Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “One, we’ve a biker who’s been knocked off his bike, and the evidence points to it being deliberate.”

  We stay quiet, having come to that conclusion ourselves.

  “Two,” she’s counting off on her fingers, unbeknownst to her, mimicking how Drum had summed up, “a member of the Herrera family wanted in on the investigation and then has done what he can to put it on the back burner. Three,” she pauses and looks up, “Susie Clyde, Mrs Norman’s mother, is deep in debt. And I mean deep.”

  Drum’s eyes narrow. This is news to us. Mouse hadn’t been able to find out the extent of what she owed.

  She waits for a reaction, but that’s all she’s going to get. “Four…”

  “Go on,” Drum encourages.

  She takes a deep breath. “We’ve got information that there is a gang in Tucson grooming young girls. We raided a house after a tip-off, it was empty, no one around. Lots of blood at the scene.” Her eyes look at us, we all keep our faces impassive. “We’re trying to find out who owned it, but it’s buried under all sorts of aliases.”

  I’m surprised they’d found it so quickly. Perhaps another one of the kids had spoken out, though it sounds like it was anonymously reported. We’d cleaned the house well but couldn’t remove stains from the carpet or furniture. I force myself to keep still, but my hands form fists at the thought of the other kids that had been abused by that fucker Diego. The only saving grace is he and the others are all dead.

  It looks like Marcia is having difficulty continuing, but her mouth’s working as though there’s something else she wants to say.

  “Go on.” Drum’s picked up on that too.

  “The tip-off,” she clears her throat, “said it wasn’t a one-off. Young kids, boys and girls…”

  “Fuck.” Wraith looks shocked, his eyes go to Drum. This time Drum acts as though she’s telling him news. It’s the right reaction.

  “You’re saying they’re paedophiles. Mucking around with young children?”

  Marcia closes her eyes briefly, then when she opens them makes an attempt to pull herself together. “Now this is going to sound crazy, and a bit of a leap, but Ms Clyde’s in financial trouble. She doesn’t want a child. But what if she’s been offered money for Amy? And,” suddenly the words start tumbling out one after the other, “why does my partner want to help her? Could the Herrera family be involved?”

  She sits back having gotten everything out, her eyes roaming between the three of us. We give nothing away. Drum drums his fingers on the table. “Bit of a long stretch, darlin’. The Herreras have their hands in many pies, but grooming children? Where’s your evidence for that?”

  We’ve got plenty, but he’s not letting her know.

  “You’ve got a partner who’s a distant relative to the family, a woman in debt, an accident with no identified perpetrator, and a child wanted by her junkie grandmother.”

  Again, her arms fold. “Nothing else adds up. Look, Drummer. I’ve tried speaking to Archer, tried to tell him I don’t think it’s a good idea supporting Ms Clyde. Any fool could see she wouldn’t get custody. But he’s acting so strangely, doing everything to help her get her hands on the child.”

  She’s right. It’s all a stretch, but it could fit. We’ve been sidetracked trying to trace the surviving members of the Rock Demons thinking it was likely them who ran Heart off the road.

  “One thing wrong with your proposal, darlin’. If we put the pieces you’ve thrown into the mix together, you’re saying Crystal’s mom arranged her daughter’s death.”

  “She’s a meth addict, anyone can see that. Her brain’s probably screwed. I think she had help. A young kid would be valuable. Look, I’ve seen Amy, she’s pretty and cute.”

  My stomach rolls at her words, my beer churning in my gut. It’s only now the implications of what she’s saying hit me. They want Amy? To use her? Sell her to a paedophile? It’s unthinkable.

  “What do you want us to do?”

  “Drum. A three-year-old child takes precedence over everything. I want to get the social services involved.” Bravely she shakes her head as Prez’s face darkens. “I know you mean well, but a club of bikers isn’t a place to raise a toddler, and though you and I believe Ms Clyde would soon be dismissed as a suitable guardian, blood relation or not, someone could help her scrub up and present a different picture to the court. I don’t want to take that risk. I want to see her safe with foster parents.”

