Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6

by Mellett, Manda

  Determinedly, her finger hits the button to end the call.

  She stands, staring off into space. A minute, then another passes, before she turns to face me. “You could be right, Bethany. Or you could be wrong. Your dad’s been given the same story, and I can tell he doesn’t believe it. He’s as angry as I’ve ever heard him.”

  My brow becomes creased. “So why all that crap about the funeral?”

  “Because, it wasn’t remorse and grief that I heard in his voice. Because if Connor is alive, I’m frightened for him.”

  My eyes widen. “You think Phil would hurt his own son?”

  My question gives her pause. “Phil left and didn’t look back.” Her face twists. “Look, you were young when he left, I don’t know how much you remember of him?”

  “Not a lot,” I admit. “He wasn’t exactly involved in my life.” As a kid I used to try to get his attention, pitiful looking back. I couldn’t remember ever being successful.

  “I married him when I got pregnant and he stepped up and accepted his responsibilities. It wasn’t long before I realised my mistake, but stayed with him for the sake of you, and then when Connor came along, him too. But your dad had problems. He found it hard to relate to other people, empathy was something he was lacking. He could be cruel without intending it. I had a comfortable life, he wasn’t overly demanding, and I could mostly turn a blind eye to his behaviour. Until he discovered there was easy money to be made and I could no longer deny he was the only one that mattered in his world, a true narcissist.”

  It starts to come together. “Crime was okay because he didn’t care who he was hurting?”

  She raises and lowers her chin. “Exactly. That’s why I didn’t give a damn that he forgot he had children.”

  “And why you were so concerned about Connor going to him.”

  “Phil’s got an overblown view of his own intelligence and abilities. A confidence which he uses to make other people believe him. He would have seemed a good role model to an impressionable boy. He was well able to lay on the charm when he needed to.” Her eyes close as if in pain. “I couldn’t stop Connor when he became an adult. But I always expected—hoped—eventually Connor would see through him and realise Phil wouldn’t care who he hurt if someone stood in the way between him and making a profit.”

  Her eyes meet mine. They signal something that chills me.

  “You believe he’d hurt Connor?”

  “I know Phil. Well, knew him. In that phone call just now, he wasn’t upset Connor was dead, he was upset he’s lost him. If he believes Connor’s dead, he’ll stop looking for him and he can’t hurt him.” She waves her hand as I go to speak. “He blustered about the heroin, I don’t think Connor had told him that here was where it was hidden.”

  “But those men…”

  “Might not have been Phil’s. Maybe there were working for Alder. Alder could have tortured the truth out of him.” Mom closes her eyes as though it’s too painful even to think of that, but it’s the truth. I’d heard Connor in pain. “I have difficulty believing the Devils wish us harm. Look how they’ve left Dirt and Nails here to protect us. Look how proud Mel is of her man. And you, are you such a poor judge of character to get mixed up with a man who’d kill someone for gain?”

  “Ink took the heroin off of me, Mom. He knew the cops were there. Only a good man would do that.” Or a foolish one. I’ll never forget what he did, or the debt I owe him. “If Connor’s alive and the Devils are keeping him that way, I don’t think they’d harm him.” I drop my head into my hands. “Nothing about any of this makes sense!” I almost scream.

  Mom rushes over and puts her arms up. Leaning down, I hug her as best I can. We stand, like that, for a moment.

  “If Connor’s alive and the Devils are lying, then, maybe they’re doing it to save him. If Phil’s bad, Alder’s worse, Bethany. If Connor’s crossed them, he won’t be safe.”

  “We need to know the truth, Mom.” I know neither of us will rest easy until we do. I may be wrong to hope that my brother’s still breathing, if he’s gone, I need proof.

  “Whatever they’re telling us, I want to view who’s inside the casket,” Mom says with determination. “If it’s Connor, I want to know.”

  Suddenly I have doubts that I’m right to give my mom hope. Maybe I’m wrong, and my refusal to believe it, simply that. “It could be bad, Mom. What if it is him? What if the last memory we have of him is seeing him so hurt?”

