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

by Manda Mellett

  “Lost, Patsy? Cindy’s got food on the table. You coming inside?”

  It’s Eva. Lost queries me with a tilt of his head. When I nod, he pulls me to my feet.

  As we enter the kitchen, Lost pulls out a chair, and gentlemen like, holds it as I sit down. He then takes the one beside me. I look around slightly nervous, wondering if people notice I seem to be monopolising his attention, but no one remarks on it, nor seems to find it strange.

  I have to admit to being dubious about eating something a club girl has prepared, but it turns out to be a tasty casserole. Even though I’d not long eaten a burger, my stomach makes some room.

  I’ve had a chance to eat about half when Smoker, who’s sitting at the opposite end of the table, has a coughing fit.

  Once he’s regained his breath, Lost points at him, and tells him in a tone full of authority, “You’re going to the doctor.”

  “No point, Prez,” Smoker objects.

  Lost growls. “You do as I—”

  “No point,” Smoker interrupts and repeats, his eyes hardening as he regards his prez. “I already been.”

  “And?” Eva pauses on the way to seat herself, her plate held in mid-air.

  Smoker looks around, seeming to note who’s there. I recognise Grumbler, Bones, Blaze, Dusty, Brakes, Snips and Reboot. Eventually he takes a breath, coughs again, then once recovered, shrugs. “Lung cancer,” he informs everybody.

  There’s a shocked silence around the table. Lost puts down his fork. “When the fuck do you start treatment? And why the fuck are you still smoking? You stop that shit right now,” he snarls.

  Smoker looks around. “I ain’t doing either.”

  “You fuckin’ what?” Lost’s half out of his seat, leaning forward.

  The older man looks annoyed. “My body, my life, ain’t it?” He challenges everyone who’s looking at him in disbelief. “With treatment, they give me around a year. Without?” He shrugs. “A few months. Seems a no-brainer. I don’t have a family, except for my MC one. I’ll lose that if I can’t ride. So,” he pulls his shoulders back, “I’ve made my decision. I’ll live my life, enjoy my cigarettes, and leave fate up to mother nature.”

  Eva glares at Lost and puts down her untouched plate, resting her hand on Smoker’s shoulder. “When did you find out?” she asks.

  “Yesterday,” Smoker replies.

  Her eyes signal a message toward Lost. I interpret it as saying he should give the old man some time. Maybe if he thinks about it a bit longer, he’ll decide to fight.

  I don’t think I’d give up. If there was a chance of even just a few months longer, I’d take it. But that’s because I’d want to spend longer with those I loved.

  Glancing around the table, I can see by the expressions—some stunned, some hurt—that while Smoker might not realise it right now, his loss will devastate them just as much as if they lost someone related by blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lost

  After Smoker’s announcement, I completely lose my appetite. I try one more mouthful, but it feels like cardboard in my mouth. Regrets run through my mind. Why had we not forced Smoker to give up his habit? Deep down, I know the reason.

  In the MC, we pride ourselves on riding free and making our own paths in life. Who am I to criticise if a man who knew the risks kept on chain smoking? Who didn’t seek help with his health until it was too late? I’m gutted that he doesn’t feel he has to try for us, that he can’t see how hurt we are, but as he said, it’s his life. If it’s true that he would only extend it a few months, why spend those suffering the effects of chemical and radiation therapies?

  Me? I’d fight for life. Or, I qualify, that’s what I think now. How could I put myself in another’s shoes? Smoker believes he has no one around him who’d grieve. He’s wrong. He’s got the whole of the Satan’s Devils MC.

  I know what Eva had tried to convey by that silent message she sent to me. Smoker is still coming to terms with the news he received yesterday. His initial reaction may change. One thing I know, we’ve got to approach this carefully. Any direct approach would have the man digging in his heels.

  Shrugging off the disruption he’s wrought, Smoker takes the plate a moist-eyed Cindy offers to him and starts to dig in. I watch him for a moment as he smacks his lips appreciatively, as though relishing the little things in life. I vow there and then, if I can’t change his mind, I’ll make sure we do everything we can to make the most of whatever time he’s got left. Grumbler might have some ideas; he’s known Smoker probably the longest.

