. When I thought I’d lost her for good, it had concreted my views. If I had another chance, this time, I’d keep her. I’d never met anyone like her before, I’d be a fool not to snap her up and tie her to me. People talk about finding the other half of their soul. Well, corny as it sounds, Beth is mine.

  She’s taken a few steps into my room and slowly turns to face me. For a second our eyes meet, then she looks away.

  “Ink…” she starts.

  Suddenly I don’t want to hear what she has to say. I close the gap between us and pull her to me tightly. “Shush. I just want to hold you for now.” I might have my own views on where I want us to go from here, but if she doesn’t agree, this could be the last time I have her in my arms. Fuck I hope not. If she went, there’d be a fucking great hole in my life.

  “Hey, what’s up?” In my arms, she’s gently shaking, crying quietly. Pulling back a little, I see tears leaking from her eyes.

  “So much has happened, Ink. I feel like I’ve been trapped in a whirlwind, and now it’s suddenly stopped,” she sobs.

  She doesn’t have to explain, I feel much the same. “It’s over now, sweetheart. Phil’s not a threat anymore. Connor, or Dan, I suppose we should call him now, has a chance at a new life. It’s all over now.”

  Her hands have been clutching at my cut, now she lets me go. “You’re right, it’s over.” Pulling away from me, she walks to the wall, stands facing it and wraps her arms around her body.

  Is this a sign that she thinks there’s no future between us?

  “I’m sorry, Ink,” she starts, seeming to confirm my suspicions. She rises on her toes and back down as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself. “I’m so sorry. I did everything wrong. And you, you ended up in jail. No wonder you hated, hate me.” She stills. “Are you out for good?”

  “I’m out for good.” Unless the cops think they’ve got something else on me, but as I’d been telling almost the whole truth, there’s little they can disprove. But I keep any residual concern to myself. “And hate you? Why the fuck should I hate you?” Didn’t riding behind me all the way from Denver give her some type of clue to how I felt? Once again, it’s me who steps closer. “Darlin’,” I put my hand on her shoulder, still turned away, “what I feel for you is so fuckin’ far from that it’s a joke.”

  “But I got you locked up, Ink. I..,” her voice breaks. “You could have gone away for years.”

  “I didn’t.” Something else I don’t admit, how much I’d been convinced that was going to be the result.

  Suddenly she turns. “Why did you do it, Ink? Why? When you knew the cops were waiting? You must have known what was likely to happen? Why?”

  Why? The million-dollar question. “I’ve asked that myself,”
I admit.

  Her face tightens.

  I squeeze my fingers, anchoring her to me. “In one split second I knew you’d be walking into a trap and knew I had to stop you. One split second, but time for a myriad of thoughts. How I couldn’t bear it if you went inside, even if there was a valid excuse for you being there? Hell, there was a SWAT team waiting, darlin’. You could have been walking into a bullet.”

  Now she gasps. “You knew all that? That you could have been killed?”

  My hand moves from her shoulder around the back of her head. I grasp hold of her hair which has now faded to a much lighter shade of blue. “Yeah. I knew all that. And I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

  “Why?” She tries to shake her head, but my hold is tight, controlling.

  “Because in that moment, I knew what you meant to me Beth. You staying safe was worth more than my freedom.”

  “But we hardly know each other.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Know? Got a lifetime to find out our likes and dislikes. I do know we’re compatible in bed, and since I met you, I don’t need any other woman, and I doubt I ever will. The thought of any man touching you makes me want to kill whoever it is stone cold dead. Even if it’s one of my brothers.”

  “But you told me to leave you alone. That you didn’t want to see me.”

  “Yeah. And that’s another thing I’d do all over again.” I fist my hand tighter in her hair and tilt it back enough I can look down into her eyes. “I couldn’t see how I wasn’t looking at the next thirty or so years in the penitentiary, Beth. It wouldn’t have been right to ask you to wait. Or hang around hoping I’d get out early on parole. You had to be free to get on with your own life. Fuckin’ killed me, babe, but it had to be done. Could I stand the thought of you with another man? No, I fuckin’ couldn’t. But I knew you would find someone, knew some fucker would sweep you up, and it wouldn’t be fair to hold you back.” She goes to speak, I put my free hand over her mouth. “Wanted you to have the freedom which I hadn’t. Wanted you to move on without feeling guilt. And last, but not fuckin’ least, didn’t want the cops to sniff out a connection between us. Could I stand being locked up? Wouldn’t have been easy, but yeah, I’d have survived it. Could I have stood knowing you were in jail? Fuck, no. I couldn’t.”