A woman being able to try out for the SAS is a very big thing, and I treated prospecting for the club no differently. It wasn’t that a female had to prove to be equal to the men, we had to be better than the best.
Women are inherently thought of as weak, our size belying our strength. Even though it’s the twenty-first century, women are still predominantly seen as homemakers, the ones keeping their men, the main or sole wage earners, happy, and bringing up the kids—especially in the state of Utah with its overriding view of patriarchy. Unless a woman is trained like me, men can use their larger size to keep them in their place with their fists and even without violence, terms still used in everyday vocabulary, like the ‘little woman’, are used to keep them down. Men tend to be in powerful roles and use their positions to denigrate any woman they see as a threat. A strong woman with a brain is one to be feared and to be kept controlled.
To earn my patch, I had to not only prove I was an equal, but also show the lack of a cock could be an advantage. Sure, I’m a ball-breaker, a woman who takes no shit, but if I have to, I can put away my fatigues and carry off a dress. More than once I have used that talent to make men relax their guard and get taken in.
My disguise is one that comes naturally, a lethal weapon hidden in plain sight. Pip saw the benefits immediately, and on more than one occasion has shamelessly used them.
My Satan’s Devils’ brothers? Well, they took a little longer to persuade. My credentials had meant nothing until they’d seen what I was capable of for themselves. Then, of course, just like Brute, Gears and Igor were doing right now, I had to prove I was trustworthy.
I passed with flying colours, well, I’d been through that all before when I first joined up and had to prove to the army I was more than a girl.
I gained more than my Satan’s Devils’ patch. I found my place, my home, and a new family. Would I have been happier in the SAS? Probably. Do I regret saving a life and losing what I hoped for mine instead? No, never that. A man’s alive because of me. Do I miss home and my family? Yes, but I can’t see me going back, not permanently. Here, I feel, is right where the universe wants me. And, I remind myself, my world will only stay as it is now if word of my existence, and Pip’s, doesn’t get back to Drummer. I have to be careful. Road could be the cause of me once again losing the future I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
Now pushing away from the door, I take off my cut and fold it reverently. It means something to me, almost as much as the beige beret I was so close to putting on. It’s something I’ve earned and, like any Devil, only death will part it from me. I take off my clothes, throwing most in the laundry basket. Thinking my jeans will do one more day, I put them neatly into a drawer. Then, taking out my sleep attire, I go through my nightly routine.
When I slide into my perfectly made bed, I switch off the lights but know I won’t get to sleep for a while yet. When I close my eyes, all I can see is Road.
Fuck, but he’d spent the day perplexed as if he was Alice and had stepped through the looking glass into a world completely different from the reflection he’d thought he would find. Another chapter of the Satan’s Devils, but unlike any he could have expected or visited before.
What will he think when he finds out what we’re hiding? Will he agree that we might have twisted our tenuous observance of the Satan’s Devils by-laws too far? Will he show he has strengths that we’ve not yet seen? Will he be a bonus or hindrance if he patches over, and if he won’t, will it really be curtains for him?
Since we lost Thumper, we are a man down, but won’t be if, as expected, Gears soon patches in. We keep our team tight, would there be room for one more?
Playing pool and darts, drinking beside him, I was watching Road the whole time tonight. Even when I offered to keep his glass filled, he restricted himself to only a few beers, was holding himself back and not letting loose, even while the other brothers figuratively let down their hair.
Road’s good-looking, I can’t deny that. But if I needed a man, I’d do what the brothers do, pick up a likely looking bedfellow for the night in town, or try out a hangaround that comes to our parties. I’ve no desire to be tied down, not yet anyway. While I’d never say never to the idea of taking a permanent partner, even going the whole shebang and having kids, I don’t see that in my future as yet. Maybe ever. How could I, who could best most, if not all, of the men that I know, harness my horses to that wagon?