  Patsy taps my arm to get my attention, but before I can complete my turn in her direction, my phone pings. Taking it out, I read the message.

  Token: Have you got a minute?

  I don’t bother to respond. I pull my plate toward me and start to stand. “Sorry, Patsy, I need to go. I’ll catch up with you later.” My words are innocent, but my eyes catch hers and hold them for a moment blazing out a more intense suggestion. As her cheeks redden, I suspect she’s gotten the message. If nothing else, I could do with a heavy make-out session later, if only to affirm that I’m still healthy and alive.

  Though I’m reluctant to leave Patsy, I’m not unhappy to exit the room where I’m leaving one of my members with a problem I’m helpless to solve. I pause at the bar and take a bottle of beer from Curtis, then proceed to Token’s office.

  I rap on the door, but immediately enter as I’m expected. “Whatcha got?” I ask as I sit opposite his array of monitors.

  Token meets my eyes and puts his hand to his face, drawing it down from his nose to his chin. “Fucker’s been in contact again.”

  “The mysterious guy in the wind? Any clue where he’s from?”

  “Outer Mongolia? Timbuktu? Who the fuck knows?” Token shakes his head. “Got no idea where he is, or even if it is a man.”

  Leaving aside the who and where for now, I prompt, “What did he/she/it say?”

  “They,” Token corrects my pronoun with a grin. “Get with the program. If they’re not a male or female, they’re a they.”

  “Token.” I put a bite of menace into my growl.

  “Ok.” As Token’s face falls, I start to realise his messing around was a delaying tactic. “He’s broken the code for me.”

  Not pointing out he’s chosen a particular pronoun, I widen my eyes.

  “Hacked straight into my system as though it was child’s play.” Token thumps his hand down on his desk, glaring at his monitor as if the equipment had betrayed him.

  I breathe in deeply, then exhale a loud breath. No one really knows what my skills are, or were, they’re well past their sell by date. Snake had asked basic questions, but only to enable him to discount I’d any connection with law enforcement. While I was prospecting, I was instructed to fetch, carry, clean, dig holes and bury bodies, no questions asked, and none directed toward me. By the time I’d earned my patch, the brothers knew everything about me they needed to know—that they could trust me to have their backs. Many members have pasts they want left buried. I wasn’t unusual in that. Snake knew I’d fucked up my business but hadn’t cared to ask what business that was.

  Token, though, he’s guessed my background if not how I was involved, purely due to my interest in his security system and the privacy and antivirus software he uses. I’ve been impressed to be honest. So it’s worrying as fuck that someone could break in so easily.

  “You sure it’s our end?” I query. “Cad’s got the same info. Or the email—”

  “Encrypted.” He gives me a look akin to that which he’d used had I given him instruction on how to boil water. “Anything between Cad and me is sent well protected. And yes, it’s us. He’s actually circled some of the info while I was watching. Oh, and he added this. I was able to screen shot it. Whenever he posts something it disappears within seconds.” He turns one of the monitors toward me, the message states:

  Don’t be too concerned. We can get into Fort Knox.

  I bark an incredulou
s laugh. “I presume he means virtually and not in reality?”

  Token shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Right now, I wouldn’t be too sure.”

  “Two things I want from you.” I pull at my forefinger. “First, if he helped break the code, what was the result? And two,” I pull at my second finger, “if he, she or they are so fuckin’ brilliant, why aren’t they doing this themselves?”

  “I’m pretty certain I can work it out,” he replies. “It’s coordinates, but one digit missing from both the longitude and latitude. See?” He points to his screen. “That’s what’s circled – the gap. Why it’s missing don’t ask me, but old Phil didn’t want to make it easy.”

  I start to suggest, “You can—”

  Another roll of his eyes. “I’ve already got a program running to go through all the permutations and check what makes sense. I presume if there is a tunnel, that this could be the start and end points?” When I nod, he continues, “As to your second question, why us? Maybe we were just closest? Maybe he is in Timbuktu and nowhere near us. Or maybe he likes seeing us squirm and do his work for him.”

