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

by Manda Mellett

  I wake to sun blazing through the windows and the sound of voices murmuring.

  “What took you so long?” Slick growls, and then speaking over the excuse. “Now get out of here, Prospect.” At odds with his angry tone, he chuckles as the door closes. Seeing I’m awake, he walks across with two steaming mugs. Even from here I can smell they must contain coffee. “Got to keep ‘em on their toes,” he explains. At my look of confusion he continues, “Prospects do shit for us to earn their patch. Keep forgettin’ you don’t know our world yet, darlin’.”

  And I never want to. I try to sit up, my ribs seem to have seized during the night.

  Putting down the mugs he comes over, his hand reaching out, then stopping in mid-air. “Gonna put my arm around ya, help you up.”

  The alternative is to lie here as boneless as a jellyfish, so accepting his assistance, I nod. His touch is so gentle, giving just enough support that I can get my butt under me. He places a pillow behind my back and puts a coffee within reach alongside the painkillers.

  “I’m not staying here, Slick.” My voice sounds weak, even I don’t recognise it as mine.

  But he’s not having it. “We’ve been over that, darlin’. You’re stayin’ until we can guarantee there’s no blowback from last night. Couple of weeks should do it. And you need lookin’ after. Until you’re on yer way to healin’.”

  If I stay I’m terrified of what they might want me to do. I put him straight right away. “I’m not going to be a sweet butt, Slick.” Last night with the Rock Demons proved I wasn’t cut out to be a whore.

  His eyes open wide. “Fuck, Ella. I know that.” He pauses, brushing his hand over the smooth dome of his head. “I’ve told the brothers that too.” Pulling up a chair to the side of the bed, he sinks onto it, and puts his head in his hands. After a couple of seconds he looks up. “Thing is, El, we have two types of women here. Ol’ ladies and sweet butts. Don’t have nothin’ in between. If you’re in the club you’re in one of those categories.”

  “Then I obviously can’t stay.”

  He gives a half-smile. “Yeah you can.”

  “Slick…”

  “Listen to me. Ella, I’ve claimed ya.”

  I straighten up fast, ignoring pain lashing through my ribs. “You what?”

  “Thing is, Ella, I reckon there could be somethin’ between us.” He points at himself and then at me, “I liked ya from the first time I met ya. Already know I don’t want any of the other fuckers near ya. So I claimed ya as my property so they’ll keep their hands off.”

  I start pushing myself up, wanting to get away. My head swims but I fight through the pain.

  “Where the hell are ya goin’?” Slick stands, his hands coming out to steady me. Trying to evade him, I fall back down on the bed, trying to smother the yelp of pain.

  “I’ve got to get out of here, Slick. I can’t… I’m not ready.”

  His eyes narrow. “Hey, hey. I’m not going to push ya. You think I’ll take advantage when you’re in this fuckin’ state?” His hands slide over his shaved head. “Don’t reckon you’ve told me quite everything, but I can tell you’re scared. No need to be afraid of me, darlin’. We take this slow, take as long as ya want. Can’t deny my cock wants in ya, but I’m prepared to wait. Let your ribs heal. I didn’t touch ya last night, did I? I ain’t gonna force ya. Fuck!” He seems disappointed that I even thought that he would.

  I move my head from side to side. He didn’t, and I trusted him not to. But what’s he telling me? “What do you mean you’ve claimed me? If I’m not a sweet butt…” I go back over what he’s said. “That would make me an old lady.”

  “Damn right it does. You’re my ol’ lady. But we’ll go at your pace, El. I’m in no rush. But I want you here, in my room. Okay?”

  That seems to mean he’s given me his protection. What he doesn’t understand is the thought of any man touching me makes my skin crawl. Even him.

  My lips purse. “If I stay, Slick, I can’t give you anything.”

  “Understand how you’re feelin’, darlin’. I promise, no pressure. We’ll go at your pace.” I try to interpret the look in his eyes. Does he mean it?

  This conversation is far from finished, and I’m still miles away from being convinced. What if my pace is never? But it’s brought to an end as we’re interrupted by the sound of giggling and female voices outside the door. Flicking my eyes to him in surprise, I see the corners of his mouth turn up. “Wondered how long they’d be able to stay away.”

