We thrash around the details for a while until Prez and the VP are confident we all know our roles. Then the gavel comes down and we’re dismissed.
“What do you think about going in when we know the cops will be there?” Sparky asks me as I go to get myself a beer after the meeting.
“Couldn’t care less one way or another. We know the area like the back of our hands, the SWAT teams are probably working from Google maps.” I chuckle. “I know of at least one escape route that’s not shown. It’s not wide enough to be called an alley, but there’s a gap between buildings a thin man could squeeze down.”
“Hmm.” He frowns. “Must admit I’m worried about stray bullets heading our way.”
A hand claps down on my shoulder. “That’s why I’m making sure everyone wears their Kevlar vests.” It’s Thunder, who’s clearly in his sergeant-at-arms role. “Handguns only, nothing else. For self-protection. And we shoot anyone dealing, not cops.”
My eyes widen. Hell, if bullets start flying and a cop goes down, if it was from one of our guns… Christ, I don’t even like to think of the implications.
Thunder nods as though he’s reading my mind. “I expect the SWAT team to be closer to the action, using a pincer movement to catch the dealer red-handed. We don’t care about catching him in the act. It’s possible someone will spot the cops and double back. We’ll be there to nab them.”
If the cops do make an arrest, hopefully Cad will be able to discover who they’ve caught and we can try and track who’s behind it back from there. With any luck though, we’ll get him, or them, ourselves and do our own questioning.
According to Wills and Sparky backed up by the camera footage, any dealing that takes place is when the club’s been open a few hours. We aim to get there by eleven, so we can take up our positions well before we expect any action to start.
It’s not often nowadays that we do more than most citizens do, get up, go and do an honest day’s work, come home, drink, fuck and party, then go to bed. A few hours later get up and do it all over again. So to be sitting checking guns and ammunition, going over plans, and making sure everyone knows what role they’re to play gets the adrenaline rising. I find myself slipping back into the mindset I wore as a Marine.
Like all my brothers, I’m sick to death of someone fucking with us, and with any luck, tonight, it stops. Either we’ll get the bastard or the cops will. One way or another they’ll be off the streets. We can go back to running businesses clear of the drug trade and the mess that goes with that. At least we’ve got a heads-up about the police operation, and Beef was able to warn them we’d be around. Doesn’t sound like much can go wrong.
“Hey, Leatherneck. You found your temper yet?” Mace plonks himself down beside me. He takes some ammunition out of his cut, checks it, then puts it back.
I don’t apologise for snapping at him earlier. “Looking forward to seeing some action tonight?”
“Yes and no. Yes, as I want to take down this motherfucker. No, because I’m worried about the cops. They’re a bit too close in my estimation.”
I know what he means. “Take care, Mace,” I warn.
He now takes out his phone and checks the time, then replaces it. He’s fidgety. I know how he’s feeling. “So, this bitch, Beth. Twice she’s stayed over.”
I look at the ceiling, then back down. I could give him shit or admit the truth. “Reckon you might have to get used to seeing her leave in the morning.”
“Like that?” His eyes open wide.
“Like that,” I confirm.
“Cad run a check?”
I raise and lower my shoulders. “Don’t think there’s anything to find. But I asked him to look into her father. Something’s not right there.”
“But she’s not involved?”
“Nope.” My eyes narrow as I challenge him.
“Ink…”
“Mace,” I say as I start to stand, and lean with my hands on the table. “It’s early days and I don’t know where my head is as yet. Don’t fuck it up for me, okay?”
He stares intently, then nods and huffs. “Your funeral, Brother. Just be sure what you’re getting into.”
Why is it that Mace’s caution has made me more determined? They don’t know her like I do. I grin, as I follow my brothers out to the bikes. No, they certainly will never know her like I do, as I’m the only biker who’ll be fucking her.
“Night’s warmer.”
“Above freezing, that’s for sure,” I reply to Sparky. The weather’s looking up, Beth will be able to have that first ride tomorrow.
