Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  I dragged my feet as I reluctantly left the hospital, feeling I was leaving my only friend in the world, and without saying goodbye. I wanted to stay, to see Heart make a recovery with my own eyes. I’d had to plead for Drummer to allow me to wait around long enough to make sure he regained consciousness. Over the past few months, Heart seems to have become a big part of my life, and now, as quickly as a switch being thrown, I’m no longer allowed to have any contact with him.

  My head warns me it might be for the best if I was letting him get too close. I wouldn’t be feeling this loss so deeply if I hadn’t begun to get feelings. Maybe it’s all for the better.

  Wearing my sensible hat, Drummer had done exactly the right thing. Law enforcement regards anyone in a one-percenter MC as criminals, whether or not they’ve been charged with criminal activity or have done time. Unless I was officially sanctioned to infiltrate the group, my association with any of them would be open to question. And, if I had continued my friendship with Heart, the club would always have treated me with suspicion, and I’d have been unable to convince them I wasn’t a plant.

  I’d have been the first one to get the blame if something went wrong. I’ve already seen how they treat enemies of the club.

  I hadn’t missed how the normally easy-going VP had looked at me. It wasn’t with the air of someone who wanted to be my friend.

  But I want to know how Heart’s getting on. I want to hear about Amy. I want to be included in his life in some small way. I freeze. That’s why I don’t get involved with people. When they are no longer there, it leaves too big a hole.

  I close my eyes and rest my head, and immediately see Heart’s face in front of me. We’ve barely spoken face-to-face, and yet I’m going to miss him. It feels like part of my life has been taken away.

  The heel of my hand slaps against my forehead. Don’t be so stupid, woman. You were there when Heart needed you, now he’s moved on. It’s time to focus on getting back to full fitness and returning to normal, going back to work and doing your job. But can I ever be the same now I’ve sided with criminals?

  Going back to work and dealing with the likes of Garza and Reynolds. Now isn’t that an uplifting thought?

  After drinking wine and popping a couple of painkillers, I go to bed in the room that had been prepared for a man. This is such a comfortable, homey house, I’ll feel sad leaving it.

  Forcing myself to put my injured friend out of my mind, the next couple of days I spend looking through ads and trawling the rental agencies. But I’ve been spoiled, and the likes of the house I’m in is way out of reach of what I can afford. Having once been attacked in my own home, I pay particular attention to security, nothing too close to the street so another car could pass by. And I need a garage, of course, so an apartment is out.

  Three days after I returned from LA, I hear the sound of Harleys coming up the street. For a moment my heart leaps, but of course it’s not Heart. When I left him, he was unable to get out of the hospital bed, let alone ride. No, neither one of the two riders pulling up outside is the person I want most to see. The opposite in fact, it’s the least.

  The only reason why Drummer, president of the Satan’s Devils MC is riding up to the house, must be to forcibly evict me from the house. He’s even brought a man with him to help. The thought makes me giggle. I must have impressed him if he can’t handle me on his own.

  He bangs on the door instead of using the bell.

  Opening it, I hold up my hand, palm pointing toward him. “I know, Drummer. I’m sorry I’ve outstayed my welcome. I’ve been trying to find somewhere else—”

  “Invite me in. We need to talk.”

  “Look, if you’ve come to kick me out, I’ll just grab my things and go stay at a hotel or something.”

  He stares but says nothing, the steely cold grey of his eyes makes me shiver. This isn’t my house, and he isn’t my friend, so I don’t think I’ve got any option. I step aside. He nods and beckons to the man on the other bike. Safety in numbers. Even the prez needs a witness when talking to the law.

  I walk over to one of the couches and stand behind it, my hand on the back. “I can leave today.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  What?

  As my eyebrow rises he adds, “Not yet, anyway. Been talking to Heart. He reckons you need protection, and he reminded me this house is rented under a shell name. So you can stay here as long as you like. Heart won’t be coming back here, so for all intents and purposes, you’re the new tenant.”

