Stormy's Thunder: Satan's Devils MC Utah

by Manda Mellett

  He did? No, I didn’t know that. My brow furrows.

  He’s wrong, the timing doesn’t fit. “He did a final tour after.”

  “I said when I learned about your case. That was before you and I ever met. When Hillier gave me the details, it was obvious Smythe was out of his depth. Sure, he had to do one more tour to finish up, but he knew then he would be Stateside when he returned.”

  “You think Smythe knows you were involved? You think he wants revenge?” I try to focus my thoughts. “He got a fuckin’ promotion after Pooh died. He’d more likely thank you. I got discharged, he got made up, and a cushy desk job.”

  “Maybe.” Pip doesn’t disagree. “But I’m leaving no stone unturned. I wanted to ask you what you made of this.” He turns his laptop toward me.

  I wince, it’s playing footage of Nazia’s initial interrogation just after she tried to blow herself, and our troops up. With my head filled of Cat, at first I don’t take it in, only idly paying scant attention as she replies in non-answers, not willing to explain her behaviour, or who she was working for.

  My interest is caught. I pull the laptop toward me, and tap awkwardly at the keys with my left hand, playing back the last segment and watching it again. Pip passes me some notes, I check them, then watch a final time.

  “You caught it, huh?”

  My eyes rise to Pip’s. I play the last few seconds again. “The transcript is wrong,” I tell him.

  “Yeah. I don’t speak Dari, so I had the tape interpreted for myself.”

  I’d been told her words were, “I did it for Stormy,” but unless my language skills have fled with those blows to the head, what she’s actually saying is different. Not just the words, but the intonation. As far as I can make out, she’s just said, “They made me do it for Stormy.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “I thought you’d pick up on that.” Pip rubs his face again. “The reports say the military police were preparing to interrogate her again. What you just watched was the first of a series, and was more a case of asking the first questions, delving deeper after they considered her answers. That question would probably have been next, but someone got to her before they had a chance. The word was she killed herself because she’d failed, but the hit was clumsy, rushed. There was an attempt to cover it up, but it didn’t quite work.”

  “But the MPs must have investigated.”

  “They did. But they were distracted by another incident, during which there was a fuck up. Her body was moved, the cell scrubbed clean, and lo-and-behold, surveillance tapes corrupted.”

  “Who was the last to see her?”

  “Now that’s where it gets interesting, particularly with what we now know. Your friend, Gun, had another prisoner located nearby. He was questioning him at the time.”

  I wince as I try to sit straighter. Fuck these broken ribs of mine. “Any proof he visited her?”

  “None,” Pip admits.

  Dots, starting to form a pattern. But they’re more like particles of dust I’m trying to catch in my hand.

  “There’s more,” Pip says. “Nazia was strip searched.” That’s not unusual. Fuck, she’d been wearing a suicide bomb, no one would trust her. “During which,” Pip continues, “it was noticed her body had been subjected to intensive abuse. Burns, scalds, some old, some healing. Evidence of previous broken bones. Her face was unmarked, but the rest of her had been brutalised.”

  Poor, poor girl. She obviously hadn’t agreed to her task easily.

  Suddenly Pip sits forward. “What if she agreed to doing what she did with the intention of speaking to you?”

  “Me?” My head’s working slowly. “But I’d long since been discharged.”

  Pip nods. “You rescued her and her sister. Saved them. What if you were the only man on the base who she could trust? She wouldn’t have known you’d been discharged, how could she?”

  “She didn’t detonate the device,” I muse out loud.

  “Exactly. And from the reports I’ve read, she was acting suspiciously as though she wanted to get caught. Of course, the men stopping her all received commendations for their vigilance, but I’d place bets that if it had been her intention, she’d have carried out her task.”

  “If she’d been so abused, death might have come easy.” But instead, if Pip’s right, she’d let herself be caught. To get to talk to me? My brain starts to kick into gear. “Why the insurgents wanted to upset the uneasy peace has always confused me. The locals were trained and ready to take over for themselves. Our troops were withdrawing. These incidents made sure they stayed.”

