His face softens. Approaching me, he touches my face. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get in touch, and we can explore our new home. Think of it as an adventure.”
Then he’s on his bike, nodding at his brothers who’ll escort him until he’s put a safe distance between himself and the Herreras. As they ride out of the compound, and I realise Paladin’s in for a long twelve-hour ride, it hits me. I’d forgotten to tell him to ride safely. I want to run after him, worried something might happen on the road…
“He’ll be fine.” Slick puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “He knows what he’s doing and will stay out of trouble.”
I hope he’s right.
“I’ll miss you, Jayden.”
I swing around to Drew and give him a quick hug. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure your sister will be too.”
He doesn’t seem so certain of that, but Wraith’s tossing his keys in his hands as though impatient. Slick helps Ella into the back seat, she waves at me to join her. Then, with one last round of goodbyes, we’re off.
It’s the first time I’ve flown. I’m unsure whether my nerves are for the flight, or for the unknown I’m heading into. We’re all relatively quiet on the plane, Ella sits next to me, Slick on her other side. She holds my hand, I don’t protest. It’s fairly easy to change flights, and then we’re arriving at our final destination.
I know Hellfire’s been to Tucson before, but I don’t know if I’d remember him. Slick, luckily, knows who to look out for. The man he approaches first with his hand held out, then with a manly hug and much back slapping, does look vaguely familiar, but older than I’d been expecting. He looks old enough to be my grandfather. His advanced years seems strange on a biker. There’s no one his age in the Tucson club.
A younger man, probably nearer to his mid-thirties like Slick, stands beside him. He looks stern and grim, until he spies my eyes on him, then he smiles. It transforms his face.
“My wife, Ella. And this is Jayden.” Slick introduces us.
“Hellfire,” the older man says, then indicates to the man beside him. “Demon, my son and VP.”
Ignoring the slight hesitancy before the word ‘son’, when I look closer I can see the familial resemblance. I shake both their hands politely, while thanking God Slick and Ella are with me, and I’m not meeting them alone. They’re strangers. Bet they’ll be fine once I get to know them. The VP, though, looks distracted and distant. When he glances at his father, he frowns. Inwardly I shudder. It’s not that I take a dislike to him, he just doesn’t seem to be overly friendly.
I find the car journey awkward. Slick sits up front with Hellfire, Ella and I in the back. Demon’s on his bike behind us. I’m wondering how they got their road names, the handles Hellfire and Demon not sounding particularly comforting, hoping the possible explanations going around my head aren’t the right ones. I don’t feel it’s my place to ask.
Pueblo. My new home. Pulling my sweater around me it’s hard to believe we’re in the same country. Tucson at this time of year is growing warmer. Here it must be twenty degrees cooler. The sun still shines, but there’s no heat in it. I hope the coolness of the weather isn’t an indication of the welcome I’m going to get here. The difference in the weather serves to emphasise how far away I’ll be from everything I’ve ever known.
I hadn’t put my phone back on after the flight. Remembering, I do so now. It immediately pings with a text.
Pal: Hope you had a good flight. I’m well on my way and safe.
His words remind me I won’t be alone.
Jay: Just heading to Hellfire’s house. I’ll text you later
I’m so very glad he’ll be here with me.
Chapter 10
Moira
Two days earlier
I’m failing miserably in my first lady’s duties. We’ve got the kids arriving from Tucson in a couple of days, yet I can hardly stir myself to do anything. Hellfire’s got the prospects sorting out a room for the new brother in the clubhouse, but young Jayden’s going to be staying here, and the house is a complete mess.
I hadn’t realised how much I’d let it, as well as myself, go until Hellfire walked in, and looked around him, his lips pressing together. “I’ll get a couple of the club girls to come and give you a hand straightening this place up.”
My eyes shoot to his, then I turn around, seeing what he’s seeing. Dust is everywhere, mess in every direction. “There’s no need, I’ve got it handled,” I lie.
“Nah, this place is too big for you to do by yourself,” his eyes soften as he contradicts me. “‘Bout time they did more than work on their backs.”
