Being Lost: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #1

by Manda Mellett

He reaches out his hand and his fingers toy with a strand of my hair. The air around us seems to crackle as if there’s static electricity. My insides clench as I catch the heat of desire in his eyes.

  “Dangerous question to ask, if you don’t want to hear the answer.”

  I take the hand stroking my hair in mine, tightening my fingers and pulling it away. “I’m talking about what we do about Alder.”

  “I’m thinking about keeping you safe. Keeping you close to my side so no one can ever hurt you.”

  My stomach tightens at his words which seem more than anyone has ever offered me before, but that won’t solve my problems. “I still won’t be able to see Beth.”

  His eyes close briefly, and I think he’s making an effort to pull himself back to the matter at hand. “We could involve the feds. Give them everything. The evidence we found, the possibility Alder’s bringing drugs in via a tunnel.”

  “But we don’t actually know that. It’s, as you said, just a possibility. Something that never materialised. An expressed wish that never came to reality.”

  “Then I think we ought to find out.” He holds out his hand. “Ready to come see where Token’s got to?”

  I let him take my hand, feeling his large calloused fingers wrap around my much smaller softer ones, making me feel for once, petite. As he leads me out of his office and along to the room where their tech guy apparently holes up, I realise that, as I’d requested, he’s including, not excluding, me from matters that affect my life so much.

  If I were ever going to be with another man for any length of time, I’d want to be his partner, someone he can come home to and discuss what’s gone right or wrong with his day, and a sounding board for those times when he’s got problems. Somehow I suspect that his ex-wife Kim hadn’t encouraged him to do that. From the little he’s told me, she seems like someone totally wrapped up in herself. While he was silently fighting to stay on top of his life, where was she? Having an affair going by what he’d said.

  I know there would always be things coming under the heading club business, but surely not everything about his club would be kept under wraps?

  Perhaps for now, I should just be content he’s not shutting me out.

  He raps on Token’s door, opening it only when a voice calls out.

  Token looks up with a grin. “Don’t know why you do that, Prez. You can always walk straight in.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught you with a sweet butt sucking your dick,” Lost retorts. “While I don’t mind, I brought company.”

  From what I’d seen the night before, I’m sure Lost probably wouldn’t be surprised by anything his men get up to.

  Token doesn’t seem bothered. “She was under my desk,” he retorts. “It helps me think.” His attention switches to me. “Hi, Patsy.” Token gives me a little finger wave.

  Lost grabs a chair and places it in front of me, then takes one for himself. “What you got? Anything new on those plans?”

  Token throws a not too subtle look my way, but Lost inclines his head then raises it again. He grimaces. “Cad and I have been wracking our brains.” He turns his screen around so it’s pointing at me and Lost.

  Lost sits forward. “This is it?”

  “One of them, then there’s this…” Token taps at the keyboard and another plan comes into view.

  Lost examines them for a moment, his brow furrowed as he looks on. Then he suggests, “Superimpose them.”

  Token’s lips press together. He swings the screen back around and starts tapping again, then uses the mouse, looking like he’s dragging something across. He stares at the result, then shakes his head.

  “Well I’ll be fucked,” he says, turning it so we can see. “It at least looks like something. But, what?”

  “An engine?” I ask. Not that I’d know. But it’s circular and looks like something I’ve seen some place.

  “Not like any I’ve come across,” Token offers.

  “Nor me.” Lost leans back in the chair and stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. Next, he folds his arms. “What if I said, a tunnel?”

  “Tunnel?” Token looks confused. If it were a man other than his president sitting in front of him, I reckon he’d scoff. “Nah, it can’t be. Dimensions are wrong, they…” His voice trails off and he looks again at the screen. “You know what it could be? Ventilation.”

  Lost unfolds his arms and sits up straight, examining the plan more carefully. “What’s this?”

  There are a long string of letters and numbers. When the plans were separate, they’d be odd letters scattered across the screen with big gaps between them. Now they’ve been combined, they come together in lines.