  That won’t work. “I can’t pay, Drummer. I don’t know what the rent is, but it’s certainly more than I can afford.” I bite my lip, remembering the level of rent of the shabbier properties I’ve been looking at.

  “Club owes you for what you did for our brother. He could have died twice over if it wasn’t for you. We’ll accept payment the same as what you were paying at your old place.”

  “That’s too generous.” My eyes have gone wide at the offer I’m having difficulty processing.

  Unlike me, who remains standing, Drummer sits down. The other biker stands by the door, hands clasped behind his back. For a moment I have the wild thought that he’s there to stop me escaping.

  Drummer stretches his arms out to either side, his hands resting on the top of the other couch, his legs bent at the knee and splayed wide. He gives me that look again, the one that means I work hard to suppress a shudder. I wonder if it’s one I can perfect when interviewing suspects.

  “Heart said a few things. Such as you looking into matters you might not have been supposed to. You want to explain that to me?”

  Knowing this won’t be a quick conversation, I move around to the front of the couch and sit down opposite him, appreciating the irony in a cop being questioned by a suspected felon. I run my hands over my face, ready to curb my tongue, but knowing he’ll already know everything I spilled to Heart. I sigh. “Archer is guilty. But I can’t prove it. I went looking for something to prove I’m right.”

  “Let it drop. Guilty or innocent, the man’s dead. Won’t make no difference to Crystal or Heart.”

  “I know it doesn’t alter what happened, but it should still matter. We should be able to identify the man who ran them off the road.” I frown. I may have slid a little, but I’m a good cop and hate loose ends.

  “Your sergeant told you to leave it alone?”

  I nod. “Sergeant Reynolds, yes. And my new partner,” my face twists, showing what I think of him, “Garza. Before I was hurt, I got the impression Garza was watching me. Stopping me from looking into things too deeply.”

  “So you continued to do your research in your own time on your own.”

  I nod. “Yes, I was examining all the files.”

  “Using your work computer and your work database.”

  I look up, surprised. “I don’t think I told Heart that.”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only way someone could know what you were doing.” Drum sits forward. “Must admit, Marcia, my initial reaction was for you to take this through the proper channels to the police.”

  “I don’t know who to trust.”

  “I figured that.” He taps his fingers on his thighs. “Then Heart told me you were asking about Satan’s Devils involvement.”

  Again my face twists, and my cheeks redden. “Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that,” I admit. My eyes flit to the man guarding the door.

  “Why?” Drummer brings my attention back to him.

  “Why?”

  “Why finger us?” He gazes at me intently, as if he’d be able to catch me out in a lie.

  My head’s fuzzy, I put my hands up to my face.

  “Well?”

  I lift my head. “I’m not being evasive, Drummer. I’ve got a skull fracture, remember? Some things from that night… The stuff I was looking through, it’s fuzzy and I don’t recall anything that makes much sense. But I’ve got the feeling I was making progress. I remember Slick’s name.” I sta
nd up and start to pace. Drummer keeps quiet as I try and figure it out. Why had I targeted the Satan’s Devils? Why had I remembered the name Slick? What led me to him?

  Shaking my head, I stop and turn around. “I’m sorry, Drum, I can’t remember. I… Hang on.” Through the mist something’s becoming clearer. “Yes. Archer.” I swing around, now animated. “Archer had done something which made me suspicious. Archer had… Archer.” Suddenly it hits me like a light bulb going off. “Archer had filed a report on a missing person, but the thing is, I don’t think she’s missing,” I say triumphantly as it comes back to me.

  “Who was missing, or not, as the case may be, darlin’?”

  “Jayden,” I breathe out. “Jayden Greenway.”

  Drummer goes deathly still. If I thought his eyes were cold before, they are glacial now. I’ve said something that he really doesn’t like.

