Devil's Due: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #3

by Manda Mellett

  He’s right. I am.

  His observation marks the end of our conversation. I leave his office feeling slightly adrift. I don’t know what the members think of me turning up here, nor yet understand the dynamics of the club. In Tucson I wouldn’t have hesitated, knowing what to say to whom, and where each brother’s interests lay. Here, I’m a stranger among strangers.

  It would be easy to gravitate to Pal and spend time updating him on shit going down in Tucson. But mindful I need to get to know the brothers not only to make my life easier, but also as I’m here to make my own assessment of whether one just needs a nudge and encouragement to step up to the VP spot. The job Drummer assigned requires me to mingle and get to know the men as well as I do those back home.

  Glancing around I notice Pyro, Buzz, Skull and Bomber have a card game going on. Seems as good a way as any to while away a few hours on a Sunday afternoon.

  I saunter over to their table. “Got space for one more?”

  Bomber gives me an assessing look. “Don’t know you, do we? Might be a fuckin’ card shark for all we know.”

  “Don’t know you either. Could be dealin’ from the back of the pack, old man.”

  “Now that settles it.” He glares. “You ain’t joining in. No way I’m fuckin’ old.”

  Grinning, I note he didn’t refute he could be cheating.

  “You looked in the mirror recently, Bomb?” Skull, the youngest, asks with wide eyes, his head shaking side to side.

  Buzz kicks out a seat, he’s chuckling like everyone else. “Tucson’s money is the same as ours. Don’t mind taking a load off you, Brother.”

  I keep my face impassive as I eye the pile of bills in front of the treasurer. He’ll be the one to watch. I’ve played with Rock for years, lost more than I can count to him, but also have learned a trick or two. It will be interesting to see if any of those can be applied here. Strictly above board, of course. When it comes to my brothers I don’t hold with dishonesty, in any form.

  A couple of hours later I glance at my phone as the current game comes to a close. Bomb starts to deal the cards again, but I hold up my hand, indicating he should leave me out.

  His brows meet. “You’re taking the money and running? Not giving us a chance to win it back? Just starting to get a feel for you, man.”

  Which means it’s a good time to go. Before they recognise my tells.

  It’s Pyro that comes to my rescue. “Yeah, you’re going to take that bitch to see her dog. Or,” he frowns, “feel him I suppose.”

  “Yeah. Picking her up soon.” Just need a piss then I’m ready to go.

  “Say hi from me. Hope the dog’s no worse.”

  Standing I place my hand on his shoulder. “So do I.” My response is heartfelt. The afternoon’s entertainment has cleared Stevie from my mind, but now she, and her problems, return. I hope that dog’s okay. If it’s not? I don’t know what the fuck she’ll do.

  Beside hers, Sally’s problems pale into insignificance. Sure, Sal was upset when she’d been forced to return to her abusive husband, but she’d not had long at his side until he had been exposed for the fraud he was. She’d stayed on the compound, sheltered from all the media attention, then had me by her side when she started to build a life for herself in Tucson. Marcia had helped her get the schools arranged for her kids, I’d got her a car. She was fine driving to the shops by herself, taking the kids to school and all the household chores. While I was out working for the club, she’d get on just fine.

  Except.

  What we should eat, what brand of fucking toilet paper we should use? Which store we should go to? Even what clothes she should wear became a topic. At the start I thought she was just learning my preferences, but it went on and on. Not one decision would she make for herself. I know there are some men with a dominant personality that like a personal slave, but I’m not one of those. I don’t even insist on the dominant role in bed, in fact, I find it sexy when a woman turns the tables on me.

  I became tired. Worn. My head, buzzing with club problems, I wanted to relax when I came home. Not go through a shopping list for a week.

  I hadn’t realised at first, hadn’t diagnosed the problem. Until one night she’d been sitting beside me on the couch, her eyes slowly closing, then she’d jerk back awake, and force a smile onto her face, and ask if there was anything I needed. I’d told her to go to bed. When I’d stated it clearly, she’d got up and done what I said. Yeah. She was actually waiting to be instructed. My head shakes as I remember. Even after I’d explained she didn’t need me to tell her what to do, she’d ask for permission instead.

