Slick Running (Satan's Devils #3) (Satan's Devils MC)

by Manda Mellett

  But he’s fixed on the plan. “Be safe, Ella. Don’t take any fuckin’ chances. And remember, let me know as soon as you’re out. We’re relyin’ on you, darlin’. I know you can do this.”

  His voice and his confidence bolsters me, but the mission’s an obvious go, and my brief newfound courage wears off almost as soon as I put down my phone.

  With shaking hands on the steering wheel, and my foot slipping the clutch as I fumble with unfamiliar gear changes, I managed to get to the club and eventually find a place to park. My hands tremble as I lock the car, leaving it in a side street with a pang of regret. If my assignment’s successful I’ll not be driving it again. Slick will be driving me home. That’s the thought that encourages me most. Just a few more hours, then when the cameras are planted I’ll be on my way back to Tucson. With Slick. Just the evening to get through, surely there can’t be too much problem with that?

  My stomach churns with nerves as I approach the building ahead, a tumbledown warehouse which has seen better days. It’s a biker club. And all I’ve got to do is go in and flirt. They’ll do the rest. Then I’ll hide the tiny devices currently hidden in my fuck-me-heels and get away fast. That doesn’t sound like much work.

  Walking up I slow, apprehensively eying the number of Harleys parked up. Then with a deep breath to fortify myself I step forward. Exuding a confidence I don’t feel, I come up to the entrance, tagging behind another scantily clad female entering ahead of me.

  “Hey, you. You’re new.”

  An arm whips out to block my way. I stop and tilt my head to one side, giving the man a flirtatious smile. I lick my lips with my tongue. I can’t fail at the first hurdle.

  My actions have the desired effect. He laughs and steps aside, waving me past. And as easy as that I walk in through the gates of hell.

  Early the next morning I dislodge the heavy arm holding me captive, carefully trying not to disturb the sleeping body snoring by my side. I’m grabbing my clothes when, to my dismay, the man wakes up and stirs, his eyes watching me suspiciously.

  “Where ya goin’?”

  It hurts to breathe, but I try to keep it together as I answer, “I’ve got to ring my mom. She likes me to check in.”

  Fuck knows they must be used to this, using women so cruelly. He doesn’t say anything, just allows me to move, then turns over and almost immediately the rasping snores start ringing out again. Moving silently and painfully, checking no one else is stirring, I go behind the bar and plant the miniscule cameras I’ve removed from my shoes.

  Then I ring Slick, praying he’ll answer the phone.

  Another biker appears, he’s standing with his arms folded, mistrustfully listening to my call.

  “Mom, I… Oh, my. Are you alright? I’ll come now.”

  Turning to the onlooker, I shrug. “My mom’s real poorly, she’s had a fall. I’ve got to go to her.”

  Shaking his head as though he couldn’t give a damn, he turns away. Holding my shoes in one hand, I tiptoe around sleeping bodies, making my way outside, pausing to gulp as much sweet-smelling air into my lungs as I can. It’s not much, I’m too sore to take deep breaths.

  I tentatively nod at the prospect manning the gate, relieved when he slides it open allowing me to pass. I see the black SUV waiting just a little way down the road.

  Expecting shouts to come after me any moment, I force myself to walk calmly, hiding my pain both inside and out, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I stagger slightly as I come to the door. It’s opened from the inside, and awkwardly I ease myself in.

  My words tumble out of me, my tone full of hate. “Just tell me, Slick, whatever you’re doing. You’re going to rain Satan’s wrath on those fuckers back there.”

  He gives me a sharp look as he wastes no time moving off. “What the fuck did they do to you, Ella?”

  I can’t tell him. “Let’s just say they were rough.”

  Thumping the steering wheel, he jerks his foot on the throttle making the car lurch forward. I let out a groan.

  “You’re hurt.” It’s a statement, not a question, he can see that I am. “Ella, I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” His voice is full of regret.

  “It’s done, Slick. I did what you asked me to do.” I sound emotionless.

  “I didn’t want them to harm you.” Glancing sideways, I see he’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. Then he tells me through gritted teeth, “You’re gonna be alright, Ella.”

  It’s a platitude, a weak promise that he’ll be unable to follow through. I don’t think I’ll ever be alright again.

