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

by Mellett, Manda

  “You’re swearing,” he challenges.

  “I’m a fuckin’ man,” I respond. “But I’ll do you a deal. What new game do you want?” He stares at me sullenly, clearly unable to understand, so I make myself clearer. “You got an Xbox? Come on, there must be a game you want to get your hands on?”

  His eyes grow even wider until they resemble saucers. “Er, the new Call of Duty?”

  Tugging at the chain that attaches it to my belt, I take hold of my wallet, open it and take out three ones, slapping them down on the counter. “I swear, I pay. You swear, you pay. You don’t swear? I’ll buy you the game, anyway.”

  He swings around to look at his mother, but she’s relaxed and unconcerned. In fact, I see her mouth twitching at the corners as if she’s trying not to smile. Then his gaze returns to me, and his expression is guarded. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

  I nod, as he’s asked without punctuating his statement with profanity.

  “Are you a friend of Mom’s?” Now he looks suspicious.

  “No,” I reply, noticing how he steps slightly more in front of Vanna, and he takes a small move up in my estimation. It’s a protective gesture, whether conscious or not. “I’m not a friend of your mom’s. But I am a friend of your dad’s.”

  Chapter Seven

  Vanna

  Oh no!

  This is so not how I expected this to go. I thought Mace would ease Cas in gently, not drop this on him all at once.

  I was impressed when Mace had given Cas a reason to stop swearing—the equivalent of a swear jar. Why had I never thought of that?

  Now I’m totally horrified. So yes, if Mace had said he was a friend of mine, Cas would have gotten all the wrong ideas, but coming straight out with he’s a friend of his father’s will immediately make Cas’s hackles go up.

  My hands are still on his arms, no longer reassuring, but ready to hold on should he try to get out the door. Not that I’d have much chance at physically stopping him, but I’d make a darn good attempt.

  While Cas stands stock still, and I stand stunned, Mace leans back comfortably as if he’s used to propping up the kitchen furniture in my home. When Cas moves, it’s not to run, it’s to move closer to the stranger in the room.

  “A friend of my dad’s? Then you’re not welcome in this house. Tell him, Mom, tell him to go.” My son makes his desperate sounding appeal without turning around.

  “Cas,” I make do with addressing his back, “listen to him, please.”

  “He’s not saying anything I want to fucking hear.”

  “I’m keeping count,” Mace says, mildly.

  “And I don’t give a fucking damn.”

  Suddenly Mace stands. He’s taller than Cas, and far more heavily built. As he pushes away from the counter, my son takes a step back. I don’t blame him.

  “Stay right where you are,” Mace demands.

  Christ. Is that man’s voice loud? And commanding. He might not have been speaking to me, but I’m rooted to the spot.

  “I want to talk to you man-to-man, and you’re going to listen. You old enough for that, or do you want to go play with your toys?” He sneers the last word.

  “I’ll listen if it’s anything I want to know.” Cas tenses but replies. I suspect only I can hear the sliver of nervousness in his voice.

  “Not the way this works, boy,” Mace sneers. “Men listen to facts, then make up their minds. Filtering out the unpleasant shit,” he pauses, opens that wallet and slaps another dollar down, “means you’ll remain ignorant all your life. You want to be treated like a man? You sit and have a discussion.”

  “Why should I when I already know what you’re going to say? Mom’s obviously asked you to talk to me, so I can guess why you’re here. You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t have hotwired a car. That I shouldn’t have crashed it—”

  Mace snorts. “You shouldn’t have gotten caught, and before you steal a car, you should learn to fuckin’ drive.”

  As a dollar slams down, my lips curve. Cas is going to have his new game in record time.

  Cas, though, is stunned. “Who are you?” he says at last, almost in a whisper.

  “Name’s Mace. I’m the enforcer for the Satan’s Devils MC.”

  My feet now under my control, I walk further into the room so I can see my son’s expressions. He’s looking confused.

  And disbelieving. “Where’s your cut and motorcycle?”

