Paladin's Hell

by Manda Mellett

  He gives me a hard look. “Well, if it would help, we could all go out together. Not here, somewhere neutral. Give the girls a chance to catch up.”

  I nod slowly, thinking. A night out might give Moira something to look forward to. “Might take you up on that, Brother.”

  Side by side we enter the clubroom. Jeannie waves from her space at the bar, she’s laughing at something Sparky, our road captain has just said. Bomber makes a beeline for her, making her laugh harder as he bends her over his arm and kisses her. I hide my grin when his hands discreetly go to the middle of his back as he straightens up. Getting older, Brother. Sucks doesn’t it?

  “Prez? A word?”

  “Sure, VP.” Demon, my son, comes over. “What’s up?”

  As he starts an explanation of an incident at our tattoo parlour the previous night, I listen, my first impulse is to laugh, but then I realise it could be serious. “Shit,” I say when he’s finished. “Didn’t they notice he was drunk off his ass?”

  “Didn’t appear that way.”

  “He’s going to sue?”

  “He’s going to try. Lizard’s offered to ink it over for free.”

  I shake my head, “Didn’t the fact he wanted a naked pussy tatted over his heart give away he wasn’t all there? Fuck. Labia and all?”

  “It was done delicately,” Demon stands up for the tattooist. “The outside was a flower. Some of his best work he says.”

  “Jeez.” I’m just hoping we don’t get bad publicity. Mind you, if the tat was done well, might start a new trend. “Thanks for the heads up, VP.”

  “Sure.” I watch him step away. I’m proud as fuck of him. Like me, he had no helping hand or favours. Was voted in as he was popular with the men, and they all trust him. Deserves to be at my right hand. I’m pleased I had the honour of watching him grow from a baby into a man. Time comes I ever step down, there’s no doubt he’ll be taking my place at the head of the table. Also, no doubt, that since he’s well aware of the shit I deal with daily, I know he’s in no hurry to get there.

  Putting my fingers to my mouth I blow a loud whistle, then point my hand toward the back of the room, and the doorway leading to church. One by one my brothers follow me in.

  Thunder, our sergeant-at-arms takes his seat to my right, Mace, who’s been the enforcer since Ingot was killed six months ago, sits next to him. Opposite is Buzzard, our secretary-come-treasurer. Sparky is next, then Rusty, the other old-timer with predictable red hair which hasn’t started to grey at all. Beside him is Ink, inaptly named as he’s got no tattoos anywhere on his body, not even the Satan’s Devils’ patch. On the other side of the table sits Lizard, Cad, Taser, Pyro and last, at the end, Bomber.

  I bang the gavel. “Over to you, Buzz.”

  Buzzard quickly runs through the state of our businesses. The tattoo parlour, the strip club, the bowling alley we’ve not long opened, and, of course, our auto-shop. Got a good rep for building custom bikes there. I listen carefully, all seems well and good.

  Pyro raises his hand. “Prez, got more discrepancies with the stock take.”

  This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned it. “Thought you’d decided it was someone taking out a part and not recording it.”

  A quick smirk covers his face. “Well, mechanics are good at the shit they do, not so much on keeping paperwork up to date.” He nods, considering. “Still prefer that explanation, rather than thinking there’s someone with light-fingers.”

  “Much going missing?” asks Buzzard, concerned. “High or low value?”

  “Low,” Pyro confirms. “And it’s not regular, just occasionally.”

  Buzzard raises his chin at me. “I’ve not seen anything in the books to worry me. Yeah, so sometimes it doesn’t tally, but not by much.”

  My brow creases, then I make a decision. “Keep an eye on it, Pyro. I hope it’s just someone making a genuine mistake.” I don’t add that if it isn’t, stealing from the club, even if it’s just the odd oil filter, would be taken very seriously. I wait for Pyro to acknowledge the undercurrent in my words, when he gives a sharp nod, I know he’ll be on it. “Okay, other business.”

  Cad waggles his fingers in my direction. He’s so light skinned and his hair so fair, if it wasn’t for his dark brown eyes you might think he was albino. Brothers gave him his handle, Cadaver. His complexion is his own fault, he spends most of his time inside all but hooked up to his computers.