  I lean toward the latter myself. If he/she/it or they were so fucking clever, why weren’t they doing more to help? “Can you make contact with him?”

  Token’s head moves left then right. “Wish I fuckin’ could.”

  “You get the feeling he could help more?”

  Token grimaces then admits, “Put it this way, I got a feeling he can crack the code and find out the locations faster than me.”

  I lean back my head, rolling it on my neck. “Which suggests he’s not close. But what’s the benefit to him, helping us out?”

  Token looks annoyed. “He’s making me feel stupid.” His hand thumps down on the desk, making the monitors jump. “Maybe he knows it’s dangerous and doesn’t like taking risks. Or it could be a trap and he’s setting us up. He could already have the coordinates; we turn up and walk straight into the arms of the feds.”

  “Could it be Alder himself?” I wonder aloud.

  He’s quiet for a moment, sifting through the facts. “Alder could employ an expert but what’s the point? He’d know where his fuckin’ tunnel starts and ends. He could have sent us the information in far easier ways.”

  “True,” I agree. “Unless he’s playing an elaborate game. He wants Patsy, and I suspect he’d have tried to take her if he knew where she was. And we wouldn’t have this information if she hadn’t remembered the safe deposit box. So we discount Alder. And this fucker isn’t a loner, he said ‘we’, which suggests he’s working with someone else, maybe even a team.”

  His eyes come to meet mine. “Still feel I’m letting you down, Prez.”

  “Nah. In no way are you letting me down, Token. You don’t know what setup this guy or people have. You’re limited as to what you can use.” My voice is firm, willing him to believe me. “If someone’s providing info that’s useful, use it. The only thing that concerns me is locking our systems down so he can’t fuckin’ get in in the first place.”

  “Firewalls be damned, Prez, I don’t trust them now. I already moved the club stuff onto a separate server, Prez. One that’s not connected to the internet,” he reminds me.

  I’m not surprised it’s the first thing he’s done. I would have too.

  “And there’s no way you can start a two-way dialogue? I feel we’re being drip fed pieces.” I can understand Token’s frustration. It’s as though we’re being toyed with. If there’s someone out there two steps ahead of us, I’d like to save time and talk to them.

  “I’ve tried,” Token replies. “But I can’t get a hold of anything when the messages come through. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’ve done all I can. Protected our shit while keeping a channel open. What I will say is, so far, this guy has not led us wrong.”

  I muse, half to myself, “Who the fuck can it be?”

  Token shrugs. He looks as confused as I am.

  Who would want to help us? Someone who also wants Alder stopped? Seems likely. But who, other than the feds, would want that? And the feds would act on the information, not pass it our way.

  “I’m going upstairs. Let me know if you come up with anything.”

  “Sure thing.” Even before I reach the door, Token’s turned his attention back to the screens in front of him.

  The clubroom is in full evening swing by the time I step out of Token’s office. Eva looks very comfortable on Pennywise’s lap. She’s an exhibitionist and isn’t at all bothered his fingers are on her clit and she’s about to come in front of everyone. Her head is thrown back in abandon, her cheeks are red, and her eyes squeezed shut as Pennywise’s hand keeps working. He catches me looking and winks.

  I raise my chin back. Not my thing, but hey, to each their own.

  Turning I spy Pearl on the stripper pole. I take a moment to appreciate that Alex’s lessons are paying off. Her fluidity is amazing. I’m not the only one entranced. By the look of it, she’ll be fighting a few brothers off in a minute. Tits is missing but is probably engaged elsewhere. Cindy is, no, was, with Snips as he’s just pulled out, expertly tying off the condom.

  Most of the brothers are drinking or playing pool. Smoker’s not around, but even if he was, it’s too soon to broach any serious conversation with him and right now I don’t know how to approach it. Making a mental note to leave it a couple of days, I continue to look around.