  Token narrows his eyes, and his lips thin. Then with a sudden movement, he takes the screen back and calls up something else.

  Lost stands, leans over the desk, then sits back down. “Something else was in that box, Patsy. A newspaper article about a group of women who disappeared. Phil ever mention anything like that? Can you recall it at all? I know it’s twenty years back.” He nods at Token. Token presses a few keys and a printer whirrs. Shortly, I’m holding the article in my hands.

  I examine it. Six pretty young women looking like a group of high school students standing posed for a photo, kitted out with hiking gear. I don’t recognise the location at all. Quickly I scan the words, in my periphery vision, I notice Token picking up his phone.

  “Hey, Cad. How you doing, Brother…? Yeah, me too…. I was getting nowhere either until Prez made a suggestion. Superimpose the plans… you doing it…? Yeah. That’s right. Lost mentioned there could be a tunnel involved…” Token breaks off and looks at Lost. “Drug smuggling?”

  Lost nods. “Likely,” he replies.

  “Yeah.” Token’s speaking back into the phone. “Smuggling anyway. Maybe even girls if that article’s connected in any way… Yeah. If this was Phil’s insurance, there’s something here that Alder didn’t want him to have... Yeah… Keep digging, okay. Speak later, Brother.”

  I read the article again. Nothing sparks any memory at all. I turn toward Lost. “You think Alder had anything to do with the disappearance of these girls, and that Phil knew about it?”

  “It’s possible,” Lost says, sighing out the words. “Could Phil have been involved?”

  “No.” It doesn’t take me long to come up with an answer. “Twenty years back, he might have been dabbling in stuff for Alder, but that would have been to do with his accounts. He might have found out about something which he could hold over his brother-in-law, but I’m certain he wasn’t getting his hands that dirty at that point.”

  “This is all we got.” Lost’s lips press together momentarily. “Any connecting information died along with Phil.” He takes the printout from my hand and looks at it himself.

  “I haven’t been able to track it back.” Token shakes his head, his brow creasing as if in some way he’s failed. “It’s a scanned photocopy. I can’t even tell where in the country it is, what newspaper it might be, or what the original story was. No date either. All we know is it’s at least twenty-two years old, not even whether the girls turned up or not.”

  “The girls aren’t even named,” I point out.

  “There’s not much to go on.” Token shrugs. “I’ve been running traces but so far nothing’s turned up.”

  “No mention of the school either. Sloppy reporting.”

  “Or there’s more.” Leaning over I tap the bottom of the page. “The article isn’t complete, maybe the detail wasn’t important.”

  “Or, maybe that’s the important bit that’s missing.” Lost is shaking his head.

  “Can I see that again?” Lost passes it over to me.

  I stare at it and then look up at the string of letters and numbers on the screen. I read, a lot. Before I got hooked on MC novels, I read crime, mysteries and suspense. I also have the benefit of being the ex-wife of the man who left this article there. Mentally I add up the number of lines on the p
age. Then, glance back at the screen.

  Feeling eyes burning into me, I look up to see Token staring, a focused look on his face. “Whatcha got, Patsy?”

  Raising and lowering my shoulders, I feel a bit crazy. Surely it wouldn’t be as easy as that? I’m embarrassed to let them know what I’m thinking.

  “At this point, I’m stumped,” Token admits. “Anything is better than nothing.”

  “Rather follow a red herring than none at all,” Lost encourages from my side.

  Grimacing slightly, I let them in on my thoughts. “Phil was intrigued by codes. Used to read about that enigma machine, you know? The one used in World War II. He devoured anything he could read about it. What if these strings of numbers are code, and this article is the key?”

  Token’s eyes go wide. “You think?” He calls up the image of the article and loads it on one monitor.

  “There are fifty-three lines on this page. The biggest number on the plans is fifty-three.”

  Token looks carefully, comparing both. “There’s no pattern that I can see. Sure, here, look? That could be a line number, what the word begins with, then the number of letters in, but the next one doesn’t fit the same pattern.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was worth a try.” Lost takes hold of my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.