  “I said me, not you, Bethany,” she says firmly. “You remember Connor how he was. I’m his mother. It’s my job.” That’s when she starts weeping again. I might have given her hope, but even after everything we’ve said, when the funeral home opens tomorrow, I could find out Mace had told us the truth.

  Is this feeling that the enforcer is lying simply my denial that I’ve seen my brother for the last time?

  No, no, no, and no.

  I sink to the floor and wrap my arms around myself. I’ve tried to stay strong for my mom, but the odds are Connor is gone.

  When will I stop making mistakes? If I’d called the police as soon as Connor had said he was being hurt, would he still be alive? Would I have spared him death in such a horrific way? And would Ink be laughing and drinking with his brothers?

  Everything’s my fault. I made the wrong choices and look where they’ve led.

  Mom’s crying on the couch, I’m weeping on the floor. After a while, we gravitate together, and hold each other. There’s no more to be said. We’re both determined to find out the truth in the morning, and while the hope we’ve been told a lie is so tempting to believe, both of us are trying to deal with the notion what we’ve been told may be true. Connor’s no longer alive.

  “Can I get you anything?” Dirt’s voice sounds hesitant, unsure of his welcome.

  I raise my head. “No, it’s alright.”

  “I lost my squad.” Dirt sits on the armchair opposite. “I watched them die. Only survivors were Nails and me. I know how hard grief is to deal with.”

  I hadn’t realised they’d served together. No wonder the two share a bond.

  Talking about someone else’s pain is easier than dealing with mine. “What happened?”

  “IED took out the jeep we were in. We were returning to camp at the time. Even had a dog with us, he was trained to sniff out bombs. If we’d been walking, he could have warned us, but in the vehicle he couldn’t have known.”

  “What happened to the dog?” Stupid question, I know.

  “He lost a leg but survived. We brought him back, well, he was part of the team. He lives with us.”

  “You and Nails live together?”

  “Yup. Me, him and the fuckin’ dog.”

  I wonder if they’re gay, then realise it’s unimportant. They’re three survivors, moving on as best they know how.

  “How many died?”

  “Five. Including our squad leader. Two others came through the initial blast, one died shortly after in my arms before help could get to us. The other lost his leg, then died of a fuckin’ infection. Nails and I only had minor injuries from the shrapnel. We turned in our papers after that. It wasn’t fearful on our own behalf, it was watching our brothers die. Just couldn’t take the chance of going through that again.”

  “That’s why you want to join the MC?”

  He nods. “Want men at my back again, and me to be at theirs. Nails and I have felt adrift since we’ve been out. Started our business, but something was missing, you know?” He leans forward, his hands clasped between his legs. “You’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. We’d been laughing that day. On our way back after a successful mission. I’d just been handed a picture of Tinman’s baby, I was staring at it when the world exploded. Tinman was killed immediately. Makes no fuckin’ sense.”

  “That’s awful,” says Mom, her voice dripping sympathy.

  Her tone suggests that his pain, his sharing, somehow helps us with ours. A reminder that loss happens all the time. That what we�
��re feeling happens everywhere, every day. I’m just about to tell him, when for the second time in two days, the front door crashes in.

  “Look everywhere,” a voice barks.

  “Phil?” Mom’s on her feet as I set my eyes on a man I barely recognise.

  His hair, thinning now, is more grey than black. I get the blond from my mom. His face is etched with lines, and his cheeks are reddened. He’s got a gun in his hands and so have the men who’ve come in with him. He must have set off from Denver immediately after Mom called.

  “Stay right where you are. Search him.”

  Dirt’s standing. He sends a look of apology my way and holds out his arms to his sides. He needn’t feel sorry. What can one man do against five? Nothing other than die if he tried to be a hero. Soon he’s disarmed, and, for good measure, has his arms tied behind him.

  “You the boyfriend?” Phil demands.

  “Yes,” I reply fast, my own look of contrition toward Dirt. Don’t want to admit he’s here as an ineffective, as it’s turned out, bodyguard.

  “What are your men doing?” Mom asks, her own face reddening with rage as now Dirt has been secured, four of the men have fanned out, and are opening drawers and cupboards and throwing the contents on the ground.