  “That’s been on my mind, too. And I’ve got an answer. Who would benefit from our troops being stationed there?”

  He’s obviously got more than me.

  “Oh, Stormy,” Pip sighs. “You were an honourable SEAL, however your career ended, no one can take that from you. Your world is black and white, good men served, the bad were the insurgents you were fighting. But what if some men weren’t cut from the same cloth as yourself? What if some were reaping benefits by our presence in Afghanistan?”

  Staying to eat a bullet, or die like my team had? I frown, not seeing many positives.

  “It could have been drugs,” Pip says, softly. “There’s good money to be made.” He waits for that to sink in. “I’ve lived in the underworld, Storm, nothing surprises me.”

  “How would it work? In this imperfect world of yours.” He’s sparked my interest, but not yet my belief.

  “Getting the drugs out of the country? Come on, Stormy, you can’t be that naïve. Where there’s money, there’s a way.”

  I narrow my eyes as the wheels turn in my head. “If equipment is being brought back to the States, it could be packed in the cases. As long as someone was on hand to remove it the other end. Enough money would grease wheels.”

  “And soldiers packs. Enlist men, either with money or threats over their heads. Smythe wrangled it for your team to use a dedicated pilot and plane.”

  He had, hadn’t he? I used to think it was his connections. “This comes back to Gun, doesn’t it?”

  Pip sighs. “Maybe. If Gun was resourceful enough, he could have used the opportunity to develop a pipeline. But Gun would have no beef with me, unless the private plane was no longer available when I grounded Smythe, but that would point to Smythe being a major player. That Gun turned up and asked questions about Tiny, that there’s a link between his half-brother Ike, and Kincaid, makes me think he was involved in Swift’s kidnap, which was designed to bring me out of hiding. I had nothing to do with Gun, however, I’d had a hand in bringing down Smythe. Smythe might have stayed on the front line if it hadn’t been for my interpretation of the situation which I’d given to Hillier.”

  I go still. “You think they were working together?”

  “Is Gun a mastermind?”

  The question rings in the air, and I take a moment to answer, thinking back to what I know of the man. “I think he’s intelligent, but enough to pull such an enterprise together? I’d have to say no. But if asked, I’d say Smythe wasn’t either.”

  Pip nods as if I’ve answered a question correctly. “Going back to the footage I showed you earlier. Why did the interpreter lie?”

  I honestly don’t know and tell him. Following it up with, “You know my go to excuse. Money.”

  “I’ve done an initial check of the financials of Gun and Smythe. Smythe comes from a good family, he’s already loaded. Nothing immediately jumps out.”

  “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want more.” I frown. This is something I can do, okay it might be laborious tapping with just the fingers of one hand, but at least I’ll be feeling useful while I’m waiting on others to do my job for me. “I’d like to look into it myself. See if I can find off-shore accounts.”

  “I’ve already asked Bolt to start digging.”

  Goddammit. Are they leaving nothing for me?

  The door suddenly bursts open. “Pip, Stormy. Drummer’s on the line in Snatc
her’s office. They’ve found something.”

  Pip doesn’t have to be asked. As soon as the words are out of Gears’ mouth, he’s at my side, helping me to stand.

  29

  Stormy…

  Once again the phone is in the middle of the table, and once again Snatcher informs Drummer that I’ve entered the room. Pip hovers in the doorway, and he’s waved to the seat next to myself.

  “Your boys find something, Drummer?” Prez asks.

  “Yeah. Your man Gun wasn’t there, Stormy, but there’s evidence people have been held in that location. Not going to pretty this up, but there were cages in the basement.”

  Jeez. No. I can’t think of my Cat being caged. As for a basement, that would send her right back to the horror I rescued her from.

  I swallow, not concerned when my voice sounds higher than normal. “You think she was held there?”

  “Pretty certain. There was a picture of a cat scratched onto the brickwork.”

  “Drummer.” I cough to clear my throat. “That’s too close to how Tiny left her. She’ll be freaking out.”

