Devil's Spawn: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #6

by Manda Mellett

  Her face twists. “No. She came later. I begged him to let her go. I said she was special, he called her stupid. She cried and cried because of the pain of the tattoo but didn’t understand what he’d done. She didn’t realise why all the men would tell her, you’re Major’s, but they just continued until she believed it. It broke my heart when she told me she was his. I’m Major’s, she’d say. And then, when she wouldn’t stop talking, she was tasered. Again and again.” She looks up and her eyes meet mine. “I begged him to let me take her punishment for her.” Again, that full body shudder as if remembering the prongs hitting her. “He took me up on the offer, but that meant if she spoke, we were both tasered... She does talk a little, but only to me, and only when no one’s there.” She looks up and meets my eyes. “He said it didn’t matter she had nothing between her ears, his clients would only care what was between her legs.”

  Mace kicks the chair he’d recently been sitting in. “He’s fuckin’ dead. But he’s not going to go easy. I’ll kill him, revive him, and kill him all over again. He’ll beg to die before I’m finished.”

  I let my eyes fall on Shayla. Mace is so angry, his rage coming off him in palpable waves. I’m concerned how she’ll be taking it and expect to see her cringing in her seat. But she’s not. She’s staring at him wide-eyed in wonder, as if he’s some kind of hero, truly comprehending for the first time that he and I are nothing like Major.

  Although my wants and desires are the same as my brother’s, I’m trying to keep calm so as not to frighten her. I get her attention back to me. “How did you escape, Shayla? From what you said, it sounds impossible. So how did you get free?”

  Slowly she blinks, as if having difficulty switching between Mace’s fury and my patient questioning. She provides her answer. “Esme was special. She was so clearly innocent. Major was waiting for the right time, the right man. I suspect he knew he’d get good money offering up her virginity. I hoped he’d never find someone so twisted…” Her face fills with pain. “They’d broken me. I’d given up searching for a way out. I’d become this obedient slave that did whatever I was asked to do. My life was over. I didn’t have the energy to try to escape anymore. I knew one day, one of the men I was given to was going to kill me, but even that was okay, and I hoped it would come sooner rather than later. Then Esme came along.” Her eyes flare as her mind takes her back in time. “I knew I had to try to get her out, even if it meant sacrificing myself. I couldn’t see how, but I was determined to do it. But no opportunity presented itself. I’d left it too late. He’d found a man who wanted her.”

  “Did he have her?” Mace sounds like he’s hanging on by a thread.

  “No.” A small smile crosses her face. “Major thought he had me in the palm of his hand by then, and Esme would do anything I told her. So he paired me up with her, explaining that I go with her. I think he thought I’d tell her to do whatever the man asked. He didn’t regard me as a flight risk, or not so much as he’d done earlier. There were two of his men with us, but they didn’t come into the bathroom I’d told them we had to use. Oh, they’d checked it and thought the window was too small, too high to get out of.” Her face twists, half in triumph, half in something remembered that wasn’t so pleasant. “Desperation makes us do anything, doesn’t it? A busted leg had to be better than what was planned for us, for her. I went first, landed winded but not broken. Major was right. She did whatever I told her. She jumped too. Landed on me, but she was unharmed. We ran.” Another twist to her face. “Well, she did, I hobbled.”

  I exchange a look with Mace. Fuck, but they were lucky. I’m relieved Esme had been saved from the worst, but gutted what happened to Shayla, and more than a little impressed at the fortitude she’d shown.

  “They must have searched for you,” Mace rasps. “How the fuck did you keep out of their clutches?”

  “We hid, in a dumpster, both of us clinging to the other. Esme knew, somehow she knew to keep quiet and still. We stayed there for two days. There were rats, food rotting around us. But still, she stayed mute, clinging to me, knowing enough that she shouldn’t move or give us away. Not even when a drunk pissed on us.”

  Mace is pacing, when he reaches each wall, again he bangs his fist against it.