  “Just take me home, Slick.”

  “No can do, darlin’. You’re comin’ back to the compound until we finish our business with the Demons.” He takes his hand off the steering wheel and squeezes mine. I flinch, rubbing my fingers as though to wipe away his touch. Slick growls as he notices and slams his hand back on the wheel. “Fuck!” he swears loudly, but I know he’s not cursing at me.

  Another few miles pass. “Ella, we owe you one fuck of a lot.” His eyes flick toward me before returning to the road. He doesn’t miss the way my mouth is pursed, my arms folded protectively over my middle. “Don’t worry, darlin’, we’ll get Doc to the club. He’s a medic and will look after you.” He mutters something inaudible under his breath.

  For the remainder of the journey we drive on in silence, me lost in my pain, him in simmering anger. When we arrive at the compound I start to shiver as the gates slide shut behind us, locking me in. The last place I want to be is in another biker club. I’d much prefer to take my chances at home.

  Slick parks the car and, coming around to the passenger side, offers a hand to help me out. I’m biting my lip, my eyes wide open and looking around, then anchoring back on him as though he’s my rock.

  His brow creases as he senses my uneasiness. “Look, darlin’, I know you’d rather go back to your place. But it’s possible they clocked you plantin’ the cameras, and we want to keep you safe. We owe you,” he repeats, then gestures to my ribs. “Stay until you feel better. Least we can fuckin’ do for ya. I promise we’ll keep you safe.”

  I’m scared of being here, but his suggestion the Phoenix club might find the cameras I planted and come after me is just as terrifying, if not worse. Now I know just how much Jill had misled me, at this point I’ll be happy if I never see another biker for the rest of my life. My teeth start chattering even though warmth of the sun is permeating the car.

  “Come on. Let’s get you looked at. Doc should be here soon.” Slick tries to encourage me, his voice is gentle but his jaw is set.

  “Slick, I…” I can’t, I’m screaming inside. I don’t want to take a step into his club.

  “Come,” he urges again, indicating the building we’ve parked alongside, drawing my attention to it for the first time. Even from my quick glance it’s obvious the Satan’s Devils clubhouse is a million miles away from the one I went to last night. Bizarrely, the front façade resembles a foyer and reception of a hotel. Apart from the row of Harleys parked outside, it doesn’t look much like a home for bikers.

  The striking difference is what gives me the courage to get out of the car. Slick puts his hand to my back to encourage me inside. I pull away, preferring to move of my own volition. Once through the doors he leads me over and seats me on the couch. My shoulders are hunched over, protecting my ribs, and my right arm is hugging my stomach. My cheek throbs from where I was hit.

  “Hey, VP, come ‘ere a sec.” Slick’s voice washes over me. As I hear footsteps approach he continues, “Wraith, this is Ella.”

  A stranger hunkers down in front of me, lifting his hands as if to push back my hair to get a better look at my face. I flinch before he can touch me, and then feel Slick putting his arm around me possessively, and I shudder at his touch. He lets me go immediately.

  “Sorry, darlin’,” the man called Wraith says to me, then looks up at Slick. “She get caught?”

  With a shake of hi
s head, Slick tells him, “No. She did what she went there to do. Cameras should be transmittin’ now well enough. This,” he waves his hand down to emphasis the state that I’m in, “this is just how they treat their women.”

  Their VP swears softly, then asks, “Doc look at her?”

  “I’ve called him, he’s on his way in. Reckon you’ve got a broken rib, don’t ya, babe?”

  I nod and Wraith growls, “Fuckin’ bastards.” Turning back to Slick, he asks, “Told Drum yet?”

  “Haven’t had a chance, I was just goin’ in to see him.”

  Suddenly the clubroom doors swing open, and in walks a familiar face. As soon as she sees me Jill runs over, her eyes widening in horror as she takes in the state I’m in. When she demands to know what happened, I make something up on the spot.

  “I was mugged.”

  “Oh, Ella!” She goes to hug me, but mindful of my ribs I back away.

  “You take care of her,” Slick tells her. “I’m off to see Drum. Doc will be here in a bit. Get her set up in my room, got it?”

