Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1

by Manda Mellett

  “Not much.”

  She’s exhausted as hell, that’s plain to see. In the elevator she leans her shoulders back against the wall, her head drooping. We reach the third floor. I stop outside the room that had been allocated to me, while Swift’s is obviously further along.

  “Meet you downstairs?”

  With those parting words, she walks off. I show the key card to the lock. When the light flashes green, I go inside.

  Fresher after my awkward shower following the doc’s instructions to keep the bandage on my arm dry, which I sort of was fairly successful at and it only ended up a little damp, I brush the tangles out of my hair, then delve into the dwindling selection of clothes I’d brought with me on my bike. Even putting them through the laundry means I’m changing out just two pairs of jeans and four t-shirts, one of which has now been ruined. Buy new? Or return to Tucson and collect more of my own. But that would mean facing the music, and maybe Drummer wouldn’t want me to return to Utah again.

  As I put on my cut, the thought hits me, I’m not ready to leave. The time is approaching when I need to make a decision, if it’s in within my power to make. Apart from Swift, Utah offers new opportunities for me. As far as Swift’s concerned, there’s unfinished business between us, and one way or another, I’d like to see where it goes. What she’d have to say about it is anyone’s guess. I suspect she’ll try and keep me at arm’s length, though I’ll do what I can to get under her guard.

  My stomach growls, reminding me I could do with some food myself. I don’t think I’ve taken long, but when I take the return journey down in the elevator, I hear Swift already washed and changed telling Gears to go to a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. Knowing I’ve completely lost track of time, I take my phone out of my cut I’d been pleased to put back on after my shower, surprised to see it’s already late in the evening.

  Once again, I find myself following in her wake as she goes into the cafeteria. Cowboy is missing, he’ll have gone with Pip and the others to the vacation house, and the lack of voices means they’ve not yet returned.

  But Swift isn’t fazed, she just walks straight around the counter. She pauses at the entrance to the kitchen, her uninjured hand holding onto the doorjamb. When I notice her trembling, I think she’s forgotten I’m behind her, until she speaks.

  “It’s all so normal, Road. But I feel changed. I know if I walk in, there’ll be leftovers put away in the fridge. Cowboy always makes extra for times when some of the team gets called away and miss mealtimes. I should just walk over, find what I want and put it in the microwave to heat. Everything’s the same, but it’s not somehow.”

  I place my hands on her shoulders and gently squeeze. “You’re still the same, Swift.” I know she’s not talking about the pain in her hand nor that she’s missing a finger.

  “I’m not,” she says softly. “I could do anything, go anywhere. Fuck, Road, I’ve abseiled out of a helicopter though I had a phobia of heights. I’ve conquered all my fears. I thought nothing could ever break me.”

  “You’re not broken.”

  “I am,” she insists. “I’ve been kidding myself. I thought I hadn’t changed when I lost my hearing, not when I could hear with hearing aids. But being kidnapped without them showed how helpless I am.”

  “You’re not broken or helpless,” I tell her again. “Swift, you’re kick ass. What Kincaid did hasn’t diminished that.”

  “Thank you.” She turns suddenly and looks up into my face. “Thank you for thinking to bring my hearing aids with you. I was going crazy without them.”

  “I should have given them to one of the others,” I admit, my lips thinning. “No one expected you to be where I found you. Pip should have had them—”

  “They didn’t think. They’ve known me far longer than you have, yet you were the one who realised what I’d need most.” Her eyes regard me wonderingly.

  “That’s because you’re so kick ass, they forget you’re deaf.” I come up with an acceptable explanation.

  “I try to hide it. I try to go on as if I’m normal. I try my best to act as if there’s nothing different about me so no one makes allowances.” She grimaces slightly. “I think I may have been too successful. Whereas you, you seem to be able to read me like a book. You knew I’d need them.”

  “They don’t make allowances because they don’t have to. You are normal, Swift.” I try to think of comparisons. “You think Bolt’s not normal because of his prosthetic hand?”

  A small smile plays about her lips. “Bolt’s not normal, but it’s got nothing to do with him being an amputee.”