  “No, Patsy. I think you’ve got something here. I’ve been chasing my tail trying to find the origin of the article, and I couldn’t see how it could be an insurance policy with no names, places or dates. So what else could it be? A fuckin’ key.”

  Lost looks from me to Token, then back again. “Your birthdate,” he snaps, impatiently. “Phil’s too, and Beth and Dan’s.”

  Token grabs a pen and writes them down as I recite them off, adding the date of Phil’s sister’s for good measure.

  “Wedding day?” Token asks.

  I tell him that too, whereas I normally try to forget the hastily organised affair before my pregnancy had begun to show.

  Token nods toward his prez. “Why don’t you leave this with me? I’ll get a program running to sort through all the combinations. I’ll give it to Cad as well. Could be something, maybe not, but it’s worth investigating for sure.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lost

  “You did good there, Patsy,” I tell her as we leave Token to work his magic. “Hey, you okay?”

  She’s leaning her back against the wall of the hallway and her eyes have closed. She takes a deep breath before opening them and focusing on me once more. “I don’t know.” Her voice breaks. “Four months ago, I was living a normal life. My son, yeah, he was a problem, but I thought, in time, he’d turn his life around. He just had to get away from his monster of a father…” She breaks off and puts her palms against her face. “Beth and I were jogging along well enough together, thinking nothing would ever change.” She offers a half-smile. “I was anxious for Beth when she met Ink. Not because he was a biker, well, I suppose it did have something to do with that, but the lifestyle, you know? Beth’s an all-in type of girl though she tried to pretend she could do casual, but I knew her better than that. If I’d had any expectations, it would have been I’d have ended up nursing Beth’s broken heart.”

  I notice Patsy’s staring at the pictures of past and present members of the club on the opposite wall. Some are serious, most are comical poses. Salem and Pennywise both have their middle fingers up, and Kink’s tongue is stuck out. There are lighter patches on the nicotine stained wall, where nine photos had to be removed. Though we’d tried to space out those remaining as the new ones were added, you can still see the evidence of our shadowy past. The men might have gone, but still evidence of them lingers. For the first time in days, I wonder what Shark had been doing in San Diego. With everything else, he’s been pushed out of my mind, but there’s been no further sightings so maybe I can lock him back into my mental box once again.

  “Beth didn’t end up disappointed,” I remind her, not knowing where she’s going with this. “Ink was serious.”

  She nods. “Thank God. I couldn’t have left Beth without knowing she was loved and cared for. But, Lost? How did I get here? I thought I was coming with Dan for his sake. But it’s not him who’s in danger, it’s me. As for this tunnel stuff and freaking coded messages? Christ, I feel like I’m living in some kind of movie.”

  I hold out my hand, she takes it. Leading her into the clubroom, I notice how time has moved on. The space is filling up with men coming back from their day jobs. I realise I haven’t eaten all day.

  “Want some food?”

  At my question, she purses her lips and thinks. “I ought to, I suppose. I kind of forgot to feel hungry with everything else that’s been going on.”

  “Come on.” I lead the way into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Patsy. Lost.” Eva turns away from the stove and smiles. “Are you hungry?” At my nod, she continues, “I’ve got some burgers here if you want something fast. Or Cindy’s got a casserole going but that won’t be ready for a little while.”

  I glance down at Patsy, who shrugs. “Burger’s fine.”

  As Eva busies herself getting out buns and making our sandwiches, Patsy tugs at my arm. I lower my head so I can hear her softly spoken question.

  “The club girls cook?”

  Eva overhears and laughs. “Those that can, do. Er, Tits, we don’t really trust since the time she got the salt and sugar muddled up. Sure was a weird lasagne that time.”

  “She did it on purpose,” saunters in another girl who continues her explanation, “to get out of having to help. How’s my casserole looking?”

  “Bubbling,” Eva tells her.