  His room? No! But before I can protest he’s disappeared down a corridor. One by one bikers follow him, and I suspect they’ve got some kind of meeting. Probably to discuss the devices I’d planted. I should be proud of myself for having completed my task, but I’m not. Success had come with far too high a cost.

  Jill leaves instructions with a biker manning the bar to have Doc follow us, and then helps me walk to a bloc further up the compound.

  “Where did it happen, Ella? Did you have much taken?”

  I wouldn’t be in this state had I not listened to her, and I’m mindful I need to keep quiet on all that had happened. I shudder, remembering Slick’s threat if I disclose anything that he told me—if he’d wanted her to know, he wouldn’t have sent her away that night. I ignore her inquisition as we walk past interlinked units and, to take my mind off the pain, and hers off my predicament, I ask about my surroundings.

  “What is this place?”

  “It’s an old vacation resort,” Jill informs me. “A fire destroyed it, the club bought it up cheap and rebuilt. Each of these units has two suites. Up the top there’s some houses as well, where I live with the girls.” She pauses for a moment. “Not sure why Slick wanted you in his room and not with us.”

  As I glance at her face, she seems to be frowning. “I’d rather be with you,” I gasp out. The last thing I want to do is stay with a biker who might expect to make good on his promise to reward me for the job I’d done. But then again, I don’t want to stay with the sweet butts and give the wrong impression.

  When the slight incline makes me winded and I have to stop, her expression turns to one of concern. “Look, Slick’s is the next unit. He shares it with Wraith. Or did, before Wraith got an ol’ lady. He’s got it all to himself now. Not far to go.”

  Staggering on the last few steps, I follow her in through an entrance. She opens one of the two doors and I get a first look inside. Slick’s huge room looks clean and tidy. It’s dominated by a large bed, and there’s a desk, a wardrobe, and a couple of comfortable looking chairs by a window. Outside there’s a balcony looking over the desert. While not in the state to appreciate it, I can tell it’s a glorious view in a beautiful spot. You can see for miles. Right over to a range of mountains in the distance.

  “Chair or bed?” she asks as I pause before entering.

  “Chair,” I respond, not knowing how long Slick will be and not wanting to look like I’m issuing an invitation if he finds me lying flat out. “I won’t be staying here. I’ll be off home later after I’ve been fixed up.” I can’t stay. Being in the compound’s bad enough. Slick’s room is even worse. And any notion of being a sweet butt has been knocked on its head. Despite Slick’s warnings, my fear of him and his Satan’s Devils brothers outweighs the unlikely possibility that the Rock Demons could find out who I am or where I live.

  A rap at the door and a man enters. He’s not wearing a cut, although he’s dressed as a biker. He’s carrying a bag in his hands.

  “This is Doc.” Jill confirms my suspicions.

  With a nod to her, wasting no time, he comes over. Gentle hands touch my face, becoming insistent when I try to back away.

  “Easy, sweetheart. Just let me see what I’m dealin’ with here.” He holds my chin in one hand, probing my cheek with his other. “Nasty bruise here, darlin’, but yer cheek bone’s intact. Now where else are ya hurting?”

  “I think I’ve broken a rib.”

  “Can I see?”

  Jill’s face seems full of encouragement, clearly seeing there’s nothing wrong with his request. As he is acting so professionally, I slowly lift my t-shirt, exposing the darkening area on my ribs. He looks into my eyes, his head tilted in question. Preparing myself with as deep a breath as I can, I let his hands probe lightly, unable to suppress a squawk of pain.

  “Hmm, I think you’ve definitely broken a couple, and that must be painful. I’ll give ya some painkillers.”

  “Gonna strap them up?” Jill asks.

  He shakes his head. “Strappin’ can do more damage than good,” he tells us. “They’ll heal on their own if you just take it easy. If you cough or sneeze, try and lean forward to keep the pressure off, okay?”

  Jill’s looking concerned. “I thought they had to be taped or something.” She frowns as though she doesn’t think he’s doing his job properly.

  With another dismissive shake he says, “Tape them up and you could force a jagged end into the lungs. I know it looks like I’m doing nothin’ for ya, but here time will be your best healer. And being careful. Do ya work?”

  “In a bar.”

  “You’ll need to take time off and rest.”

