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

by Manda Mellett

  “Say it now. In Italian.” Hell has his phone out, flicking to an app which translates.

  “Puoi uscire. È sicuro.”

  Hell glances at the screen, looks at me, and raises his chin.

  “Not one word more. No explanation. You got me? No secret code. One wrong step and your boss will be blown to smithereens. You’ll be picking up the pieces for the next week. We have enough explosives.” My voice is cold, my delivery calm, leaving no room for doubt.

  A sharp nod.

  I take the handset down.

  “Dial 0.”

  When I do, I hear a ring, then a snick as the phone connects.

  “Puoi uscire. È sicuro.” Immediately I replace the phone on the wall, then Hell and I stand to the side.

  “Is the situation contained?” Lucio asks as he steps out. “I thought it was just a car backfiring.”

  The guard who’s followed him out is immediately disabled by Hell.

  “No backfire. You may have a few holes to brick up, but you won’t be worried about that as you won’t be breathing.” Raising my gun, I point it straight at his forehead.

  “She’s not here.” Thunder sounds out of breath as he enters, Rock and Beef close behind him. Without being told, Rock and Beef step up and take control of the two soldiers as Thunder continues his update, “We’ve searched every-fuckin’-where, Prez. Can’t find her.”

  “She’s here,” I tell him. “The tracker shows this is where she was brought. There must be another secret room somewhere.” I glance at Hell. “Somewhere that wasn’t on the original plans.”

  Lucio raises his hands. “What are you talking about? A girl? Tracker? Secret room?”

  There are sounds coming from the hallway. Turning my head so I’m still keeping him in my line of sight while glancing quickly behind me, I see Red poking his head around the door.

  “We have the soldatos corralled out here.”

  “Damage?” Drummer snaps.

  “Sparky was winged, but it was just a scratch. One guard dead, a couple wounded, but I’d say the boss wasn’t guarded by the best men.”

  I’d turned back in time to see Lucio’s eyes close briefly, and hear his mumbled words, “You got that right.” When his eyes open, they flick between his two soldiers. “Get them out of here. We need to talk.”

  Talk. I want to talk alright. There’s only one topic that interests me. But the don’s reaction is not what I’d expected at all. Hell’s confused too. Something tells me whatever the don has to say, I need to listen. His request to remove his men is reasonable, if he’s going to divulge secrets he doesn’t want his guards to hear. I jerk my head toward the door; Rock and Beef take their captives out. Thunder follows, and Red and Drummer stay with us.

  “What girl?” Lucio isn’t wasting time. Then he sighs and shakes his head and provides the answer, signing his death warrant. “Violet Palmer.”

  She’s Violet Black now. But I don’t correct him. “Where is she?” I ask again.

  “I have no idea. But I can make some assumptions.” His hand moves over his forehead as though he is in pain.

  “There’s only one way this is going to end, Lucio. I can make it quick and easy or slow and painful.”

  “Prez?” Both Drummer and I snap our heads around, but it’s me who beckons Pal over. “There were two women in the kitchen. We have them tied up with the others. Prez, one of them, well, she was wearing this.”

  “What is it?” Lucio snaps.

  I give a nasty grin. “The reason why we know you have her. It’s a tracker she was wearing.”

  Again, his eyes close briefly. When they open, there appear to be even more lines around them than there were before. There’s a world of hurt in them, pain, but no fear, resignation, not protest. It’s not the reaction I’d expect from a kidnapper. No bluster, no threats and no swagger. Because I’ve caught him red-handed?

  “Which woman? The older or younger?”

  The question is directed at Pal, who replies, “The younger one.” When I raise my chin, he understands and steps back out.

  Lucio nods. “It is as I expected. Though I would suggest the outcome was not as planned.” His eyes glance to the clock. “Giuseppa would be leaving for home around now. You would have been expected to follow her, and kill her when she couldn’t tell you what you wanted to know. That’s what he would have done.”

  He could have said all that in Italian for how much of it made sense.

