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

by Mellett, Manda

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lizard

  I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I’m… thirty-eight years old or so I’m told, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m married to Vanna and have a little boy—no, that’s wrong—a teenage son called Cas.

  I wake alone in a bed I’m told is mine. It’s comfortable for sure, the pillow is just right, but it’s unfamiliar. The clothes hanging in the closet fit, as do the shoes and boots, but I can’t for the life of me remember purchasing or wearing them.

  Vanna and I had a long discussion yesterday, triggered by my discovery of a drawer stuffed full of condoms in what I was told was my room. While she’d already told me about the club girls, I’d been devastated to find out my wife had actually witnessed me going off with them. That I’d flaunted my infidelity in her face. What kind of man had I been? Clearly, Demon wants me to become that man again, but even if I could, do I want to?

  I’d had my own thoughts which I hadn’t shared. What if my memory returns, and I’m drawn to them rather than Vanna? Has the damage already been done and I’m going to lose her? I can tell she has reservations about me. Is it that she doesn’t like the man I’m supposed to have been for ten years? Is she worried what I’ll make of the older her, or can she not forgive me being unfaithful, even though I must have thought at the time I’d been totally free? I can’t believe it was me who did that.

  I wasn’t surprised when she suggested we sleep apart and not rush into anything, by which she meant a physical relationship, or, while I’m not fit enough yet, even the closeness of sharing a bed.

  She said we’ve got time, but I’m not sure of that. What if I don’t recover but get worse? What if my mind gives out on me completely? What if the universe hasn’t yet stopped toying with me?

  When I’d woken in the hospital bed and Vanna had been there, it had seemed so simple. When I got out, I’d go home with her and pick up from where we left off. Even learning the ten-year gap, I hadn’t initially considered the ramifications. Perhaps it would be easier if it was just her and me. But it’s not, there’s Cas to consider.

  I can look at Evangeline and know she’s my wife. Matured, yes, but still the girl I met and thought enough of to marry. I still love her, she still comes first in my world. Cas, though? He’s like a stranger. He doesn’t even look like my little boy. He looks like me. There’s no denying our relationship, and I wouldn’t want to do that, but I don’t know him at all. He’s got some of my traits, some of Vanna’s, and some which are his uniquely.

  Reaching out, I pick up the stress ball I’d left by the side of my bed and religiously start doing the exercises I’d been shown. Fuck it, but if I can’t do anything about my head, I’ll work on my body instead. What kind of husband or a father would I make, disabled and on crutches for the rest of my life?

  As I squeeze, then relax that ball with my right hand, I think about yesterday afternoon and the words Mace had said. I might have been prejudiced against coming to the club for what I thought had been valid reasons, but nothing and no one here had so far lived up to my most dire expectations. Demon had suggested I could rediscover my place here, even if I’d never remembered being here before. Could get to know the men who regard themselves as my family all over again. Do I want that? What would it mean for me and Vanna?

  Hatch was the only man who I remember being close to. Members of my unit of course, we’d all trusted each other to have our backs. But Hatch, he was special. If Mace and Demon are to be believed, I’ve now a club full of brothers who used to mean as much to me as my brother-in-arms. Could I ever regain that? Should I give them a chance?

  Yet another reason for me to regain my strength.

  I contribute by being a tattoo artist. What if I can never hold a tat gun again?

  What if I’m washed up and useless, at thirty-eight years old?

  I’m going to get well.

  That starts with me getting out of this bed. That starts with me moving forward, not looking back. Meet the men downstairs and have an open mind. With my fucked-up brain, my preconceptions about them need to be knocked on the head. If they were once my friends, and… I pick up the photo by the side of my bed, seeing my face there with Mace, and others I don’t remember or recognise. If I once smiled with them like that, who says I can’t do that again?

  To hell with the past, it’s the future which I should be setting my sights on.

  When there’s a knock on the door, I’m unsurprised to see Vanna there, concern written over her face. At my slight chin rise, she comes over to me. Is she wondering whether I’ll recognise her? Fearing during the night I’ll have forgotten again?

