Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3

by Manda Mellett

  I turn away as he takes Jeannie’s lips, an expression of ongoing desire and promise that I haven’t seen in my own man’s eyes for so long. But today’s not the time for jealousy to rouse its head. Demon’s my focus, not myself.

  Bomber leaves with Hellfire. My husband’s returning to the clubhouse in the hopes Demon might return there. When they’ve gone, I step aside, as Jeannie walks through the house she knows almost as well as her own, even though she might not have been here in ages.

  “Coffee. I need coffee. Or vodka. What’s your choice?”

  “Coffee.” I follow her to the kitchen. While I may feel like drowning my sorrows, the one glass Hell poured me was enough. I need to keep a straight head in case my son needs me.

  “So,” she sits at the counter while I pretend to busy myself, “Demon’s found out?”

  I jerk my head up and down. “He’s taken off. Fuck knows where. I’m worried. He’s not got his head straight, he’s riding…”

  “He’ll be fine, Mo. He’s an experienced rider. I can understand he wants to be alone. Fuck, that’s so much shit for a kid to get his head around.”

  He’s not a kid, though however old he gets, it’s hard not to think of him still as one. “I wish he’d never have discovered it. Jeannie, how the hell do you cope with the knowledge your father was a rapist?”

  “His father wasn’t Blackie, Mo. Hell’s always been his dad. Demon’s not stupid. He’ll work that out for himself.”

  “Hell’s gone back to the club. He thinks Demon’s going to stand up to him. Take him down for lying to him all his life.”

  “Demon will work it through,” she says confidently. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.” She waves down at the small bag she brought with her. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll stay until you’ve got news.”

  “Thank you.” I place a coffee in front of her, relieved I’ve got company. I couldn’t have asked Kennedy to come over. I don’t want my other children to know, not unless Demon wants to tell them. It’s his secret as much as mine after all.

  We sit for a while in silence. It’s hard to talk. All she can offer are platitudes. Neither of us knowing the truth about where Demon is, what he’s doing, and what’s going through his head. It makes me think of my man. Is he alone at the club? Or is he getting comfort himself? If so, who from? Bella?

  Abruptly I put down my coffee. It’s making me too hot. Or is it the damn menopause adding to my woes? Why can’t my body behave? I can’t take it. Getting up, I open a window.

  “Hot flash?” Jeannie asks, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve been getting those myself. Annoying, aren’t they?”

  “Fuck this getting older.” I nod. We share a moment of female bonding, without having to talk.

  “Why don’t you come to the club anymore, Mo? Miss having you there.”

  I consider before answering. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. I had Demon, Kennedy and Samuel. Jeannie and Bomber wanted kids, but it wasn’t to be for them. While I’d been home looking after my children, Jeannie had filled the hole in her life by making a place for herself at the compound. Before we became distant, she used to joke she had more children than me. All the boys in the club were that for her, she’d adopted them all.

  “Is Hell cheating on me?” I suddenly spit out, holding my breath for the answer.

  Jeannie shakes her head. A moment passes before she answers. “I can’t say.”

  I stand. Almost throwing my now empty cup into the sink. “You’re my best friend, Jeannie. Why can’t you be straight with me? Why are you more loyal to him?”

  “Mo.” She’s standing too. “I can’t tell you because I don’t know.” Her hands wave, punctuating her words. “Yeah, if I knew, I’d tell you. But you know the score. Bomber and I don’t stay around in the evenings. Once dinner’s over we go home. All I can say is Hell keeps his hands to himself while we’re there. What goes on after? I have no idea.”

  That makes sense. When the club girls start doing what they’re given board and lodging for, Sindy, Jeannie and I used to make ourselves scarce. I can’t think of any reason why that might have changed.

  “I think he is cheating,” I tell her sadly. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.” As she makes a noise of sympathy, I wave it off. “Who can blame him, Jeannie? Look at me, I’m a mess. I can’t match up to the whores.”

  “Mo, yeah, we’re older. Can’t stop time marching on. As for sex, Bomber and I aren’t as active as we once were.”