  Lucio sees my confusion and continues, “Angelino was having an affair with her. Vitalia found out and put a stop to it. Giuseppa, how do you say? Wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. She would have been happy receiving a trinket such as that.” He nods at the heart dangling from Cad’s hand. “And Angelino would have been rid of a nuisance. But, as I say, it did not go as he planned.”

  “We’re not in the business of killing innocent women,” I tell him, feeling my teeth grind. “What we are in the business of is finding one. Violet.”

  Lucio’s eyes go to Hell. “My old friend,” Hell starts and glares as if denying any previous good sentiment between them could be called on now, but the Mafia boss is not put off. “We go back a long time. In your world, you can choose to step down. In mine? It is different. A power-play is messy, a boss killed by his enemies hands a cleaner way to clear the path to the top. Angelino, my underboss, my son, expects you to carry out that service today.”

  “If Violet is harmed, I intend to do just that.” There’s no doubt about it, Don.

  “You may. If I was in your place, I would too. But Angelino has betrayed me…”

  “You went along with his plans. Here, in this room, you were encouraging him to make a play for the child he claims. The baby that is my son.”

  “I did. I will always support a father wanting to stand up and parent a child.” Lucio doesn’t try to hide it. “But what he’s doing now? It goes so much further than that.” He attempts a smile; it doesn’t quite work. “I have men loyal to me. Men suspicious of Angel’s ambitions. Men who have presented me with facts. Facts you need to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Demon

  “All I need to know is where Violet is,” I growl.

  “That is information I do not have. I may be able to help; unless you prefer to shoot me instead,” he laughs mirthlessly, “I would suggest you have patience. There are things you first should hear.”

  Hell gestures at me. My lips thin as I interpret he wants a quiet word. When I nod, he walks to a corner of the room. Drawing close enough, he speaks into my ear, “Lucio’s right. We go way back. He plays it straight. Never known him to engage in cat and mouse. I’d listen to him.”

  “We’re wasting time,” I whisper back.

  His hand grips my shoulder. “I know, Son. Know this is tearing you apart. But it appears we were lured here by a trick. All we know is that Angel has her, but more than that? We’re in the dark. If Lucio can shed some light on it, I think we ought to hear what he has to say.”

  A sharp nod, then I’m walking back. “I’ll listen. But make it quick.”

  “May I?” He points to a satin-covered couch. When he sits, Hell, Red, Drummer and myself remain standing. “I’m afraid a history lesson is in order. Or a refresh of memory in your case, Hell.”

  Drummer and Red exchange glances, their eyes sharpening with interest.

  “When your club started, Hell, do you recall what it was like, then?” He doesn’t wait for an answer but continues, “Unemployment with the closure of the mills. No work available, people wanting money, and who had time on their hands. They wanted an escape from their pain. It was an ideal bed of unrest, and the opportunity to get drugs pouring in.”

  That’s not news to me. The club had been part of that; Blackie was always up for a quick buck. It might be his history, but it’s my club’s as well. After Blackie’s death, Furnace had taken a move to the side, brothers who had become hooked on that shit found no sympathy in the club or supply and left. But we�
��d still provided safe passage for drug-runners, and accepted their money. Until Hell had taken over and made the agreement with the Satan’s Devils that we didn’t touch drugs in any shape or form and kept them out of our territory.

  “The Devils were bit players,” Lucio confirms. “Useful, but not invested. No competition. Someone needed to step in and take control.”

  “The Silvestri. But with all due respect, how’s this helping me get Violet back?”

  “Patience,” Lucio snaps, telling me again. But before I can remind him who he’s talking to, the man whose life, or more accurately, his death is in my hands, continues, “Not just the Silvestri, but another famiglia too. A family by the name of Parma.” His gaze settles on my face, but I show no reaction. “The boss was Vittore Parma.”

  Now I can’t control my body’s slight involuntary jerk. Coincidence?

  “I never knew the full name.” Hell’s face creases. “Demon would only have been a youngster, kept well out of the war.”