Children make you weak, not physically, but emotionally. When you have kids, you have something that can be held over your head, and that’s not somewhere I would want to go.
Thinking about being weak, I sit up, and do what I should have done when I first came to bed, take out my hearing aids. If I don’t, I’ll get no sleep. As soon as I roll over, I’ll get annoying feedback from one or the other, and the other disadvantage is the build-up of wax.
I hate taking them out, and as usual delay until the very last minute. When I’m wearing them, I feel just like anyone else. Sure, my hearing’s not perfect, sometimes I need to ask people to repeat what they’ve just said. But at least I can forget that I’m all but totally deaf. Without them, I hate the sudden silence that descends. Even after almost four years, I’m not used to it.
Without them, the dark becomes a scary place, even though I have no need to be apprehensive. The brothers have taken care of that. Knowing I can’t hear a fire alarm, Duty set it up so my bed vibrates. Likewise, there’s a discreet button on the outside of my door that will send a light flashing by my bed if someone comes to wake me.
But still I’m uneasy when I cut the outside world out. It’s not peaceful, I hate it. As a soldier, I was taught to be alert at all times. On more than one occasion, a twig snapping or the sound of a gun being cocked literally saved my life. It’s not easy coming to terms with the loss of one of your senses. Once my hearing aids come out, I’m no longer the confident Swift. I feel weak and vulnerable.
The first time waking up in the hospital ward and not being able to hear the doctor explain what had happened to me had been the most terrifying experience of my life. Not much had made me afraid up until then. Through the wonders of technology, he’d written out on his tablet that my hearing was unlikely to return, but might improve albeit slightly. I think I knew right then, my life, as I knew it, had significantly changed.
Pushing down the panic that threatens to return when I remember those first bleak days, I lie back down, immersed in complete silence, my fists clenching.
You learn a lot in the army, part of which is training your body to sleep when you can, no matter where you are or whether you’re on hard ground or a soft bed. That’s a trick I’ve been determined not to forget. It works now. Tonight, by repeating the mantra I’m safe here and nothing can take me unawares, I stave off the threatening panic. I tell my brain it’s time to switch off and know no more until I wake on the dot of zero five hundred hours.
The first thing I do is put in my hearing aids with a feeling of relief, then feeling human again, I check the messages on my phone.
Half an hour later, I’m pounding the streets as I go for my morning run. I’ve a number of routes that I’ve measured out each coming in at six miles in length. I try to do each in under an hour. Today I manage it in fifty-five minutes. That I’ve completed it well within my target time puts a smile on my face.
Once back, I hit the gym. As I approach the weights, Rascal approaches me.
“Want me to spot you?”
I nod my thanks. His eagle eyes watch me, and he helpfully adds an extra five-pound weight to each side of the bar when I ask. When my muscles start warning me I’ve done enough for now, I replace the bar and slide out from under it.
I’m sweaty, rivulets are running down me. Sniffing under my arms, I pronounce, “Christ, I stink.”
“Just what I was thinking,” Rascal throws at me, expertly jumping away from my playful fist. “Hey, Swift, I’m always surprised just how fuckin’ unladylike you are.”
Shrugging
off his comment, well, most of my life has been spent with men, I remind him, “I’m no lady, Rascal. Thought you’d know that by now.”
He snorts, then changes the subject. “You still mad Prez paired you up with the fuckin’ new guy?”
While my preference is to work alone, I’ve been nursemaid to FNGs before. That doesn’t worry me. “Nah, we should give him a chance. Prez knows I won’t take any bullshit.”
“True.” He shakes his head. “Can’t see him fitting in, myself. But we can’t have him running back to Drummer.”
No, we can’t. I’m wondering how we can stop that without any bloodshed when Rascal, a lithe but strong and capable man, goes to the leg press and starts his own exercise routine. With a mock salute, I leave the gym.
I’ve time to take a leisurely shower, grab an energy drink and down it, then, it’s time to go and release the man I’m still finding it hard to think of as my new partner.