  “But you still do it? Fuck?” I ask crudely, in case she misunderstood.

  “Sure. Yes. But not as often.”

  “We don’t.” I tell her gruffly. “He must be getting it elsewhere. It’s the only answer.”

  With a shake of her head, she refutes it. “Hell loves you, Mo. Fuck, he always did. I wanted him first, you know that, don’t you? But from the moment we met, he only had eyes for you.”

  “His eyes aren’t showing him now what they once did. Just look at me, Jeannie. I’m overweight, and bits of me are sagging.”

  “He’s getting old too,” she says astutely. “He might attract the interest of the young whores as he’s the president of the club, but if he wasn’t, they wouldn’t give him a second look.” She winks. “We’ve both ended up with old men, Mo. Just look at Bomber. Grey hair, where he’s got any at all. He’s not in his prime any longer. But I’ve grown old with him. Got no desire to trade him in for a younger model. So I’m not sure why you think Hellfire would.”

  Men are different to women, though, aren’t they? Don’t they feel flattered when a younger woman shows their interest? Even if they know it’s the power that attracts them, not the man himself?

  “Have you spoken to him?” She asks, following me to the living room.

  The shake of my head gives her the answer. Then I add, “If I had my fears confirmed, I’d have to leave him.”

  “Do you ever think you made a mistake? Marrying him?” Jeannie makes herself comfortable.

  “Never.” Her question makes me think back to myself as a teenager. “Though I never got a chance to live my dreams, being forced to marry so young.”

  “You wanted to travel, didn’t you?”

  I did. But getting pregnant knocked that on the head. I’d never had a chance to discover what was beyond the confines of Colorado, except for brief visits out of state to other Satan’s Devils chapters. If I get divorced, maybe I can start all over again. Trouble is, now I might have the chance, I don’t feel the urge to go anywhere. Exploring new sights on my own, no longer attractive.

  “There’s a family barbeque next Sunday. Why don’t you come, Mo?”

  A strangled laugh comes from me. “You really think Demon would want me to be there? Play happy families?”

  “You don’t know what Demon might want.”

  “He might not even be back by then.” I snap. Then drop my head into my hands.

  Immediately she comes over. “Mo, he’ll be fine.” Without explaining, she knows what I’m thinking. “Hell and Demon, they get on so well together. Father and son. Brother and brother. They’ll work it out.”

  Jeannie stays with me that evening, I’m glad to have company. Though even her presence doesn’t prevent me having a sleepless night, visions of Demon having come off his bike lying dead or dying by the side of the road. I just wish he’d get into contact. He must know I’ll be worried out of my mind. Hell, too. Though it remains to be seen how much my son cares about either of us at this stage. We’ve all been living a lie.

  Taking charge, like she does every day in the clubhouse, Jeannie’s up early, and is making breakfast when I appear. My eyes are red following another bout of weeping in the small hours, my head pounds, and my stomach churns at just the sight of food. Nevertheless, I try to eat something, not wanting her kind gesture to go to waste.

  She tidies up after. I couldn’t give a damn what state my house is in.

  Around mid-morning, my phone rings. Seeing it’s Hel
lfire, I take it into his office for privacy.

  “Hell?”

  “Demon’s here. He’s fine, Mo. He’s taken it, well, far better than I’d have thought. We were coming straight over to see you, but Cad had something to discuss with him. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  I sink into the chair, hugging the phone to me. Unable to process the words. My son’s safe. He’s alive. And so, it appears, is Hell.

  “Glad I had this opportunity to talk to you first. Got to tell you, Mo. I offered to step down.”

  At last I find my voice, not sure what I think about that. Put the stress my old man carries on the shoulders of my son? “He take you up on it?”

  “Nah. But I told him to consider the offer. The VP’s got to have confidence in his prez. Now he knows I’m a liar,” Hell seems to have trouble over that word, “told him he needs to at least think on the option.”

  Once again Hell’s showing what a good man he is. Putting his son’s, no, his brother’s needs in front of his own. As I put my phone away, I start to wonder how the relationship that now is out in the open, at least between us, will affect the dynamics of the club.

