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

by Mellett, Manda

  I swear the clock on the wall is ticking far too slowly. I seem to be counting off minutes which feel like hours. Some of the brothers go on a coffee run, and Mel, Vi and Beth go to raid the vending machines for candy.

  When Beef stands to stretch his legs, I grab one of the few chairs, and sit with my legs splayed and my hands clasped between them, my head bowed. Lizard. You have got to be okay. You can’t fuckin’ die now. Who am I going to share women with? Ink’s got Beth, he’s no fun anymore. You’ve got to recover with your cock in working order, and we’ll share some pussy together.

  Not Shayla though. If I ever get near her with my cock, ain’t gonna be sharing her. No, she’s all mine—for the night anyway.

  She’s the only one of the women not here now. The prospects will have to keep her company. Karl, Beaver, Dirt and Nails are holding down the fort back home.

  The door opens, but it’s only those who went for coffee coming in and passing cups around. Next time, it’s the girls returning and giving out sugary bars.

  Finally, when the garbage bin is filled to overflowing with disposable cups, the door opens and at last it’s the doctor.

  “David Black.”

  “That’s me,” says Demon. “But we’re all his family and want to know how he is, and what you’ve found.”

  “He’s still the same as when he came in, but we’ve done an MRI scan. Mr James has got a meningioma, a tumour in his brain. It’s fairly large, and I suspect it’s been growing for some time having heard about these headaches he’s been having.”

  “A tumour? Is… is it cancer?” Demon cautiously asks.

  That dreaded fucking C word. I hold my breath waiting for the doctor’s reply.

  “We can’t tell at the moment whether it’s malignant or benign. I also can’t tell you right now about the treatment, whether we’ll be able to shrink it, or whether it needs surgery to be removed, but it can’t be left as it is, as it’s clearly interfering with his functions, hence the coma he is in. We’ve got the on-call neurologist coming to assess him.”

  “Will he recover?” Demon asks. Again, I hold my breath.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that either. Hopefully, we’ll know more when the neurologist has been able to examine him. He’ll be transferred to the neurology ward shortly.”

  “Is he likely to wake up?” Ink asks.

  My hands fist as I wait to hear the doctor say I don’t know one more time. I’m not to be disappointed.

  “I’m very sorry, but it’s impossible to tell. It is possible, but I would say unlikely unless we can ease the pressure being caused by the meningioma.”

  I pipe up with a question of my own. “Is this likely to have been caused by his original brain injury?”

  I wait for the answer I’m sure I’ll hear once again, but this time the doctor surprises me. “The VA might disagree, or at least that would be their go-to response, but yes, I think that’s quite possible. A lot of work has been done which links subsequent meningiomas with previous traumatic damage to the brain. Of course, as these take years to form, cause and effect are hard to prove, but research would suggest there are a disproportionate number of these tumours appearing in vets who’ve suffered a TBI.”

  Knowing doesn’t help Lizard, but it helps me. If true, it would mean it wasn’t down to me forcing Vanna and Cas onto him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mace

  “What’s the news, Prez?”

  Demon and I have barely entered the clubroom when questions start to fly. With the unlikely prognosis that Lizard wouldn’t be waking any time soon on his own, a few hours ago, men had started to return to the clubhouse. I’d stayed on with Demon and am now right behind him.

  “The neurologist has seen him.” He begins his update to the hushed room. “His view is that the tumour needs to be removed.”

  “Will they do a biopsy first? To find out whether it’s cancer or not?” Sparky walks closer.

  “No point as it needs to come out anyway. Apparently, it’s causing intracranial pressure which is responsible for putting him into a coma. They’re worried there may be a bleed that the tumour is masking.”

  “What are his chances?” Judge asks, his jaw clenched.

  Demon shakes his head. “At the moment, they are being cautious and aren’t prepared to say. Removing the tumour may bring him back to us, or it could go the other way.”