  “Hold on to the thought she’s staying strong, Stormy.” The mother chapter prez’s voice bellows down the line.

  “Was there anyone else there, Drummer?” Snatcher asks.

  “There were six cages, from the dirt and dust left we think only three have been occupied recently. They found a PC set up and got Mouse to access it remotely. He’ll give you the tech details if you want them. There’s no way to put this sensitively, but there was a list of buyers. One for a submissive red head.”

  Yeah, Cat would probably be thought of as submissive, most of it being how she was raised. “Who?” I rasp out.

  “A cartel down in Mexico. Run by El Bastardo Blanco, or that’s the name he goes by.”

  A wail of despair comes out of my mouth. She’s over the border. How the fuck am I going to get her back?

  “Stormy!” Drummer barks into the phone. “Pip’s not the only one with contacts. I have a score to settle with Devil as he played the fuckin’ Utah chapter off against ours. He fuckin’ owes me, and he knows it. He’s familiar with the white bastard – he’s apparently an Albino, that’s how he got his name. He’s on the case. If anyone can get Cat back, he can.”

  “I want to go,” I say as firmly as possible. “I want to be there for any rescue.”

  “No can do, Storm,” Snatcher says, his eyes softening. “You’d be a liability, you know that. You can’t fuckin’ stand up let alone walk.”

  Pip’s voice sounds. “If Devil needs back up, I’ll go.”

  “Pip?” Drummer asks.

  “I’m here.”

  “Devil thought you might offer. He said to tell you to stand by. Stormy, Devil’s not wasting any time, man. He’s sorting out a plane and his mercenaries now. The only thing you can do is keep near a phone.”

  As if I’ll be going anywhere without it.

  “The White Bastard needs to be taken down, Drummer. This gives Devil the excuse he was looking for. He’s a dealer, she might already have been moved on.”

  “Devil’s well aware, Pip.”

  My face turns toward the man who’d been my prez for so long. His eyes have settled on me. “I trust Devil with my life. If it’s humanely possible, he’ll get Cat back.”

  I raise and dip my chin but the movement is automatic. I’ve never been so terrified in my life, imagining Devil storming El Bastardo Blanco’s compound and Cat getting caught in the crossfire. She means so much to me, but nothing to them.

  I’ve resisted putting my life into anyone’s hands for so long it’s completely unnatural now. I want to rage, shout, smash something, but Cat’s voice seems to echo in my head calming me down. You’re not responsible for everything, Stormy. Sometimes you have to let someone help.

  “I’ll call Devil,” Snatcher suddenly butts in. “I’m not leaving it to him. Cat’s Stormy’s which makes her one of ours. I’ll have a team ready to go. We’ll be there. Preacher can fly us down.”

  “You work in the US,” Drummer snaps back. “This is out of your territory.”

  “We have up to now. It will be volunteers only, Drum. But there’ll be no shortage of those. Might not have fuckin’ met her, but Cat is something to us now. She’s club property and we’re going to get her back.”

  Drummer’s quiet for a second, then he chuckles softly. “I’ll tell Devil to expect your call.” As before, without a goodbye, the call ends.

  It’s like a whirlwind moving around me. Luckily someone sends a prospect back to give me a hand, otherwise I’d be crawling to wherever everyone else is going as Snatcher and Pip storm out seeming to have forgotten about me.

  As Igor helps me into the clubroom, I see Snatcher hasn’t wasted any time.

  “So, I need volunteers.”

  I’m still trying to settle myself down but I pause to see who out of the brothers I disrespected are going to volunteer for a suicide mission to rescue a woman they don’t even know. Half-fearing no one, fuck me, treacherous tears make me blink furiously as everyone raises their hand. Snatcher has to resort to picking names.