Why argue? I could do with the help. Hard to get myself into gear nowadays. Is that another reason he’s gone off me? “As long as it’s not Bella,” I relent. “I can’t stand her.” I’ve always had a feeling she’s after my man. Even in my presence she’s been all over him.
“Nah, not her,” he agrees quickly. Too quickly? “I’ll send Titsy and Sheila. They can help get the spare room cleared for the girl. Jeannie would jump at the chance to come over and supervise.”
“Not Jeannie,” I say fast. My memories lately have dragged up everything I wish could stay forgotten. Over the years, I’d managed to put to the back of my mind the part she’d played, but now, unfairly, the blame I attach to her has come back. That she counterbalanced her role in my downfall by getting Hell and I together, sometimes isn’t enough to stop me remembering it was her fault I’d been there in that clubhouse. I don’t want to see her. It will just bring everything back. Her concern seeing me like this will only remind me of her sympathy the morning after. No, now’s not a good time for her to be here.
I change the subject, before he can ask why I’ve so quickly dismissed my friend, by asking, “You sticking around?” It’s unusual for him to be here during the day.
“Nah, just stopped in as I was passing. I’ve got to go to Tits Up, wondered if you’d like to come for a ride? It’s a lovely spring day out there.”
“I’m alright,” I reply. You don’t want my fat ass unbalancing your bike.
Various expressions cross his face, I try to read them, uncertain whether it’s disappointment or relief I’m seeing. Giving myself a mental shrug, I try to pull myself together. “You got problems there?”
A quick shake of his head. “Nah. Taser’s got some ideas for redecorating. Just going to see what he’s suggesting. You used to like having input into shit like that.”
I did. Now I can’t be bothered. Why get involved in something I might not be here to see through? The time is fast approaching when I’ll have to confront him, have to find out the truth, whether the suspicions I have are right. One thing I’ve always known, Hellfire doesn’t lie to me. If I ask the question, he’ll respond. Trouble is, I can’t bring myself to hear the answer. I’m trying to find my backbone first. In the meantime, he’s spending more and more nights at the clubhouse, leaving me here alone to brood.
Too much time to think. Perhaps he’s doing it on purpose.
I leave the room, ostensibly going to check I’ve got clean bedding for the spare room once it’s cleared, but really escaping before the questions come out of my mouth, questions I’m not brave enough to have answered. It’s not long before I hear the sound of his bike fading into the distance.
Damn it. I tear my sweater off over my head. I’m hot and sweating all over again. Of course Hell doesn’t want to be around me. I’m a fucking mess. My moods are all over the place, I’ve no energy or desire to do the slightest things.
It’s probably lucky he doesn’t want to see me naked anymore. Apart from my sagging breasts, though initially I tried to convince myself it was my imagination, there’s been other symptoms of menopause I hadn’t expected. I was shocked when I first noticed my pubic hair had started disappearing, convincing myself for a time I was mistaken, until one day I had to admit it. What used to be bush is now bare. Hell’s always been a man who doesn’t like me to shave, now it looks like I hav
e, with the benefit of no stubble, of course. I’ll be embarrassed if he ever sees me again.
He’s unlikely to. Why would he want me? Not when he’s got a perfect and far younger Bella to entertain him.
The sound of a Harley’s roar getting louder, then stopping makes me wonder if Hell’s returned. Analysing the sound I realise it’s not his bike, it’s our son’s. Demon.
I shake myself, paste on a smile, and go to see what my eldest wants. It’s unusual for him to visit this time of day.
“Demon.” I enter the kitchen where he’s helping himself to milk from the fridge, drinking straight from the carton. I bite back the admonishment. You can’t tell a thirty-five-year-old off in quite the same way as I’d have done twenty years ago.
“Mom.” He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, comes over and hugs me, placing a kiss to my forehead.
“What are you doing here? You want something to eat?”
“Nah. Just needed to check something. Hell keeps the old record books here, doesn’t he?”
I nod. “In his safe. You know the code?”
He rolls his eyes. Of course he does.
“I won’t be long.”
“Help yourself.”