  “Looking for my fucking stash,” he rasps. He approaches and grabs hold of Mom’s chin. “Where did Connor hide it?”

  “The drugs are not here anymore. I told you that.”

  “Who took them?”

  “And I told you that too,” she replies steadily. “I don’t know.”

  “Where’s Connor?”

  “Connor’s dead,” I cry out.

  It gets his attention on me. He looks up into my face. “You’re a fucking freak. Give you a thrill does it? Fucking a bitch like her?” The last is thrown over his shoulder to Dirt.

  Dirt’s face goes apoplectic. If he was my boyfriend, he couldn’t be angrier.

  “I’d give her a try.” One of Phil’s men stops what he’s doing long enough to leer at me.

  I’d break his freaking dick if he came near me. It’s noticeable my father doesn’t say a word on my behalf.

  “Where’s Connor?” he repeats.

  “In the morgue,” I say, sharply. He must see my reddened eyes; must know we’ve spent the evening crying at the loss of my brother. I know it’s imperative he doesn’t suspect we don’t believe it’s true for one second.

  “You believe that?”

  “Why should this lie?” Picking it up from where Mom had set it down, I throw the death certificate at him.

  He peruses it while frowning and doesn’t look as certain as he did before.

  “Nothing in the garage, boss.”

  “Nothing upstairs, either.”

  One by one the four men return, presumably from searching every area of the house. Empty handed, of course.

  “Where’s my shit?” Phil demands once again of my mom.

  “I don’t know,” she replies.

  “Who took it?”

  “I don’t know. They broke in. Seemed to know exactly what they were looking for. Shifty looking men, like yours.” Mom’s getting annoyed.

  “Describe them.”

  I take over. “There were two men. One was tall, dark hair, angular features. One was Hispanic.” I shrug, making it all up, hoping I’m not describing a pair that he’d pick up and question for no reason. “They went straight to Connor’s old room and took the stuff.”

  He eyes me carefully as though trying to assess whether I’m telling the truth.

  “No one would fucking cross me,” he declares at last. “Connor must have had a side deal going on. And you,” he swings around and his narrowing eyes land on Dirt, “there’s something about you I don’t like.”

  “Phil,” I snap, wanting to get his attention back to me. “You know we don’t have what you want or know who has. I suspect you might get a thrill out of terrorising women, but other than that, there’s no point in you being here.”

  “Mouthy bitch aren’t you?”

  “Phil, that’s your daughter you’re talking to,” Mom snaps.

  “Oh,” he says, in a sly tone I don’t like, “I’m well aware of that.” He nods to one, then another of his men. “Bring the freak, she’s coming with us.” He turns to my mom who’s looking on in horror. “My daughter will enjoy my hospitality for a time while you have a think about who took those drugs. I’m sure with the right incentive, you’ll remember.”

  I try and signal with my eyes that Mom has to keep her mouth shut. God knows what Phil will do if we give him the information he’s after and we’re no longer of any use to him. But her eyes flash sympathy and her own warning. She knows what he’s capable of, after all. If he could contemplate killing his son, he’d not hesitate to take out his ex-wife and daughter.

  “We don’t know and can’t tell you,” I cry out as two men approach.

  “Then Patsy will have to do some investigating. If she doesn’t, you won’t be coming home.”

  Dirt, hands bound, still tries to step up, but a hard punch to his head floors him.

  I struggle and cry out as one of the men grasps my arm too hard. That’s Mom’s undoing.

  “Stop!” she screams out. “I’ll tell you.”

  We’re frozen in a bizarre tableau. I stop fighting the men who’ve got hold of me. Phil swings around and stares at Mom. Dirt’s struggled to his knees and his face is filled with horror.

  “Who?” snaps Phil when the spell is broken.

  “Let her go and I’ll tell you.”

  Instead, Phil signals toward one of the men holding me. He yanks on my hair so hard I yell out.

  But still I try to stop her. “Mom. No!”

  “The Satan’s Devils MC. They’ve got what you’re looking for.”