The word partner suggests an equal, and with Road having to be locked in his room and left with no means of communication with the outside world, he’s anything but that. While I’ve been exercising, I’ve been going through in my head how to approach today. Strategizing, I’m good at that. First, we’ll kick off with a tour of the clubhouse, or at least those parts prospects are allowed to access, which will probably bring up a myriad of questions I’ll have to decide how to address.
I wonder whether Road will be rested and ready to take on the day, or will he be in a closed-off mood, once he’d found he’d been locked in last night?
Well, I won’t know until I see him. Here goes nothing, I think as I knock on the door, then present the key. As the light turns green, I push down on the handle and push the door ajar.
“You decent in there?”
The door’s pulled fully open from the other side.
I’m pleased to see Road is, indeed, decent. Delectably so. I have to resist the urge to lick my lips. His hair freshly washed and dried gleams as it falls around his shoulders, his fresh t-shirt clings to his abs, and his bare arms flex bringing my attention to his tattoos. His head is tilted in challenge when my eyes rise to his face.
“You’re on time,” he comments. Then continues before I can respond, “I expected that.”
I shrug. Some habits are hard to kick. Not that this is a bad one. “You ready for me to show you around?”
His head shakes, and his eyes widen slightly as he leans his forearm against the door jamb. “Only if that tour starts in the fuckin’ kitchen. Not sure if you noticed, Swift, but I’ve been locked in this room for eight hours and there’s nothing the fuck to eat here.”
Mentally I backtrack, realising he’s right. Sometimes the sociable niceties of snacking or eating at other than set times pass me by. “Sure.”
Standing back, I let him precede me out of the room.
“Elevator?” he asks.
“Yup. Our kitchen is on the ground floor.”
“Ground… First. Got it.”
“Road,” I growl, warningly as he presses the button to call the elevator. He’ll need no card to activate it for a downward journey, nor to let him out on the right floor. I’m conscious he might be planning to try to incapacitate me and attempt an escape. It wouldn’t work, and I don’t want to hurt him.
He turns, fast, his large body crowding me as I stand my ground. “Fuckin’ said I’d stay, didn’t I? Fuckin’ great team we’re going to make if you don’t trust me at all. How’s this going to work, Swift, if you’re always watching out for me trying to run?”
He’s right, but… “I don’t know you.”
He sighs. “I get that, Swift. But Pip asked me to give you a chance. And how the fuck would I do that if I walked out right now?”
Prez had also suggested Road might be leaving in a box if he didn’t decide to patch over, or, if he couldn’t bring anything to the table that we haven’t already got. That, alone, would get a sensible man running for the hills.
As if he can read my mind, Road shakes his head again, his hair moving around his shoulders. “I’m no fool, Swift. I know what’s waiting for me if I don’t like what I find. But,” he raises his eyes to look over my head as if wondering whether to tell me. “I love my Tucson brothers, never think other than that. My club lifted me out of the role of bouncer and put me in fuckin’ charge at Angels. Never thought I’d make manager of anything, but that said, running a strip club, well…” His voice trails off. “Let’s just say, keeping the strippers from tearing each other’s hair out, and the customers hands away from things they shouldn’t touch wasn’t my life’s ambition.”
“Which was to ride in the World Championship?”
His shoulders rise and fall. “To take part in the qualifying races at least. Huh,” he snorts. “I even applied for and got a passport. I was supposed to go to your part of the world next year.” He shrugs again. “Now everything I thought I’d have to look forward to has been taken away. What’s left is…”
“Boring?”
“I dunno. Maybe I need a new challenge.”
He’s surprised me. “You’re saying you’re ready to move on from Tucson?”
“Maybe I am.” He’s still talking at the wall over my head. “The club is all about family, which is as it should be, brothers united against the world. In Tucson, it is family. Most brothers have ol’ ladies, and most now have kids of their own.”
“You want your own ol' lady?”