  The prez rises to his feet, his hands resting on the table. The thunderous look on his face makes even me shrink back in my chair. “Firstly, Detective, I ain’t gonna see that child put into the system. Fuck knows where you got such a rosy image in your head. I’ve heard enough from my brothers brought up that way to know how often good intentions turn out shit in practice.” His fist thumps down on the table. “There’s a body lying in the morgue which shouldn’t fuckin’ be there. And we’ve got to deal with that. The last thing Crystal told me was to take care of her daughter, and I promised to look after her like my fuckin’ own. If Heart doesn’t recover, my ol’ lady and I will make that permanent. Ain’t nobody touching a hair of that child’s head on my watch.”

  Hannah’s not afraid to hold her ground. “And if it goes in front of a judge? You won’t have a choice but to give her up. Look, Drummer, I hear what you’re saying, and I get it, your honouring the final wishes of a woman who died far too young. But it’s her daughter that’s most important.”

  Drummer’s still standing. “You gonna go to the social worker?”

  If she says she will, from the expression on his face, she’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.

  Her hands rub her face as if she’s not certain what she’s going to do. “What can you give her, Drummer?”

  He’s quick to answer. “Stability, love. Familiar surroundings, the place she’s always called home. Uncles who’d all give their lives to keep her safe. She’ll be protected better here than in any foster home. No one will be taking her away.”

  That makes her think. She looks at me, then Wraith, the commitment to a three-year-old girl spelled out plainly by the expressions in our eyes.

  After a moment, she turns back to Drummer. “You think you can keep her safe here, and out of the clutches of anyone who might want to harm her? If I’m right…” She can’t voice what she means, and I’ve every sympathy. I don’t even want to think about the type of things motherfucking scum of the earth could consider doing to such a young kid.

  Retaking his seat, Drum throws his reiteration, “A foster family couldn’t offer more protection than we can.”

  Slowly she nods as she comes to a decision. “Amy’s safety comes first, Drummer, and I hear what you say. Okay, for now I won’t cause waves, I do see your point. And while you’re bikers, you obviously have a lot of love for the child. I’ll keep on investigating, try to discover who else is clean to work with me.”

  “You might have it wrong.” I’m grasping at straws. Her summation had seemed logical.

  “I can’t afford not to do anything if I’m right.”

  “If a judge awards Crystal’s mom custody, we won’t be giving her up. That’s what I mean by keeping her safe.”

  “I know. And you’ll be breaking the law.” The words, spoken in a breathy voice, show that doesn’t sit well with Miss Squeaky Clean.

  Drum raps his fingers against the desktop. “I’m not telling you nothing about how we’ll do things. But Amy will be safe with her family. I can promise you that.”

  Marcia’s shoulders rise as though a weight has been lifted off them. “Thanks, Drummer. As for the other stuff, please don’t take the law into your own hands. I’ll do the investigation through the right channels. I hope that I’m wrong…”

  Unfortunately, the more I think on it, the fewer doubts I have that she’s probably right. And as for us keeping out of it, she’s not got a fucking prayer that we’ll agree to that.

  She throws a stern look toward the prez. It’s almost as steely as h
is. “This conversation…”

  “Never happened,” he finishes for her.

  Another quick text and Road appears again. Marcia picks up her gaudy full-face helmet, gives us a nod, and goes out with the prospect to be escorted back to her bike.

  Leaning my head back, I link my hands behind my neck and stretch out my legs, crossing them at the ankles.

  Wraith raises an eyebrow. “Can’t relax with the heat around.” He smirks.

  “You’ve got that right, Brother.”

  Drum stands. He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

  “You think she’s on the right track?”

  “Fuck knows, VP. The thing that sticks out is that bitch of a mother. Could she really have arranged for her daughter to be killed?”

  “Who knows how a junkie desperate for a fix would think.” Unlinking my hands, I sit forward again, drawing up my knees and resting my elbows on them. “She might have offered the kid up, the fuckin’ Herreras might have worked out the logistics.”

  Perching his backside against the desk, the prez nods. “That sounds more credible if she’s deep in debt to them. But she’d still be complicit. All she wants is to get her hands on Amy, no remorse shown for her daughter. She doesn’t even seem to like the kid, and Amy clearly doesn’t take to her.” He stops and points to Wraith. “Get another brother at the hospital. Heart’s lingering on, don’t want him helped on his way. If Amy’s an orphan, it makes their case easier.”