  “When I thought it was safe, we emerged. My posh dress was discoloured and torn, Esme’s hair ratted and her clothes unrecognisable. Under cover of darkness, I moved us to the worst part of town. We were so disgusting, even the dropouts avoided us. We lived rough. I pretended Esme was my daughter. I managed to scavenge food and scrounge some clothing from a charity store. Cleaned us up and knew we had to put distance between us and Vegas. So we hitchhiked. Got dropped at a truck stop, and I… I did what I had to do to get us a long-distance ride out of Nevada. We stopped off in one place then another and eventually ended up in Colorado.”

  “You still living rough?” She doesn’t look like it, but then, she’s resourceful.

  She shakes her head. “No, I managed to get a job waiting tables, enough to get a dump of a one-room studio, but it works. All I wanted was to save up enough to get rid of this tattoo, firstly because with it, there’s always a chance the wrong person might see it. Secondly,” she looks up and meets my eyes, “I won’t ever belong to a man again. I’ll never be property. Ever.”

  “You safe?” Mace suddenly swings around.

  I wouldn’t need to be a mind reader to know what he’s thinking as his thoughts are probably along the same lines as mine.

  Her quick look down gives us the answer neither of us like, but then she straightens her back. “The diner’s not too bad. Andy, the owner, keeps a shotgun under the bar. The apartment is cheap, and not in the best part of town, but it’s better than living rough.”

  Her eyes that I thought were so haunted now also seem tired.

  Mace looks like a taut elastic band to me, as if he’s going to snap any moment. I can read the signs, so I’m not surprised when he mumbles something about needing to be somewhere, then opens the door and walks out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mace

  I left Shayla with Liz for two reasons, the main one being I couldn’t stand to be in that room anymore. What I’d heard about her was enough by itself, add a cute kid like Esme into the mix and it becomes so much worse.

  I don’t know who this Major is, have never heard of him before. That’s what had gotten me so uptight, that I couldn’t jump on my bike and go deal with him myself. I’ve an enemy to fight, and I’ve no idea who he is or where he’s to be found.

  It angers me that there are men of his ilk who think they can steal women and own them. I’m not naïve. I know it goes on all the time, but to come face-to-face with someone pulled off the street just because they’ve a pretty face and a body that men would like to fuck is abhorrent to me.

  I’m also annoyed at myself. While I can’t put myself in the mindset of a man who’d fuck a kid like Esme, what was it I thought when I saw Shayla for the first time? That I wanted to sink my dick into her. After hearing her story, I hated that I, too, had seen her not as a person but as a body. The only difference between me and Major is that I like my women willing.

  It’s pulled me up and made me think twice. Most women to me mean little more than having tits and asses which turn me on, exactly what I’d thought when I first saw Shayla.

  Shayla’s story had gotten to me. Sure, she had the assets which made my cock stand to attention, but as I listened, it wasn’t her physical attributes that had me listening to her. It was her bravery, her loyalty. She had stood up for that girl, offered to take her fucking punishment, and risked everything to save her from the future Major had planned for her. She’d done what she had to, to keep them both safe. Her resilience in simply surviving was admirable.

  I’ve never thought of giving a woman my property patch, but I live with men who have. It’s in our bylaws that we mark our women, but I’ve never seen anything wrong in that. To us, our property is something to treasure, to love and protect.
Any of my brothers would be fooling themselves if they thought ownership worked one way. I’d often joked, the old ladies had their men by their balls, but it’s true, when brothers fall, they go down hard. If anything happened to the woman who wore their patch, they’d be devastated. We all know Heart’s story, the man in the Tucson club whose old lady was murdered. He very near followed her into the grave, such was his desolation at her loss.

  Some clubs might treat property differently, but not us. Some clubs pass their women around, but again, not us. For a pimp to kidnap and hold women against their will, that thought fills me with disgust.

  I pause for a moment outside Vi’s station. What fucked up kind of man would take a girl like Esme? Who the fuck would destroy that kid’s trust, seeing her not as a sweet child, but as an opportunity to make money? It’s way beyond my imagination, which brings my thoughts back to Shayla. She’s fully grown, but just thinking about what she’s been through makes me feel physically sick. I may torture the sweet butts, but only sensually, never, ever, would I use a woman who didn’t want it, or said no to anything I proposed and meant it.