  She’s achieved nothing.

  A very unpleasant smile crosses Phil’s face. “Then I’ll keep Bethany until they’ve given them back. Connor said Beth was fucking one of them.” He pauses and gives a hard look at Dirt. “You, I’m only leaving alive so you can take that message back to your club. Get me my drugs, or you won’t see your girlfriend again.”

  My hands are yanked together behind my back and tied, then, each man has a hand on my elbow, and I’m marched out and pushed roughly into an SUV.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mace

  “How did they take it?” Beef draws me to one side when I return to the clubhouse.

  “How you’d expect,” I tell him. “Devastated.” But I’m distracted, and the VP pulls me up on it.

  “And?”

  Shaking my head, I tell him what’s worrying me, “They told me to leave.”

  He looks puzzled. “What the fuck’s wrong with that? Perfectly understandable, they wanted to grieve alone.”

  “I’m not sure, VP. I think Beth is suspicious.”

  “That you weren’t telling the truth?”

  I shrug. “Tried to be as convincing as possible. Don’t know what she could have picked up.”

  “Maybe you imagined it. First step to grief is denial. Probably hard to believe she won’t be seeing her brother again.”

  I look down at the ground and then back up. “Are we doing the right thing here, Beef?”

  His shoulders rise and fall now. “Fuck if I know, but Connor can’t stay around here. They’ll never see him again, so what difference does it make?”

  “At least a mother would know her son isn’t dead.”

  “And then she’d try to maintain contact with him. You know what Cad found out about Phil Foster. He won’t give up. He’s a man who likes revenge. Connor stole from him and left him well out of pocket. He’s a dead man if Phil comes across him again.”

  He’s right, but I still hadn’t liked delivering the news. For some reason, I’d felt I was letting Ink down, when all I’m doing is trying everything I can to fix his situation. I’d hurt Ink’s woman. Do you ever recover from the death of a loved one? I’m not sure you do. I know my great-gran
dmother still felt the loss of the man who died sixty years before. She was ninety when she went to join him a year or so back, and in the end, he was all she’d wanted to talk about. She’d never forgotten him, or ever got over her loss.

  Would Beth?

  I might not mind inflicting physical pain. But mental hurt? Seems it’s there I want to draw the line. Too late. What’s done is done.

  To take my mind off the grief of the women I’d just left, I take advantage of Beef’s attention, and broach my embryonic idea.

  “Hey, VP. You had a gym set up in Tucson, didn’t you? It get well used?”

  “It fuckin’ did, Brother. And does. Drummer insists on it. Monthly sparring matches in the ring too. Should have something like that here.” He flexes his biceps. “I’m getting soft.”

  “We use a gym in town, as you well know, Beef.” I raise my chin at him, having seen him there a time or two. “But Ink’s been on about setting something up for ourselves.”

  He gives me a calculating look. “You thinking of starting the project for Ink?”

  I shrug. “Ink’s idea, but we’d all benefit. Thought of seeing if we could renovate one of the old buildings out the back.”

  “What? The ones behind the fence?”

  Yeah, Beef had fenced off the more dangerous areas when he’d laid out the backyard for his old lady. “Yes. One of them is fairly sound.”

  “It’s a good idea, Brother. Bring it up at tomorrow’s church. Reckon we’d all like to chip in and do something for Ink when he gets out.” The faraway look that comes into his eyes suggests he’s thinking that despite our best efforts and using the drugs and Connor’s knowledge of Alder to bargain with the feds, Ink could still be going away for a very long time.

  “You did the yard for Steph, Bro,” I remind him. “At the time you didn’t know you’d see her again.”

  Beef snorts. “You think it worked like a charm bringing her back to me?”

  I give a half-smile. “Well, it can’t do any harm.”

  He slaps my back. “We’re doing what we can for Ink, Mace. But yeah, I think brothers want to do more. A gym’s a great idea in any event, but when every nail hammered in and every piece of equipment set up is for him, well, I don’t see anyone turning your idea around. We’d all give our lives for each other; blood, sweat and tears would be cheerfully donated.”