  When I nod, he speaks. “Got a new police chief coming in. I’m working on getting some background.”

  It’s information, not a question, I just nod. “Anyone got anything else?” When no one speaks, I prepare to raise the topic I need to. Reaching into my pocket I take out my smokes and light one up, pulling one of the ashtrays toward me. Then I begin to explain about Jayden and Paladin. They listen carefully, then start asking questions about the new member I’m proposing to bring on board.

  Thunder is suspicious. “Any bad blood in Tucson?”

  Valid question. “None at all. Brother’s about as trustworthy as they come,” I explain.

  “He’s young.” Demon puts in.

  “Yeah, patched in when he was nineteen. Held his patch just over two years.”

  “Permanent move?” questions Thunder.

  I shrug. “Depends if they can sort out their problems in Tucson.” There’s a round of laughter at this. I’ve lost count of the times we’ve had to help the Arizona club out.

  “Need a vote, Brothers. Or has anyone got anything more they want to ask?”

  “Not a question, but this is my view if anyone’s interested.” All eyes go to Mace, a few chin lifts too. “We’ve never had someone patch over before. Tucson had their own problems when they let that fucker from San Diego in.”

  I nod, he’s right to bring that up. Though we’re not in the same chapter, we’re all well aware that man turned out to be a rapist. “They’ve been more cautious since. Haven’t had issues with anyone else.”

  Bomber raises his hand. He’s not a man to speak much, but when he does, we all listen. Experience counts for a lot. “People prospect for a reason. To earn trust. You’re saying we rely on our Tucson brothers having sussed out this Paladin for us?”

  “Talking about the mother chapter, Brother. Got no reason not to trust Drummer.” I can understand their reluctance. Club here is close knit. Hard for even prospects to patch in. Only recently we turned away Smithy who’d prospected nearly a year, but we’d decided he hadn’t made the grade.

  “You happy with this, Prez?” Demon asks, knowing my word will count for a lot.

  I take a moment, draw on my second cigarette of the meeting, and let smoke out, giving time for a considered answer. “I am,” I say firmly.

  “Well let’s vote,” the VP suggests. “Unless anyone else wants to say something?”

  They don’t. We vote. A few reluctantly, but all say aye in the end. Paladin can transfer as a full member.

  Sparky suddenly remembers he wanted to bring something up. A run he’s organising in a couple of months when the weather grows warmer. We spend a few minutes thrashing around the details. Then, sensing brothers are getting restless, I bang the gavel for the millionth time in my life, and church breaks up.

  “Having a beer or headin’ home, old man?”

  I throw a punch at Demon, well-practiced, he jumps back and evades it. “Less of the fuckin’ old, son.” I warn him. “Could still take you down with a hand tied behind my back.”

  “That I’d pay good money to see,” Mace cuts in.

  “Beer,” I belatedly answer Demon’s question, and pointedly ignore the enforcer, not wanting to acknowledge his point that nowadays, it’s questionable who’d win out of me and the VP. “I’m staying here tonight. Roads are icing up out there.”

  “Prez. Want some company?” Bella, one of the club girls, has overheard me. Her arm snakes around my waist. “Maybe later,” I tell her, watching her pert ass sway as she walks away at my answer.

  “Real
ly?” Demon raises his eyebrow.

  I shrug, not deigning to answer. Nor reminding him what goes on in the club, stays in the club. Nothing a son should tell his mother. The tightening of his face conveys his opinion.

  I rap on the bar top. Runt, our newest prospect comes running over, quickly fulfilling my request for a drink. I’ll only have a couple, even if I’m not riding tonight. Being president I’m always on call, and need to stay relatively sober.

  “Prez.”

  Swinging around I greet my brother. “Pyro. How’s it going?”

  He grimaces slightly. “Yeah, well, I might have picked up a ticket.”

  “Might have, or have?” My eyes roll. Seems it should be pretty clear-cut one way or the other to me.

  His mouth curves, “Have.”

  “You get caught carryin’ or something?”

  “Nah, only had just under an ounce on me.” He’s over twenty-one, he can legally carry an ounce of marijuana in Colorado.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  A shrug, “Left me a bit short, that’s all. Can I get an advance on my wages?”