  Hitting the heel of my hand against my forehead, I realise it’s only my refusal to force myself on an unwilling woman that separates me from Major or his clients.

  Shayla’s reactions, her nervousness around me and Liz, showed how greatly she’d been damaged. I’ve no idea what she was before, but suspect she knew of the darker side of life only from stories in the newspaper, never expecting to be living it herself. Men were viewed as potential boyfriends, maybe future husbands. Now she knows intimately that there are men who take without giving, who hurt, just because their innate strength means that they can. She was denigrated as something less than human, her own thoughts and feelings meaning nothing at all.

  How does someone come back from that? How can Shayla live with what she was forced to do? She gave up. But wouldn’t we all, if every escape attempt failed and was followed by punishment? When it mattered, she proved she’s a special and resourceful woman. She got away and took Esme with her.

  Is she really safe now? Or is Major still trying to find her? Property. For the first time ever, I think of that word with distaste, the meaning of her property patch one hundred and eighty degrees away from what we believe it stands for.

  I want to find Major, kill him, and make sure she’s out of his clutches forever. It’s become my nightmare, as well as hers, to think he might ever take her back.

  “Mace?” Vi’s standing at the doorway that leads to her station. She jerks her head, inviting me in. It sounds like it hasn’t been the first time she’s called me.

  “Yeah?” I cough and try again when only a strangled word comes out. “Yeah?”

  “Are you alright?” The prez’s wife steps forward and looks up at me, her eyes dark and concerned.

  I shake my head. “Their story, Vi. It’s bad.”

  “Kind of guessed that from the tat they’re both wearing.” She would. She’s seen the dark side of men herself. “Will you come here a moment, Mace?”

  I don’t know why she wants me, but not many people refuse Violet anything. I follow her back to her station. She stops by Esme whose head is bent over a piece of paper.

  “Esme, will you show Mace your drawing?”

  I hate that the girl shrinks into herself when she sees me hovering. Fucking hate it. I stay quiet, knowing I should leave Vi to do the talking. Esme’s learned men can and will hurt her. She needs to be treated like a piece of fragile glass.

  “Go on,” Vi encourages. “I know he’ll like it a lot.”

  Composing my features into the complete opposite of my normal enforcer’s snarl, I take a slow step closer, as though approaching a wild animal, not wanting to make any sudden moves to spook the nervous girl. I prepare myself with platitudes and false praise for when I see what she’s produced.

  Esme looks at Vi, Vi gives her an encouraging nod. Then shyly, she pushes a piece of paper across, withdrawing her hand fast to avoid any touch between hers and mine.

  I pick it up and study it. Then look twice. Raising my eyes, my brow furrows and I toss Vi a questioning look. Vi must have outlined it, and Esme coloured in between the lines.

  Vi interprets what I’m asking, and answers before I use words. “All her work,” she confirms with a smile full of respect and pride targeted toward the young girl.

  Wow, just wow. This kid has some talent. It’s a perfect unicorn. Vi couldn’t have drawn one better herself.

  “Esme, you are one talented young lady.” I’m still staring at the paper in my hand. “This is amazing, sweetheart.” My reaction is totally genuine, and something of that conveys itself to the girl who gives me a tentative smile. I go to give her the picture back, but she shakes her head.

  She mouths something, I can’t translate it. But then she gestures with her hand.

  “For me?” I check to make certain.

  Her energetic nod says yes.

  I have two emotions. Pleasure that she’s sharing something with me, and a doubling of hatred for the man who took away her voice. Every protective instinct rises inside me. Immediately, I know I’ll do everything in my power, so nothing ever hurts her again.

  “Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll treasure it. Tell you what, I’ll get a frame and hang it in my room.”

  She understands me. Her face flushes red, and that quick sunny smile comes to her face. I know right there and then, I’d do anything to make that permanent.

