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

by Mellett, Manda

  “That makes me feel sick.” Judge glances down the table at Mace.

  “Brother…” Hellfire starts, but his voice trails off. He too is looking at the enforcer.

  Mace answers as if he’d completed a question. “I don’t know, Hell. She hasn’t gone into any detail at all.”

  “How does he get his business? Man providing services like that can’t advertise on the street,” Sparky asks.

  “People with particular appetites will know where to go to,” Ink observes through gritted teeth.

  “And that’s how Red eventually found him,” Demon confirms.

  “Satan’s Devils going after him? Shut that crap down?”

  Beef jerks his head toward Demon and takes over answering Bomber. “Take him out, someone will step in and take his place. Where there’s an appetite there will always be someone offering what people want to take. Important thing is to make sure he’s not heading our, or the girls’, way. Red’s got people going in undercover, we’ll wait to hear what they find out.”

  Wills’ hand slams onto the table. “Not good enough. I want to deal with Major personally for what he’s done and what he planned to do with that kid.”

  “I second that,” says Bomber. “Don’t want that fucker to live.”

  “Major’s something you grind into the dirt,” Rusty adds in.

  “Major’s a piece of shit,” Hell states. “But Demon’s right. He’ll have money and backers behind him. The services he supplies don’t come cheap. And Red’s in his town. If Satan’s Devils aren’t in his sights, then why risk all our lives just to take one motherfucker out, when Beef’s right, someone else will step up and do the same as him.”

  I notice they’re talking openly in front of me. But I’m not uncomfortable with this conversation at all. They’re not talking about killing an innocent man. I realise I’m just as bloodthirsty as them.

  “Doesn’t sit right with me, either,” observes Cad, but in a more measured tone. “But Red’s got boots on the ground. I’d like to know what info he has. If it’s okay with you, Prez, I’ll talk to Keys. Might be more that he can give me about Major to explain the stand Red’s taking.”

  “I agree,” Demon responds to the too-pale man. “Presumably a lot of his business is run on the dark web. See what you can dig up. The situation doesn’t sit easy with Red either, but we’re not dealing with a two-bit pimp. Major’s a powerful man.”

  Major. Major. Major. Major.

  “Vi get Shayla’s fuckin’ property tat sorted?” I ask, when at last I remember the words which are worse now I know the implication. Property of Major. Not a patch inked by a loving man, but the worst kind of ownership, signifying he can do anything he likes.

  The table falls completely silent.

  “Liz?” Mace starts, speaking slowly as though to a child. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  My brow creases, and I run back over my words. Can’t see anything wrong with them, I just asked a simple question. “Has Shayla gotten her tat covered?” I realise I should check in at the shop. I might not be able to use my hand to lay down ink, but I can check whether shit’s running okay.

  “What do you remember, Lizard?” Demon signals for silence from everyone else.

  My eyes widen as an explosion ignites in my head, every bit as powerful as the one I can’t remember but fucked up my brain at the start. I stand, stagger as my right leg crumbles, and crash to the ground, cradling my hands around my skull which feels simultaneously like ice water flooding it, followed by red hot lava.

  “Liz? Liz?”

  “Rusty, help him!”

  “Call a fuckin’ ambulance. We need medics here.”

  “Christ, this was too much for him, too soon. Shouldn’t have invited him in.”

  Synapses are firing, neurotransmitters going wild. I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC and have done for the past ten years. I’m thirty-eight years old, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m a tattoo artist and I run Devil’s Ink on behalf of my brothers. I’ve got a wife and child.

  I flail my hands, blindly seeking contact with someone, anyone, grabbing hold when I feel someone’s hand. “No doc, no medic.” I gasp as though I’ve run a marathon. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” I repeat it again. “I’m okay.”

  “Liz.” It’s Mace’s voice dripping concern. “Liz, Brother. You need to get checked out.”

  “No,” I say, this time more firmly. Bracing my left arm beneath me, I push up into a sitting position. My right arm and leg have needles and pins, a pricking sensation like blood returning to dead limbs.