  If I ever dip my toe in the water again I’d want the woman by my side to be my partner, just like Rock, Mouse, Peg, hell, all the brothers with old ladies have. It had been too exhausting, when all I wanted to do was be me, not the man she wanted.

  That’s why I’m so leery of getting involved again. There’s no way I want to be caught in the same trap.

  I’m not late, but when I pull up outside, the front door’s already opening, and Stevie’s standing at the door. As I approach, my eyes look her up and down. She’s got on tight narrow-leg jeans which hug the curvature of her perfect thighs, boots more suited to winter weather but perfect for going on the bike, and another of her tight tees that shows she’s got more than enough breast for me. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail. She might not have been prepared for yesterday’s ride but has made up for it today. Surprisingly, she looks a biker chick in every way. I’m not complaining, I love the look on her.

  But I have to admonish her. “Shouldn’t open the door, babe. Not before checking who’s come knocking.”

  Shit, how can she do that? She can’t look out.

  “Beef,” she sighs, and points. “Intercom right there. Not one hundred percent if someone really wants to fool me, but I can probably tell more from a voice than most people. And I knew it was going to be you, Beef.”

  “Babe, just because you knew I was coming—”

  “Your bike. The engine is unique. When you shift down into first, there’s a tiny rattle.”

  My mouth drops open. I’ll be fucked. I hadn’t even noticed that myself. Doubt it’s anything to worry about, I’d have heard it if it was serious.

  “Not much gets past you, does it?”

  She grins at the compliment. “I think my brain uses the processing power it used to apply to vision to understand what my other senses are telling me. I see the world, just in a different way than most people.”

  “Do you visualise shit?” I don’t know why I ask her. But when she says see, what does she mean by it?

  “I’ve a memory of what a motorcycle looks like, but no, I don’t bother translating what I hear or touch anymore. To me something is what it sounds like, feels like, smells like.” She leans in and sniffs. “Leather and diesel. Beer and cigarettes. Do you smoke?”

  “Nah, well, the odd joint. But the men in the clubhouse here do.”

  “Here? Not where you came from?”

  I laugh. “Too many kids around.”

  “Lots of changes to get used to.” Her head dips as though she understands. I suppose she does, she’s in a new environment too.

  She’s right, but I don’t comment on it. “You need anything? Or are you ready to go see how Max is?”

  “I can’t wait to see him. Let me just get my purse.” She turns, confidently walks back into her house and within moments comes out with a strap slung over her shoulder. “But I know how he’s doing. I rang James just now. I didn’t want any nasty surprises.”

  I can understand. “How is he?”

  “Holding his own and fighting.”

  Good boy.

  Chapter Eleven

  Max is indeed holding his own, I’m certain I can see an improvement. His eyes look better and more focused, and he licked Stevie’s hand more than once. James wasn’t on duty, but another vet who seemed to be just as competent was there. While Stevie was with her canine friend, I took the vet t
o one side.

  “Will James be able to operate tomorrow?”

  “In my professional opinion, yes.” He glances at me, then at Stevie. His eyes soften as she gently runs her hands over her dog’s fur. “He’s a service dog. He’s got an important job to do. You can be sure that we will do our best to get him back on his feet. Normally I’d warn this is expensive, but in the circumstances, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t have a very good insurance plan. Maybe from the organisation that supplied him.”

  I might have won a few dollars earlier, but the vet’s assumption makes me feel better.

  “I’ll get the details from Ms Nichols before you go. We’ve gone this far on your assurance to pay.”

  “What happens after the op?”

  “Normally he’d be ready to go home that evening, but he will need care.” He lowers his voice. “James and I have been discussing his situation. I take it you’re not Ms Nichols’ partner?” At the shake of my head, he continues, “We’re not convinced that alone she’d be able to care for him as needed. He’ll need to be brought back in for bandage changes, given an assortment of tablets. If it’s easier for her, we’ll keep him here for a few days. How long depends on him really.”

