Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1

by Manda Mellett

  The thought makes me snort. I try to cover it up with a cough, but am not totally successful.

  “Why are you grinning?”

  “What?” Fuck it. I also blush. I can feel my cheeks burning. “Well, if I was, I was thinking about rescuing that girl and getting her back to her parents.” I’m proud at how quickly I come up with that.

  But Road, fuck him, oh yes, I’d love to, is smirking the bastard. He can’t read minds, can he?

  It seems he can’t. “We’ll have to pretend to be all lovey-dovey again. I mean, you’ll have to show you like me by cuddling up, else our line about you being so grateful won’t stack up.”

  Piston’s just been dispatched to buy a suitable gift for us to deliver, so we’ve got a few moments to kill. I just wish we could get going. Sitting around waiting, though the bane of a soldier’s life, isn’t something I relish. Especially now as my brain seems stuck in only one gear.

  “What’s your first name?” Road asks, tightening the binding he’s just applied to keep his knee in place. He adds, perfectly reasonably, “It would look odd if I call you Swift.”

  “You called me babe before,” I remind him.

  “Yeah but knowing your name would help.” He stands, grimacing slightly when he puts the weight on his leg, but it seems to hold him up.

  “No, it wouldn’t.” Swinging around, I present my back to him, but he touches my shoulder and makes me turn back.

  “Hmm,” he says, thoughtfully, “Shall I guess? You don’t look like a Tami, or a Mary. Ann seems too plain. Savannah? Nah, too fancy, perhaps.”

  “Stick to babe,” I suggest again.

  Overhearing, Rascal snorts. “Keep guessing,” he calls out to Road.

  I start worrying he’ll hit on it by accident.

  “Paris? London? Chelsea?”

  “I’m not fuckin’ named after a place or football club,” I sneer.

  Road shakes his head. “You know my name. You know everything about me. So what’s the harm in me knowing yours. Unless you’re keeping your real one secret for a reason. Don’t fuckin’ like that. It’s not as if I’m not putting myself in a world of hurt to help you out.”

  “No need to keep names secret. I’m Sawyer Young. Pleased to meet ya.” Honor waves his hand toward Road, then raises a challenging eyebrow at me.

  I press my lips tightly closed.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Snatcher comes over, knocking against my shoulder. “Her given name’s Karen. Karen Swift. Swift seemed good enough as a road name, and as she already came with it, there was no reason for a change.”

  I growl deep in my throat. “No jokes, Road. No fuckin’ jokes.”

  “Jokes?” To his credit, he looks completely bemused.

  While Honor just can’t help himself, he comes up to my other side and puts a friendly arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, we’ve got our very own Karen.”

  He gets my fist in his stomach and I didn’t pull the punch. Bastard was ready for me though.

  “Wanker,” I snarl at him.

  He makes a gesture imitating jerking himself off.

  “I don’t understand,” Road says quietly.

  “Karen’s been hijacked to refer to a privileged white woman,” I explain, keeping my voice equally low and maintaining one careful eye on Honor. “There are tons of jokes and memes on the internet.”

  “That’s not fuckin’ fair.” Road too, now glares at Honor. “It’s your fuckin’ name, you’re entitled to use it without anyone saying anything about it.”

  As Honor opens his mouth, Snatcher interrupts. “Jesus. Kids. Just fuckin’ leave it. And you, Honor, not one more word.” As the VP wipes his hand over his face, clearly exasperated, the front door opens and Piston, thankfully, walks in carrying a bottle.

  “Okay, then.” Snatcher seems to gain in stature as he straightens. “Let’s get this show on the road. You and Road head out, we’ll follow behind.”

  I raise my chin knowing exactly the role I’m going to play. Though it might stick in my claw, I’m to simper and be Road’s girlfriend. Until the guns come out, that is, and then I’ll be showing my true colours.

  I’m driving again, well, we’ve already pretended it’s my car, both of us wearing our headphone/mic earpieces, and in my other ear, my normal hearing aid. I’m glad to see Road’s all seriousness now, sitting beside me, completely still. I had expected he might display some nervous energy, want to make small talk, or bounce his good leg to betray his nerves, but instead he appears one hundred percent focused. It’s a stance I can admire.