“What would I do with an ol' lady—no, don’t answer that.” He grins and looks down at me, in doing so, his face grows serious again. “Kids? What the fuck do I know about them? I know nothing about having a happy home. Doubt I’d be a good role model.”
That’s about how I feel about being a mum. What could I do? Show my kids how to strip down, put back together and shoot a gun or kill a man using only their hands to do it?
I stand back and gesture toward the elevator. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”
His eyebrow raises slightly as I allow him to precede me inside the car, giving him ample opportunity to shove me back as the doors close. He’d be on his own with a clear route to freedom unless Igor or whoever’s on reception duty today had the gumption to stop him. If he walked out like he owned the place, they might let him pass. Everyone knows I’ve got responsibility for him, and I never lose a man I’m guarding.
But we’re partners. Trust has got to start somewhere. I have the notion Utah might have the something Road is searching for—a new purpose, a new reason for living. Fuck knows, I can understand that. It had been that way for me.
Road’s loyal to his prez, as he should be. But maybe his spying mission is turning into personal exploration, something to fill that hole inside him.
As he moves to the back of the elevator making space for me to join him, I start to think I might not be mistaken. Finding an escape route isn’t the top of Road’s agenda, or not at this moment. His raised eyebrow and his look of expectation shows he’s intrigued.
Perhaps Pip was right to pair us together. Someone else might not have seen that Road, it appears, is interested in giving us a chance. If not for our sakes, for his.
Or maybe he’s cleverer than we’ve given him credit for and has spying skills we don’t expect. It could be he’s scoping us out to flesh out a report for Drummer. I frown. I mustn’t forget that possibility.
8
Road…
I’d woken feeling groggy as though I had a hangover, the slow-to-clear fog in my head being a result of the painkillers washed down with the beer I’d found in the convenient mini-bar in the room.
The first order of business is to put myself under the shower, letting the cascading water wash some of the cobwebs away. A little more refreshed, I dry myself, then take a clean t-shirt from my saddlebags and dress.
Clicking on the television bolted to the wall, I mute it, but notice the time, glad I had an hour or so to kill before Swift was due to come and release me, using it to start my brain working once again.
/> I’ve never been arrested, never been trapped somewhere I couldn’t get out, so my eyes keep going to the door, focusing on the lock. While at first, the sixty minutes seemed useful, they soon began to drag. How dare they cage me like a fucking animal.
I’m on edge and want to pace, but my leg’s feeling easier after a good night’s sleep, and unless I want to lean heavily on the cane, keeping my weight off of it will keep my muscles from being strained. The acknowledgement of my limitations do not add positively to my mood. I do some exercises that the physical therapist had shown me. Each day there are small improvements. Today, I’ll leave my stick in the room and try to do without it.
My stomach rumbles.
I’ve already searched what hospitality there is on offer, but it’s not much. The bar contains drinks but no food. So not only am I locked away, it seems they intend to starve me. Nah, don’t be stupid. There are far easier ways of killing me.
I’ve never felt claustrophobic before, never really had need to. But that must be what I’m feeling now as part of my brain insists they’ve forgotten all about me. This room may resemble a hotel, but I doubt housekeeping calls regularly. What if I’m left here, no way out, no sustenance, and all they find when they eventually remember me is my dead body?
Don’t be fucking stupid and melodramatic. I find I’m lecturing myself again.
Swift told me she’d come get me at eight o’clock, and her army background suggests she’ll be punctual and won’t keep me waiting.
I take deep breaths, forcing myself to think rationally.
Weird doesn’t begin to describe this strange Satan’s Devils’ chapter I’ve come to. To say things are not what they seem is an understatement. First, they appear to have technical knowledge which no one thought they had, and access to shit I never expected. That hand of Bolt’s is incredible for a start. The prez isn’t the prez and the VP is not who I thought either. As for what business they’re in, I’ve still no idea.
Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1 Page 8