  I jerk my head toward the treasurer standing in a group across the other side of the room. “Ask Buzzard.” Why the fuck he came to me is beyond me.

  It’s always the same when I stay in the clubhouse. One by one brothers approach, all wanting to share their problems. Lizard’s got a bitch problem, Ink’s bike’s got a weird noise, and Rusty, well, the winter’s making his arthritis act up. Yeah, they all look to me as some kind of god who can solve all their problems. It starts to grate that there’s no one here who wants to know mine.

  Another slowly drunk beer, and I feel I’ve given about as much of myself as I can. “Runt. Get a bottle of whisky up to my room.” I’ll only drink one or two, but feel I deserve a nightcap.

  “Shall I send Bella up?” Demon asks through gritted teeth.

  Slapping his back, I take pity on him. Leaning into him, I speak quietly into his ear. “How many times have I cheated on your mom, Son?”

  His eyes narrow. “Not seen you with anyone, Dad. But Mom thinks…”

  “I know what your mom believes,” I reply with a sigh. “Gonna have words with her soon.”

  “Don’t like seeing her upset.”

  Demon, despite his name, has always been a good son. I’m glad to know he sticks up for his mother, but in this case, there’s a good reason he’s got no need to worry at all. He couldn’t be barking up a more different tree. I just haven’t yet decided how to explain it to my wife, and she’s the one who needs to know first. It’s no one else’s business.

  Runt’s left the bar. A good prospect, there’ll already be a bottle of my favourite spirit waiting for me. One more nod toward Demon, and I’m making my way across the room to the stairs, my progress happily unimpeded.

  I half-smile as I watch Bella giving Mace an enthusiastic blow job on the couch. Guess she hadn’t been waiting for a summons from me after all. Then, none of the club girls would expect anything different. For thirty-six years I’ve remained faithful to my wife.

  I climb the steps and make my way to the President’s Suite. It’s not the same one my father used, and doubles as my bedroom and office. My father. There’s not been a word invented to describe just how much of a bastard he was, I reflect, stripping out of my clothes. I take the bottle and glass over to my bedside table then pull back the covers, pouring myself a shot before getting into bed, and leaning back against the pillows, my arms folded behind my head.

  I’ve never cheated on Moira. I never would. There’s a good reason that when I became president, I had all the shit in my father’s room burned, the room turned into storage. The memories can still make me seethe with anger, a rage that will never be quenched. It should never have happened.

  I hadn’t waited long to call Moira after I’d first met her that day when she’d been with Jeannie. Our first date, a ride where I had no problem having her up behind me on my bike. I already knew she was special and was going to mean something to me. I also quickly realised she was no club girl, and I needed to take things slow.

  So I’d dated Moira. Courted her. Yeah, me, a burly biker. From the moment she first rode with her arms held fast around my waist, she was going to be mine. She’d have to wait, I was only a prospect. Prospects weren’t allowed near club girls, or permitted to take an old lady. Instead they had to make do with their hand until they were patched in. With my father being President, all eyes were on me to slip up. I needed the members to be certain my sole focus was gaining my patch and becoming a full member of the club.

  I wouldn’t have started anything with Moira had I not known I was close, I knew it, sensed it. Even though Blackie, my father, had ensured I was given a rough ride, I’d come through every piece of shit tossed at me with flying colours.

  Soon I would be patched in, and then I’d bring Moira to the club as my old lady, and everyone would know she was mine.

  She was a virgin, I wanted her first time to be special, was willing to wait, even though my cock tried to persuade me differently every time I saw her. I was proud of the way I held back, but she was unlike anyone I’d ever met. That look of innocence and wonder in her eyes? Never wanted that to go out. Never wanted her to feel anything other than the only person in the world to me. She was precious. Priceless.