  We’re coming up the road and turn into the driveway.

  “Stay in your seat until I come around,” Road says.

  I want to protest, but this is all part of the plan, so I patiently wait for Road to come around, heavily leaning on his stick.

  “We’re in position,” Snatcher says into my ear.

  Game on.

  “I still don’t think—” Road starts, his voice strong and clear.

  “Darlin’,” I go up on tiptoe, taking advantage of my position to tangle my hands into his hair, taking the opportunity to find it’s just as silky as it looks. “I want to say thank you.”

  I’m not the only one taking advantage. He lowers his head, brushes his lips against mine, then cradles his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in tight. I resist the urge to raise my knee to his balls as his mouth presses on mine and his tongue sweeps inside. Instead, I bite his lip.

  “Bitch,” he says under his breath, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he pulls back.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” an annoyed Weaver asks, the front door having been opened. I’ve not been unaware, I’d noticed out of the corner of my eye.

  “Oh.” I grab hold of Road’s hand, pulling him forward. “I just had to come back and say thank you. You were so good earlier today helping my boyfriend out. A good deed can’t go unrecognised.”

  Weaver seems taken aback. His face signals how much he wants us to leave, but he doesn’t want to arouse suspicions by being rude. Put in a quandary, he hesitates, then attempts a smile. “It was no problem. You okay now? At least you’re standing.”

  Road taps his thigh. “It’s painful, but back in place.”

  “And Lucas won’t be running anywhere for a while. Will you, sweetheart?”

  “Of course not, babe.” Road smiles down at me, the heat in his eyes making my insides clench and for a split second I wish it were real. Then his gaze moves to Weaver. “Thank Tub for letting me use his phone, will you? Oh, and we bought you this.” He passes over the bottle of spirit.

  I highly suspect Tub is standing behind the door. Either him or the other man. I doubt Weaver would have opened it on his own. But as Weaver does what any man would, holds out his dominant hand to take the gift, I draw my gun fast and have it pointing at him before he can react.

  Using his good leg, Road kicks at the door and it flies back. As I predicted, there’s an oomph from the man standing behind it, but Road’s past Weaver with his own gun drawn. A muffled pop and Weaver’s knocked sideways by the body of his sidekick.

  “Call him out now,” I hiss, jerking my head toward the doorway I assume leads to the bedrooms.

  “You’ve got the wrong house.” Weaver tries to bluster, and whines, “Why d’you have to kill Tub?”

  He’s not doing a good job of convincing me. I put a shot through his leg.

  Yeah, a startled scream works just as well as a shout, as the sound of a door opens and footsteps sound. “What the fuck’s happened, Weav—”

  As last words, it’s not much. Working as efficiently as any one of us, Road’s crossed the room impressively fast seeing as he needs the stick right now. The third man walks straight into the gun and takes a shot through the mouth. The walls behind him are splattered as blood and brain matter shoot out.

  “No, no…” The man at my feet starts backing away, limping heavily on his injured leg.

  Weaver’s kidnapped a kid, didn’t hav
e a thought about reuniting her with her parents, was going to put her through shit then sell her into a life where she’d pray every day for death. I feel nothing but relief when I’m responsible for a neat hole appearing in the middle of his forehead.

  “All clear,” I say. “Three men down and out.”

  “You get all the fun, Swift. You left nothing for us.” Piston, emerging from the rear of the house, still carries his pistol down by his side. Cautiously, he comes to inspect the dead bodies, but with the neat, or actually, big round and glaringly obvious kill shots to their foreheads, or in Road’s case, the guy with the back of his skull blown out, there’s no need to be cautious or to check for a pulse.

  Snatcher’s voice comes from where Piston had appeared. “Need you back here, Swift.”