  “I’ll get on it, Prez.”

  “What I can’t figure out is the Herreras. Sure, they’re dirty all right, but snatching young kids isn’t what I’d expect from them.”

  “That hit me too.”

  “What was your reading when you met the top man, Leonardo?” the VP asks.

  I lean my head to one side, then respond. “I’d have said Herrera was shocked.”

  “Hmm. Me too.” Drum shakes his head. “Fuck me, I wish I could get just five minutes around here without something kicking off. Rock Demons, human traffickers, and now the Herreras and baby snatching.”

  “I hear you, Prez.” Wraith looks tired too. It makes me glad I’m just a normal member and not one of the officers.

  “We’ll have church in a few, bring everyone up-to-date, and arrange for a show of force at the fuckin’ funeral.”

  I’d forgotten about that. “You think they’d try to take her then?”

  Drum taps his fingers against his mouth. “I wouldn’t rule anything out at this point.” His face gives his twisted grin. “Crystal’s a respected ol’ lady. Reckon there’ll be a lot of us wanting to show our respects.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ella…

  “I’ve only been here six months, and this is the third wake I’ve helped organise,” Sophie comments sadly. Sam’s just informed us Crystal’s going to be buried on Friday. “Is it always like this?”

  Carmen pats her shoulder. “Nah, sweetie, before this it’s been a couple of years since anyone died. And that was old, um, who was it, Sandy?”

  “Digger.” Sandy helps her out. “And he was in his sixties, hadn’t ridden for years but was still called a member. Died of liver failure.”

  “I didn’t think you could be a member if you couldn’t ride?”

  “Never said he couldn’t, just that he hadn’t. Probably wasn’t likely toward the end, but no one put it to the test.” Sandy smiles as she indulges her stepdaughter’s curiosity.

  “Digger?” Sophie queries, always interested in how the men got their names.

  As I’m wondering whether he was responsible for excavating graves, we’re given a far more banal explanation.

  “Yeah, he kept digging himself into holes he couldn’t get out of.” Sandy, who’s been here the longest, is again the one to reply. “And he’d never admit he was wrong, just kept digging in deeper.”

  Her moment of inquisitiveness over, Sophie’s face falls again. “It’s natural when someone dies of old age, but I never expected it to be one of us. Crystal, she had her whole life in front of her.”

  I think we all understand how she feels, most of us have probably been thinking the same thing. I glance down at Amy playing under the table, placing her naked Barbie on the back of a bike. Biting back my comment her doll should have some clothes on, I notice she’s oblivious to the grown-up conversation going on around her. It’s better for her to stay that way. Her innocence reminds me Crystal should be here, wearing her colourful leggings, laughing, chatting, and playing with her daughter. It’s all wrong that we’re sitting here, talking about making funeral arrangements on her behalf.

  “I don’t like that we haven’t waited for Heart.” Carmen puts her hands on her hips. “It just isn’t right. If something, God forbid, happened to Bullet, I’d want them to wait until I could say my goodbyes. How the fuck will anyone tell him when he wakes up that not only has he lost his wife, he can’t even see her in her coffin?”

  “I’d feel the same about Viper.”

  As I would Slick. My heart goes out to Heart. Sometimes I wonder whether it would be better for him to quietly slip away without having to know about Crystal. Maybe there is another side where she would be waiting for him. But then, as my eyes again find Amy, I realise her father needs to recover and come home for her sake if for nothing else.

  After my ordeal at the Rock Demons’ club, the first time I was at the compound, I’d tried to avoid entering the clubhouse as much as I could. The one place I had felt the slightest bit comfortable in was the kitchen and in the company of the old ladies. It was them I’d gotten to know fairly well, and have fond memories of Crystal. She was so bubbly and friendly, and so totally in love with her man. It still seems impossible that she’s gone. She’s left a huge gap behind. Even now, her ghost seems to haunt us. I almost expect her to walk through the door saying it’s all been a bad joke.