  I hear gasps from the couches where the women are sitting. Jayden’s hand is covering her mouth, and Vi’s dabbing tears from her eyes. Beth has her arm around Mel, and Steph has her face buried in Max’s fur. Jeannie and Sindy looked equally shocked. As are we all, this has happened so fast.

  Ever since we’d spoken to the experts, I’ve been trying to come to terms with what I heard. The thought of my brother having an operation on his fucking brain is shattering. The idea I might never laugh, joke, drink, or share women with him again is, well, I haven’t words to describe what that would mean to me.

  We’re bikers and we know our lives could be cut short at any time. We could come off our bikes or be shot by members of a rival MC. That this life is full of danger is part of the attraction. Who wants to live a nine-to-five in a safe suburban house? Not me, that’s for fucking certain. I just never suspected Liz could be betrayed by his own body.

  “When?” Beef asks.

  “Tomorrow, Monday. They want to make sure he’s stabilised first.”

  “Could the tumour do more damage in that time?” Wills looks concerned.

  I contribute to the discussion. “It’s a slow growing one. Lizard must have been living with this for literally years. They’re convinced they’ve got time.”

  Prez looks around, noting everyone seems to be here, then catches my eye and raises his chin. “Church in an hour,” he announces.

  I nod. Convinced he’s doing the right thing as we’d discussed while sitting vigil, hoping Lizard would come around. We’ve got some decisions to make which is why Prez is calling everyone together.

  Knowing I could do with a shower, having missed out on mine earlier this morning, I cross the room to the stairs and start to make my way up. On the top step sits Shayla. As she looks up at me, I see her eyes glistening.

  “I heard,” she admits in a whisper.

  Christ. Of all the men here, she’s most at her ease with me and Lizard, us being the ones she’d first told her sorry tale to. Of course she’s going to feel sad for the man whose prognosis is uncertain.

  “You could have come down. Liz’s condition isn’t a secret,” I tell her.

  “I didn’t want to intrude,” she replies. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  It’s been a long ass day, starting even before dawn had lightened the sky when Lizard collapsed outside my room. He’d been trying to get to me, I’m certain. He just didn’t make it in time. I lean my head against the wall before I answer her. Then I just say, “It’s bad, babe.”

  It’s as though I’ve only just allowed myself to really acknowledge I might never see my brother again. I thought I’d been dealing, but know it’s just a front I’ve been putting on. Now my heart aches as my possible loss cuts through me, as well as the guilt as to the part I might have played.

  “I can’t lose him,” I spit out. “Fuck, Shayla. He’s not just a club brother, we were fighting for our country at the same time. Might not have served alongside him, he was a Marine and I was Army, but the tie’s there all the same, both up against the same enemy. We were so fuckin’ close.” I keep to myself the closeness that we shared fuckin’ girls together, and settle for, “I had a bond with him that’s hard to explain. Sure, he’s an asshole, but aren’t we all? If he goes—”

  “He’s a fighter,” she insists. “Might not know him well, but I’m certain of that. If there’s any chance, he’ll come back to you.”

  “He might. But what if it fucks his brain up?” I draw my hands down my face. “I don’t know what to do. Prez wants to meet in an hour. I’ve come up to get a quick
shower, now I’ve not even the energy to do that. I’m the fuckin’ enforcer, babe. How can I do my job when I can’t even think straight?”

  She stands, and one of her hands lands on my shoulder, then the other on the opposite side. Gently, she digs her fingers in, releases, then does it again.

  Christ. That feels so fucking good. I roll my head as her touch eases some of my tension.

  As her fingers continue to squeeze and relax, I let out a groan. “You’ve got a magic touch.”

  I hear her breathe in deeply, then she says in a decisive tone, “Come with me.”

  I take the hand she holds out but use my own weight to pull myself up. Then, intrigued, I follow her into the room she’s using. A room with such bad connotations, no brother wants to move into it, so it’s been used for a variety of other purposes. Connor, Beth’s brother, was the last person to stay here when he was injured. No one else wants to go into the room which was Skull’s. It’s as if his stench still hangs over it. The odour of cop and betrayal.