  “Yes,” Demon says in a voice that brooks no argument. “You’re going to the hospital.”

  I look up into the eyes of my president. “I can remember. Everything.” The pressure in my skull is receding, leaving behind a new clarity of mind, and bringing with it a whole new level of pain. “Tell me. Someone please tell me, I did not forget my wife and kid for twelve fuckin’ years.” Of course that’s what everyone has been telling me. But remembering the dick I’ve been in the intervening time makes me want to believe that’s a figment of my imagination.

  But the silence tells me I’m not hallucinating, and that perhaps for the first time since I returned from that final tour, I remember everything.

  I wish I could forget all over again.

  Is remembering just temporary? What if my brain implodes and I lose it all? What if this is a final reprieve before a massive brain bleed or stroke takes me out? Maybe they’re right, and I should see a doctor.

  “I’ll go to the hospital,” I tell them. “But please, don’t tell Vanna. Not until I know what the fuck’s going on.” How can I face her, knowing what I do now? Being told you left your wife and kid and were happy living a new life while they were struggling is one thing, remembering it, totally different. Accepting that albeit unknowingly, I was an asshole for ten years. Remembering Hatch dying, being there when he did, seeing that truck take him out far worse than just hearing that he was gone. Seeing everything in full technicolour. And, oh shit, fucking the whores… with Mace of all people. Being unfaithful to my wife. Right now I wish blackness would flood over me again. Coming to terms with who I really am and living with what I did, well, that seems like too high a mountain to climb.

  “Judge,” Demon instructs, “go into the clubroom. If Vanna’s there, distract her. Mace can take Liz out the back way through the kitchen and get him to the emergency room. Let’s see what he’s dealing with before worrying her.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Mace

  Once again I’m at the hospital, and once again I’m with my brother. I don’t know what to think. Liz getting his memory back should be a cause for celebration, but he’d collapsed the first time right outside my door, and nearly fuckin’ died. To see him fall yet again in church, well, the worst of thoughts had gone through my mind.

  The emergency room obviously takes a man with a possible brain bleed seriously, and he was immediately taken out back.

  “Mr Grey? Fox Grey?”

  “Yeah?” I stand, putting the magazine I’d been mindlessly perusing on the seat I’m vacating. “That’s me.”

  “Mr James would like you to come through if you will?”

  I’m taken through the maze of corridors until I get to the neurology wing and find Liz sitting on a bed in a room.

  “How are you, Liz? Are they going to admit you?”

  “No,” he puts his hand to his head, “I don’t think so. I’m waiting on the doctor coming to explain the results of the scan to me. I just wanted someone here, you know?”

  “In case it’s bad news?”

  His tired eyes meet mine. “In case I forget what he says.”

  Christ, it must be awful not to trust your brain anymore. I watch him, he’s now focused on his hand which he’s opening and shutting. Making a proper fist for the first time in weeks. A physical as well as mental improvement? Surely that’s a good sign.


  We’re not waiting too long until the door opens, and a man in a white coat comes in. He nods at me, but then his eyes land on Lizard.

  “Mr James.” The way he announces his name gives nothing away. I notice after viewing Liz, he turns his attention to the tablet in his hands. “I’ve got the results of your scan here, and everything looks good to me. The swelling has gone down considerably.”

  “I can remember, Doc. Everything.”

  “That’s good. Retrograde amnesia is often temporary caused by the swelling after the operation.”

  “Doc,” Liz repeats. “I can remember everything. My memory of my final tours—not how I got the initial injury or the recovery period after, but I do know that I was married and had a wife and son.” He purses his lips and scrunches up his brow. “I can remember coming to Pueblo and joining the MC.”

  “You had a tumour, Mr James, which we removed. Look, I know we like to think of ourselves as experts, and science is advancing every day, but we still don’t emphatically know how memories are laid down in the brain, or where they are stored. Every injury we treat, every patient’s recovery, helps build a picture. But just when we’re certain we can point to something and say, ah, that’s it, something else contradicts it. I couldn’t have predicted your memory would have been restored as it has, but I couldn’t have said it wouldn’t either.”