  “Sweet butts?” I ask him, seeing if I can recognise Jill’s voice.

  He laughs. “No. You’re an ol’ lady now and won’t be mixin’ with the likes of them.” Getting off the chair, he opens the door and speaks to the unknown women outside. “Come in and meet Ella, reckon she’d like some company.” He ushers them in. “El, this is Sophie, she’s our VP’s woman, this ‘ere is Sandy who’s Viper’s… Fuck, are all of ya here?” He moves over to give them room. “Come on in. Crystal, she’s with Heart, and Carmen who’s with Bullet.” He stands back as they pile in, and wipes his hand across his head, turning to me with a wink. “Fuck this, I’m out of here. Reckon I’d lose my man card if I stay.”

  And that’s how I meet the rest of the old ladies, of which I’m now apparently one of their number. They’re welcoming and friendly, sympathetic, but don’t allow me to wallow in my pain. From those very first introductions they take me under their wing, teaching me all I need to know about the club. At first taking turns to keep me company then, as I heal and no longer have a reason to hide in Slick’s room, they force me down to the clubhouse. I always stay close to one of them, and avoiding the main room I keep to the kitchen, out of the way of most of the men. The women are good company, and one’s normally cooking. Unused to doing nothing, I start to do what I can to help.

  After the few times I tried to escape before the men came in for their food, the women make me stay back and start introducing me to the other members. Although I’m treated with respect, deep down I remain suspicious and unwilling to trust any of them. As soon as they appear I try to find an excuse to make myself scarce. There’s a deep-seated fear inside me I can’t shake, however pleasant these men are to me when the old ladies are around, I remain suspicious what would happen if I was around them without female protection. I’ve seen exactly what bikers are like.

  And that’s not how Jill sold them to me. Almost daily I wish I’d never bumped into her or listened to her tall tales. As my wounds heal I blame myself and am angry with her. How easily she’d misled me. But I’ve no chance to vent my feelings, she stays out of my way, in fact going so far as to walk off in the other direction rather than meet me face to face. Is she aware it was her overblown stories that got me hurt? Whatever it is, since that morning she’d taken me to Slick’s room she seems to have lost any sympathy she showed for me then. She sticks with the rest of the sweet butts, and when I appear she turns away with a sneer.

  Slick makes good on his promise not to rush me into a more intimate relationship. But as the days pass, I notice his hungry eyes watching me more and more. It won’t be long until he pushes me for something I’m unwilling, unable to give.

  One morning, two weeks after I arrived at the compound, I’m in the kitchen at the clubhouse turning some bacon and Slick’s arm snakes around me. Unable to help myself, I flinch.

  “Fuck, El, I’m sorry. Your ribs must still be tender.” Then he lowers his lips to my ear. “If you’re on top I won’t hurt you.” He licks the outside of my ear and I shudder. I pull away without responding, feeling his eyes burning into my back.

  He moves closer again, when he speaks I realise he’s misunderstood my reaction. “El, the brothers and I are going out.” I’ve heard the gossip of the old ladies more used to club life, and have picked up the men have been planning. It comes as no surprise, and not a little relief that they’re going out on a run. “When I get back, reckon we could see what we can do without hurtin’ ya.”

  “
When will you be back?” How long have I got? Proud my voice doesn’t sound as shaky as I feel, knowing my time is now up. I’m leaving today. Before he tries to pressure me. Before he gets impatient and uses force.

  “As soon as I can. And then we’ll have us some fun, eh, El?” He seems pumped up and excited.

  About what’s happening today, or what he hopes for later?

  I nod insincerely.