  Chapter 6

  Hellfire

  Thirty-six years ago

  Bartending. Not my favourite pastime, but one I stoically undertake, ignoring the full-patched members partying around me. The air thick with the smoke of illegal substances, men partying hard in all different ways. Sweet butts casting snide glances toward the hopeful hangarounds flooding in from nearby Pueblo, some already being fucked in the open, some being taken into brothers’ rooms. Drinks are flowing freely, I’m rushed off my feet to supply them. A couple of brothers who’ve started early are already swaying on their feet. But I won’t be cutting them off, not in the bar of an MC. In the morning I’ll just clean up the mess, clear away anything broken, mop up any vomit or blood that’s been spilt. It’s all in a day’s work for a prospect. I’m just hoping my time of being at everyone’s beck and call is drawing to a close.

  I’m pouring shots when my eyes are caught by two girls entering the clubhouse. Surprised, and more than a little concerned, when I recognise Moira, Jeannie, her friend, leading her by the hand, well, almost dragging her. As soon as I saw the other girl, I knew this hadn’t been Moira’s idea. I didn’t need that look of apology when she caught my eye to explain it to me.

  Jeannie pulls Moira toward the bar. “Hey, lover boy. The mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammed, so I brought her to you instead.”

  Putting down the cloth I was holding, I lean over. “Not a good place for you to be, darlin’.” I ignore Jeannie as I talk to my girl. Her friend doesn’t care, her eyes are scanning the room. I recognise that look, see it on most of the hangarounds who come to our parties. All looking for a ride on biker cock and hoping to snag a man.

  Moira, though, she’s different. Her wide eyes are only on me. She looks like a startled doe, she knows I didn’t want her here. At least she’s dressed in a fairly conservative style, okay, her white jeans are figure hugging, but the baggy top keeps her other assets from being on display. Jeannie, on the other hand, is dressed to kill, her short skirt and tight, low necked top leaving little to the imagination.

  “I’ll go.”

  “Best if you do.” I want Moira out of here and fast. “Look, I’ll call you later. We’ll do something tomorrow if I can get some time.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Mo. Let your hair down for once. Look, there’s dancing. I’m in the mood to party, you can’t leave me alone.”

  For fuck’s sake, Jeannie. Let her go. I start leaning forward to suggest that in no uncertain terms, when we’re interrupted.

  “Hey, what’s your name, darlin’?”

  I tense as Bomber comes over, but he’s got eyes on Jeannie, and not on my girl. Thank
fuck.

  “Prospect! Why’s this lady not got a drink yet?”

  Because she’s underage, I want to tell him. But it’s not my place. The MC doesn’t give a fuck about citizen shit like that. With his sharp eyes on me, I pour a tequila for her at her request, and pass Moira a soda. Bomber reaches over to pick up the shot, his arm brushing against Moira’s friend’s breast as he passes it to her. Not receiving any discouragement, his arm loops around her shoulders.

  “You here for some fun…?”

  “Jeannie,” she supplies, her eyes widening as she takes in his ripped chest, his low-slung jeans, his short tee forming a gap where the skin of his lower stomach shows. If I’m not mistaken, he’s already sporting a large bulge in his jeans. Of course, my eyes don’t linger there for long.

  “I’m Bomber, darlin’. First time here I take it. I’ll look after you.”

  Bomber’s okay. He’s already told me I’ll get his vote when my patch comes up at church. I beckon him to come closer. “Bomb, this here’s my girl.” I point to Moira. “She shouldn’t have come to the club. I’m going to escort her out. Can you watch the bar for me?”

  His eyes narrow as he looks from Moira to myself. “Hangarounds are fair game. She’s yours? Prospects ain’t got no rights, son. Best take her out. I’ll stay here while you’re gone if you make it quick.” He pulls Jeannie closer to him. “This one and I have got business to attend to, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Jeannie’s beaming. She’s obviously got no more use for her friend now she’s used her to get into the clubhouse, bagging herself a handsome biker in the process.

  I start to raise the flap of the bar when a voice roars. “Where you off to, Prospect. I need a drink.” It’s Blackie, my father. His name coming from the black plate he worked with before the steel mills closed.

  Sighing, I signal Moira to wait. As I get back into position, she hops on a bar stool. “What do you want, Prez?”

  He hadn’t missed the look I’d given Moira. His mouth curves. “I think I want me a bit of that,” he says as he steps closer to my woman. “Up for some fun tonight, sweetheart?”