  Swift’s first and would have been my initial choice. She’s trained in hostage extraction, and as for being able to keep a steady head on her shoulders, there’s no one better. She’s also female and Cat might relate to her. Preacher, obviously, as he’ll be piloting the plane. Thor, no surprise there. Road? Well, a few months ago I’d have dismissed him, but clearly he’s proved himself to Snatcher, and for once I know better than to question him. Cowboy, well, he understands the situation, and I know his past will want to make the present have a better result. Rascal and Piston are also going along, and it won’t just be for the ride.

  Honor and Duty are turned down, they’ll stay here and sort out the flight details and where the plane will land. The final addition to the party who are going is Grinch, who’ll be there as a mechanic on the plane. They don’t want to be stranded in Mexico with an engine fault.

  Pip walks in when Snatcher finishes choosing, it seems he’s been the one to contact Devil.

  “He’s not happy,” he announces. “But I persuaded him he needed the additional firepower. Preach, you got the weapons sorted?”

  “Rascal?” Preacher, getting straight on it, asks, “You ready to help me load up some extra armoury?”

  Of course, the answer’s in the affirmative.

  I sit, never in my life feeling so useless as I do now. I watch my brothers as they prepare to move out, wasting no time to go to get my woman for me.

  Swift comes over, her eyes surprisingly soft. “We’ll bring her back.” Just four words, but there’s such commitment in her eyes I will myself to try to believe.

  “Hold on, Brother,” Road offers, joining his woman.

  “Not going to fail again,” Cowboy tells me earnestly, being the next to stop by.

  One by one they file past, each with a promise they’ll bring her back to me. I’m surprised when Snatcher follows them. He’s the fuckin’ prez, he should be here, not on a mission to Mexico that might see them all dead.

  “Snatcher,” I hold out my left hand, and he takes it, “take me. I’ll wait on the plane—”

  Abruptly he shuts my plea off. “No can do. You need looking after, and that will detract from the mission. You’ve got to stay here.”

  “Shouldn’t you?”

  Snatcher looks after his men, and the woman, who’ve just exited the room, then back down at me. His mouth quirks. “Just trust we know what we’re doing, okay?” With those parting words, he’s gone.

  Silence rings around the clubroom broken only by Brute behind the bar putting glasses away.

  “Want to come to the comms room?”

  I start and look over my shoulder. Honor has re-entered the room. “Duty’s sorting out the flight plan and filing it. I want to look at what Mouse sent me. We’re going to find a way to take Gun down. Revenge will be fuckin’ sweet, I promise you.”

  Planning reve
nge won’t stop me worrying about Cat, nor about the bulk of the club who’ve left on a mission solely for me.

  Gun. The man I’ve come to hate with a passion. Things are starting to point to him being responsible for Pooh’s death, and almost mine. I could imagine him in the helicopter egging Smythe on, even if the lieutenant commander wasn’t in on it himself. He could have been the man to take Nazia’s life, he was in the vicinity at the time. And it’s not too much of a stretch to believe he had a hand in taking my old team out. And that’s not forgetting half-killing me, and kidnapping Cat.

  He’s an evil man. While I settle beside Honor, I’m planning Gun’s death in my mind.

  He’s going to die hard.

  30

  Stormy…

  Twenty-four hours can be a fucking long time, going fast or slow depending on what you’re doing. Hanging around waiting for the go ahead for a mission can make even minutes crawl by. Conversely, hours go flying by fast when you’re doing something you enjoy.

  Waiting for news about Cat, the time goes past just one minute at a time. Sixty long seconds when I have to remind myself to keep breathing.

  Pip had given me the news they’d arrived and were scoping out the location. Finally, I’d got the update they were going in.

  I can imagine they’re proceeding with caution, and will be radio silent from now. But I’d prefer to know exactly what they are doing, and hate being kept in the dark. What’s the compound like, how many guards? I wanted to be on hand to give advice.

  All I can do is sit back and try to convince myself to believe what deep down I’ve always known. I can trust the Satan’s Devils.

  Without Cowboy here it’s a matter of getting food for ourselves, but I don’t bother invading his domain, I’ve no appetite at all. If I suspend living for just a few hours, maybe that will bring Cat home. It’s crazy, but that’s the way my brain is thinking.