  “I’m going to ring your old man,” I tell Vi, tightly, not looking forward to the conversation I need to have. Then I address the girl who I’d love to reward for my gift with a hug, but refrain, knowing I’ll scare her. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  I step out, walk through the reception area, slipping my already treasured drawing into the desk drawer as I pass. I proceed out front, then around to the alley at the side, and then act on the second reason I’d left Liz and Shayla in his office. I take two objects out of my cut. I light a cigarette first, fuck, I badly need one, then I call up the first pre-set number on my phone.

  “Prez, we’ve got a fuckin’ problem.”

  “I suspect I know what you’re going to tell me. Cad’s just found some info. Major isn’t a biker. He’s a fuckin’ high-class pimp out of Vegas.”

  I’m not surprised the tech guy found out. He always gets there eventually.

  “I’ve got Red’s guys looking into him,” Demon continues, his voice booming down the phone. I turn down the volume a little. What he’s told me is good news. Red’s the prez of the Satan’s Devils’ chapter in Sin City. Hopefully he’ll find Major and it won’t be too long before I can get my hands on him.

  “Shayla brought a friend to also have a tattoo covered.” I fill him in on what he doesn’t know. Proud that I’m keeping myself more or less under control. “She’s fuckin’ underage and has some kind of mental problem. She’s got the same tat as Shayla. He fuckin’ marked a kid as his property, Prez.” I slam my fist holding the cigarette against the wall, making ash drop off. Okay, not so much under control. I draw in a deep breath before continuing, “He intended to pimp out a mentally retarded girl,” I stress, so there can be no misunderstanding. “Just fuckin’ lucky Shayla got her out before he found someone to pay a high enough price.”

  I hear Prez’s sharp intake of breath. “How old is she?”

  “My guess is fifteen or so, could be a little older I guess.”

  “They living safe? Well enough hidden if Major’s looking for them?”

  “They’re living cheap, so no would be my summation. Shayla’s been scrimping to get enough money to cover their tats.” That’s not hard to understand. With that on their backs, it’s a direct link back to the man who believes he owns them.

  “No charge for them,” Demon shoots back quickly. “Liz comfortable doing the work on the girl?”

  “I think so.” I haven’t had a definitive answer from him as yet. “But if he does, we’ll need to keep it quiet, P
rez.”

  “I hear you, Mace. Need to keep our public face clean.”

  “Prez.” I try to find the words to formulate the suggestion that’s been growing in my mind. “I don’t know the risk she’s in, but I suspect Major may well want to reclaim his property. She doesn’t think she’s run far enough, and my gut feel tells me she’s right. Until we know more about this motherfucker ourselves, I think we should treat them as being in danger.”

  “Fuck.” Demon goes quiet while he thinks. “You’re suggesting we bring them here to the compound, aren’t you? What the hell has happened to my enforcer, Mace? I expected you to fuck it up with Vanna and the kid, yet you didn’t. Now you’re falling for a sob story from a couple of strays.”

  His tone is gently mocking, and I don’t take offence. In some ways, his chiding is helping me get my head back into the game, to lock down my rage and turn it into something worthwhile, such as dealing with the situation we’ve been handed. “It is what it is, Prez. How these girls have been treated goes against everything we stand for. I haven’t spoken to Liz, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be feeling the same. And then there’s Vi. She’s been looking after the younger one, taken a shine to her if I’m not wrong.”

  “Christ. If my ol’ lady’s gonna be on my back, I’ll have no fuckin’ chance. Okay, bring them in. Luckily, we’ve still got Skull’s room vacant. They can squat in there until we work out what to do. I’ll call everyone in later. You know what they’re like. Nosy fuckers won’t want to be kept out of the loop.”

  “One problem, Prez. Esme’s terrified of men for good reason, and Shayla’s jumpy as fuck herself.”

  “Make my life easy, why don’t you?” He’s quiet for a moment. “You sure here’s the right place?”

  “No,” I reply, honestly. “But I think we’ll have to try to make it work. Unless you can think of anything else?”

  Demon’s quiet for a couple of moments. “Wish I could, but I can’t. Brothers will just have to wear kid gloves around them. Maybe show this Esme that there are men who can be trusted.”