  Now it’s filled with her and her perfume and already the place seems lighter.

  I stand by the door, uncertain why she’s invited me in here.

  She indicates the end of the bed. “Sit on the edge there.”

  When I do, she climbs on the bed behind me. “You’re too tall, Mace. I couldn’t do this properly out there.” She uses her fingers and palms to knead my taut neck and shoulder muscles. Whether it’s her, or just the gentle touch that I need, more of my tension starts to ease.

  She’s left the door open, but that’s okay. I may be in her bedroom, but I’m conscious of this massive step forward, and know I can’t take advantage or frighten her away. I’m making sure my hands stay anchored on my knees, no hint of a threat or that I’m about to overpower her. Being totally honest, even Shayla’s hands on me wouldn’t have my cock sitting up, not after the day that I’ve had. My thoughts are all with my brother, fighting for his very existence. The neurologist had warned us brains are tricky, even if Liz recovers, he may never be the same.

  My thoughts come out of my mouth. “What if he can never ride his bike again? Or talk?” Fuck, I’d miss his voice and those comments he makes. “What if he can’t feed or look after himself?”

  “Mace, don’t think that way.” Her voice, like her touch, is calming. “Lizard once told me, I shouldn’t borrow trouble. He was right. You’ve just got to take it day by day. Doctors can work miracles these days, and even if he comes out the other side not the same as he was, you and your brothers will deal. One thing I’ve learned while I’ve been here is the love you all have for each other.”

  She’s right. If he can’t ride his bike, he can’t be a member of the club, but that’s just semantics. Not one of us would abandon a brother in need.

  “He’s a good man,” she tells me, her hands never stop moving. “Another tattoo artist wouldn’t have cared how Major had marked me.”

  “Property patches mean something to us, darlin’,” I explain. “Part of his concern was blowback on the club.”

  I feel her shrug. “He cares for you, his brothers. But whatever you say or how you try to justify it, he’s been good to me.” Her hands lift away. “Why don’t you lie down, on your front?”

  That she’s confident enough to suggest it warms me even though my thoughts are chilling. I do as she suggests, and feel her straddle me, her hands now massaging my shoulders and back, stopping just above my ass.

  “You’re good at this,” I tell her, feeling myself relax.

  “I work with heavy shit,” she says. “Sometimes I overdo it or have to stretch in unfamiliar ways to get to part of an engine. I discovered this great massage parlour and often went there to get my aches soothed away. I’m just trying to do what they did to me.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  For a moment we’re quiet, me starting to feel like I could drift away and doze off.

  “Has Lizard got any family?”

  Now isn’t that the million-dollar question? “His mom died, his dad couldn’t cope. Lost himself in the bottle. Lizard was taken away and entered the system. Went through various foster homes and then joined the Marines. I don’t think his dad is still breathing, but Lizard wouldn’t want anything to do with him anyway.” I offer her what truth I can, keeping the rest to myself.

  My mind goes to Cas. If that kid doesn’t pull himself together, he could go the same way as his dad. Be taken away from his mom if social services think she’s not a good enough mother. Fuck, and I just sent her away. I’d been thinking of Liz. If, heaven forbid, he never recovers, wouldn’t he want someone to be there for his kid and his wife? I’d been trying to protect him, but what if I’ve made things worse?

  “What’s the time, babe?”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got an eye on the clock. You’ve still got twenty minutes before your meeting.”

  “I meant to have a shower.”

  “You want to go get one?”

  “No.” It’s here I want to stay. Her touch, so soothing, so comforting, it’s helping me to come to terms with what’s happened today. I feel so fucking helpless. There’s nothing to fight, no one to question. This problem is one I can’t solve in any of my usual ways.

  We’re quiet as she continues to work my muscles. When at last she says I should be on my way, I realise some of my inner strength has returned. While her administrations have done nothing to take my troubles away, somehow, I feel better able to face them.