  I agree. While Stevie would be delighted to have her dog home with her, his needs will be challenging. I can’t commit to being there to help out, hell, she might not even want me to offer. We’re little more than acquaintances. The vets’ solution is generous, and under the circumstances, makes sense.

  I’m staring at Stevie, my thoughts whirring. “And after that? As you say, he’s a working dog. How long until he makes a full recovery?”

  “I’ve seen dogs bouncing around as if nothing’s happened after a couple of weeks. But technically, bones will heal in six to twelve weeks. It depends on him, it could be a lot longer before he’s back to his old self. I haven’t got a crystal ball, though I often wish I had. What you want to know is when he’ll be able to wear a harness again and take on his responsibilities, well, I don’t know. But I’d say you’re looking at three months or more. He will be able to go for gentle walks earlier than that. I’m sorry I can’t be more definite, but dogs, like people, are different.”

  “Rod?”

  “Ah, excuse me, will you? Oh, and tell Ms Nichols we need all her details for payment.”

  I nod automatically, then stare again at Stevie. She’s going to be lost without that dog. For the first week or so, she isn’t even going to have him at home.

  She turns, unaware I’m watching her. “He feels so much better, Beef. Yesterday I could barely feel his heart beating, today it feels stronger. They’re going to operate aren’t they?”

  “They are. I trust James, and this guy seems to know what he’s talking about too.” I walk closer and crouch down beside her. “They wouldn’t put him under so soon if there was any risk.”

  “I know. It’s still going to be hard though.”

  “He wants to know the insurance details, Stevie.”

  A flicker of something comes over her face. “Oh, I’ve got them at home. Can I just leave my credit card details for now? I’ll have to dig all that info out.”

  When we go out to the reception area, there’s a woman sitting behind the desk. Apparently today a vet nurse isn’t doing double duties. “Ah, Ms Nichols.” She looks up as we pass. “I’m glad your boy’s doing well.” As Stevie nods in her direction, she continues, “We didn’t get all the information from you the other night. Can you provide it now?”

  Feeling Stevie stiffen by my side, I interrupt, “I left my details for payment.”

  “Yes, but I take it Max is insured?”

  Stevie seems flustered. “He is. But I don’t have the information at hand. I’ll give you my credit card and start the claim later.”

  “This will run into thousands of dollars. And I mean thousands,” she emphasises. “You must get that claim initiated.”

  “I know,” Stevie insists. “But I have difficulty completing forms as you can see.” Her mouth trembles.

  The way she’s said it has the receptionist sitting back, her features rearranged in an expression of regret. “I’m sorry. Take your time. Yes, your credit card will be fine for now.”

  I’m about to offer help filling in any fucking form, but it’s the first time Stevie’s offered the I’m blind card. I frown as I look down at her, wondering why.

  The vet, Rod, reappears from the back. “Ah, Ms Nichols. Before you go. Any idea where Max’s microchip might be? James couldn’t find it in his neck, and we didn’t want to move him around too much to search for it. Has a vet told you where it is before?”

  At my obvious confusion, Rod goes on to explain, “They’re implanted in the neck, but it’s not uncommon for them to migrate around the body. Sometimes even ending up in a leg. I’m sure he’ll have one, all service dogs do.”

  “He has one,” Stevie confirms, “but I don’t know where it is.” There’s a tic at the side of her eye that another person might not notice, but I’m used to looking for things that give people away. She’s lying. She’s also biting her lip, her brow furrowing, her mouth opens and shuts.

  “Well, no worries. James will find it tomorrow when he’s got him sedated for the op.”

  Her expression lightens, and she decides to speak up. “I’m afraid I didn’t change the details. It’s still in the name of the woman who bred him. I,” again her lip tremors. “I didn’t bother as it was too hard for me to do.”

  Surely there’s something on the computer that would help her? A conversation comes into my head. What do you do for a living? I’m a computer programmer. Something doesn’t add up. All I know is when the vet finds the microchip, Max won’t be registered in her name. Could he be stolen? I, of all people, don’t give a fuck about that. But I’d like to know what I’m dealing with. She might need help.

