Grumbler's Ride: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #2

by Manda Mellett

“Grumbler isn’t young, Mom. Do you really think he could take on Owen? And what if Devon comes too?”

  “Grumbler’s the sergeant-at-arms, Alicia. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.” I have faith in Grumbler, even if she doesn’t.

  “But I want to stay here.” She’s pouting now.

  “All our stuff is at home. On Monday, you have to go to school.”

  Her face falls, she looks scared. “I don’t want to go. Can’t you tell them I’m sick?”

  “No. I won’t lie for you, Alicia. Oh, and don’t forget, we need to collect your phone from Marisa.”

  Her head sinks lower at my subtle, but not actually intentional, reference to how she lied.

  “You two good?” Grumbler appears out of nowhere, and I’ve never been so glad to see anyone.

  “I think so, yes. I was just telling Alicia we’re headed home.”

  “Not going to stay and eat what the club girls were cooking?” Grumbler winks.

  I chuckle. “It didn’t look all that appetising.” Though Cindy was trying hard.

  Alicia rolls her eyes. “We’ll go home and Mom will order takeout. It’s all she ever does.”

  Not quite true. Though in some ways I’m glad my daughter is regaining some spirit, if it’s only to rebel. She’s coming back to herself.

  “Your mom works,” Grumbler states firmly. “And what about you, Alicia? You cook? You put something on the table for when your mom returns from her job?”

  Her wide-eyed expression makes me smile, though I try to hide it. No, Alicia’s not gotten to that stage yet. Probably because I’ve always tried to be the perfect mother, providing for her, even if it’s just takeaway food.

  Alicia turns and gives him an appraising look. “You’re going to be on her side, aren’t you? If you come stay with us.”

  “Your mom’s side?” He glances at me shrewdly. “I’m not coming to take sides, I’m just going to be there to keep you safe. But,” he holds up his hand when Alicia snorts in disbelief, “if there’s any side to come down on, I’ll land on the side of common sense.”

  “Would you have stopped me going to see Owen?”

  Grumbler stares at her. “Would your mom have, had you told her?”

  “Well, yeah,” Alicia replies as if he’s dumb.

  “And she would have done that, why? To stop you from having fun?”

  “Well, yeah,” she repeats.

  Grumbler slowly shakes his head as though he’s disappointed in her. “Really?”

  Alicia thinks for a moment. “She’d have said I don’t know enough about him.”

  I bite my tongue because she’s absolutely right. I wish she’d have talked to me. It wasn’t that she’d raced off to give her virginity to the first man who’d turned her head, I’m the last person who could criticise that, it was that she hadn’t known him, and certainly not realised he wasn’t to be trusted. Not that I hadn’t made the same mistake myself, but I’d wanted to pass on what I’d learned from it.

  “I can teach you a bit about checking people out,” Grumbler offers. “Take this Owen. He said he was twenty-one which was wrong, and his name might not even be Owen for a start. What you needed to do was check out his driver’s licence, that would have given you those details.”

  “But I trusted him.”

  “A man earns trust. His actions always speak louder. Any asshole can open his mouth and promise you the earth. It’s when he gives it to you, you can take that to the bank. Words mean fuck all.”

  “His actions were fine.” Alicia’s not contradicting Grumbler. By the way her lips are pressing together, she’s going back over the events in her mind. “He was perfect. He opened my car door, led me into the hotel. The hotel was much posher than I expected.” She glances up quickly. “I’d expected a cheap motel—just somewhere with a bed.”

  “Did you know he had money?”

  She shrugs. “I didn’t ask. I assumed he’d done more modelling gigs.”

  Grumbler rubs his hand over his face. “Apart from checking him out before you went out with him alone, kid, I don’t know what more you could have done. Someone older might have seen some red flags, but honestly, no blame can be attached to you.”

  “Thank you.” Alicia moves closer to him, and interpreting what she wants him to do, he adjusts his position allowing her to snuggle under his arm. “I feel so stupid. If I ever have a boyfriend again, will you check him out?”