  “I came in my truck for reasons I’ll tell you soon. And even if I was on my bike, I’m based out of Pueblo. Wearing my cut out of area is disrespectful unless it’s been cleared that I can fly my colours in your town. Respect is a code that I live by. You give me respect, I give it back. Disrespect me or mine? Then you’ll soon wish you hadn’t.”

  I may not agree with everything Mace is saying, especially when he essentially told my son hotwiring a car wasn’t wrong but that getting caught was, but this conversation is exactly what my son needs. Getting told what’s what by a man. A man who’s demanding respect.

  I’ve tried, but I’m Mom.

  Suddenly Cas grins and asks hopefully, “You gonna show me how to drive?”

  “Nope,” Mace replies, popping the p. “Not if you’re going to steal cars. Something you shouldn’t do, or only when absolutely necessary. You know who you stole that car from?” When Cas shrugs, Mace continues, “What if they had a sick kid, or a sick ma or pa? What if a friend called, needed his or her help urgently? What if they couldn’t work as they had no transportation? What was your need, Cas? Was your need greater than theirs?”

  Another shrug, but this one not quite so certain.

  “What was your need?” Mace asks again.

  A pause then, a defeated, “I was bored. Just wanted to see if I could do it.”

  “Happy to teach you how to hotwire most models of cars, Cas, but only if you promise to only ever use those skills when it’s life or death. Deal?”

  Well I’ll be damned. As Mace steps forward holding out his hand, Cas steps forward and shakes it. “Deal.”

  “Few things for you to agree to, Cas, if you’re going to be my friend. You never, ever take a man’s ride. You never even touch a man’s bike without permission. You never put your hands on another man’s cut, even to move it so you can sit down. You understand?”

  Cas nods. He looks serious, taking it all in, but curious as well, not understanding why Mace is telling him this.

  Mace raises his chin and then jerks it in my direction. “You, me and your mom are driving back to Pueblo soon as you’re packed. You’re staying the weekend on the Satan’s Devils’ compound. I’ll show you the bikes, take you on the back of mine if your mom’s agreeable.”

  “What?” Cas looks to me, his eyes shining. “This for real, Mom?”

  I look toward Mace. Cas hasn’t put two and two together yet. Not surprising, I hadn’t told him Lizard is a biker.

  Mace points to the dining table and the four chairs that came with it. It was a thrift-shop find, but I sanded then varnished it so it doesn’t look bad.

  “Let’s sit down. Gotta explain some things to you.”

  Without argument, my son sits. Mace goes to the chair opposite him, I take the seat in between.

  Mace clasps his hands on the table, looks down, then directly at Cas. “How old are you, kid?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Fourteen,” Mace repeats. “Grown out of a boy, but not quite into a man. Though I suspect you’ve been the man of the house for a very long time.”

  “Since… I was born.” Cas substitutes the last for since Dad left remembering Mace’s initial introduction.

  “So I’m going to speak to you as an adult, and I expect you to consider things without simply dismissing them.”

  Cas’s chin lifts then falls.

  “So, Cas. You gonna listen without fuckin’ interrupting?”

  Instead of answering, Cas nods toward Mace and tilts his head to the side. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ma
ce extracts another dollar and puts it on the growing pile behind him. I wink at Cas, and he…? He winks back.

  “Right. Here’s the thing. I said your dad was my friend, he’s more than that. He’s my brother. Not by blood, by choice. He’s a member of our club. All the members are my brothers.”

  Cas has gone tense with just the mention of Lizard. He glances at me, then back to Mace.

  Mace’s face darkens as Cas opens his mouth, and he says fast, “I said, hear me out.” He waits for Cas to relax before he continues, “Your dad got a serious brain injury, you know that? Well, I did and I didn’t. Only just learned how bad it was. The man I know is good, brave, would give his life and all he owns to the people he loves.”

  “He doesn’t love us,” Cas spits out, a wealth of emotion in his voice.

  “He doesn’t know you, Cas. He doesn’t know your mom either. He knows us. You know how to become a member of a motorcycle club? No? Well, you need to prospect for a year or more. For that time, you do all the… bum jobs. You clean up shit, puke; you wash bikes. If a member asks you to clean the heads with your toothbrush, you snap to it and do it with a smile on your face. If you do that, you earn the club’s trust. When we know you’ll do absolutely anything, you’re patched into the club.”