Hell was right. As Demon goes off to the study, I look around seeing the stove is covered with grease, the sink with the breakfast dishes in it. I shouldn’t live like this. With new resolve I rinse the plates, stack the dishwasher, then, gritting my teeth, fill the sink with hot water and start tackling the burned on stains. Once started, I’ve a new determination I’m going to beat this shit. I’m hard at work scrubbing, feeling I’m making progress, when I hear footsteps behind me.
Knowing it’s Demon, I don’t immediately turn, but as he waits without speaking, curiosity makes me swing around.
His face is white. His hands clenched around one of the old record books from the club. His eyes, unfocused, stare in my direction.
“Demon. Dave,” I try again with his legal name when I get no response. “Son, what’s up?”
His mouth works, no words come out. He swallows, and tries again, coughing to clear his throat. Suddenly in an agonised cry he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t I know?” His tone goes from high to low, then back up again.
An icy hand grips my heart. What has he found?
“Demon?” I ask again, my gut telling me this is the moment I hoped would never come.
Suddenly he’s moving. He shoves the book under my nose. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always told me Grandpa died in an accident. You never told me it was at the hands of his son.”
That’s all he knows? Okay, I can deal. Pretend ignorance. Tell him it’s club business. Send him to have it out with Hell. Is that fair? But what the heck do I say?
“It’s all here. Recorded in the minutes of the meeting. Blackie raped someone, Mom.”
I try to take the book away from him before he starts reading between the lines. But it’s too late. I hadn’t raised a stupid son.
“He raped Hellfire’s woman. Though he wasn’t a patched-member then. He was a prospect. Voted in only minutes before the vote to dispatch Black Plate, Blackie, was taken.” I move in fast, trying once more to pull the notebook away from him, but he’s quicker, and too tall, holding it over my head. “My grandfather was a fuckin’ rapist,” he snarls. “And my own father killed him. Why didn’t I know this?”
“It’s not the kind of thing you boast about or discuss over a family dinner,” I yell at him, still jumping up, trying to catch hold of his arm.
He stills. “You knew.” His eyes go wide. “You fuckin’ knew. You knew Hellfire killed him. And what he’d done.”
“You just told me.” I think fast trying to backtrack. Oh, we’ve both made mistakes here today. Club business. He shouldn’t have spouted everything he’d just read, but I can excuse him. What man can keep quiet once he’d discovered such secrets in the family tree? But me? I should have played dumb. Innocent. Blackie had disappeared. That was all I should have been told. Might have questioned my man, but never should have given away that I knew what crime had been done, nor from my easy acceptance, admitted that not only did I know, I had no concern about my husband committing patricide.
He’s shaking his head. His eyes flaring as brightly as the demon for which he was named. He stalks me. I retreat, all thoughts of grabbing hold of that notebook gone.
“What would I find, Mother? If I keep reading? What other fuckin’ secrets am I going to find out? Do you want to tell me yourself?”
What do I do? Tell him half the truth. Maybe that will satisfy him.
“It was me. Blackie raped me.” My hands cover my mouth as the words I never thought I’d ever admit to my son come out. “He raped me. That’s why Hellfire was voted in, that’s why he was the one who killed him.”
Various expressions cross my son’s face. Sadness, pain. Sympathy. As tears start to flow from my eyes, his hand begins to reach out to touch me, then his brow creases, and he pulls it back. “How much did I weigh when I was born, Mom?”
My voice, my whole body is shaking. “Eight pounds.” I can’t tell him a lie or contradict what I previously told him.
“Bit big for a premature baby.”
My head moves side to side, my eyes open in horror.
“You were seventeen.” He already knows that. It’s family history. I’d used it to stop my kids from making the same mistake.
“Got pregnant almost to the day you got married, I came along eight months later. That’s the story, isn’t it? But Blackie was killed a month before you got married.” His voice increases in volume. “I’m not stupid. Look at the fuckin’ dates, Mom! I’m not Hellfire’s son, am I? Fuck!” As a wail comes out of his mouth, I step forward to comfort him, he moves out of my reach.