  “Is it going to last, Doc? Will I forget again?”

  He taps at the screen. “There’s no reason to believe so. You’re recovering physically as well as can be hoped. There’s no reason to believe you won’t continue to improve. You may still have residual weakness in your right side, or you could get back to near or complete normal. Of course, no one can rule out a stroke in the future, but while the chances of that might be slightly increased in your case, you shouldn’t worry unnecessarily.”

  Well, that sounds like good news to me. Something can come up and blindside any of us at any time, looks like Lizard has no greater reason to be concerned than any of us. No point ruining your life wondering if the next time you ride, you’ll end dirty side up. There are so many unknowns like cancer or heart attacks. All of us want to live our full allotted years, but many won’t make it that far. Appears Lizard’s got as much chance as anyone else.

  “We’ll keep up with your check-ups, and please continue to see your psychotherapist, but apart from that, enjoy your life, Mr James.”

  With a final nod in my direction, he leaves.

  Back in the truck, Lizard is silent.

  “You ready to speak to Vanna?”

  He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Not sure I’ll ever be ready for that.”

  “Liz, she knows everything.” I can’t understand.

  “But now I know as well,” he tries to explain. “I went with whores, Mace. I was unfaithful to my wife. How the fuck could I do that?”

  “You love her?”

  The answer comes fast. “Always have. Always will.”

  “You want a wife and kid?”

  “With everything that I am.”

  I try to explain what I think. “The Lizard I knew never did. For ten years, Liz, you’ve only wanted to be a single man. I’m convinced you knew you were already taken.”

  “But I went with whores,” he repeats, torturing himself.

  “And Vanna used her vibrator. I sort of told her that’s all they meant to you.”

  His head turns sharply toward me. “Should I be worried you discussed my wife’s use of a sex toy with her?”

  I chuckle, quickly raising both hands off the steering wheel before putting them back. “I’ve seen you’re able to form a fist now, Brother. So no, I assure you, you do not need to worry about that.”

  “I do need to speak to Vanna, but I’m not looking forward to the conversation ahead.”

  We arrive at the compound and Karl slides open the gate.

  After I park, I pass Liz’s one crutch to him, it was the only one we brought, and notice he’s putting more weight on his right leg now. As I walk behind, watching him carefully, ready to help if he becomes unsteady, I wonder how that talk with Vanna will go, mentally agreeing it won’t be an easy one. What does Lizard want to do now he knows he’s a true Satan’s Devil? Will he stay with us? Or continue with his plan to go live with his family in Denver?

  Inside, I leave him to go find his wife.

  It doesn’t surprise me that Prez is impatiently striding toward me. “Liz okay?”

  I update him, then several of my brothers, agreeing, yes, this is great news, then finally am free to take myself up to my room, wondering how Vanna is taking Liz’s revelation.

  What must it be like to have someone who’s cared enough to remain faithful to you for twelve years? I suspect it might have been different if she hadn’t had a son to raise which had occupied her time, but still, she cared for Lizard and wore his ring. She still cares. I’m certain she’ll forgive him for things he’d done when he’d literally lost his mind. A love like that, so strong and enduring, won’t splinter now.

  I fuck the club girls, but don’t talk to them. On the plus side, I never have to explain myself or come up with justifications for my actions. The other side of the coin is that I’ve no one to care, no one to share my triumphs or problems with. I’ve got brothers, of course, but it’s not like having a woman’s point of view that can be so different to a man’s, or someone to lean on, or to lean on you. Men tend to suck things up, women see through our bullshit.

  Sure, Liz will have a long journey ahead to get to the relationship that he wants with his wife, but I’ve no doubt they’ll make it. Even though it will be a rocky road at times, I find myself envying him. Vanna will make a great old lady, anyone can see that.