  “Do you kill people?”

  Mace glances at me, then back at Cas. “I won’t lie and I ain’t going to admit it.”

  Again, Cas glances at me to see how I’m taking it, but I keep my face impassive. If Mace gets through to my son, I don’t care how he does it.

  Mace takes up his thread once again. “Lizard prospected for us, earned our trust and his patch. Became a brother. We judged him for the person he presented to us, not because of anything he’d done in the past. Yeah, he loves us, and we love him back, but it’s been earned, not gained just because we wear the same colours on our backs.”

  “Are you saying he doesn’t have to love me because I’m his son?”

  “Nope. I’m saying he doesn’t love you because he doesn’t know who you are. He did, before his injury, but kid, that fucked with his head. Way I see it is, if two hangarounds, that’s wannabe members, walked into our club and said they wanted to join up but not prospect, we’d laugh ourselves sick. That’s not the way this works. I expect you already know there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Lizard can’t remember being married, he can’t remember having a wife. He can’t remember fuckin’—that’s a verb not swearing—your mom, nor putting you inside her. He can’t remember you being born or any of that shit. You turning up expecting him to have a come-to-Jesus moment and suddenly fall in love ain’t going to happen. Because he doesn’t know who you are.”

  I’ve tried. Tried to explain it. But nothing I said ever made sense. Of course, I didn’t paint the picture that Mace has, nor had the full attention of my son or not when he could keep a hold on his temper.

  And I’ll be darned if Cas doesn’t turn to me and hold out his hand. Dubiously, I put mine into it.

  He stares at me, his eyes suddenly looking older than his years. “You never stopped loving him, Mom, did you? That’s why you’ve never found another man.” He shakes his head. “You’re hurting too, aren’t you? He doesn’t know you either.”

  Tears prick at my eyes. He doesn’t know the half of it. When Cas squeezes my hand then releases it, my fingers curl into my palms, remembering not only doesn’t he know me, but unlike myself, he’s moved on.

  My son’s attention has switched back to Mace. “So, how do we prospect for his attention?”

  Mace laughs loudly. “Fuck. Yeah, okay, I’ll put another dollar in. In fact, I’ll put in two. ‘Cause, fuck me, that’s the way of it. Not sure we’ve got much of a plan, but we’ll approach this from two fronts. I want to see my brother right, and if possible, you and your mom back in his life. But I’ll warn you both, Lizard’s brain got scrambled up, that’s obvious. He might want things now he didn’t want before, and those things he used to want, hold no desire any longer. So perhaps all we can hope for is that he’ll do right by you and your mom, even if he can’t be a husband to her.”

  “I know that, Mace,” I tell him, remembering what I’d witnessed. “I wish I didn’t, but if he wants a divorce, I’ll give him one, no hassle, no problem. All I want is for him to acknowledge his son and have a relationship of some sort with him.”

  Mace nods. “May not know you myself yet, Cas, but what I’ve seen, I like. You’re protective of your mom, sit and listen when you need to. I’d be proud to call you my son. And I think Lizard will, once you’ve ‘prospected’.” He winks. “Now the other front is the medical one. Not sure how far we’ll get, but we’ll make sure Lizard’s getting the right treatment he needs, and the right therapeutic support.”

  “If, if his brain’s fucked—verb not swear word,” Cas giggles, then grows serious again, “could it cause him damage if he’s confronted by me and Mom?”

  “I’m no doctor, Cas, but yeah. There could be a risk. Might also mean he’ll never accept you or come to terms with it. But I’ll tell you this—club is not going to turn its back on family, and that’s what you and your mom are, however this plays out.” He holds out his fist and Cas bumps it with his. “You’re club.”

  We’re club.

  Dare I hope we’re not alone any longer? Can I believe this man? Will Cas get the male influences I’ve always wanted for him?