  Chuckling, I nod my head, tending to agree. Then my brow creases. “Okay, Swift. Here’s how I see it. You’re not normal.” As her mouth drops open, I move my head to one side then to the other. “I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to wake up deaf. To be told you’d never hear again. Hell, I was broken when I was told I couldn’t ride in my chosen sport. Yet you’ve really got a life-changing injury, but has it stopped you? Fuck no. You’ve gotten into an MC. Your prez twisted the rules and made you a fully patched member. All your life as a woman you’ve had to work twice as hard to prove yourself and get respect. And that’s what you’ve fuckin’ done. Look what you achieved? Getting accepted into the SAS and then, even though you’re deaf, becoming a Satan’s Devil. You’re not normal, Swift. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

  “Kincaid—”

  “Kincaid showed up where you’re vulnerable. So you do what you did the first time around, you work on your weaknesses and see where you can build strength.”

  Her head tilts slightly as though I’ve caught her interest. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” She’s looked away. I place my hand gently under her chin and turn her face back. “I might have an idea.”

  Her eyes narrow. “What?”

  “Not being secretive, just want to check a few things out first. But we’ll get there, okay? We’ll get you your confidence and independence back. We’ll see what changes we can make and then make them.”

  “We?”

  I realise how presumptuous I must have sounded. I feel my cheeks burn and hell, I’m someone I never thought even knew how to blush.

  “We.” She tries out the word again. Then, without giving me a clue as to what’s in her head, she turns away from me and takes a step into the room. “Now, shall we find what Cowboy’s left for us to eat?”

  That sounds like a fucking good idea. Even if she has left me hanging about whether she’ll accept my assistance.

  There’s some cold chicken in the fridge. Opening a cupboard, I find there’s a packet of tortillas and a spice mix for fajitas.

  “You know how to put that together?” she asks, looking dubious.

  I snort. It’s easy enough.

  She might have given the orders when we were taking down the four men, but now I’m the one issuing instructions. Side by side we work until we at last sit loading the soft unleavened bread with chicken and salsa, adding dollops of sour cream and guacamole. It’s good, even if I say so myself, and we’re silent as we stuff our faces. When we’ve finished, we clear everything away, placing our used plates in the dishwasher. I take out my phone and see it’s already eleven pm. Once again, I notice Swift yawning.

  So I offer the solution, “Bed. Come on, you’re dead on your feet.”

  30

  Swift…

  Making fajitas alongside Road had been relaxing. A mind-numbing task that didn’t require much thinking—me just following what he said as we gathered together what we needed. Then, filling my stomach which was crying out for food had consumed all my attention. Road hadn’t made small talk, hadn’t gone back to the subject we’d addressed when entering the kitchen, that is, that my self-confidence had taken a beating.

  I’d needed him to suggest I was bruised but not broken. Right now, I’m at a total loss how I can move forward or how I can ever feel safe again, but Road’s confident reassurance that there was a way ahead had set
tled something inside me. Not healed me, not given me answers, but posed the idea that there were resolutions that could be found. A way of beating not my daytime reliance on hearing aids, I’ll have that for the rest of my life, but something to make me able to sleep at night without either suffering discomfort or rendering me vulnerable.

  A problem without solution is an insurmountable weight. If ways around it were possible, then it’s one more thing to fight. And fighting is what I’m made for.

  The food filling my empty belly and the comforting presence of Road have left me feeling easier than at any time over the past two days. Until he went and brought my issues to the fore.

  “Bed. Come on, you’re dead on your feet.”

  Immediately, panic floods through me. Last time I laid down and closed my eyes, I thought I was safe. I’d had confidence in all the technology surrounding me. Nothing could get me when I was wrapped up in my cocoon. I’d been wrong, so dreadfully, horribly wrong. Now I’m missing a finger to prove it.

  But I’m not in my house. I’m safe here on the compound. My impending panic attack doesn’t agree.

  I’m not alone, I tell myself firmly. Road will be sleeping along the corridor, if the electricity fails, he’ll awake, won’t he?