  Grumbler chuckles softly. “That I’ll be more than happy to do, and, sweetheart, it’s a matter of when, not if. Your chance hasn’t come and gone, you know? I can also teach you some methods of self-defence. Or at least, how to kick a man’s balls. Owen deserves some pain for what he put you through.”

  “Can you teach me self-defence, too?”

  “Why, sure, Mary.” He nods approvingly. “It’s a good skill to know. Now, the arrangements are I’m riding home in your car. That way no motorcycle will be seen at the house.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a deterrent?” I ask.

  “It would, but after the message Alicia gave me, it might make them start distributing that video. Until we know it’s been taken down and destroyed, we don’t want to do anything to rock the boat. Once Alicia’s reputation is safe, then that’s the time to draw them out.”

  We walk back into the clubhouse via the kitchen. Alicia gets hugs from all the club girls who seem genuinely sympathetic to her ordeal, and sad to see her go. Then Grumbler gets back slaps from all the leather-clad men.

  “I’ll be there on Monday with a cage to take the kid to school.” A man, wearing a vest which says prospect on the back, calls out. In recognition, Grumbler raises his hand.

  “A cage?” Alicia hisses in consternation. “I’m not a freaking dog.”

  The man who’d spoken overhears and bellows a laugh. But it’s left to Grumbler to explain. “It’s what we call a car, kid. Bikers don’t like being caged in.”

  A few others stop to have a quick word with Grumbler on the way out, more than one offering their help unasked.

  “Prez.” Grumbler nods as a man approaches him.

  His title made me expect someone who looked rough, scarred perhaps if I were to tell the truth. But in different clothes, the man could pass as a businessman.

  “Mary, this is Lost, our prez. Prez, Mary.”

  Lost nods. “Nice to meet you.”

  I wonder if I should say something about him agreeing for his club to help, but he doesn’t seem to expect it. He raises his chin at Grumbler, then walks on.

  Finally we emerge into the warmth of the late summer evening.

  I’m half expecting Grumbler to want to drive when we reach my car. Dave always wanted to take the wheel, but to my surprise, he waves me into the driver’s seat, and tells Alicia to sit by my side. Then he folds his body into the rear seat, and settles in for what, for him, will be an uncomfortable ride.

  “Park in your garage,” he instructs. “That way no one will see me in the car.” He looks approvingly at the blacked-out rear windows.

  I can see by glancing in the rearview mirror that Grumbler doesn’t relax at all during the journey. He’s constantly looking from one side to the other, and also behind us, then peering out in front. His vigilance makes me feel safe.

  We reach home without incident. When I’ve parked and the garage door has slid itself closed, thanks to the remote in my car, Grumbler opens the rear door, reaching back inside for his pack he brought with him, then indicates the door to the kitchen.

  “Stay here while I check it out.”

  “There’ll be no one there.” Alicia rolls her eyes.

  “Hey,” he turns. “Look, ladies, I’m here as your own personal bodyguard. Enjoy the service, okay?”

  He winks at me, then disappears inside my house.

  Within moments—it’s not big after all—he’s back.

  “All clear.”

  Impatient, Alicia pushes past, then stops and looks at me. “What are we going to eat?”

 
; “Guest’s choice?” I turn my head toward Grumbler and raise my eyebrow.

  “Ain’t no fuckin’ guest,” Grumbler chuckles. “And I’m easy.”

  “Pizza!” Alicia fist bumps the air.

  “Gets my vote.” He nods approvingly.

  “I’m going to be outnumbered, I can tell.”

  But as I follow them into the living area, setting my keys down in the place for them, and my purse by the side of the couch, I smile to myself. This is how it would have been if Dave hadn’t died. The three of us, together. Would he have guessed Alicia had lied? That she’d had a liaison with a man last night? Would he have rung Marisa’s parents to check? Or have relied like I so stupidly had, on a technical gadget?

  Dave’s not here. There’s no point wondering whether he’d have been a better parent than myself. He’d only been Alicia’s hands-on dad for ten of her years, and a ten-year-old was far easier to deal with than a teenage girl.