  I continue thinking out loud. “I was going to go and visit her mother to see what was going on—”

  Suddenly he’s on his feet, his hand wrapping almost painfully around the back of my neck as he turns my head up to face him, and I get that intense stare head-on. “You ain’t gonna see anyone. You’re gonna keep out of anything that’s not your fuckin’ business. And right now, you’re on sick leave. So even police business isn’t yours.”

  Would I find a Satan’s Devils connection if I went looking? Not one to back down, I try to meet his gaze with a steely one of my own. “What are you hiding, Drummer?”

  He huffs a mirthless laugh, then abruptly releases me. He starts to pace, shaking his head as his feet touch the ground. Suddenly he stops, and his face turns toward me. “For a cop, you can be pretty stupid, darlin’.”

  Of course I bristle. “I just want to do my job.”

  “It ain’t your job at the moment.” Another shake, and then he goes on, “You fingered Slick for the bomb maker. I’ll tell you this now, if Slick built two bombs, one that destroyed a house and one that was thrown into yours, he’d make damn certain that he left no calling card. The explosives would have been different. Slick knows his trade.”

  He’s admitting to nothing, but has given me food for thought.

  “What you need to do is use that fuckin’ head on your shoulders. If the explosive was the same, who, apart from the bomb maker, could know how to build it to the same specifications? And who would benefit?”

  “Apart from the bomb maker? Who you’re suggesting can’t be Slick, as he’s too clever.”

  Drum raises his eyes to the ceiling and then gives me a sad look as though I’m a child. Making me jump, he barks out, “Think, woman! Fuckin’ think! Who knew the same explosives were used, the same detonator and timer?”

  “Garza? He was the one who told me.”

  He nods as he would to a child who’d gotten the answer to a math problem right. “And how would he know?”

  “The forensic evidence.” That’s an obvious one. My teeth worry my lip. There’s something I’m missing, and all this talking is making my head pound. Then it dawns on me what he’s saying. “The police would have the information as how to make another bomb similar to the first.”

  “Fuckin’ got it at last.”

  Now I’m the one shaking my head. “They’d go to all that trouble to get rid of me?”

  “You’ve got on the wrong side of someone, darlin’.”

  “And they want to make it look like the same person who killed Archer had killed me.” That they hadn’t succeeded was down to luck, and that I’d been doing the research they tried to stop me doing. If I hadn’t been so engrossed that night I’d have been in bed, and would now be dead. I breathe out the words as I say the unthinkable, “Garza and Reynolds?”

  “They’re the ones you’ve fingered.” Now I get a look of sympathy. “If you won’t leave things alone, you’ve got to be very clever from here on in, Marcia. I’ve told you to stop what you’re doing, but I think you’re too pig-headed to do that.”

  I plop down on a chair and put my head in my hands. I knew Garza had been watching me carefully, and Reynolds is protecting Archer’s memory. But to cold-bloodedly plan to kill me? Could I see them doing that? But Drummer has a point, and looking at it his way makes one hell of a lot more sense than anything I’ve come up with. Unless he’s just trying to put up a smokescreen to hide the Satan’s Devils’ involvement. I shiver. They hadn’t killed me, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try again. Is Drummer setting out red herrings for me? Trying to get me to follow false trails?

  I raise my eyes and find he’s standing in front of me. “Or you’re trying to redirect me away from your club.”

  I haven’t angered him. The opposite. He lifts one corner of his mouth in the approximation of a smile.

  “If I tell you I’m putting a prospect here to watch over you, you’ll think I’m doing that to keep tabs on you, but it’s for your protection, darlin’. Least I can do for you, seeing as all you did for Heart.”

  And with that parting shot which I’m still trying to interpret, he leaves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Heart…

  I’ve been back at the clubhouse a few days now. My body is slowly healing, but it will take a bit more time until I’m mobile again. Today’s the first day I’m attending church, ignominiously using Wraith’s old lady Sophie’s wheelchair that she’d kept in case she ever needed it.