  What if he’s a deep sleeper and doesn’t hear? What if the painkillers the doctor suggested he take render him to sleep so soundly, he doesn’t hear anyone coming to take me away? My PTSD is in full flow.

  Pip will have dealt with Kincaid. There’s no one coming after me.

  But there might be.

  I can’t go to bed.

  I try to compose the expression on my face and to suppress yet another yawn I feel coming. I know there’s a tremble in my voice as I offer an excuse. “Pip and the others aren’t back yet. They’ll want a debrief when they are.” It’s a good reason to put off going to bed a little longer. I sway a little. Even with the meal I’ve just eaten, I feel lightheaded. I see Road’s face tighten, and he opens his mouth, probably to point out the obvious that I’m dead on my feet, but luckily, we’re interrupted.

  “Road, Swift. Got these. Sorry about the wait.”

  I turn to take the paper sacks from the pharmacy off of the prospect, who, having completed his task, walks away.

  At that moment my phone pings with a text. It’s from Pip. I read it, “Cleanup is going to take a while. We’ll be back late. Church in the morning.” Damn.

  Well, nothing for it, but to go and get my head down. I can do this. But instead of getting my feet moving, I start trembling.

  It’s an electronic system. The locks are failsafe. They’ll unlock if there’s a fire alarm and someone could get in.

  Road’s sharp eyes miss nothing. I could lie to him, but I find that I can’t, so I answer his questioning look by wrapping my arms around myself and telling him the truth. “I’m scared, Road. Even here,” I indicate the clubhouse around me, “I don’t feel safe.”

  He heaves a deep sigh. “I’m aching and sore, Swift. I just want to get a good night’s sleep and you need one too.”

  I’m keeping him from his rest. But there could be a solution, though I hesitate to suggest it. “Will you, will you sleep with me, Road?” The question comes out of my mouth without me thinking about implications or what he’ll think I’m offering. Part of me wants to snatch the words back, but if I’m going to get any rest tonight, maybe fucking Road won’t be too high of a price to pay. At least it will relax me, and we can deal with any fallout when we’re refreshed.

  “Swift, it kills me to think of you all alone, unable to switch off and relax, when it’s clear you need sleep. I’ll stay in your room. I was going to suggest it.”

  We make the upward trip in the elevator again. When the doors open, he does something totally unexpected. He holds out his hand.

  It’s big, calloused, showing not only does he do the job of a manager, but he must also work on his bike. For a moment, I simply stare at it. How long has it been since I took a man’s hand? Apart from that of my father, I’m not sure I ever have. I’ve always been a tomboy, the girl who gave off a self-sufficient vibe. But here, now, it seems more natural to take it, to walk with him by my side instead of striding out in the lead.

  He’s patient, just waiting. There’s no rush, no hurry, no persuasion. He doesn’t awkwardly withdraw the gesture, doesn’t push it either, letting me know any decision made will be mine.

  Gingerly, I place my smaller palm in his, feeling the warmth of his skin gently cradling mine. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t trap me.

  When I start moving, our paces match. We reach my room, he drops a step back, allowing me to open the door, then follows me inside. He looks around, and I know he’s noticing the room is as basic as his. Sure, there are a few more of my belongings around, but no ornaments, no pictures. Everything personal I keep in my house. If I sell it, where would I store all my shit? It’s too much to keep here.

  “You’re tidy.”

  I wince at his observation. “Habit. I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

  “Ah, I’ll pop back and use mine.”

  “Road, you can take a piss here. I don’t care.”

  He grins. “Forgot my toothbrush, so I’ll use it while I’m there.”

  I pass over the key to my room so he can let himself back in, then proceed to do what I was going to, multi-tasking by sitting on the loo and cleaning my teeth at the same time. I’m back, dressed in a fresh pyjama set and under the sheets when Road returns. He climbs onto the bed fully clothed.

  “You can’t sleep like that. Take your clothes off, Road.”

  Grimacing, he shakes his head. “If I strip down to my boxers, you’ll see just how much I want you, Swift. And that’s not what tonight is about.”