  “She will, Doc.” My eyes widen as I hadn’t heard Slick entering. My heart begins to beat faster as he enters the room, but it’s not with desire. It’s with terror. What will he expect from me? Back at my house I’d all but begged him to fuck me. Now that’s the last thing I want. I shudder.

  “Are you hurtin’ anywhere else?” Doc’s watching me carefully, and I hide the lie as I deny any other injury. Then he rummages in his bag and pulls out a box. “Painkillers. Take two now and two in four hours. Call me back if you need me.” His face creases with sympathy. “I know it hurts, darlin’, so you get some rest. Okay?”

  Slick slaps him on the back. “Thanks Doc. Dollar will sort your bill out as normal.”

  As the medic leaves, Jill hovers as though she’s not sure whether she should stay or not. Slick doesn’t keep her waiting long before saying, “I’ll take it from here, Jill.”

  I don’t want her to go, don’t want to be left alone with him. But having learned only too well what happens when you speak back to a biker, I’m too scared to contradict him and ask her to stay. My eyes follow her as she departs, lingering for a second on the closing door.

  And then return to Slick, who’s watching me carefully as though trying to interpret the expression on my face.

  After a moment he opens a mini-fridge and extracts a bottle of water. “Here.” He offers it to me along with two of the painkillers. I take them, but don’t swallow them. I’m sore and tired, and I suspect they’ll be strong and probably put me to sleep. And I’m in a strange man’s room. A biker’s room.

  He raises his head and closes his eyes, and then comes and kneels in front of me, his hands going either side of my chair. “You had a rough night, darlin’. And the last thing you want is another man fuckin’ touchin’ you. I ain’t stupid, I can see that.” Slowly he shakes his head. “Truth is, I didn’t have it much easier. I didn’t sleep worryin’ like fuck about you.” His fingers stretch out and gently brush against the bruise on my face. “You don’t know how hard it was imaginin’ what could be happenin’ to yer. I wanted to rush in there and drag ya back out.”

  He was worried about me? Oh, how I wish he had come and rescued me. He thought he had it bad? He should have tried being me. My lips purse and I glare. Quickly I try to hide my e
xpression.

  His piercing blue eyes give me such a scrutiny I think he must see down to my soul. “There’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”

  Trying to deny it, I shrug then wince. “I told you, they were rough.” And that’s all I’m going to admit. The sooner I can forget what happened, the better. Forget? I’ll never forget.

  “I’ve spoken to Drum, that’s our prez. He and the brothers appreciate all that you’ve done. And it wasn’t for nothin’. Everythin’s workin’. Because of what you’ve done, the Rock Demons will get what they fuckin’ deserve. And that’s the last I can tell you about that.” Standing, he holds out his hand. “I’m fuckin’ dead, woman. I just need to sleep. And I need to have you beside me to know that you’re safe.” He points to a closed door. “That there’s a bathroom, go shower or just change. I’ll give you one of my shirts to wear and then we’re going to bed.”

  I recoil, and he notices. Both hands go up and smooth over the dome of his head, “Fuck, I’m not a bastard, Ella. You’re hurt and sore and fuck knows what else. I’m not takin’ advantage of you. I truly just want to sleep.”

  Scanning his features, there’s nothing to suggest he’s not being honest. He looks so tired, almost broken, that it makes me believe him. And boy, do I want a shower to wash all the filth away. Hoping I’m not doing the wrong thing, I give in. Unable to ignore the pain any longer, I at last swallow the tablets, then pull my sore body up, pause briefly waiting for the dizziness to go, then, moving crouched over, go into the bathroom. I have the water far too hot and stay under it far too long. My skin looking pruned and covered with his shirt—which reaches down to my thighs—I return to find he’s lying on one side of the king-size bed, fully clothed and leaving more than sufficient space for me.

  The painkillers and the long hours I’ve been awake, combined with stress, makes the bed look inviting. Trembling, I lie down beside him. Although he’s not touching me, I can feel the warmth of his skin radiating toward me and, despite my trepidation, strangely it’s a source of comfort not to be alone. I close my eyes. Quickly flicking them open again to check he hasn’t moved. Little snuffling noises show he’s already sleeping. Reassured, I give in, unable to stay awake any longer.