Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1

by Manda Mellett

  I seem to have convinced him. “Neat little thing,” he tells me.

  “Best I could afford,” I agree.

  “Here’s the phone.” Tub extracts his own from his pocket. “Faster you call, the faster you can get out of here.”

  I grimace, not having to pretend I’m in pain. Nodding, I take out my wallet, and extract Snatcher’s handwritten note.

  I’ve raised their suspicions again. “You don’t know your fuckin’ girlfriend’s number?”

  “Do you?” I challenge. “It was stored on my phone.” It’s a safe bet. No one knows numbers by heart anymore. Or not many, unless you’re in an MC and need to be able to call any of the brothers from a burner phone.

  I close my eyes briefly as another wave of pain goes through me. Tub disappears and returns within seconds with a glass of water. I wasn’t lying, I need it, and drink it greedily. Then without wasting more time, I tap the numbers on the screen. It’s only then I realise I don’t know her first name.

  “Hey, babe… My knee’s gone... Yeah, I’m at…?” I look up questioningly, and the man who’s clearly in charge gives me the address. “Sure… Yeah, thanks babe… I know, you were right…” I roll my eyes. “I know, I pushed it too soon… Love you too, baby.”

  “She’s on her way,” I inform the men watching me, passing the phone back to Tub.

  Then, I rest my head back as though I’m exhausted, but really I’m listening for any cries of help, or anything to suggest a kid is here. But apart from the whirr of the air conditioning, there’s no sound at all. I don’t ask questions like, how long have you lived here? Or make observations like, nice place. I’m the epitome of a man in pain who’s lost in his own head. Cracking my eyes open, I see Tub and the other man starting to relax.

  The minutes tick by. When, at last, I hear a car driving over gravel, I sit up. “I’m really grateful, thank you. Tub, and?”

  “Weaver,” Tub helpfully supplies.

  Weaver gives him a look as though Tub’s going to feel his wrath when I’ve gone.

  Which shouldn’t take long. The doorbell rings. Tub glances through the peephole, satisfies himself it’s to him a harmless-looking woman, then lets Swift in. She brushes past the man by the door, ignoring both him and his companion. Her eyes focus on me conveniently situated directly in her straight line of sight.

  “Oh, darling. What on earth have you done? I warned you, didn’t I? I said it was far too soon to start running again. Hey, have you got your hearing aid switched on?”

  I suppose I hadn’t been listening to her words, more intent on what Tub and Weaver had been doing in case they decide to keep us both here.

  “Yeah, sorry, babe. I’m just in pain.”

  “She’s got a fuckin’ hearing aid as well,” Tub remarks.

  She turns and gives them the kind of smile I wish she’d give to me. “That’s how we met. Lucas lost his hearing and was being fitted for his first hearing aid. I’d gone to have mine checked. Strange how things work out. It was love at first sight. I invited—”

  “Don’t want your whole fuckin’ life story,” Weaver interrupts.

  “Babe, I’m in pain,” I add, not wanting to wear out our welcome. “Please, I need to see the doc.”

  Tub goes to help me up, but Swift waves him off, helping me to my feet expertly as though she’s done it a hundred times before. Then, as soon as we’re out the door, it slams shut.

  “Thank you for coming to get me,” I tell her in case they’re still listening.

  “Come on, lover. Let’s get you sorted.”

  I pucker my lips as though for a kiss, but she ignores me as she opens the door of the SUV.

  “Babe,” I tell her, tapping my mouth.

  “I’m going to get you back for this,” she hisses, as I settle into the seat, and she loops her hand around my neck, and puts her lips against mine. My arms entrap her, pulling her close. My mouth moves over hers and my tongue presses against the seam. She allows it, but only for a second, then presses her fingernails painfully into my neck. But she’s smiling as I release her.

  “All for show,” I murmur, as she gets into the driver’s seat. “They could be watching.”

  “Damn you, Road,” she says as she does a U-turn and drives out onto the street. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  I reach down and stretch my leg, putting the right pressure on the right places, and then let out a heartfelt sigh of relief as at last I can pop it back into place. I can start breathing normally again.