  “War it was. Two famiglias fighting over the same territory. Foot soldiers, associates, only. Parma never showed his face, just sent in his men. It was over fast. We held the town, we were the victors. But it came at a cost. My eldest, Angel’s brother, was tortured and killed. He was sent back to me in pieces. Revenge for his death has been a debt of honour unpaid for twenty years.

  “Do you know what an associate is, Demon?” His change of tack takes me by surprise.

  I nod my head.

  He gives me the answer I’d neither requested nor needed. “They are not like your prospects. There’s no trial period or initiation to go through. No, an associate is someone who works for us, fights for us, but can never rise up the ranks, as they are not of Italian descent. To become a soldato, a soldier, or progress higher, a person needs pure Italian blood.”

  Dots are joining fast in my head. Drawing an incredible unbelievable picture. “Angel believes Victor Palmer and Vittore Parma were one and the same? That Violet is a descendant of the Italian Mafia? That bird won’t fly, Lucio. He’s crazy if he does. Her father was as American as apple pie.”

  “We’d assumed he controlled everything from afar. But he didn’t. He was here, living and working among us. Pulling strings.”

  Hellfire’s shaking his head. “A coincidence, Lucio. I knew the man. He was an accountant. Meek and mild-mannered. Walked too far across on the right side of the line for me to call him a friend. But our kids got on well. I checked him out, as any father would, before allowing Dave, Demon, to get acquainted with his boy.”

  “He had you fooled. Us too. Not one of us looked in his direction or connected the name. An accountant, yes, ideally placed to cover many transactions which, shall we say, were far over the wrong side of the line you speak off.”

  “You implying he continued the war?”

  “No. That ended with the defeat. His crew was either killed or disbanded, his businesses absorbed into ours. We confiscated, shall we say, his money. He had nothing, or very little left. He continued his cover, became his cover.” Lucio coughs, a hacking sound. “I’d given up looking, had assumed Parma had died, or maybe had returned with his tail between his legs to Italy. But Angelino didn’t stop. It became his religion. Although there was a large age gap—you may recall, my first wife died, and I’d taken a second later.” I’m vaguely aware Lucio had buried two wives but hadn’t paid much attention. “Angelino became obsessed with the death of his half-brother. It was about eighteen months ago that he discovered the truth and brought it to me.”

  Eighteen months? “You killed Violet’s father,” my statement made through gritted teeth.

  Lucio’s quick to deny it. “We would have done, yes. But he died of natural causes.” Now it’s his turn for his jaws to clench. “He died thinking he’d gotten away with it.”

  “Angel’s going to kill Violet instead.” Cold seeps into my bones.

  “No,” Lucio’s quick to reply. “Killing’s too quick. Too easy. For the way his brother was killed, he wants his revenge to last longer than that. To match the time he’s been deprived of him. In case you’re wondering, Violet’s mother also is of Italian descent, a good woman with Sicilian blood running through her veins.”

  Which makes Violet Italian. Fuck. Then worry dawns. “Is he going to kill her mother?”

  “She’s already experiencing a living death. No, her, he’ll leave to suffer.”

  I have sickening suspicions but need to ask. “What’s he going to do with Violet?”

  “The plan had been to take her son, adopt him. He would be no associate. He could become a soldier, rise through the ranks. With two bosses as grandfathers, it was likely he’d have inherited the brains. Angel and Vitalia were not blessed with kids. Seeing Violet suffer, knowing her child was denied to her, that should have been Angel’s revenge.”

  “Should have been?”

  Lucio puts his head into his hand as a low voice growls behind me, “We’re getting no information as to how to find her, Demon. Hurry this the fuck up. I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

  I nod over my shoulder to Drummer. I don’t either. “Why did the plan change? And what the fuck does Angel want now?”

  “The DNA test. My consigliere, the man who gives me advice, overheard a conversation. You’ll have guessed by now, the vacancy for which she applied never existed. It was a ploy to get her into Angelino’s hands. She was kept two days, drugged. I believe she thinks it was only one night. While she was here, Angelino wasn’t the only man to take advantage. One of the soldati,” he breaks off and a pained look crosses his face, a look of pure disappointment, “he also took her. The conversation overheard was him worried about the DNA test which could show the kid wasn’t Angelino’s.”