  “How are you feeling today? Did you have a good night?” Her question is asked almost tentatively.

  “Surprisingly, yes.” I was going to add I don’t normally sleep well in a strange bed, then realise while my head has no idea where I am, my body must have recognised and remembered.

  Her eyes examine me critically. “Have you taken your meds? Do you need help with your dressing? Can I get anything for you? Do you want some breakfast in bed? Do—”

  “Vanna,” I bark a little snappily. “I’m fine, okay? I’ll get up in a moment and come downstairs.”

  “Do you need help? Showering, getting dressed?”

  “I’m not a fuckin’ baby,” I growl, not wanting her to nurse me.

  Her eyes harden slightly. “If I’m not there when you come down, it’s because I’m going with Vi to the tattoo parlour. She’s going to go through the work with me, to check I’m happy taking it on.”

  “You’re not going to be here for my first day on the compound?” What kind of wife is she?

  Then I answer my own question. A wife who’s been independent for ten years, because she’s had to be. More than that, I was next to useless for the two years before that.

  “I need to work, Lizard. I need money.”

  I hate the fact she’ll be working and I won’t be.

  I take a deep breath. I know my emotions swing this way and that, she deserves my admiration, not anger. “What do you do? What jobs have you had?” My right hand twitches, as if wanting to reach out, but I’m not sure for what. It’s a peculiar sensation, and one, which like so many things I don’t understand, I ignore.

  “I’m an admin assistant. I’ve had a couple of different jobs. I was a receptionist for a short time, and I’ve found I’m good with numbers, so I took a bookkeeping course. Basically, I do what anyone needs to keep a business running smoothly.”

  “Sounds like you’ll be exactly what they want.” While I’m useless and washed up. It’s hard for me to reconcile the girl who I remembered as a stay-at-home wife and mother. Sounds like she’s gained some skills since I’ve been gone, as well as a new confidence. I think I like this new Vanna. A worrying thought comes to me. Am I good enough for her?

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll see you later on. Oh, and Cas has gone to the shop with Mace, there’s an engine he wants to work on, so offered to take Cas along.”

  So I’ll be going down into a clubhouse full of strangers. Great. My expression must show my distaste.

  “I won’t be out long.” She reads my reluctance. “Vi’s only going to show me the ropes, make sure it’s within my skillset. A couple of hours tops. You could stay here and rest while I’m gone. But I have to do this, Lizard. I can’t stay here without giving something back.”

  “Like I am?”

  “Oh, Liz.” She comes closer. “From what I hear, you’ve done a lot for the club. No one’s worried about you not being able to work as yet. They just want you to get strong and back to your old self.”

  “What if I can’t, Vanna? What if what you see now is all you’re going to get? Is that going to be enough for you?” Christ, I sound needy.

  She shrugs. “It is what it is, Lizard. We’ll cope, whether your disability is permanent or not.”

  But will she be there with me? At this point, I’m not sure. She’s
changed, she’s independent, and me? Well, I’m not even the man I once was.

  When the door closes behind her, I get out of bed. Showering and dressing is exhausting. I have to do everything one-handed, and that’s not even my dominant one, but my stubborn side doesn’t regret refusing Vanna’s offer of help. If I’m going to improve, I’ve got to do things for myself.

  Though the effort has taken it out of me, and my head is pounding, I refuse to do what my body suggests and lay down on the bed once again. I’ve had enough time doing nothing over the past few days. Instead, I just sit on the bed for a moment, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. When I feel sufficiently recovered, I eye the motorcycle boots and pull them toward me.

  The leather looks scuffed as though I’ve worn them a million times, and there’s wear on the left on the inside, a mark as though it’s been rubbing against something. I realise it’s come from operating the gears on the bike. What model have I got? Seems strange that I own and ride something I didn’t know existed.

  I pull on the boots and find they are incredibly comfortable. Supportive too. Deciding to keep them on, I pull my crutches toward me. Time to make my entry into the clubhouse.