  “Okay,” Sam says, clapping her hands. “Are we going to get on with this or what? I know none of us like what we’re doing, but the only thing we can do now is to give Crystal the best possible send-off we can. Now, numbers. We’ve got our members, and how many have stayed over from the other chapters?”

  Sandy looks like she’s doing a quick sum in her head. “Thirty or so.”

  “Right, so that makes it more than fifty we need to cater for.”

  “Crystal’s mom’s arranging the funeral, is she doing anything else?” Sophie’s enquires.

  Sam sneers. “According to Drum, she doesn’t want any of us biker lot there. If she’s having a wake, we’ve certainly not been invited.”

  “Oh come now, she must know we’ll want to pay our respects.”

  Sam shrugs. “I don’t think she gives a damn about anyone’s feelings, Sophie. She didn’t seem to care that her daughter was dead. No, she wants Amy there, but no one else.”

  “She’s not taking Amy,” Sandy growls.

  We all agree. Amy’s relatively settled now, or as well as she can be. She’s loved by everyone here, and whatever happens to Heart, this is her home. To me, it seems a strange place to bring up a young child, but even I can see there’s not one of these rough bikers who’d do anything to hurt her.

  “Come on, let’s get our heads together as to what we need and send the prospects out with a list.” Sam pulls a piece of paper toward her. Carmen rummages in a drawer and passes her a pen.

  Preparing for the funeral is almost as bad as losing Crystal in the first place, opening wounds all over again. And while we, the old ladies are subdued, the men are sombre. Something tells me it’s not just that we’re preparing a final goodbye. There’s more going on, but as women we don’t get to know what. Although Slick’s said nothing, I’ve developed a sneaking suspicion they’re expecting trouble at the graveyard. Could it be they believe Crystal’s mom will try to take Amy by force? Well, with all of them there, she won’t have a chance.

  Slick’s cleaning his weapons, and I’ve caught Blade sharpening his knives and others checking ammunition. The clubr
oom’s been turned into a war room. There’s whispering in corners and conversations ending abruptly when any of us old ladies appear.

  The night before the funeral, Slick seems particularly tense.

  I summon up the nerve to ask him. “Are you worried about tomorrow, Slick? Is there anything you can tell me?” I’ve just made sure Jayden’s asleep and have moved across into Slick’s room, as has become our custom.

  By the way his back straightens, I know my direct question has surprised him. He fixes his gaze upon me and takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “What makes you ask, El?”

  Shrugging, I reply, “It would take a deaf and blind man not to know there’s something going on around here. Tension’s been rising over the past couple of days.”

  He tugs off his t-shirt, and as usual, the sight of his bare chest and tattoos distract me. Turning my head slightly away, I try to keep my mind on track, but I don’t miss his smirk.

  “El, darlin’, I’d tell you not to worry, but that ain’t gonna work, is it?” Closing the gap between us, his hands cup my cheek. He stares into my eyes. “Can’t share club business, babe, but I’ll tell you this, we’re going off the compound, and when we do that, we’re always prepared.”

  It’s more than that, I know it.

  “Will Jayden be safe here, if we all go to the funeral?”

  “The prospects are staying here, darlin’. The place will be locked up tight. She’ll be fine.”

  He’s saying a lot without telling me anything. I’m right. They expect the funeral to be disrupted in some way.

  Slick’s hands move down, and before I register his intentions my shirt’s on the ground and he’s undoing my jeans, his actions pushing all other thoughts out of my head. Once I’m naked, he carries me to bed and proceeds to make love to me as he’s done every night. So gently and carefully, as though I could break. After an hour of Slick’s most personal attentions, I’m sated and exhausted and I fall asleep, held tight and close in his strong arms.

  The journey to the graveyard takes us through Tucson, and although the reason for us travelling is sad, I smile to myself as I remember the times it was me on the sidelines watching bikers ride past. Now I’ve got a handsome biker all my own, and I’m the one hugging his waist. I can’t help but feel a moment of pride that I’m wearing my old man’s patch. Part of me wonders whether there’s some girl drinking coffee outside a café, feeling curious about these men riding past.