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

by Manda Mellett

  “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” he screeches like a little girl and then spits out an address.

  My eyes widen. It’s in a decent neighbourhood and most of the houses there are worth a bundle of millions. Must be even more money in this porn business than I’d thought.

  “Do you want to draw this out?” Lost leans in close. “I’d rather we tracked that photographer down, now we’ve got a possible address.”

  I eye Owen thoughtfully. I’m at one with Lost, but I’m a suspicious bastard. “Leave him here, keep a prospect on him. If he’s fed us a heap of shit, then we’ll let Salem loose again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mary

  I take a sip of the coffee Grumbler had thoughtfully brought me, prepared just how I like it. I’m touched that he remembered, more than that, how he had to be observant to put in just the amount of sugar and creamer that I like.

  I hear male voices, and then the closing of the front door, followed by the roar of a motorcycle engine. Guess, Grumbler has gone. My powers of deduction tell me he’s probably borrowed the bike the unknown man has ridden in on.

  Slightly concerned about the stranger who might be making himself comfortable in my living room, I delay getting out of bed. But my mind is racing, half due to the early caffeine consumption, and half because I’m sure where Grumbler has gone will provide some answers about what I hope isn’t, but dread is, Alicia’s unwilling entry into the porn industry.

  Normally, if I have a guest in the house, I’d make myself as presentable as necessary, then go and see to his comforts. Today is weird, as I’ve no idea who’s waiting for me outside my bedroom door. The only comfort is that Grumbler must trust him.

  Oh God. Grumbler. Covering my face with my hands, I remember I all but told him I fancied him last night. Like a gentleman, he hadn’t taken advantage. He wouldn’t have gotten far. After the day I’d had, I was in no mood for a man. But when things have settled down and our problems have been resolved—and somehow Grumbler has given me the confidence that that day will come—would I want to explore something with him?

  I prop myself on my pillows, pulling up my knees, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my hands. Since Dave died, I’ve never found a man who I feel as comfortable with as Grumbler, which is crazy. I’ve never been one for the bad boy types, and that Grumbler is one is undeniable. Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong direction all this time? Perhaps I should grasp this chance with both hands?

  Grumbler is a good man, otherwise, he wouldn’t be helping me. At first, sure, there was something in it for him, he contacted me to get the money he was owed. But when he found Alicia was also being conned, he began to fight for her as well.

  Alicia’s only got a dim memory of having a father in her life. I thought I was doing well on my own, but perhaps after how badly she messed up two nights ago, there’s room for improvement. It was, after all, Grumbler who Alicia had run to, wanting to avoid telling me. Of course, I’m angry she lied, but as to everything else? It was only a matter of when and not if. I just wished she’d waited a little longer and had found someone worthy of her.

  I suspect, were I to conduct a poll, the vast majority of women wouldn’t have stayed with the man they lost their virginity too, and again, for a high proportion, losing it wouldn’t have been like the often happy circumstances read about in books. It’s a rite of passage, something we all go through. For my part, the best first time is with the man you give your heart to. I might barely remember the details of the first time I went with a boy, but Dave? I can still remember every touch, every moment. Or maybe I’m glamorising it in my mind. I knew right then I loved him and had found the partner of my dreams.

  Not that Dave hadn’t had faults, he was a man after all. But any mistakes he’d made weren’t intentional. It had taken time for us to learn to live with each other, neither of us having been in a committed relationship before and everything different, right down to what food to buy at the store. But we were happy, the divorce word never came up. Any plans made were about growing old together, though life had had other ideas.

  Grumbler’s older.

  He is, by ten years.

  What am I considering with him? A few romps in the sack until we see how unsuited we are? If that’s the case, maybe we should just stay friends and not add in any benefits. But what if we found we could be more? Would this age difference mean I risked losing another man that I may give my heart to too soon once again?

  One thing losing Dave had taught me was, life was to be seized and lived. That future assumed so enticingly close, but just out of reach, may never come to pass after all. Sure, Grumbler might one day be stricken by the ailments of an older man, but he was just as likely to come off his bike, and I could be knocked down crossing the street.