  “Is he dead?” If not, I’ll do it myself. With my bare hands.

  “Of course,” Lucio growls out, smashing his fists together as though to emphasise it.

  I realise there and then I never want to know Theo’s heritage. My own father was the worst there could be, and I’ve survived. I might carry his blood but none of his character. I’m my own person, shaped by the man who brought me up. I raise my chin.

  “He doesn’t want Theo any longer?”

  “There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’s not his. He won’t go to court to insist on a test for obvious reasons. If he found he didn’t carry his DNA, he’d still take him to hurt Violet, sell him, probably. But not to raise him as his. This time, he intends to do it right. Instead of a soldato he might not be able to trust, his wife is guarding her.”

  I snarl and jump forward. Hell just manages to hold me back, but can’t stop the words I’m shouting,

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  Lucio gets to his feet; he looks nervous, but otherwise ignores my outburst. “I tried to dissuade him once we knew you’d claimed her. I knew we’d start a war with the Devils and that, I wanted to avoid. Angel, though, he wouldn’t listen. It’s not just you who doesn’t know the location of your woman, or my son.”

  “Too right he’s started a fuckin’ war,” I snarl.

  Lucio shrugs. “Unnecessary bloodshed is not what I would have wished, but Angelino knows that we’ll win. We have more men.”

  “Not if we bring in the other chapters, and our support clubs,” Drummer drawls, unconcerned by the threat. “At the end of the day, how loyal are your associates? They can’t rise in your organisation.”

  Lucio tiredly replies, “That, too, was part of my reluctance to take your club on. There would be bloodshed. I might lose another son. But, Angelino is determined to come for you, Demon. Not just because of what you and the woman may or may not have done. That war confined to history? No, still all too recent for my son. The Devils stepped back and wanted no part of it back in the day. His reasoning? If you had added your weight, his brother may still be breathing.”

  Angel sounds like he’s gone off the rails. “He’s motherfucking crazy.”

  A look from Lucio suggests he might well agree. “He
set me up. He expected you to come in guns blazing. He believed that because he acts without thinking. That nickname? It’s well-earned. He’d rather speak to dead bodies than allow them to talk back. Hellfire, I envy you. Your son talks with reason.”

  “When I find Angel, he’s dead.” My tone is conversational.

  Again, that hurt comes into his eyes. “I am still the boss. My men answer to me. My consigliere, my caporegimes, they follow me. We do not want war, we want no distractions. I thought Angelino might settle when he has a son to focus on, but…”

  “If he rapes Violet, I’ll hold the famiglia responsible. I won’t stop until you are all wiped from Pueblo.” He could have already raped her. Fuck.

  “And we’ll be right behind him,” Red states.

  Lucio nods, clearly taking that as a given. “I don’t know where he is. That’s the truth. All I know is that he and Vitalia will be there, along with his most-trusted soldati.” His brow creases. “I don’t know which capi are working with him.” As my head tilts, he clarifies, “The capo, caporegime, is the captain. Each has a decina, a group of ten or more soldati who he oversees. I suspect at least one of my capi will be in the know, or, will be missing.”

  “Angel has been turning men? Turning this capo? Could he have turned all of them?”

  Lucio shakes his head. “One, two, maybe. Sanna is trying to stay close to him on my instructions. I’m hoping that he can temper Angelino’s plans, but whether he’ll be successful, who can tell? And who knows who else could be enticed over to the other side? As you know, Angelino isn’t exactly stable. His mother spoiled him; I did too. I’d lost Pompeo, his brother. You know what that name means? Five. He was to be the first of our five children. Instead I ended up with one. So yes, whatever he wanted, he was given. It’s not helped develop his character in the right direction. Unfortunately, he can also be quite persuasive.”

  I need to cut through the crap. There won’t be a chance for Angel to redeem himself, he won’t have long enough while he’s still breathing. “You can find where this capo is?”