  When she stands, I roll onto my back, then curl my abs and sit up. She’s moved a few feet away.

  I don’t approach, I make no move to touch her. I just say a heartfelt, “Thank you, babe.”

  She offers a quick smile. “If there’s anything I can do to help, Mace…”

  “Stay,” I tell her, then when she goes to protest, I tell her again, “Just stay here with us. Fuck knows how long Liz will be in the hospital, Shay. I don’t need to have to worry about where you are as well.”

  “You’d worry about me?” She seems surprised.

  “Every fuckin’ day.”

  Her eyes widen, and her head tilts to one side. A whole minute passes before she speaks, as though she’s working things through in her head. “Okay,” she starts, slowly, the word coming as she breathes out. “I won’t make plans to move on until Liz is back home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Shayla

  I’d been a normal woman until Major had taken me. My life was predictable, I’d go to work, come home and then cook a meal for my boyfriend and clean up after him. I wasn’t sure I’d be staying with Rodger long-term, but the benefits of having someone there for company outweighed the disadvantages of being an unpaid servant. I wasn’t anything particularly special, so hadn’t set my hopes too high. In time I knew I wanted a family but wasn’t sure I was with the right man.

  In my previous life, I’d never have entertained the idea that I’d end up where I am, in the clubhouse of an outlaw MC. I would never mix with these kinds of men, would never even dream of going to a business owned by them if I wanted a tattoo—not that I’d probably have gotten one in the first place, far too daring for a girl like me. Under the circumstances I found myself in, I needed to go somewhere where people maybe wouldn’t obey all the rules and would do the work on someone like Esme. Hence, I chose a tattoo parlour run by bikers.

  I’d been wrong, they did run an honest business. But instead of turning me away, they’d offered me sanctuary, and I’ve ended up the one place I’d never imagined I’d be.

  Of course, I never expected my life would be turned upside down in the way it had been. That fateful day carried no indication that anything out of the ordinary was going to happen. I had no premonition, no warning. A simple request to deliver paperwork at the accountant’s wasn’t strange or unusual at all. I’d agreed, then placed a quick phone call to Rodger saying I’d be late. It met with the reaction I could have predicted, the normal grumpy response that his dinner wouldn’t be on the table at
the right time.

  I’d driven into Vegas, wondering if perhaps it was now time for me and Rodger to part ways. I wasn’t even certain I loved him anymore, and sex had become something of an obligation, rather than an act I looked forward to with anticipation. Pleasant enough when we got down to it, but too much of a bother at times.

  Rodger’s sex drive had also diminished over time, but I expect that’s what happens to most couples.

  When the accountant had asked me to go for a drink, I’d accepted. Not because I fancied the man, and there was no attraction on his side either, but it had been a break from the monotony of my routine and, if I was honest, a welcome delay in going home to see the man who’d be holding a grudge that I’d left him to fend for himself. Not that he’d be violent, or even shout at me. His treatment would be the opposite, moody silence would be his weapon of choice.

  The couple of drinks, one wine, one soda for me, had turned out to be enjoyable as we shared jokes and had a laugh, him relating tales of some of his clients, and me sharing stories of some of mine. He’d treated me as an equal, not as a woman but a person in my own right, just as I’d grown to expect while doing my job. I worked in a male-dominated environment, and one in which I’d grown comfortable. Sure, at times, there would be the odd innuendo or joke, but I’d made sure I’d gotten my own back with an equal quip. I was respected by the work I did, not the shapeliness of my legs.

  When I’d left the accountant, we’d shaken hands then I walked off into the night.

  The smile that had been placed on my face had slowly slid off when I thought about Rodger and what I’d be returning to. He didn’t see me as a partner, we had strict roles in life. He wore the trousers and I, well, I kept house. Even though I had a good job and brought in the same money as he did.

  Many women would be happy with my lot in life. But to me, something was missing. I just didn’t know what.