  Taking my expected place alongside the other old ladies, I watch as one by one the bikes pull out. Muted conversations show the women are feeling nervous, but selfishly I don’t join in. Instead I start making my plans. When the roar of engines fade, the compound seems deserted. Only the prospects—Marsh and Spider—and Adam and Mouse have been left behind. Although most of the men have gone, the women carry on as usual, only the worried looks they’re exchanging showing something’s different about today. Following Carmen and Sandy into the kitchen where they start preparing a casserole, I continue plotting how soon I can leave. I need to summon a taxi…

  Lost in my reverie, I jump as the door to the kitchen bursts open. Men wearing masks and carrying guns rush in. We’re quickly surrounded, gloved hands going over our mouths. It all happens so quickly. Like the others, I struggle, pain blasting through my ribs. They’re strong men and soon overpower us, injecting something into our veins.

  The brothers have returned by the time I’ve come round, horrified to learn while the other women and I have been unconscious, Adam’s killed, Mouse is injured, and Sophie has only just escaped with her life thanks to Spider’s sharp shooting.

  After Doc gives us all the okay, Slick fusses over me. Nothing I can say will make him leave me alone—until I manage to get rid of him on some pretext, coming up with the idea of sending him up to his room to find my painkillers. The ones I’ve actually got in my pocket. Although the effect of being drugged is still making me woozy, I pluck up the courage go to find their president.

  Drummer looks tired and drawn, having lost one of his men. It seems like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. I feel selfish at intruding, and start to lose my nerve. But he sees me hovering by the door and gives me a weak smile.

  “Ella. I’m sorry for what went down this mornin’. We had no fuckin’ idea…”

  I stop him right there. “It’s okay, Drummer. I’m fine. Doc said there’ll be no lasting effects, and I know you couldn’t have expected it. But…” As I break off and bite my lip he waves to encourage me.

  Taking a deep breath I tell him, “I want to go home.”

  He stares at me for a moment, his eyes open in surprise. “Well, there’s nothing stopping you now. If you want to, you can. Any threat from the Rock Demons been removed.” As I wonder what exactly they did to know that, he continues, “You know Slick won’t like it?”

  I nod, understanding that only too well. But if I don’t leave he’ll only expect more, and I’ve nothing to give. “I can’t stay here Drum, I have to leave.”

  Another intense scrutiny, followed by a frown. “Look, I know what went down today must have been upsettin’. It’s not usual, you know?”

  I just return his intense stare and hide my shaking hands by my side. “Ella, don’t wanna keep you here if you don’t want to stay. But talk to Slick first.”

  That’s the last thing I want to do. “I can’t, Drum. Just help me to leave, please? The club owes me, doesn’t it?” And this is how I want them to repay me. Letting me just make a clean break and leave, with no messy arguments.

  He doesn’t look happy, but he nods slowly, realising I’m calling in that favour they promised to pay back. He sighs. “If you’re certain, I’ll get Marsh to drive you. Boys and I will be in a meetin’,” he adds, giving me that window of opportunity I need.

  And that’s how I escape without saying a word.

  Chapter 5

  Slick

  Present Day

  Along with my brothers I’ve reluctantly accepted that Heart being in an induced coma means there won’t be any change in his condition anytime soon. Albeit a decision made reluctantly, there’s no point in everyone hanging around. With the exception of Shooter, who was first to volunteer—fuck, we wouldn’t be leaving my brother alone even if he wouldn’t know anyone was there—we all ride away from the hospital, the roar of Harleys shattering the quiet of the early morning. For probably the first time in my life, I resent the solitude of being a biker, the hour-long ride leaving me far too much time to think, to mourn, and to regret. How the fuck had Heart crashed?

  It’s a sombre group who arrive back at the compound, riding in single file through the gate that Marsh, one of our prospects, pulls open. Reaching the clubhouse, we park, backing into a straight line, engines turning off, an eerie silence filling the air. Normally brothers would be chatting and laughing, but it seems all of us are trying to individually process what went down yesterday. Looking up the line I see Heart’s usual spot left vacant for him. The sight brings a fresh wave of pain.

  The SUV pulls up. Sam gets out with a sleeping child in her arms. Prez, the first off his bike, gives her a quick hug and talks quietly. She responds with a nod and disappears up the compound to the house where they live.

  The rest of us dismount, uncertain what to do. Drummer, for once not needing to call for quiet, motions us to gather around him. His steely eyes are filled with pain as he tells us, “Go get some rest, some food. Or fuck if that’s what you want. We’ll meet for church at eleven. Got it?”