  The doorbell rings. I go cold, especially when Grumbler holds up a hand and goes to his saddle bag he’d brought in with him and draws out a gun. He positions himself by the side of the door, then jerks his chin, a sign that I should check it out.

  Tension leaves me in a rush when I see through the peephole who it is, and immediately open up. “Hi, Marisa.”

  “Er, hi, Mary. Is Alicia here?” She peers around me.

  “Alicia? It’s Marisa,” I yell over my shoulder.

  “Um, tell her I’ll call her later. I’m just about to jump in the shower,” comes a disembodied voice.

  Marisa’s face falls while mine grows tight, summing up the situation immediately. She wanted to get the dirt on what happened last night, and understandably, Alicia hasn’t had time to get her story straight. It’s up to her to decide how much to tell her friends.

  “Alicia left her phone when she left earlier.” I notice Marisa avoids giving me a time she left. Morning, noon or afternoon, earlier could mean anything. She hands me Alicia’s phone with just one more statement. “Tell her to call me later.”

  As she skips back down the path toward her mom waiting in the car, Grumbler chuckles beside me.

  “And that’s how you do it.”

  “Do what?” I turn, puzzled.

  “No embellishment. Giving you no reason to call her out in a lie. She doesn’t know what time Alicia returned home, so she didn’t give details.”

  I’m not so sure I admire the girl’s ability to cover a lie, but then I don’t think the same way as the man by my side.

  Alicia appears, her eyes wide. She looks to me, then to the closed door. “I can’t do it, Mom,” she whispers. “I can’t talk to her. She’ll want to know how the date went.”

  I open my mouth, but Grumbler gets in first. “You trust her to keep her trap shut?”

  “She can’t,” I say firmly. “Whatever Alicia thinks, this is too juicy. Marisa might let something drop, and the whole school would find out she was almost a porn star.”

  “Mom! Marisa wouldn’t do that.”

  “Kid, you fucked up. You know that.” Grumbler acts as if I hadn’t said a word. “You trusted the wrong guy. I agree with your mom, certain things you keep to yourself. You’re certainly not unique at being taken in by an expert, but that should teach you to be more careful now. You can give a version of events you’re comfortable with, and which, if it gets around, could be a public service.”

  Alicia moves closer, her brow creased. “Lie?”

  “Tell Marisa he strung you a line. That you left when you found out he was older than he appeared, and he wasn’t such a nice guy. You can admit you’re embarrassed and too upset to talk to her.”

  “But where was I last night?”

  “Just tell her you were upset and hurting,” Grumbler says determinedly. “Not wanting to admit it had all gone wrong, which was why you hadn’t contacted her. Let her make her own assumptions that you came home to lick your wounds. Maybe by telling her you narrowly escaped making a mistake, it might make Marisa think twice about getting her head turned by a pretty face.” He pauses, then adds, “You know I’m in the motorcycle club lifestyle. It’s in my nature to be cautious, and trust comes hard. You never give people ammunition that can come back and hurt you. Give a version of events that isn’t exactly a lie, but not the whole truth.”

  He glances at me. I study him for a moment, then turn back to my daughter. “This is one time when you’ve got to think as an adult, sweetie.”

  “I can’t keep this bottled up inside.”

  “Of course, you can’t,” Grumbler agrees. “I suggest your mom arranges professional help. While we can tell you until the cows come home that you’re not to blame, you’re carrying too much shit in your head. Talking to someone will be able to put this into focus, and it will be a safe environment where you can talk without fear of any of the salacious details getting out.”

  Why I hadn’t immediately thought of it I’m not sure, but Grumbler is right. She needs someone safe to speak to, someone she knows won’t judge her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grumbler

  What am I doing?

  I’m not a family man and have always prided myself that I stayed away from drama. Never getting close to a woman meant never having to mop up tears or provide a shoulder in comfort. Now I seem to have become embroiled in the type of events you’d watch on a soap opera.