  There’s a ball of nervousness inside me. Vanna’s probably left by now, and Cas has chosen to spend time with another biker and not his old man. Can I blame them for deserting me? Probably not. I’m an invalid and impatient with it. I’m tense as hell trying to deal with a fucked-up mind and probably not pleasant to be around.

  In their view, they haven’t left me alone, they’ve left me with family. I need to find out if I want to claim it as my own.

  It takes me an age to descend the stairs, bad leg first, down into hell. The physio’s description amuses me, and that’s where I feel I’m heading now. Half expecting to find a den of iniquity, men snorting drugs, cleaning guns or fucking the whores, I at last take the final step and enter the clubroom.

  There’s a man behind the bar cleaning the surface. After a moment he comes around it, carrying a black bag, and proceeds to pick up the rubbish left lying around. There’s a cloth hanging from his back pocket which he uses where necessary to wipe tables down.

  His eyes catch sight of me. “Hi, Lizard.” He waits, but when I give no sign of recognition, he enlightens me. “I’m Nails. One of the prospects. Dirt’s my friend, and he’s currently outside manning the gate. Beaver and Karl are the other two, they’ll be around later.”

  “Prospect?” Even the word sounds unfamiliar.

  “Like a recruit?”

  That he’s put it into words I can understand makes me wonder. “You served?”

  “Me and Dirt, yeah. Same unit.” His face falls. “We were being transported back to camp. Ran over a fucking IED. Dirt and I were lucky, all the rest of the unit were killed. Except for Bagel here.” He points to a dog I hadn’t noticed before. It had been sleeping. Hearing its name, it stands and wanders across. I notice one of its hind legs is missing.

  “That how he lost his limb?”

  Nails grimaces. “Yes. Bringing him back stateside and keeping him seemed fitting. Though he’s not got much call for his expertise nowadays. He’s a sniffer dog. Bombs.”

  “No explosives in the clubhouse?”

  Nails laughs, thinking I’ve made a joke, then sees my face and says scornfully, “Of course not. Anyway, Liz, Jeannie’s got breakfast on in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Oh, and, anything you want, me or one of the other prospects will do or get it for you.”

  Well, I think to myself as I make my way in the direction he’s pointing, Nails seems to be okay. As for the dog, Bagel’s either taken a liking to me or can smell the bacon, as he seems to be following me.

  The kitchen is where the action is. There are four men seated around a table, another standing with his back against one of the counters. An older woman moves him so she can open a cupboard, tut-tutting as she shoos him away.

  It’s her that turns as my crutches clack over the wooden floor.

  “Lizard!” Her eyes brighten. “Oh my God, Lizard. I heard you were back. I’m so pleased to see you.”

  My brow rises. I don’t know her from Adam.

  She gives a little shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I forgot what Demon warned me. I’m Jeannie.” Coming closer, she stares up into my face, then pokes me gently in the chest. “Don’t tell anyone, but you were one of my favourites.”

  “We’re all your favourites,” grumbles one of the men. “Liz ain’t anything special.” He looks up at me and winks. “I’m Bomber. Jeannie here is my old lady. We’ve been married darn near forty years.”

  That surprises me. I thought any arrangement between these men and women would be temporary, the women used, discarded and passed on. But forty years? Not many people can last that long.

  Jeannie looks at her man and rolls her eyes. “I’d have done less time if I murdered someone.”

  “Thought you’d have killed Bomber before now,” observes the man leaning against the counter. “I don’t know how you stand him. Hey, Liz. You remember me, Brother?”

  “No.” I make no apology for it, but I do notice the crestfallen look that crosses his face.

  “I’m Ink. I’m another leatherneck.”

  My brow creases. “We served together?”

  Ink makes a negative gesture. “Nah, met here in the club.” He indicates a chair, and gratefully I sit. “I’ve got a woman, Beth. She’ll be around later today.”

  “Can’t fuckin’ miss her,” puts in the man sitting opposite me. “She’s a fuckin’ giant of a bitch.”

  He gets a slap around the head. “Watch your mouth, Judge.”