  Nods and murmurs of consent are returned, and brothers start walking away. He’s only given us a few hours, far too short a period to digest and come to terms with the staggering thought that we may never see our brother again.

  I stand undecided. A short nap would probably make me feel worse than having no sleep at all. My stomach growls as though it’s making an alternative suggestion. Suddenly hungry, I go into the clubhouse in search of something to eat. But on entering the kitchen I realise I’d forgotten this is the one place that’s only going to bring home our great loss. Immediately I take that first step inside and I know something is missing. The quiet reminding me that Crystal is never going to be catering for us again. All at once, I miss her cheery presence, her colourful clothing, her gentle teasing and infectious laughter. Fuck, I even miss that there’s no kid getting under my feet. Not that I necessarily think the clubhouse is the right place for children, but Amy? Well, she’s actually sweet as fuck, and I know neither myself nor my brothers have a problem with her, or worry that we have to make an effort to act PG when she’s around.

  I pause in the doorway, bowing my head, overcome by a wave of sadness which slowly turns to a burn of rage. If I find Heart was run off the road deliberately, I’ll tear whoever did it apart with my bare hands.

  Standing, surveying the empty room I try to replace the memories of how I’d last seen Crystal with the image of her in her rightful place, right here in the clubhouse, playing with her daughter.

  That visit to the morgue had been hard. Drum had come with me, thank fuck. What I’d seen will haunt me for days. I’ve seen dead bodies before, of course I have. I’ve been responsible for despatching them on more than one occasion. But Heart’s wife? It was harder than I’d expected to see her lifeless body lying under a pristine sheet, a white bandage hiding the damage to her head. Despite being a hardened biker, I needed all my strength not to vomit.

  In life, Crystal had been so vivacious; in death, so unnaturally still. Even with the unnatural paleness of her pallor, I’d waited a moment half expecting her to sit up and talk to us but, of course, she hadn’t stirred. And Drum wasn’t the only one needing to wipe a tear from his eye. Up to that moment there had been part of me that hoped it was a case of mistaken identification, that it was two different people who’d come off that bike. But the evidence in front of me dispelled my last doubts, along with any lingering hope. It was at that point I truly understood we’d never hear or see Heart’s woman in the clubhouse again. It had hit me hard. Women shouldn�
��t be brought into our war.

  Another gurgle from my stomach reminds me despite my pain, life has to go on. Pulling myself together, I walk to the fridge and pull out the makings of a sandwich. As my hands get busy preparing the snack, my mind refuses to slow. Heart’s a fucking good rider, especially with Crystal on the back. For him to land dirty side up with no explanation just doesn’t make sense. The more I think on it, the more I’m convinced someone else was involved. But who the fuck could it be? Who was responsible for murdering my brother’s wife?

  And what’s with that odious woman who claimed to be her mother? Not one tear shed for her daughter? How the fuck could someone like that have given birth and raised a girl as sweet as Crystal? It’s beyond me how things work out, and the more I think on it, something just doesn’t add up.

  “It’s all wrong, isn’t it?” A soft voice by my side makes me turn and look down.

  “Yer not fuckin’ mistaken there,” I tell Sophie, while looking around for our VP, Wraith. Ah, yes, there he is. I didn’t think he’d be far away from his woman.

  “Slick.” He throws me a nod. “Soph, you don’t need to be here.”

  “People need feeding, everyone must be hungry.” She chokes back a sob while looking pointedly at my sandwich as if to emphasise the point.

  “Need help?” It’s a red-eyed Carmen who walks in, followed by Sandy. All three of the women bearing the signs showing they’ve been crying most of the night. But as befits bikers’ women, they know work still needs to be done. It makes me proud of the old ladies in this club.

  Seeing they’ve got things under control, I take my plate, go to the bar and nab a beer. It was a long night, and my suspicions are it’ll be an even longer day. When I’ve eaten my hastily assembled breakfast, I pull out my cigarettes and take one out. Blade appears as if by magic, and I pass him the pack without him having to ask. My usual ribbing absent.