  “Didn’t you like it?” I ask her, knowing she’d deny it. “I did.”

  “I’d quit now while you’re ahead,” a voice full of laughter says in my ear. “I think you’ve seen what Swift can do.”

  I have. I take the hint and close my mouth. Doesn’t stop me grinning however, nor remembering the touch of her lips on mine.

  “Where are we headed?” I ask, seeing her following the GPS.

  “Duty got us an Airbnb that’s quite close,” she explains, her eyes fixed firmly on the road. “We’re going to regroup there, examine the footage the drone sent back, and that bug is transmitting loud and clear by the way. We can hear everything they’re saying. Good job, Road.”

  “I didn’t hear any sounds from the house.” I lean my head back, while simultaneously massaging my knee. It aches, but at least that sickening pain has faded away.

  “I’ve got Bolt and Stormy trying to dig into who Tub and Weaver might be.” The words sound into my ear. “How far away are you, Swift?”

  “Five minutes.”

  She’s right. Five minutes later after a journey completed in silence as I’m mindful of the people listening to everything we say, we draw up to a pleasant enough house not far from the beach.

  “Careful,” Swift warns me as I go to get out of the SUV.

  I make sure I am careful. I pick my steps once again as I head into the house. I remove the ear bud when I get feedback howling at me.

  “Come in.” Snatcher who’s opened the door hurries us in. “Duty’s come back to us. Those names were useful, thanks, Road.” He raises his chin my way. “Tub could have been anyone, but paired with Weaver’s name, Duty’s managed to track them down. They’ve just come out of jail after doing a stretch for larceny.”

  “Could have gotten the idea for kidnapping inside,” Thor yells over. “One of the inmates they were particularly tight with was in for a kidnapping gone wrong. In his case, he got life as the kid died.”

  “Murder?” Swift asks, snatching a sandwich off of the table. Before she unwraps her own, she throws another at me. I catch it one handed.

  “Second degree. Young lad, left alone with a gag in his mouth, he asphyxiated. Fucker was more concerned about the loss of his payout than the death of the kid.”

  “So Weaver and Tub got the idea from him?” Or that’s what it sounds like to me.

  Thor presses his lips together. “Probably got quite the education inside.”

  Hopefully not to leave the kid with a gag in her mouth, but I have my doubts. “House was quiet,” I tell them.

  “What are they up to now?” Snatcher asks Preacher who’s sitting with a headset on.

  “They’re discussing Road, and whether they did right to let him in. Hate to say it Swift, but Weaver’s just observed that if you were feds, you wouldn’t have kissed so passionately. Apparently, it was quite an impressive show. Good job.”

  “Something we should know?” Rascal asks with a grin.

  “No,” both Swift and I say at once. But I have to stop my hand reaching up to touch my lips. My arm wants to reach out and wrap around her, pulling her into my side. But not only would I probably be the recipient of a hard kick in the balls if I tried, I need to remember she’s the same as any of my brothers, both here and in Tucson, and I’d show disrespect if I treated her any differently to them. I’ll have to act as though she’s not missing a piece of equipment between her legs.

  That kiss had been a mistake. It had started me looking a
t her differently. I’m lying to myself. I started thinking about her in the wrong way when I noticed her ass last night. Maybe even before that. I thought she was an attractive bitch when I’d first seen her sitting around the table. Then, the way she’d taken down Stormy, that had been as sexy as fuck.

  “Getting something.” Preacher takes off his headset and presses some keys. As the voices of Tub and Weaver fill the room, all other conversations cease.

  “I still don’t like coincidences. Maybe we should move the kid and leave.”

  There’s the sound of footsteps echoing off wood, as though someone is pacing.

  “How long are you giving the parents?” That’s Tub.

  After a short pause, Weaver responds, “Let’s get a photo of her all tied up to hurry them along. As far as they know, the sooner they get the money to us, the sooner her suffering will end.”

  “Or begin.” Tub’s chuckling. “You still got that buyer lined up?”