  Not sure I want him to hotwire any more cars or to learn more about such things, but hell, it’s better for him to know when and when not to and how not to get caught. I can’t be picky and say a bunch of bikers wouldn’t be good for my son.

  Their core values—respect, love, family, and support for each other—well, if Cas learns that much, it can’t do him wrong.

  Cas looks at me, then at Mace. Then he stands, his hand resting momentarily on my shoulder. “Well then, I’ve got to go pack. Come on Mother, you’ve got to get your glam on.”

  My glam?

  Mace winks at me.

  “Vanna,” he says, as I start to get to my feet. “It may take a while. I’ve been thinking. I’ll introduce you as a friend of mine. Just a friend,” he adds fast, “no funny business. But I think it’s best for Lizard to be able to get to know you again, no pressure.”

  I ask the question I should have voiced way back, saying tightly, “That woman I saw Lizard with. Is it serious? Will I be stepping on anyone’s toes?” Again, my hands clench. “Introducing me as someone to you will sounds right, if,” my voice catches and I try to tamp down the anger I know it’s not right for me to feel, “Lizard is happy with someone else…” My voice trails off as I find it too hard to complete my sentence.

  His face tightens and he glances in the direction that my son had gone, making sure he’s out of earshot. “Vanna, I can assure you Lizard hasn’t got a girlfriend, fiancé or wife. But I have got to warn you, the club has girls, they’re there for one thing only. Sex. Sex without strings or emotions.”

  I widen my eyes then close them, picturing the girl who’d had her hands on my husband, then I open them again, having prepared myself, and ask for the confirmation I’m certain I’ll hear. “Lizard… Liz goes with them for sex?”

  Mace’s eyes meet mine. “Yeah.”

  Yeah.

  I stand, walk to the counter and lean over it, feeling my body vibrating with rage. Lizard goes with whores. The good news is that he isn’t taken. The bad? Whether or not he knows it, the fact is, he’s fucked around on his wife. For the first time ever, I have to ask myself, If I get a chance to win Lizard back, do I still want him?

  “He doesn’t know you exist, Vanna,” Mace reminds me, correctly interpreting my tense stance. “I promise you that he’s never taken to a particular woman. The girls are there, we use them.”

  Him as well? I take it if I asked the question, he’d respond, yes.

  My husband has lost his memory, he doesn’t know he has a wife. I know the person he left has changed, and I hope for the better. But the man who l
eft me, has he changed for the worst?

  Guess I’m going to find out.

  I remind myself, I never set out to regain the man who’d been so sincere the day he said his vows. What I need first and foremost is a man who’ll step up and be a dad for my son.

  Chapter Eight

  Lizard

  “Do you have to get them, you know,” Wills bumps my arm with his, “hard?”

  “Nah. So,” I try to get back to my story I’m relating to Sparky and Wills.

  “How do you do it then?”

  Rolling my eyes, I explain, “You stretch it out and wrap it around your fist or over a block.”

  “Ew.”

  Seems I’ve shut him up for the moment at least having planted that visual in his mind. “So, I asked him if he was a shower or a grower.” I chuckle, thinking back.

  “Does that make a difference?” Wills interrupts yet again.

  “Yeah,” I explain as patiently as I can. “If he’s a shower then what I draw will stay basically the same erect or not. If he’s a grower, that shits going to stretch. Think of a three-hundred-pound Marilyn Monroe.”

  “I’d rather not,” Sparky butts in. “So, what was he?”

  “Well he looks down and says he doesn’t know. I glance at his goods myself and can barely see a bulge in his pants. So I surmise and tell him he must be a grower. Then, I have to explain that means it gets bigger when he’s about to fuck.”

  “And?” prompts Wills.

  I chuckle again. “And he says it stays the same, hard or soft. He wanted me to adorn his three-inch dick.”

  “Oh, man. So he’s got something to impress with?”

  “Not just that.” I struggle to get the words out, the chuckles streaming from me. “He’d brought in a pic that wasn’t going to fit, no matter how much I resized it.”

  “Did you tell him there wasn’t enough of a cock to tat?” Sparky’s roaring with laughter. “What the hell did he say to that?”