  “Well?” Jeannie asks expectantly as I return to her.

  I let out a big sigh of relief. “Demon’s come back. No blood seems to have been shed.”

  “Thank fuck!” She looks just as pleased as I am.

  “But, Jeannie? Not a word, okay? This is Demon’s story. Up to him whether he tells anyone else.”

  “Mo, sweetheart. You and Hell? Couldn’t have been better parents to that boy. He’ll know you’ve always done your best for him. He couldn’t have wanted for anything more. You’re right. Serve fuck all if it came out now. Most of the members don’t even remember what it was like or weren’t around in those days. No point rocking the boat now.” She purses her lips. “They won’t hear anything from me or Bomber. Don’t want them to think there might be other secrets waiting to be dredged up from the past.”

  She’s right. It’s not just Demon who could lose confidence in Hell as the prez, but the club in general. Trust. Such an important word in the brotherhood. If Hell lost that? He’d lose the club completely.

  My man wants to keep the patch on his back? We’ve got to act like nothing’s happened.

  I wonder if it’s possible for Demon, hell, us, to do that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Paladin

  Now…

  When I’d first thought of coming to Colorado with Jay, I’d visions in my head of us living together, of having the chance to become a couple. Of course, I’d recognise there were boundaries until we could cement our relationship when she reaches the age of consent. Whatever my own desires, I respect Drummer and Slick too much to do anything but wait. But I’d expected to be her anchor, as she would be mine, easing us both into our new worlds.

  I hadn’t anticipated arriving alone, riding up to a foreign clubhouse found only by the guidance of my GPS.

  I’m twenty-one years old. I joined the Satan’s Devils Tucson chapter when I was eighteen, drawn by my love of bikes and the camaraderie I saw existing between the men. I lost my family when I was young. Not an unusual story. Dad did a runner, Mom couldn’t cope, escaped into a bottle and a handful of drugs. Unbeknownst to her, they’d been cheap because they’d been cut with Fentanyl. Luckily my mind has blanked out the finer details of sitting beside her dead body, until someone had investigated the non-stop crying of a five year old and screaming of a baby coming from the apartment.

  No family could be found, or none that had wanted me and my three month old sister. Separated, we disappeared into the system. I was one of the lucky ones and wasn’t abused, no, just taken in so the family could claim the money, thereafter to be virtually ignored. It was many years before I’d learned my young sister had been adopted. When I was old enough, I’d tried, but have never been able to find the girl who would be around Jayden’s age. All I can hope is that she’s been loved and cared for, and that, one day, our paths might cross.

  The Satan’s Devils are the only true family I’ve ever known, the only place I felt I’d belonged. Now I’ve given it up to be with Jayden. As I stare at the imposing building in front of me, realising the immensity of what I’ve left behind, I can only hope I’m doing the right thing. Oh, I couldn’t leave her to come here alone, but is my path as aligned with hers as I believe?

  As a prospect you know you’re an outsider, having to prove to the brothers you’re trustworthy. Your sole focus on getting that patch, working your ass off, having no time to yourself and nothing to think about except how best to convince the men around you of your worthiness to call them brother. Neither accepted nor excluded until your time is done.

  Here, I won’t be a prospect. If I were, I’d know what to expect. No, here I’m entering as an equal, calling men I’ve never met brother. No guarantee they’ll accept me, they’ll be as distrusting of me as I am of them. I can see no clear path to earning that trust.

  Maybe if I was older, more experienced, I’d better know what to do and how best to fit in, have the confidence that comes with the years. But I’m not. And I don’t.

  A prospect has come to the gate. I put on my cut when I arrived in Pueblo, but the patch still carries the word Tucson on the back. He stares at me for a moment before sliding the barrier open. Guess I’m expected.

  He waves across the parking lot to a line of bikes, I back mine in on the end. Getting off, I stretch, flexing my fingers and arching my back. That was a long fucking ride, I’m glad to have made it here, and in one piece. The doorway beckons, but before I make my way inside, I delay a second longer while I send a quick text.