  “Yeah. And he wants her unmarked.” Weaver’s voice carries a warning. “So you keep your hands to yourself, Tub.”

  “Shame. I’d have enjoyed breaking her in.”

  “You’re sick, man. You know that?” The sound of footsteps are heard again.

  “Why are we waiting? It’s a risk keeping her here. We could just sell her and pretend to the parents we’ve still got her.”

  “Proof of life, that’s what they’ll ask for. You know, her holding up the newspaper of the day.”

  “Haven’t you heard of Photoshop man? Learned that shit inside.”

  “Jesus, Tub. Why are you just reminding me now? Great fuckin’ idea. We’ll take the pics tonight, then alter the photographs as we need to. Get her moved on as soon as we can, then all we need do is sit back and wait for the money to drop into our hands.”

  “Don’t even have to stay here.” Tub’s voice sounds gleeful.

  Snatcher waves at the laptop Preacher has open. “I’m not happy with this. They’re making too much fuckin’ sense. We’ve got to make our move tonight.”

  “How do you want to play this?”

  “Road? Any idea where they could be hiding the girl?”

  I frown. “Place isn’t big, one of the bedrooms is my bet. I should have asked to use the bathroom or something, but I—”

  “You couldn’t walk.” Swift comes to my defence.

  “Three bedrooms,” Honor says. “That’s what was on the plans. One floor only.”

  “Hold up.” Preacher raises a hand.

  “Kid’s fuckin’ crying again. Man, it’s doing my head in,” a new voice sounds.

  “Tub, get back in there and watch her.”

  “That’s three,” Preacher observes.

  Eight against three. The odds are still in our favour. But, a thought occurs to me. “They’re going to be desperate, right? We get this wrong, that kid could get caught in the crossfire.”

  Snatcher’s eyes meet mine as he nods. “Or they’ll use her as a human fuckin’ shield. Might even kill her themselves.”

  Preacher’s eyes are narrowed. “We’ve got to get into that house, but the backyard has little shelter.”

  “Not going to be easy sneaking in from the front either,” Swift observes.

  A plan is formulating in my head. I smirk, suspecting how my suggestion will be received. “So I walk up to the front door.”

  “Nah, Brother.” I take a second to note it’s the first time I’ve been called that by anyone from this chapter. “That’s not how this shit works. And you’ll be staying back this time. You’ve done your share.”

  “No, I haven’t.” I grin. “Listen. Swift drives me back. I take a bottle of whisky or something as a thank you for helping me out. We distract them at the front, giving you a chance to creep in the back and dispose of the third man presumably guarding the girl.”

  Swift’s looking at me carefully, but it’s Snatcher she addresses. “It could work. Preacher is listening. He can tell us who’s in the main room, hopefully both will come to the door. We’ll need to fool them—”

  Snatcher interrupts her, suddenly changing his mind and now onboard with the plan. “You, Swift. You’re the one who wanted to come back and thank them for taking care of your man. It’s more the type of shit a woman would think of.”

  Swift rolls her eyes, but nods. “I can do that.”

  “Body armour,” Rascal warns. “You’re both to wear it. They’ve got five million plus riding on this. They might prefer to just shoot you and have done with it.”

  “There’s the third man. One of them might be staying with the kid to make sure she doesn’t choke on the gag. He’s the unknown risk.” Snatcher is frowning. “He could hurt the kid, or try to escape, taking her with him.”

  “Unless,” I butt in again interrupting Snatcher, “we get Tub to call him out. A dead body at his feet and a gun to his head can be pretty persuasive.”

  “You know?” Swift says, a quirk to her mouth. “I kind of like the way Road thinks.”

  13

  Swift…

  When Pip had first suggested partnering me with Road, I had several problems with the idea. First off, it wasn’t the man himself, but that I didn’t want to work with anyone at all. Then, I was prejudiced against the man from the Tucson club. What had he to offer except for his muscle? Couple that with the fact he wasn’t fighting fit right now, even that wasn’t going to be much help.