  Ten years at Alicia’s age is a lifetime, it doesn’t seem so much at mine.

  Hearing the stomping of motorcycle boots, I interpret they’re crossing the living area to the kitchenette. I should be out there providing for my unknown guest. I feel awkward not knowing who is in my house, though the knowledge that Grumbler arranged for someone to be here is comforting. Having raised the spectre of Owen or Devon visiting, I wouldn’t want Alicia and I to be alone.

  Forcing myself out of bed, I collect some clean clothes and go into the bathroom. Not sure what the day’s going to hold, I shave my underarms and legs, and neaten up my lady garden. Rolling my eyes as I tell myself, knowing I’m fresh and nice under my clothes helps me feel good. I’m doing it for no other reason, oh no.

  I dry my shoulder-length hair, take the time to straighten it, then immediately pull it up into a messy bun. Staring at my naked face, I decide against putting makeup on. Might be a mistake, Mary. Might be a hot biker out there.

  Yeah, but my hot biker’s just gone. Having seen me at my worst, and normally without adorning my face, if he can be attracted to tear-reddened eyes and blotchy skin, it must be the inner woman who attracts him.

  At last I feel presentable enough to start my day. I tiptoe for some unknown reason, to the door to my bedroom, open it and, after a breath to fortify myself, step out.

  I expected a younger version of Grumbler, which in a way is what I got. I hadn’t expected him to be Black. Not that it mattered to me at all, Grumbler had vouched for him, but it was him who seemed a little uneasy, turning around fast as he heard my bedroom door shut.

  “Ma’am. I’m Niran. Grumbler sent me. He asked me to watch out for you and your daughter in case anyone turned up.” He holds up his hands in a non-threatening manner.

  I realise it’s not only me who’s uncomfortable about him being in my house, and it’s down to me to make him relax. I give him a warm smile. “The name’s Mary,” I say fast. “I know who you are. Grumbler warned me when he had to leave. It’s very kind of you to give up your time on a Sunday to stay here with us.” Suddenly I feel remiss for not emerging earlier. He’d just been hanging around without anything to do. “I’m just about to get some breakfast on, can I get some for you too?”

  “I helped myself to coffee.”

  “That’s alright. I won’t call the cops.” My delivery is so dry, it takes him a moment.

  His eyes snap to mine, then when he sees my laughter lines softening my face, he chuckles. “Well, I hoped it wouldn’t be a capital offence.”

  “I’m sorry.” I grimace. “I should have come out earlier.”

  “You knew there was a strange man in your house.” He understands immediately. “Ma’am, Mary, you’re Grumbler’s friend, and hence, one of mine. And if the offer’s still open, me having admitted to my crime,” he winks, “I’d love some breakfast.”

  “Have you been friends with Grumbler a long time?” I call over my shoulder as I round the countertop and then bend to open the fridge. I take out bacon and eggs, then, thinking about the size of the man who’s going to be eating, look again and add ham.

  “Three years now since I joined the MC. Of course, I was
just a prospect for the first twelve months, so didn’t have a lot to do with the members then, except jump at every order barked at me.” His easy grin shows he didn’t mind. “’Bout the closest I got to Grumbler was when I had to clean his bike. He used to stand over me, pointing out specks of dirt I couldn’t even find.”

  I chuckle, that sounds like Grumbler. “He sure does like his bike.”

  Niran snorts. “We call it his ol’ lady, ‘cause he’s never had one of the flesh and blood kind. Swear if he could, he’d take that motorcycle to bed with him.”

  “Carry on.” I stand, placing the food on the countertop. I waggle my hands. “Spill all Grumbler’s kinky shit.”

  “Kinky?”

  “Like wanting to sleep with his bike.” I wink at him.

  Niran barks another laugh, putting up his hand to smother it. “You’re a feisty one. Grumbler’s going to have his hands full with you. Or is it hands full of you? I’m sure he’d prefer that to his bike.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  I blush red. “We’re just friends.”