His own head is shaking now as though with that action he can dismiss the implications. But it’s impossible, the thought has taken root. “I’m yours, but not his. He’s not my father. He’s my fucking brother.” The book drops out of his hands onto the floor as he leans over the counter, his head cradled in his arms.
I want to go over and say something, anything, to ease him, to take this new burden from him, but I can’t find the right words to use. Tentatively I move closer, putting my hand on his back, he shrugs it off.
“Why did nobody tell me?” he cries. Then, more sharply, “Who else knows? Who else is in on the joke?”
“No one knows,” I quickly correct him, “and no one treats it as a joke. Maybe they suspected, the old-timers in the club. It’s possible Bomber and Rusty put two and two together. But they can’t know. They’ve never said anything, never hinted.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks again. “I knew Blackie was bad. Just didn’t know I was the result of a rape.”
“Dave, Demon…”
“Not now, not now Mom. I’ve got to have time to process this. Tell Hell I’ll be gone for a few days.”
I open my mouth to tell him Hell’s his father in all the ways that matter, but before I can get out another word, he’s already turned his back on me and is striding out of the room. Within seconds I hear his bike fire up, then the sound rapidly fading into the distance.
I sink to the floor, my head in my hands. The day I never expected, would have wished never to arrive, had come. Demon might be a full-grown man, thirty-five years of age, but he’ll never stop being my little boy. If I could have saved him this pain, I would have.
My tears falling freely, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, saying only when it’s answered, “Hell, come home.”
He might have taken minutes; it might have been hours. I’m in the same position when Hell comes running through the door and finds me sitting on the floor, a hundred used tissues beside me, my eyes red and swollen.
“Darlin’,” he yells when he sees me. Throwing his bike key on the counter, he hunches down beside me. “What’s wrong?” he demands. “Are you hurt? What the fuck happened? Talk to me, woman! Moira, talk to me!”
He’s beside himself. There’s only been one time when he’s seen me anything close to this distraught before. Ironically that was the day he came up with a solution to my problems, the day he asked me to marry him.
“Demon.” I manage to stammer out. “It’s Demon.”
Hell’s face grows dark. “What the fuck has he done?” He swipes his grey hair back, then his hand reaches out and hesitantly touches my face. “Did he hurt you?” He sounds incredulous, and so he should be. Demon’s never raised a hand to me, or any woman.
“No.” My voice is stronger as I deny it adamantly.
“Fuckin’ tell me, Mo. Never seen you like this. You’re scarin’ me, woman.”
I swallow, wipe the tears, which I can’t seem to stop, away from my eyes, then try to get out the words which are going to destroy him. “Hell, he knows. He knows.”
Hellfire goes completely still. The blood drains from his face. His eyes, wide and wild, burn into me. “He knows… what?” He speaks slowly and carefully, enunciating each word precisely as though speaking to a child. But he already understands what I’m alluding to. Just needs me to confirm it.
I point to the discarded club record book, lying, spine broken, on the floor. “He knows, everything. He knows he’s Blackie’s son.”
Hell throws his head back and roars, both hands tearing at his hair. “No, Mo. No.” Rocking on his heels, he tries to gather himself together. After a few minutes when the implications set in, he asks the next question. “How?” But when he picks up the record book, he immediately understands.
“I didn’t know,” I start in a whisper. “He wanted to check some old records. I didn’t know, Hell. Didn’t realise how far back he was looking. Didn’t see anything wrong. How could I have told him he couldn’t search through old club business? He’s done it before. He’s the VP, how could I challenge him?”
Suddenly Hell’s arms are around me, pulling me to him. “You couldn’t have known, darlin’.” His hands start stroking my hair, and now we’re both swaying back and forth. “I brought the books home so he wouldn’t stumble across them. Said we needed space at the club, no one saw anything wrong in that. We keep the last ten years’ records at the clubhouse, anything older than that, I keep in the safe.” He pauses, and his arms hold me tighter. “You’re right, as VP, he can’t be prevented access to any of the paperwork. Just never expected he’d need to search things that happened thirty-six years ago.”
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