  Cindy turns to Patsy. “I’m Cindy. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  “Er, Patsy.”

  From her slight hesitation, I gather Patsy may not have spoken to, but has definitely seen Cindy, and probably Pearl and Tits in action. I’m pleased Cindy gives her a genuine smile, which she would have been unlikely to do if Patsy had been younger. I’ve seen the club girls running off competition before. They can be possessive about their bikers. Of course, it could be a different matter if they see I’m serious about her, but maybe not. It’s rare nowadays I partake of their services.

  Eva’s pointing and asking if we want this or that, then passing over condiments so we can prepare our snacks as we want. As we sit down to eat, Cindy struts off.

  A loud booming voice precedes its owner into the kitchen. “Hey, Eva? You there, woman? I’ve got a cock that needs sucking.”

  Seconds later, I’m slapping Patsy’s back to help her stop choking.

  “Salem,” I growl, as the man making the request comes into sight.

  He looks completely unrepentant, even when he spots Patsy seated beside me. He’s sporting a smirk as he raises an eyebrow toward Eva who giggles, then sends an apologetic look Patsy’s way before she lets the enforcer put his arm around her and leads her off. Probably not very far, no one’s particularly shy in the clubroom.

  It had been a shock to me that first time Snake had brought me to the clubhouse. I can still remember it now. I’d been granted a new lease on life, even if at the time I didn’t know whether I wanted it, whether it was just too damn hard making the effort to stay alive. Maybe if I’d been taken under the wing of a civilian, I’d have returned to my option of taking the easy way out. But I was immediately immersed in a different lifestyle, something I’d never dreamed would become my way of life. I’d been introduced to men who were fiercely protective of each other, rough and rowdy. They would never seek death out, but with the knowledge that Satan might choose any day to take them, they were determined to live a full life before they died. Hence their anything goes way of living.

  As a prospect, I’d been tested hard—almost given no time to think which at the time was exactly what I needed. I was run ragged, falling into my bed and going out like a light when my day’s duties were finally completed. Tinder, who I’d prospected besi
de and had shown me the ropes, including passing off the more unpleasant stuff he didn’t like, had patched in shortly after, leaving me as the sole grunt they had. Tinder. Yeah. He was another one who threw his lot in with Snake and who’s now out bad.

  The point is, for an outsider, our way of life can be hard to swallow. I’m slightly concerned about Patsy’s reaction. Only a short time ago, she was reminding me about her normal life and how much she missed it, so I spare Patsy a glance, surprised to see she’s trying not to laugh.

  “Tell me,” she pulls her eyes back from the doorway which Eva and Salem had just disappeared through. “do you normally starve? And does anything ever get cooked? Oh, and, please reassure me, the girls do wash their hands.”

  I can’t resist pulling her to me, her head resting against my chest. “Snake, the old prez, well his mom used to run the kitchen while he was around, but she left at the same time he did.” I don’t tell her he ended up six feet under. “Since then, we’re just grateful anyone does anything at all. Tried getting the prospects to cook but seems like their genetic makeup isn’t right. It’s a woman’s job after all.”

  I feel her tense, then she glances up and sees me grinning, and must remember the breakfast I made for her in her house. Seeing I’m yanking her chain, she slaps me lightly.

  “Lost!”

  I can’t resist her. She looks so damn cute as she bites her lip as she tries to maintain her mock annoyance. Lowering my head, I press my mouth to hers, sucking her lip into mine instead. She moans softly, her burger forgotten, and her arms come around my neck. I’m just starting to enjoy myself when another voice interrupts.

  “Mom!”

  Patsy jumps away from me like a cat who’s been scalded. Guilt is written all over her face as she turns to face her son.

  “I, er…” Dan brushes his hair back from his face, then the corners of his mouth rise. “Fuck, Mom. How long has this been going on?”

  “Nothing’s going on,” Patsy replies primly.

  “Yeah? Well Lost eating your face just now suggests you’re a liar.” Now he’s grinning widely.