  Dan is deep in conversation with Salem, but there’s no sign of Patsy. Given the non-PG displays, it’s not surprising. Expecting I’ll find her in the room we’ve assigned to her, I continue to the stairs and climb up.

  At my knock, there’s a short delay, then the door opens, Patsy holding onto it.

  I smirk. “You’re safe here, babe.”

  She looks self-conscious. “I don’t know how your men get when they’ve had a few drinks, Lost. I don’t want them to stumble into my room.”

  “They’re not going to mistake you for a sweet butt, babe.” I realise immediately I could have phrased that better.

  Her face twists. “Of course, they’re not.”

  I growl, my hand curling around her neck, holding her captive. My swift action breaks her hold on the door. “Babe. You’re far too classy to be one of them. You cover too much skin. But if you want to bare that in the privacy of my room? Hell, you could rival them any day.”

  Her eyes widen. In shock or horror, I can’t be certain. “Well, you’ll be disappointed if you expect a body like theirs. I’m no spring chicken, Lost. I’ve stretch lines, sagging skin…”

  “So have I,” I respond, remorselessly. “You want to compare cellulite, then I’m up for that. Though I tell you, there are far better things I’d like to be doing.” When her eyes light, I press my case home. “I want my mouth on your pussy, babe. Can’t fuckin’ wait to taste you.”

  “Lost!” She tries to pull back, but I’ve got a tight hold on her.

  “But if that’s going too fast, I’d be content with just my lips on your mouth. You set the speed and the direction.” I stare at the aforementioned lips as I speak, noticing how she bites them, and I feel my dick swell in my pants. “If you just want to kiss, so be it.” An image of what Pennywise had just been doing comes into my mind. “Or, I could make you come with my fingers, feel you orgasm all over my hand.”

  Her breathing has sped up. “Lost,” she says my name again.

  I continue to taunt her. “When you’re nice, wet and ready, I could bend you over my bed, sink my cock into your pussy while my hands clutch at your ass.”

  In a clear attempt to put distance between us, she asks a little sharply, “Is this how you were with your wife? Because I’m not used to someone vocalising what they want.”

  If her mention of Kim was to throw cold water on me, it doesn’t work. It’s her I’m focusing on. “Nah. Sex in my marriage was pretty boring and vanilla—missionary position most of the time. Back then I was too tied up with work to put enough effort into it. Now, I know diff
erent. Let’s just say, you don’t live in the clubhouse without getting inspiration.”

  Her hands push at my chest. “You want to treat me like a sweet butt.”

  “Maybe,” I admit. “But not because I’ve practiced with them. Any time I’ve gone with them, and it’s not been that often, it’s been to get the job over and done quickly. I may have been saving ideas up for when I met someone who I wanted to take my time with.”

  “I—I…”

  “I want this,” I tell her. “I’ve made it clear exactly what I desire, but I’ll give you time to get with the program. You just want to hug? We’ll do that. Kiss? My lips are yours. Explore our bodies? Fuck yeah. Fuck? Only if you’re ready and want it.”

  Her face goes through a myriad of emotions.

  Giving her a moment, I glance into the room she’s been assigned. It’s bare, impersonal. Doing anything here wouldn’t come close to romantic.

  “Come to my room, Patsy.”

  “I can’t,” she breathes.

  “What else have you got to do?” Moving her to one side, I walk past her, and pick up her e-reader that’s lying on the bed.

  “Lost!” She runs over, but I hold it up high.

  My eyes stare upwards and squint, making out what I can without the aid of my glasses. The text catches my eye.

  “Like beards?”

  “No.”

  “Gonna like ‘em after this.” With that, he dove forward, shoving his face between her thighs. After a quick inhale of her sweet fucking scent, he latched his mouth onto her clit and sucked hard.

  She cried out as her hips shot off the bed. Separating her pussy with two fingers in a V, he ate her like a melting soft-serve ice cream cone.

  She tasted just as good as one, too.

  “Who writes this shit?” Still holding the device high, I glance down. Her face is bright red.

  “Jeannie St. James,” she replies after a pause.

  “Ah ha. Might want to read this myself. What’s the book called?”