  Is that what I’m missing even though I don’t’ know it? I’ve told my brothers Shayla is going to be mine. So why am I waiting?

  Exiting my room, I go to hers, knocking softly in case she’s already sleeping.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mace.”

  I hear the key turning in the lock and the door opens. She finds me leaning against the doorframe, a hand stifling a yawn coming from my mouth.

  “You look done in,” she tells me, her brow creasing. “Has anything happened?”

  “It’s been a fucker of a day,” I tell her, placing my arm on the top of the frame and resting my cheek against it.

  “Want to talk about it?” I do. That’s why I came.

  When I nod, she steps aside and I walk in, going across to the chair and sitting there, resisting taking the liberty of sitting beside her on the bed.

  She curls her legs under her as she perches on the mattress. “What’s happened?”

  “Lizard’s got his memory back. I’ve just been at the hospital with him. Seems the swelling has really started to go down. He’s got more movement too.”

  Clapping her hands together once, she looks delighted. “That sounds like a massive step forward.”

  I lean forward, clasping my hands. “It is.” The smile slides from my face. “I learned something else today.” My lips press together and I look down, before looking up. “We know who Major is, and just what kind of services he was supplying, which means the kind of things you had to do. Fuck, Shayla,” I snarl, again bowing my head.

  I hear a strangled sound and glance up to see her with her hand covering her mouth. Then, twin spots of red come to her cheeks. I don’t know what I expected her reaction to be, but when she smartly crosses the room, comes to a halt in front of me, I can see her body trembling, but it’s not with fear. It’s with rage.

  “So it was alright when you thought men were just fucking me? You can cope with knowing I’m a whore who warms a stranger’s bed, but you don’t like the thought of me being strangled until I gasp for any air that I can take into my lungs. You don’t want to think of me being chained, beaten, tortured… urinated on. That I feared for my life every time I was sent out to perform. That each time I knew it could be my last. That’s not alright? That disgust
s you?”

  “Fuck, Shayla.” I stand fast, my fingers curling around her arms, biting into them making sure she can’t pull away. “Fuck, if you think that, you don’t know the type of man I am. What disgusts me is the thought of you being that scared, that hurt, that alone. I can’t bear the thought of the abuse you went through. I hate that any man took you without consent, that they were able to act out their depravities on you. That, I fucking hate. I hate that as much as I fuckin’ love you.”

  The final words hang in the air. They’ve shocked me as much as they shock her.

  I knew I wanted her, knew she was going to be in my bed. But love? It’s not a word I thought would ever come from my lips but as soon as I said it, I knew it was true.

  Her eyes turn up to mine. “Take it back, Mace.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t love me. Not now you know how damaged I am,” she cries.

  “Do you think I fuckin’ care? It’s you I want, Shayla. What you’ve been through is so horrific, it makes me sick to my stomach. I hate that it’s left its mark on you. But it’s this you I love. The girl who’s come through and emerged the other side like a butterfly from a cocoon. A girl who’s brave, resourceful, and so fuckin’ strong. Can’t think of another woman I want by my side.”

  “I told you I wanted you. You don’t have to…”

  “I can fuck any number of girls, Shay. It wouldn’t just be fuckin’ with you.” Releasing my grip, I take one of her hands, placing it over my heart. “You’ve wormed your way inside here, without me noticing what you were doing. So, yeah, I love you.” I capture her gaze with my own, staring so intently as I will her to believe me.

  She breaks the lock I have on her eyes as she turns her face away. “I’m not strong, I’m weak. He’s still out there, Mace. All I’ve been is scared of him coming after me, I haven’t given a thought to the women who are still there. Who are still being pimped out, who may be sold and never return. Should I have gone to the cops?”

  “Babe, you were trying to stay out of his hands. You did right. Major runs an expensive service, his clients have money. Fuck knows what his reach is. You were literally running for your life and Esme’s. I don’t see you could have done anything else. You go to the cops? They may not even give a shit about it. You only had a name, no address, and I doubt you knew who his clients were.”