  Last time I was injured I was consumed by anger at having my freedom of movement taken away, as well as the love of my life. This time I’m grateful for the support that’s being given to me, and grateful that for all the hurt the Demon Sons inflicted, with the exception of my missing finger, everything else will eventually heal. Of course I’m frustrated, but I’m not taking it out on my brothers, appreciating that if they hadn’t come to my rescue, or had gotten there later, I’d be dead.

  My normal chair’s been moved aside to allow me to sit at the table, but because my hands are still bandaged, Beef’s continuing in the secretary role.

  I’d been worried how my brothers would greet me, apologies for all on my lips. But before I could utter them, they’d dismissed my concerns. Despite my crimes, all have forgiven me. I’d done my penance and had now returned. Almost six months to the day that I left, I’m attending my first church. Despite my current physical limitations, it feels good to be back, to be part of the club once again.

  After Prez bangs the gavel to get our attention, his eyes linger on me, crinkling as he gives one of his rare smiles. “Good to see you here, Brother. I know you’ve been back a while, but not to church. So let me say it officially. Welcome home.”

  I raise my chin. “Fuckin’ good to be back.” I let my eyes fall on each man at the table, returning their nods and grins. “Now we’re all together, I want to say this publicly. Fuckin’ sorry for everything I did, the way I treated y’all.” I pause to emphasise the sincerity of my words. “I’ll never fuckin’ let you down again, brothers.”

  Wraith raises his hand. “I’ll speak for us all, Brother. What happened to you was so fuckin’ hard. Not surprising you went off the rails. There’s nothing to forgive. It’s fuckin’ great to see you back where you belong.”

  Giving him a chin jerk, I convey my silent thanks for his words.

  “Right. First order of the day.”

  As Drummer leads us through the usual business, I listen and contribute where I can, feeling at this moment I’ve really come home. When we’ve sorted out what’s going on with all the businesses, Prez turns to me and waves toward the wheelchair.

  “How are you doing, Heart? What’s the prognosis?” He already knows, this is my chance to fill everyone else in.

  “Those fuckin’ wannabe bikers were inept in everything they did. My left leg, which was weakened had to be re-pinned, but the break in my right was pretty clean.”

  Peg swears. “Not how we do it. Fuckin’ amateurs.”

  Everyone laughs. Christ, I’m fucking glad they couldn’t even get a torture right. But they’d done enough to red
uce me to the current broken state that I’m in.

  “Doctors reckon everything will heal in another month or so. Will need physical therapy of course.”

  “I’ll help with that,” our sergeant-at-arms offers. He means working me in the gym we’ve got. I nod my thanks, remembering how he’d gotten Sophie up and out of this wheelchair. If anyone can do it, he’ll be able to do the same for me. Oh, I doubt he’ll go easy on me, but I’m determined to work with him. I want to be up walking, riding, as soon as I can.

  “In the meantime, we can arrange you a new ride,” Prez announces, seeming to read my mind.

  “What happened to Adam’s?” The last time I saw it, it was still parked at the Demon Sons’ clubhouse.

  “Prospects picked it up and brought it back here. Now what do you fancy, Heart? Had time to think?”

  The club’s being generous, returning to their original plan of the club paying to replace the bike totalled in the crash which killed Crystal. But I’ve got other ideas. Me and Adam’s bike had worked well as a team. I wait for the various suggestions to die down. “Prez, if it’s okay with my brothers, I’d like to keep riding Adam’s. Sort of got used to it while I was on the road.” Looking around, I see no signs of dissent. “It’s only a single seater, might keep the bitches from getting ideas.”

  That makes everyone laugh.

  “Good fuckin’ idea, Brother. Might fit one to mine. Fuckin’ hangarounds keep on about me taking them for a ride.” Joker’s looking as though he’s only just thought of that solution.

  Lady bumps fists with him. “Might do that myself.”

  Prez is staring at me, and I wait for his answer. After a moment he grins. “Reckon Adam would have liked the bike to go to a good home. If there’s no disagreement, I’ll take it, that’s settled.”

  “Just try to keep it shiny side up,” Blade says drily.