And after that? Well, she can ride my cock. Then I may broach the subject of us giving a relationship a try.
Demon circles his hand over his head, engines start and exhausts roar, then we’re rolling. Me with a smile on my face and, as I’m thinking of Beth, a semi-hard dick in my pants.
A large number of motorbikes arriving at the strip club isn’t unusual. Sometimes we have a new dancer who brothers want to check out, or, when we had a permanent manager, visiting artistes to pull in the crowds. Something perhaps Wills and Sparky will get back to arranging once they get themselves better organised.
We don’t need to be discreet or hide our arrival, it’s only after that there’s a difference in our normal procedure. Rather than all the brothers disappearing inside, I and some of the others peel off to take up our assigned positions.
There are cops, I can see them, but only because I was looking for them. I act nonchalant as I pass them, going to my allocated spot, a back-stop position should the dealer escape and come in my direction.
We’re early, of course. There’s currently no action. Sparky, who’s my backup tonight, leans against the wall while I take the stance and mentally prepare like all those times I stood on guard, staying motionless but hypervigilant for hours. Once trained, you never forget.
We don’t speak, we just observe.
A man shuffles past us, kicking an empty crumpled can out of the way. He’s a user, not a dealer, and from the twitching I see as he passes me, he’s in desperate need of a score. His arrival confirms we’re in the right place. Sparky nudges me to check I’ve noticed but doesn’t say a word.
I wait to see what the police are going to do, but there’s no commotion. Unless they’re making a silent arrest and their victim no audible protest, they’re at least being clever. If the dealer turned up to find no customers, he’d know something is wrong.
Another figure appears, this one it’s hard to tell whether he’s a dealer or customer, but he takes up a spot, unbeknownst to him, near the hidden cops. They leave him alone too. I know they need to catch the right person and hopefully with drugs in his hands.
Now another. A tall, slender man in a hoodie. A customer for sure. The way he’s walking shows he’s nervous. His head is down as though he doesn’t want to be recognised and he’s carrying a bag.
Sparky nudges me. “Dealer?”
I return in the same almost inaudible voice Sparky had used, “If it is, he’s new. Christ, I can see him shaking from here.” The bag is dangling at arm’s length as though the man’s carrying a live snake.
Damn it. If this is the dealer, it’s a small player and not the top man himself, he’s far too nervous to be that. Maybe the real culprit got word of a possible bust but didn’t want to lose sales, so sent a new minion instead. That’s what it looks like to me.
There’s something about the gait of the slim man that’s familiar. As he passes under a light, I get a flash of blue from under his hoodie.
Immediately, I know who it is.
Immediately, I know I have to stop her.
Everything about her screams that I’m right to think what she’s carrying could mean she’ll be looking at a long stretch in jail, and from what I know of her, she’d never survive. How the fuck is she involved in this?
In a flash, I estimate distance and calculate there’s a chance I can stop her before she gets too close to the cops. I rise like a dark avenging angel…
<
br /> “What the fuck, Ink?” Sparky grabs at my arm. “Leave him to the cops…”
But I shake him off with a violent blow that throws him back into the wall. Then silently, I move up behind her.
“Get out of here, Beth,” I snarl quietly, while covering her mouth with my hand. As she relaxes and realises who I am, I release her.
“Ink?” she whispers, turning. “I can’t, I—”
“I think you’ve got something of mine.” The other man we’d noticed earlier moves out of the shadows twenty yards away. He’s still some distance from the cops.
Without thinking, I take the bag from her. “Get out of here, Beth,” I repeat in the most commanding whisper I can summon, the tone that she obeys in bed.
Now relieved of her burden, she turns and flees.
“Bring it here.” The click and the reflected light bouncing off the weapon shows I’ve got a gun aimed at me.