  Niran gives me a strange look. He waits for a moment while I get things cooking on the stove. “You asked how long I’ve known Grumbler?” He props his butt on a stool and leans his arms on the countertop. “As a prospect, I had great respect for the man, for all of the members. Part of the initiation process is giving them that, no matter the shit task they give to test you.”

  “So you have to do everything they say?” My brow creases.

  “Sure. You have to prove trust and loyalty.” Niran waits for a beat while I digest that. “Grumbler’s the sergeant-at-arms. He was voted in as an officer just before I joined. At first, I thought he was the way he was to prove he should have that role. Then I realised, behaving like a sergeant major, rallying the troops was just the way he is. He doesn’t have patience for anyone doing anything half-hearted, and he didn’t earn his road name for nothing.”

  Grumbler? Sure, I’d wondered whether there was more of a story behind his name than the headline he’d told me. Thinking back, he’d been anything but grumpy with me and he’d shown no impatience with Alicia.

  But Niran hasn’t finished. “You know he laid his bike down a while back?”

  “You mean his crash?”

  “Yeah. He smashed his leg up pretty bad. Thought for a while he might end up copying me.” At my quizzical gaze, Niran stands, walks around the counter and pulls up the leg of his jeans, revealing a prosthetic to me.

  “Oh.” It’s inadequate. But what do I do? Express sympathy? I’d never have guessed if he hadn’t shown me.

  “Fuckin’ accident ended my military career. I didn’t even fuckin’ get it during one of my tours. It happened stateside when I was home on leave.” His eyes roll in a would you believe it fashion.

  “You came off your bike too?” I always knew they were dangerous.

  “Nope. Sure I was on my bike, but a fuckin’ woman knocked me off it, then managed to drive over my leg to make sure she did a proper job.” Niran gives a little shake of his head, showing he’ll accept no commiseration. What’s done is done. “Grumbler was luckier than me. At least he’s still got his flesh and blood one, though he might have just as much metal as a prosthetic.” He chuckles, softly. “Point I’m getting to is, for a while he was laid up. I offered to help him out. Maybe I was sympathetic when it was suggested he’d lose his leg, maybe it’s my service that led me to step up, but when Grumbler agreed and started passing off some of his tasks as a sergeant-at-arms, Prez agreed I could support him. Well, as time went on, I got to know the man, and the more I came to know him, the more I found to admire. He’s a good fuckin’ man, Mary.” His eyes come to mine as if he’s telling me something important. “He’s resumed his role now, but I still help him out.” Another chortle comes from him. “The brothers say that between us they’ve got a two-legged sergeant-at-arms.”

  “That’s cruel,” I tell him, dishing up the cooked food and sliding a plate toward him.

  Niran’s eyes meet mine. “You either spend this life regretting what passed or move on and deal with it. Losing my leg lost me my career, but I found something to compensate and, in many ways, something better. I not only found a team, I found a home. There’s no point bottling regret up, that’s not how you deal with it.”

  A shuffling of feet has me looking past him. Alicia’s come out of her bedroom, and in her bare feet, neither of us had heard her. From the look on her face, she’s obviously been there a while.

  “Want breakfast?” Anticipating a yes, I push my plate toward her, and turn to start cooking more for myself.

  She steps forward, tilting her head and looking up to Niran. He’s a tall man. Even seated on the stool, he towers above her. “You’re a friend of Grumbler?”

  “I am.”

  She takes my knife and fork and starts in on the food while I turn back to the stove. “Where’s Grumbler gone?”

  “I’m not sure,” Niran replies, carefully.

  “Has he gotten the video taken down yet?” Her eyes look hopeful.

  “Again, I can’t tell you. But he’ll be doing all he can so that video is completely destroyed.” Niran’s tone leaves no room for doubt and seems to reassure her.

  “I spoke to Marisa last night, Mom.” She looks straight into my eyes. “I told her Owen just wanted to make a notch on his bed with me. I didn’t tell her about the filming.”