  Our mission has been completed with surgical precision. While I can take pride in that, it wasn’t as clean as it could have been. When the third man had emerged from the bedroom where he’d been keeping an eye on the kid, presumably so she didn’t snuff it like their comrade in the pen’s kidnapped victim had, he’d left the door wide open. The result being, Road had shot a man’s brains out in clear view of a frantic, gagged and bound thirteen-year-old child.

  As I move in that direction, I can see Snatcher trying to approach her, gently, as though coaxing an injured wild animal to trust him, but it’s obvious she’s gone into complete panic mode. I assess the situation immediately. While I normally keep my feminine side suppressed, this is one of those occasions when my sex is definitely a benefit.

  “Hey, sweetheart. It’s Mona, isn’t it?” I’ve already holstered my weapon, trusting my team to have my back should an unknown threat exist. I approach slowly, cautiously, my voice as soft as I can make it. “You’re safe now, Mona. We’re going to get you home to your mom and dad.” While she’s eyeing me warily, I inch closer to her. “I’m going to get you loose now, okay?”

  Fuck, but she’s a tiny thing, small for her age, still with some growing to do is my bet. Her eyes are red raw with crying. I suspect her tears will have been flowing for nearly twenty-four hours. The cloth tied around her mouth looks soggy with saliva, and she’s twitching as her body reacts to her fear.

  “Let me get that horrible thing out of your mouth,” I suggest, moving another fraction nearer. “And we’ll get those hands freed.”

  I wouldn’t have said I’ve much of a natural maternal instinct, but I don’t think you need to be female, just human, to want to reach out and hug Mona close, to reassure her the bad men are gone, and won’t be able to do any more to hurt her.

  Pausing my movement, I wait until her eyes fix on mine, me trying to telegraph that she’s safe now.

  “Let me help?” It’s important to me that she gives consent. Whatever’s been done to her so far has been without her agreement. Now she needs to have control given back, especially anything involving a stranger touching her.

  She shudders, then gives me a small nod. It’s enough. I move closer. The knot on the rag is soaking wet. I’ve no desire to waste time trying to undo it, so instead, I carefully move behind her and take out one of my knives, and the gag falls away.

  Snatcher passes me something, and I take it. It’s a clean tissue, so I use it to quickly wipe away the excess saliva that’s pooled around her mouth.

  “Better?”

  She’s still too scared, too cautious to speak, but with a small jerky movement, her head bobs up then down.

  “Here, Swift.”

  Turning I raise my hand, catching the item Snatcher’s thrown to me. It’s a universal handcuff key and will work to undo those cuffs fastening her to the bed. After I do, Mona flexes her arms which I notice have sore red rings around her wrists. I swallow back down the rage that rises.

  Mona rubs her sore eyes, and brushes the back of her hand against her runny nose. I pass another of Snatcher’s tissues to her, and she noisily blows it.

  Then, finally, in between sobs and in a hoarse voice, she speaks. “I want my mommy.”

  “Sure you do, sweetheart. And we’re taking you to her right now, okay?” I hold out my arms and she throws herself into them.

  For a moment, I just hold her, knowing she’ll relish the human touch given with kindness. She’ll have been through hell the last twenty-four hours. I’m just grateful we hadn’t taken any longer.

  I’ve been in her situation. In my case, I was restrained as part of my torture that was preparing me for service in the SAS. The ordeal had provided me with the tools to know I’d be able to mentally survive should I ever be held against my will in a real situation.

  But poor Mona had no idea what was coming or how to mentally prepare, how to somehow divorce her mind from the discomfort and stay positive. She’d had no tricks to sustain her, and no hope that rescue would ever appear.

  She’ll need therapy, and will maybe have nightmares for ever.

  But she’s been given back her future. She’s going home to her family, and that’s down to our team.

  14

  Road…

  Like most of the men, I stay well in the background while Swift comforts the kid. Christ knows what she’s been through since she was taken when, probably without a care in the world, she walked home from her friend’s house last night. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride that along with these men, we’ve set her world back to rights. Or, as right as it can be now she’s seen some of the worst of human behaviour. We’d saved her from the ultimate fate, but who knows how these men have verbally taunted her?