  But he’s been the ideas man today. First, getting the bug planted in the house which had supplied vital information had been all down to him. Now he’s come up with a suggestion that would at least provide the opportunity for a distraction. I have to admit to being impressed, and maybe a little wary that we’ve become set in our ways. Sure, our normal formula gets results, but there’s something to be said for thinking outside the box. Maybe it is time to bring someone new on board to bring something else to the party. Of course, he’s the only one able to fake an impressive injury, but that thought about going back with a thank you gift? That’s not the way we normally operate.

  I’ll admit to wanting to slap his face after he’d kissed me, but even that had been a good idea, as I’d heard with my own ears. Feds do not enthusiastically kiss their partners, but then, neither do Satan’s Devils. Then there is the tiny issue that I had enjoyed it. Which is strange as normally I don’t kiss.

  I’ve never had the inclination to want a relationship. At school I’d seen girls go googly eyed when certain boys looked their way. As my teenage years passed, my friends had changed completely. Plans were dropped if a boy claimed their time instead. My best friend through primary then secondary school had been a great example of that. No longer the tomboy wanting to play football, she’d spent her days either over the moon when the flavour of the month had set his eyes on her or moping when his head turned a different way. What was worse, she’d dress and do her hair in the style her current boyfriend preferred.

  My head had spun with the different personalities she adopted to keep a boy in tow. He wanted someone submissive? She could be that. Someone who was decisive? She’d make all the decisions.

  Her degeneration into being someone another person wanted wasn’t restricted only to her. I saw examples to a greater or lesser degree all around me. I’d made up my mind I was who I am, and I wouldn’t change me for anything, particularly for a member of the male sex, or one of the female persuasion. I definitely don’t swing that way.

  The problem being, or benefit as I saw it, was that I had a strong personality. You took me as I was or not at all. I was never interested in dressing up. I played football, darts and was a black belt in martial arts. I didn’t need a man to be my protector, neither did I want a weak man I had to look after.

  Not having a relationship might have been my choice, but neither was I the type to interest the boys. They’d tended to steer clear of me.

  Sex? Well, yes, of course I have needs like everyone else, but I don’t need a ring on my finger or any type of promise to get my needs met. If the
re’s a man I find sexually attractive, I go after what I want. We scratch our mutual itches, then part ways. Variety is the spice of life, I always tell myself. There have been times when my chosen bed partner hasn’t seen it in quite the same way, and I’ve had to discourage repeat performances. Extricating myself from something when I’ve no desire for anything more than a one-night hookup has made me overly cautious about who I choose to scratch my itch.

  One idea I’ve never entertained is jumping into bed with any team member, knowing it would complicate matters going forward. Soldiers or MC members have a protective streak a mile wide. Something they can’t seem to turn off and being with them sexually would signal a weakness I otherwise try to ignore. I’m a woman, and while I’m their equal in all other ways, there’s one thing I’m missing—I don’t have a cock.

  That I find Road someone I’d fuck were he anyone other than my assigned partner is inconvenient to put it mildly. While I tell myself I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, I find my eyes wandering his way, noticing things that I’d normally use to select someone to take to my bed for the night.

  His hair. I’ve always had a weakness for hair long enough to wrap my hand around while a man’s going down on me. Something to use to direct him to the exact right spot. Soldiers have short hair, nothing to hold on to there, so he would be completely different. His eyes, hmm, so expressive. His large hands are matched by the bulge in his jeans which offers so much promise. His muscles, thick, he’s not going to break when I ride him. And his tats, he’s not fully covered, but just enough to be interesting. His ass? Well, I might have caught myself checking him out a little too often. Luckily no one appears to have noticed.

  He’s tall, standing taller than myself. I’m probably four inches shorter. At five foot ten, I’m a good size for a girl.

  I know what manwhores they are in MCs and expect Road’s no different. Perhaps he too would be happy with just one night so I could use him to get rid of this inconvenient attraction?

  Perhaps if Road fails to make the grade as a member, Prez would think about bringing him on board as a male sweet butt?