  “That’s fine, Ms Nichols. A lot of people don’t bother changing the registration, and it’s perfectly understandable in your case. As long as your insurance company is happy with that, I don’t see a problem.”

  If I hadn’t spent most of my adult life, or at least, since I left the Army, living with an outlaw MC, I’d have taken everything Stevie had said at face value. But I have. Although we try to exist on the right side of the law, losing men to prison isn’t easy, we do stumble back and forth across that line. Back in Bastard’s day we were firmly on the wrong side. Then, I’d been involved in debt collection, learning from one of the old-timers. When a man said he couldn’t pay up, there were ways to tell whether it was because he simply had no desire to, or truly lacked the ability. If I’d gone to her to collect a debt, I’d say she just didn’t want to part with the cash while pleading poverty.

  I’d actually been out flexing my muscles when the club had been decimated. That had saved me, along with Rock who’d been doing prison time when all the shit went down. We were two of the few survivors.

  But my reminiscing is beside the point.

  Why is she lying? I dismiss the notion her having Max was the result of a theft. He’s too well trained. Perhaps she’s not kept up with the insurance? Well, at times anyone can struggle to make ends meet.

  I think more on it as I lead her out to my bike and decide that’s probably the most likely explanation. She wants, needs, her dog back and is saying all the right things to get him fixed. She’ll worry about paying for it when he’s fit. Yeah, I’m sure I’ll find money at the root of it. I’d meant it when I said I’d step in and help. I’ve got money doing little more than sitting in a bank account and earning more of it, thanks to Dollar’s advice. Using it for a charitable purpose, don’t people do that all the time?

  For now the vet’s got two assurances of payment, one on her card, one on mine. We’ll worry about everything else later.

  Almost an expert now, she climbs on the bike behind me without hesitation. As her arms go around my waist, I can feel slight vibrations as if she’s shaking. It’s clear she’s upset. Worrying about Max? Or a
bout the money.

  “Babe. Got some winnings burning a hole in my pocket. Feel like stopping off and getting something to eat?”

  She doesn’t answer immediately. “It’s a nice idea Beef, but not tonight, okay? I’m worried about Max, and not in the mood for company.”

  “Those forms. You want help with them?”

  This time her answer comes fast. “No, I can do it myself.”

  Can she though? Or, will she even bother?

  I’ve no choice but to take her home, walk her to the front door just to be gentlemanly, then it’s awkward on the doorstep. For some reason her demeanour has completely changed, it’s as if I’m a stranger, no longer a friend. That hurts.

  I try once again. “I’d like to help you, Stevie.”

  She stiffens. “I don’t need help.”

  Not knowing her well enough to press it, I’m going to have to leave it for now. “Okay. Call if you need me. I’ll check in with you about Max tomorrow, see how he does after the op.”

  “There’s no need, Beef.”

  “It’s no trouble. You want to visit him? You call me, not a taxi, okay?”

  A nod, which doesn’t tell me anything. Then her key is placed directly into the lock, the door opens then closes behind her. I’m left staring at the wood, wondering why I have this feeling that anything between us had just turned into dust. I’ve known her for twenty-four hours. Why should her dismissal matter?

  I have no idea. But it does. Maybe it’s because I’m a natural carer. I see a problem, I want to help solve it. Yeah, and that’s how I got chained to Sally.

  Riding back to the compound, my uneasy feeling doesn’t get any better. In fact, it gets worse. Something about the woman I just left is worrying me. As I back into a free parking space against the wall of the clubhouse, I come to the conclusion that if she won’t tell me, I’ll find out about her myself. Then, if she needs assistance, I can be prepared to provide it. As long as I maintain the boundaries, can’t be any harm in that. She’s apparently got no one else.

  If I was walking into the Tucson clubhouse it would take more than a minute to get to the bar, brothers would be stopping me, engaging me in conversation. Might be questions about my bike, might, under these circumstances, be right up in my business about the blind woman and her dog. Here I’m still a visitor rather than a trusted friend, so apart from Pyro calling out, “How’s the dog?” and my raised thumb to show he’s still okay, that’s the end of any impedance.