  It’s up to my daughter to know what to tell her friend. Sure, she hadn’t shown good judgement with Owen, but Marisa’s been her bestie for years. “And?” I ask cautiously.

  She shrugs. “She said the amazing first time was over glamorised. That it never happened that way in reality. She said most boys preferred girls who know the score.” Picking up a piece of bacon, she chews on it.

  I think she showed good judgement. If Marisa knows and hasn’t criticised her, maybe she’ll be feeling better about herself. That she hasn’t mentioned the video is good. Hopefully that means if the footage can be found and destroyed, no one need ever know about it.

  I notice Niran’s eyes are focused on my face. In that instance, I believe he’s read my mind and is trying to tell me to have faith.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Grumbler

  Bypassing Niran’s bike which had been sufficient to get me from A to B, I go to my own ride, patting the seat before swinging my leg over it. Niran’s rides well enough, but there’s nothing like being on your own where you’re truly one with the machine. Not that this ride is for enjoyment, but at the end of this jaunt, I hope there’ll be something to put a smile on my face.

  Glancing up at the sky, I see clouds threatening, so I pull my waterproof jacket out of my saddlebag and slip it on. When it rains, it rains like it means it. I’m not surprised that my brothers around me are doing the same.

  Lost waves his hand over his head. Behind him, I slip into position beside the VP. Salem’s behind us, with Bones and Token then Pennywise bringing up the rear. Behind the bikes, Connor is driving the truck. The whole club had wanted to come, but Lost had kept it to a small group. Well, how many did it take to bring in one man? Besides, too many bikes turning up might bring us unwanted attention.

  I punch down into first, then into gear, musing I still find it strange to ride close to the head of the pack like this. Before Snake and Poke betrayed the club, I never expected to rise through the ranks. Still, here I am, and, it appears, my brothers have faith in me. I suspect the self-doubt I used to see in Lost eyes is mirrored in mine, and for the same reasons. If we could be so duped, let a mutiny be planned without even sniffing a whiff that something wrong was brewing, how could we be trusted to lead an MC?

  Perhaps, like Lost, it makes me try harder.

  Before we left, Lost had instructed we use our Bluetooth headsets, when normally most of us prefer to ride without constantly hearing brothers yammering in our ears. But today, when we’re going to plan our approach off the cuff, it makes sense to be able to react immediate
ly.

  From the map Token had pulled up, it looks like the house is set in its own grounds. We’ll park a ways out, send up the drone, and then analyse what we can see. Christ, how things have changed. In the old days when I first joined the MC, we had radio headsets to use if necessary, but often the signal didn’t come clearly, and they had next to no range. Drones? Never even heard the word. We’d roll up and cope with whatever is there, our information limited to how many cars were on the drive.

  Now we can get copious amounts of information before we go inside. We even have the ability to look through windows.

  After a few miles, Lost waves his hand in a downward gesture and points to the side. We pull up. Connor parks the truck behind us and soon has the drone out and ready, while Token calls up the app on his phone. Within moments, our little friend is flying high, ignoring the rain and zooming off to our target’s house. We all crowd around the tech expert trying to get a look at what’s on his phone. Unable to see clearly, I slide my reading glasses out of my cut, feeling less embarrassed when Lost does the same. He's only given in and started wearing them recently, under the influence of Patsy of course. It’s just one more sign our bodies are aging faster than our minds.

  Mentally, I’m as sharp as I ever was, I muse, as the footage sent back from the drone comes into view more clearly. I note the house sits in the midst of a well-manicured and expansive yard. It’s a fucking mansion. Fancy, well maintained. Somehow, I don’t think Devon would dirty his own hands with the upkeep, he didn’t come across as that sort. Then again, when I met him, he hadn’t come across as a particularly affluent man. There’s a garage with the door closed, and no vehicles in sight to suggest there’s anyone inside.

  “Wish we had a drone with an infrared camera,” the VP remarks. “He could be at home, or not. No way of knowing.”