  “Fuckin’ youngsters today. No darn respect.” But Bomber’s got a twinkle in his eye as he says it.

  “I’m Buzzard,” the man sitting to my right starts. “I’m the treasurer of the club.”

  “And he’s here,” Jeannie swipes him with a dish towel, “as his wife Sindy can’t cook.”

  “Hey, I object to that.” A middle-aged woman walks in, leans over and snags a piece of bacon that Jeannie’s just taken out of the oven. “Not that I’m any good in the kitchen, but not everyone needs to know that.”

  “Think that ship has sailed sweetheart.” Buzz stands, takes her hand, and pulls her over. Retaking his seat, she ignores the empty chair beside him, and plonks herself on his lap. “After twenty years, I think everyone’s figured out why I eat so many meals in the club.” He turns to me, chuckling. “She can burn water.”

  “I cannot,” she mumbles around her mouthful of bacon. “I wouldn’t know how to turn the stove on.”

  There’s a round of good-natured chuckles at that.

  “Buzz actually is a good cook.” Jeannie points a spatula at the treasurer. “He’s just lazy as fuck.”

  “Who are you?” I query the fourth man at the table.

  He scratches the top of his head before telling me, “I’m Wills. I part-manage the strip club.”

  “The new girl work out okay?” Bomber asks. “Last night was her first Saturday, wasn’t it?”

  “She did good,” Wills responds. “Couple of assholes tried to get their hands on her, but we shut ‘em down. Kicked them out.”

  “Hey, Liz, why that frown?” Ink’s staring at me.

  It’s not my place to say anything. I may not have seen evidence yet of drugs or guns, but they’re admitting they do profit off girls.

  “Wills,” Ink may be talking to the other man, but his eyes are focused on me, “tell Liz about Lia. I don’t think he understands.”

  “Lia?” Wills’ hand covers his mouth to stifle a large yawn. “She needed money so went out to earn it on the street. She was on a corner waiting for the next John to stop, when he did, he was one of those do-gooders wanting to get girls like her off the street. Problem was, his way of providing education was with his fists. Scared the fuck out of her. When the bruises healed, she had no way of earning a living. Lia doesn’t object to taking off her clothes, so when she came to us for
help, we paid for her to have some pole dancing classes, then gave her a job as a dancer. She’s now safe and protected. Off the streets and not living in fear of having her life beaten out of her. And before you ask, no, sex isn’t one of the club’s services.”

  Ink’s still staring at me. “Still think we exploit women? I could run through the rest of the girls. They’ve all got similar stories. We,” he points to himself and the others, “never touch the girls. Some are only there because it’s the only job they can do for sure. Others enjoy the power they feel when men are watching them dance. They work for us as we pay well, and they are protected. In return, they give their all, and we run a popular, clean and successful club.”

  I return his gaze, then give a sharp nod. The way he’s put it, it doesn’t sound as bad as what I had been thinking.

  A plate piled high with bacon, eggs, sausage links and hash browns appears in front of me. As Jeannie hands more around, conversation halts as everyone digs into their food.

  Fuck. I take a deep breath then wonder how I’m going to tackle this, surprised as fuck when Ink leans over, picks up the knife and fork and slices my food into bite-sized chunks, before sitting down and starting on his own plate.

  He’d not said a word, just did what needed to be done without me having to suffer the embarrassment of asking, and without waiting for me to express gratitude when he was done. No one comments at all.

  The practicality of it takes away the shame I was feeling and allows me to dig into the best plate of food I can remember.

  “Not in here, Ink. People are eating.” Jeannie admonishes Ink when he gets out a pack of cigarettes.

  He stands and waves the pack at me. “Want to come outside and have a smoke, Liz?”

  I frown, trying to remember. “Do I smoke?”

  “You did.” Jeannie’s standing, looking thoughtful. “But maybe that’s not what you need right now, Liz.”

  I wave Ink off, she’s probably right. If I don’t need nicotine, don’t feel a desire to fill my lungs with smoke, maybe it’s for the best. I doubt medics would recommend it. If I’ve given them up, it’s something good to come out of my predicament.