  I want him too, why deny it? An orgasm might help me switch off. “Why not? A fuck will help us both sleep.”

  “Uh-uh.” Again his head moves side to side. “When I give you my cock, you’re not going to be half dead to the world or…” he breaks off and his eyes narrow. “Have you taken your painkiller, Swift?”

  I swallow, and tentatively ask, “Have you?”

  “Nah. I want to be fully alert, and the pain’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

  “Same here.”

  But he gets up, walks to my bedside table and empties the paper bag I left by the bed. He nods when he checks there’s an antibiotic missing, then reads the other packet, and pushes out two tablets into his hand. He passes them to me with the bottle of water I’d left there.

  “Road—”

  “Take them. I’m here, Swift. You’re hurting and tired as fuck. You haven’t slept for forty-eight hours. You need to switch off and let your mind and body heal. It doesn’t make you weak, Swift, it makes sense.”

  Maybe it’s because I’m so bloody tired, but I don’t have the strength to argue. A painless deep sleep sounds pretty good right now. “You promise you’ll stay?”

  His hand makes the sign of a cross over his chest, then he gives a quick boyish grin. “Devil’s honour.”

  “Then take off your clothes.” Some illogical part of me thinks he’s less likely to leave if he has to get dressed again, while really I know that I’ll have better dreams if the last thing I see before going to sleep is him naked.

  When he gets up to obey me, I know I should turn away, but I don’t, instead I shamelessly watch. Noticing, he makes a show of removing his cut and then his shirt, pumping his hips and rotating them.

  I chuckle. “I see you’ve learned some shit from those strippers.”

  “You better believe it, babe.” He winks. Then slowly, he pops the button at the top of his jeans, and circling his hips once again, slides that zipper down. I put my hand over my mouth and laugh when he turns his back, then glances at me over his shoulder as again he offers an exaggerated wink, drops his pants and boxers to reveal his ass, and pulls them up again. Then he does a repeat. I wish I wasn’t so tired as he taunts me with his firm glutes.

  Finally,
he pushes his jeans all the way down, having returned to my room barefoot, there’s nothing in the way to impede them. His boxers though, well, they remain. I see his back tighten, as he presumably takes a breath, then he turns around. His jeans and t-shirt lie where they’ve fallen, while I’ve tidily put my discarded clothes away.

  Sitting up, I beckon with my hand. When he steps closer to the bed, brazenly I hook my finger through the elastic of his boxers which tent in the front impressively. But he steps back, waggling a digit at me. “Sleep,” he commands.

  My eyelids feel heavy, but my lady parts have come alive during his striptease. I pout, but his expression warns me, I won’t be getting my way. As another yawn overtakes me, I know he’s right. I turn over onto my side.

  “Goodnight, Road.”

  “Hey, you can take your aids out. I’m here, babe.” His hand rests on my shoulder. “You need sleep.”

  Again, he’s right. But I’m reluctant. As soon as I remove my hearing aids, the room will go quiet and anyone could sneak up on me.

  Road moves closer. I feel his warmth at my back, then I feel his skin against mine, and one meaty arm pulling me close. “Take them out. Tonight, lean on me. I’m going nowhere. I promise I’ll be right here when you awake.”

  He releases me so I can put the hearing aids by the side of the bed, and then I’m back with his arm draped over me. I feel safe.

  “Will you fuck me tomorrow?” My voice sounds groggy.

  But, of course, I hear no reply, just feel the slight tightening of his muscles and his body vibrate, suggesting he’s chuckling.

  I wake with the light of the sun streaming in through my windows. By its position, I know day has only just dawned. No need to rush, if the others got in late last night, they’ll still be sleeping.

  I stretch, throwing up my arm, inadvertently elbowing a body sleeping beside me.

  “Oh, bloody hell, I’m sorry.” I go to reach for my hearing aids so I can have a proper conversation, but Road’s arm stops me.

  I turn back, looking into his face, swallowing hard at the heated look in his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and his breathing has sped up.