  With therapy and support, I hope she’ll come right, if her parents are good to her. The signs are there that they are, calling on us to save her. That right there reminds me I’ve a number of questions I need answering, like how the parents knew to contact the Satan’s Devils and ask for their help. But that can wait until later. Being a Devil myself, I know there’s a more pressing issue which needs to be addressed. Like the three dead men out in the living area.

  I step beside Snatcher and ask quietly, “What do we do about cleanup?”

  In answer, Snatcher jerks his head indicating I should follow him. In the main room, Thor and Preacher are slipping on latex gloves, just as Honor walks in through the front door carrying a bottle and a roll of paper towel.

  Thor looks my way. “What did you do when you were here, Road? When you came in with your busted knee?”

  I point. “Sat there. Didn’t touch anything except the arm of the sofa.” I watch as Honor carefully cleans anything my hand might have landed on. “Oh, and I had a drink of water.”

  “Already got the dishwasher running with all the glassware in there,” Preacher confirms.

  “When you take the girl out, I’ll clean anything in the bedroom, strip the bed and throw the sheets,” the enforcer informs the VP.

  “Best do the bathroom, too, Thor.”

  The enforcer raises his chin, showing that’s in his plan.

  To me, Snatcher explains, “We’re leaving the bodies here, weapons too. The guns are untraceable unless Preacher hadn’t been doing his job properly.” Overhearing, Preacher raises his middle finger at his VP.

  “We’re leaving them here for the cops to find? What will they think?”

  “Home invasion or a fight among themselves.” He looks at me and smirks. “They’re not exactly upstanding citizens and I doubt the cops will waste much time trying to find who’s responsible. We’ll have removed all signs that we’ve been here.”

  “No cameras or security systems,” Piston confirms, after carefully examining the door.

  It goes against the grain leaving bodies where they can be found, but they seem to know what they’re doing. I’m looking around, wondering if there’s anything they, or I had missed, when I hear the sound of a back door slamming shut. It makes me jump.

  “That will be Swift taking the girl out the back way. She doesn’t need to see what’s in here.” Snatcher looks down at Weaver, his face tight. “Fuckin’ assholes got off too lightly for the damage they’
ve done to that kid.”

  It seems he and I agree entirely.

  “All done here, VP.” Thor casts a careful eye around the room.

  “Right, you’re with us, Road. Piston, go with Swift and drop the kid back home. We’ll go back to the Airbnb.”

  “We’re not going straight to the airport?”

  “It’s already late, Road.” Preacher appears. “I need someone on the ground back home to guide us in. That’s best done in daylight.”

  I suppose that makes sense.

  After everyone’s done a final check around, I follow Snatcher out the front door, not sorry to be leaving this house of kidnap and death. As I sit in one of the rear seats of the seven-seater SUV, I rest back my head, thinking about the whirlwind day I’ve had. First the flight, then purposefully putting my knee out, and yeah, there’s still a residual ache. Then killing two men while Swift took out Weaver and seeing that poor kid rescued. I couldn’t feel any sympathy or remorse for the lives I ended, just the remnants of exhilaration that I’d been part of the team. One wrong righted in the world. I’d do it again in an instant.

  What I knew I’d miss most about racing was the adrenaline rush. If this is the kind of shit the Utah chapter routinely does, maybe they do have something to offer that can replace what I’d lost.

  How they sprang into action, that the plane was on standby and not mothballed led me to believe this is nothing out of the ordinary for them. They aren’t law enforcement or have connections with them, I’m certain of that. The evidence being that they have left bodies in the house and didn’t call on the local cops for backup or help.

  If this type of work is what they’re offering me to be part of, would I want to sign up? Managing a strip club in Tucson doesn’t really come close, though I suppose there is danger involved when one of the dancers swears her diamanté thong has been stolen by another stripper. There have been too many times I’ve broken up fights between two clawing and spitting women.

  “Come on.” A prod on my arm makes me start and I realise I must have dropped off. With a yawn, I unfold my body and slide out of the seat. Once standing, I stretch.