  Pal: I’ve arrived. Just heading in to meet the brothers.

  I wait a second, but there’s no response. She’s probably busy settling in herself. Then, bracing myself, I take the first step into my new life.

  The clubroom is large and rectangular, the normal bar stretching down one long side. My initial thought is how the prospects must have to run from one end to the other to keep glasses topped up. A range of tables and chairs, are occupied by a number of brothers, scary that there are no immediate faces I recognise. They’re all wearing cuts with the Satan’s Devils patch on the back, but that’s the only comforting thing that I see.

  A man’s pushed away from the bar. “Well, you coming or going? You’re letting the cold air in.”

  I grin, that’s not words often heard in Tucson, normally it’s about letting the cold air out, but springtime is decidedly cooler here. Hoisting my duffle over my shoulder, I step toward the man who’s spoken. “Paladin.” I hold out my hand as I introduce myself.

  “Well we weren’t expectin’ the fuckin’ tooth fairy,” he responds. “Thunder. Sergeant-At-Arms.”

  I raise my chin at him, “Thunder.” I repeat.

  “Drink? Or dump your gear in your room?”

  Feeling all eyes burning into me, knowing how important first impressions are, I decide finding where I’ll be sleeping and getting my game face on is probably the best way to start. “Drink sounds good, but I’ll get my shit sorted first.”

  “Ink?” Thunder calls out.

  I turn, expecting to see a heavily tatted brother, instead a man approaches whose short-sleeved tee shows no decoration on any of the skin I can see. He’s probably covered on his chest and back.

  “Yeah, Thunder?”

  “Take our new member up to the room we prepared for him, will you? Show him what’s what?”

  “Sure. Paladin, isn’t it?”

  Says so on my cut, so I just raise my chin.

  I follow him up the stairs. On the way he asks the polite things about how my ride here was, how long it took. When he’s finished asking and I’ve offered answers to his satisfaction, he stops in front of a room near the end of a hallway and opens the door.

  There’s a key in the lock, he takes it out and hands it to me. “Best keep it locked. Else you might find a bitch in your bed. Specially a new, young sp
ecimen like yourself. Unless you like surprises waiting for you, that is.”

  I don’t. So I hold onto that key tight. The room’s not bad. A window looks out onto the rear of the compound and the desert beyond. No mountains or saguaro in sight, and the vegetation’s different to that which I’m used to. A feeling of homesickness washes over me, but I brush that aside. No looking back. This is my home now. I’m pleasantly surprised there’s a small but serviceable bathroom off to the side. I hadn’t expected such luxury. A bed dominates the room even though it’s pushed up against the wall, a small wall-mounted flat screen TV can be viewed from the bed, and there’s a chest of drawers and suitable closet to hang up my clothes, such as they are. I haven’t brought a load of stuff with me. I couldn’t carry much on the bike.

  The bed looks like it’s been freshly made, and if I’m not mistaken, the bedding looks new.

  “Jeannie, she’s Bomber’s old lady, she likes to make sure things are set up for visitors. Or, in your case, new members. Not that we’ve had someone transfer in before, not that I can remember. Of course, that should be Moira’s job, she’s Prez’s woman, but she doesn’t come to the clubhouse much nowadays.”

  Moira. I know the name. She’s who’s going to be giving a room to my girl. Idly I wonder why she’s become a stranger to the club. Bad feeling? Hope that doesn’t influence my woman. Hell, can’t think of her like that. Not yet.

  “How many members are there in all?” I need to start learning about this new chapter.

  Ink leans back against the door while I throw my duffle and saddlebags on the bed. “Thirteen if you count Prez, fourteen now including you. At least you got us away from the unlucky number.” He chuckles. “Three prospects. You met Runt, he’s the kid let you in the gate.”

  “I didn’t notice any old ladies…?”

  “Bomber’s got Jeannie, as I said. Buzzard, our Treasurer is married to Sindy, but that’s all of them. Then there’s Bella, Titsy, Breezy, Tulia and Sheila, they’re our club girls.”