  Strangely, it doesn’t make me want to run a mile. Instead, I want to put my arms around both women and tell them what happened was neither of their faults. Mary hasn’t been a bad parent, she’s done everything right and tried to guide her child. But like every teenager, Alicia has a rebellious streak, an idea she knows better than the adults around her. Striking out on one’s own path is part of growing up, it’s just a fucking shame she chose a direction that was wrong for her.

  The risk of Owen coming calling has been minimised by them not going to the cops and not openly involving us. Any investigation by Token or Utah will firmly be done under the radar, so my presence here is probably overly cautious. But I can’t deny there’s a possibility of having duped Alicia so successfully last night, he might come back to get more mileage out of her.

  I’m not an angel, of course I’ve watched porn. But I’ve never had any inclination to watch anything that wasn’t readily available, knowing there were some you could find if you wanted to that catered to deviant interests. While not particularly liking knowing paedophilia and even snuff movies were out there if you knew where to look for it, I never saw myself as having any role to play in stopping it. Where would I start? I’m not a one-man crusader, even if I’m a man with healthy desires and a natural abhorrence to any with extreme perverse interests. But the knowledge it exists makes me worried for Alicia.

  Although the sex last night had been consensual, filming it had not. She’s underage, and that’s probably how it would be marketed. The thought of how she’d been used makes me so angry, I hope Owen will appear. I can almost taste his fear and surprise when he finds me waiting for him. In my mind’s eye, I can already see him strung up in our brig, and Salem going to town on him.

  All my brothers are of my way of thinking—none of us would allow a woman to come to harm. Kink may have peculiar tastes, but he’s so hung up on obtaining consent, no one could ever doubt what he puts his pets through has all been discussed and agreed to prior.

  I sit on the couch, ruminating, running everything through in my head. Owen needs to be found and stopped, and Devon, while his part in the proceedings isn’t completely clear, there’s got to be someone behind the male model. The discreet cameras Alicia had described, and their positioning suggests they were placed by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Would Owen know where to start with distribution? I doubt it, which means even if it’s not Devon, then someone else is behind him. It’s my job to find out who. Am I missing anything?

  I trust my brothers to be doing the investigating while I’m here to provide protection. While I’d rather be doing s
omething more positive right now, being here in case Owen makes contact again is just as important.

  It’s in my role of protector that I cautiously approach the door when there’s another loud knock on it.

  Mary appears, but I wave her back, looking through the peephole. When I see it’s a guy carrying pizza boxes. I open the door, take the delivery, exchanging the boxes for some dollar bills, adding a hefty tip in the process.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” Mary admonishes, taking the pizzas from me as I replace my wallet in my cut.

  I wave off her objection. When my stomach, sensing food, growls, she shakes her head and stops arguing, going to the kitchenette and taking some plates from a cupboard.

  Unlike the evening when I ate here before, the conversation doesn’t flow easily. Alicia, predictably, is quiet. She eats mechanically without enjoyment, and my gut twists for her. Mary, too, seems lost for words. After we’ve eaten and Alicia’s taken the plates into the kitchen, she returns, stifling a yawn.

  “I’m going to my room, Mom.”

  “If you need me…”

  “I know where you are.” Alicia permits her mom to hug her and place a kiss on her forehead.

  To my surprise, Alicia comes over and puts her arms around me, resting her cheek against my chest for a moment.

  “Thank you, Grumbler. I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”

  I hold her close and then release her. When she disappears down the hallway, I say softly, “She’s a good girl.”

  Mary’s tight smile toward me confirms she knows it. “I doubt she got much sleep last night. She must be tired.”

  I doubt she’ll get a good one tonight. Things like that tend to go around and around your head not allowing you to switch off. But I don’t point out the obvious to Mary.

  “I was going to suggest you take her room, but…”

  But she needs her familiar things around her to take the first step to restoring the balance in her life again.

  “I’ll be fine here.” I indicate the tiny two-seater sofa.

  “Don’t be silly, Grumbler. You take my bed and I’ll sleep out here.”