Yeah, if she was carrying the small holdall like a snake, so do I. If she was delivering his stock for the night, then I’ll do it for her. Then he can go make his sales and the cops can pick him up. All this goes through my head in an instant. The bag feels heavy, unless I’m totally wrong about the contents, it’s a fuckload of shit I’m about to turn over. No wonder he’s keen to get his hands on what Beth had brought. How the fuck is she involved in this?
But there’s no time for second thoughts. Hand this over and disappear. I step toward him and hold the bag out.
The area is floodlit.
We’re surrounded by cops.
It happens so fast. The dealer was so focused on me making Beth’s delivery, and I was so intent on giving her space to get away, I’d forgotten the imminent danger for one moment. One, dreadful, life-changing moment. Now, I’m lying face down on the ground, a knee in my back, and my hands rapidly handcuffed behind me.
Then I’m pulled to my feet, searched, and have my weapons taken away.
The dealer, if my suspicions are right as to who the man is, well, he too is subjected to the same treatment.
As I’m led to a police car and pushed roughly inside, all I can wonder is how the fuck this evening has ended like this, and whether this is the last night of freedom I’ll ever have. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck and fuck. My head spins with the rapidity with which I went from a free man to a prisoner.
I’m a Devil. They’ll throw the book at me.
Chapter Seventeen
Beth
When I entered Connor’s old room and flicked on the light, I went to the closet. There’s a musty smell from old shoes. I move the clothing aside and then find packages piled up against the back wall.
Where had they come from? How did they get here?
The heel of my hand hits my forehead. Connor hadn’t been bringing an empty box in to collect his stuff. No. He’d obviously brought these in and left with the garbage that I thought his old Xbox and games were.
I might never have come across anything like this before, but there’s only one thing he’s got stored. Here. In my home. In our mother’s house. Drugs. Oh, shit no.
I sit back on my heels, not even wanting to touch the Saran-wrapped blocks. I’m no expert and don’t know what type, it could be anything. But it’s highly illegal, and to me seems one hell of a lot. There are ten packages in all, and Connor had asked me to deliver two of them. I want nothing to do with this.
And what’s he planning on doing with the rest? Storing them here indefinitely? Using me as a… what do they call it? Drug mule?
I feel sick as realisation goes through me and puzzle pieces start to fall into place. If this is what Connor is involved with, that he’s really in danger becomes more believable. Has he stolen the drugs from someone? Is he now supposed to be giving them back? Or are they his, and he’s using me?
What’s does he plan to do with the rest?
Taking his words at face value, he’ll be dead if I don’t do what he’s asked. His story is now far more credible.
He’s also been clever. Leaving it so late, I’ve no option if I’m going to try to save him, but to follow his instructions to the letter. I don’t have the time to call for help or stop to wonder whether there was a better way to extricate him from whatever trouble he’s in. If I’m going to make the meet, I can’t involve the cops, tell Mom or go to Ink for help. There’s no time.
But still there’s a niggling doubt at the back of my mind, there’s a chance he might just be using me to do his dirty business. Can I take that risk?
No, I can’t. He’s my brother, I couldn’t live with myself if he died because I hadn’t done what he’s asked. But if he’s stringing me along, he’ll wish he was dead later.
I’ve got to get moving.
I’m not stupid. It’s cold, and I’ve got gloves in the pocket of my jacket I’m already wearing. Taking them out I slip my hands into them, then pick up two blocks and, already feeling like a criminal, take them back to my room and place them in an old rucksack I remember being hidden behind my winter boots in my own closet. The packages drop to the bottom and feel heavier than their weight.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be part of the drug world. I don’t want to feed someone’s habit when they should be getting help instead. How many children are going hungry because their parents are shooting themselves up?
I could sacrifice my brother and take this all to the cops.
But Connor could die.
I’ve barely enough time to get to the place I’m supposed to go. No time to think about how to handle this better. Connor’s played me well if it is a game, an appeal to my caring nature, an appeal to his big sister who still wants to redeem him which wouldn’t, couldn’t, go unheeded.
I stifle a sob. Why Connor, why? How did you come to this? Is this what Phil has gotten you involved in?
I hear a sound and freeze, but it’s only the house settling and not, thank goodness, my mom stirring. She must never know what Connor is up to, it would kill her. As for finding out I was going to be driving around Pueblo to deliver drugs? I don’t think I’d survive her fury.
I can do this.
His instructions were simple. Get to my destination and hand the bag over. I won’t even bother taking the drugs out, I’ll gladly forego the rucksack if I can get out of there faster. Then I’ll return, report that it’s done and hopefully save Connor.
I get in my car and start the engine and reverse off the driveway. Tomorrow I’ll speak to Ink. He or his club will probably know better than I how to dispose of the remainder of the drugs that have been left in our house. One thing’s for certain, the other packages won’t be staying there one more day. I’ll set fire to them myself if I have to. Once I know Connor is safe. I can salve my conscience by believing the bulk of the drugs will never hit the streets.
I drive carefully, obeying all the rules of the road, scared witless I’ll get pulled up in a traffic stop. If they find this amount of drugs on me, I’ll surely end up going to prison. While I don’t want my brother to hurt, I don’t want to end up doing serious time for him either. To be locked up in jail? Not something I think I’d be able to survive. There’s also the very good chance that if I’m caught, Connor will be killed as I’d have failed to make the delivery.
I keep to the speed limit, not one mile above or below it. I eye every traffic light ready to come to a halt. At intersections, I check very carefully. A cruiser passes by on the other side of the road, and I sneak glances in my rearview, holding my breath until it disappears out of sight.
The short journey across town seems to take ages, and I’m violently shaking by the time I pull up. I pass a building with an unimaginative name and glaring neon sign, then doing what I’m told, navigate around it until I’m parking in one of the back streets to the rear.
It was Tits Up I’d passed, the strip club owned by Ink’s club. Help could be near. There were motorcycles parked up in a line out front.
But Mel’s assured me the club doesn’t run drugs. They may want to stop me handing t
hem over, preferring them off the streets instead. What help would that be to Connor? He might end up dead if I don’t play my part. I thump the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t want to deliver drugs, but if I want to save Connor, I don’t see I have any choice. The clock on my dash shows time has all but run out.
I shrug off my jacket and pull up the hood of my hoodie, shoving my dyed blue hair inside, trying to make sure no strands are showing. My distinctive feature a drawback tonight.
I can’t stop trembling as I turn and lift the bag gingerly off the back seat as though it’s going to bite me.
Only a few hundred yards and I’ll be passing it over. Then, my one and only foray into a life of crime will be finished. Fuck you, Connor. I decide to make sure he’s alright, then cut him out of my life. If he’s going to live a life where he puts himself in danger, then that’s on him and shouldn’t fall back on me or Mom.
Mom has still got the remaining eight packages in her house.
I’ll call Ink and ask him for help as soon as I get back.
Connor might die if someone knows there are more, and they don’t turn up.
I don’t care. Tonight I’ll do what he wants. Tomorrow I’ll get help. I shouldn’t have come here right now, but it’s too late to have doubts.
Almost paralysed with hopelessness and fear, I glance at my phone. Time to go. A couple of minutes to get to the rendezvous, and then I’ll be in the clear. And Connor will be safe. Fuck Connor. Fuck my fucking brother to hell and back.
Getting out of the car I glance around, checking the landmarks Connor had told me to watch out for. I’m parked by the Jade Lion just like he said and easily spy the alley I’m supposed to go up. It’s narrow and runs up beside the massage parlour, closed now, of course.
My fingers curl around the strap of the bag and then locking my car carefully—heaven forbid someone steals it and leaves me stranded—I take the first step into the night.
It’s dark. The light from the streetlamps behind me quickly fades and it takes me a moment to adjust to the light only from the moon. I shiver, the temperature has dropped, and after slipping on a patch of ice which stubbornly had refused to melt, start picking my way more carefully.
Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6 Page 53