Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1

by Manda Mellett

  On the other hand, if they do, they’ll be prepared. And I’ll be fucked, and not in a way I’d like.

  Considering my options, I see that if I stand on the bed I could karate kick out the light, but I’m unwilling to give up on any remaining senses I have, and I’m not sure what advantage it would give me when I need to find out what I’m up against. I need to ask questions.

  I can ask, but I won’t be able to hear any answers unless someone speaks very slowly and loudly into my left ear. Even then they’d have to enunciate clearly. Would they do that?

  Damn, and fucking damn.

  After scrabbling at the iron ring in the wall until my fingernails are broken and bleeding, I have to acknowledge the cement around it doesn’t loosen at all and concede for now, I’m at the mercy of whoever’s kidnapped me.

  Settling into wait, I let myself slip into the mindset that I had during those long periods I spent on sentry duty, staying motionless for hours while remaining vigilant. Summoning up my inner soldier, patient but alert, my eyes, almost unblinking, stay focused on the door. I have no way of knowing how much time passes before I see the knob start to turn.

  Game on.

  I’ve decided to play it like a scared woman, hiding for now my abilities and skills. If they don’t know what I am, I’ll keep them in the dark. If I show I’m no threat, maybe they’ll unchain me from the wall.

  The door opens and a man appears. His lips move and his mouth turns up in an approximation of a smile. I’ve seen more welcoming ones on a corpse.

  His eyes narrow and his lips move again.

  I remain impassive, as clearly, I can’t hear a word he says.

  His face darkens, he comes closer. His lips move again and this time his body vibrates. In my left ear I hear an indistinguishable rumbling sound. His increasing anger shows he doesn’t know I’m deaf. That gives me hope he doesn’t know much else about me.

  Forcing myself to back away and up the bed when all I want is to strangle him with this chain, I open my mouth. “I’m deaf.” I hear the words only as a dull echo in my mind.

  He pauses, tilts his head to one side, then his smile broadens, and his body moves in a way that makes me think he’s laughing. Then he shakes his head, moves to the door and leans around it.

  I read the clues. He’s talking to someone else. I suspected he wouldn’t be alone.

  I’m right. It’s not long before another man appears. This one, I feel is more dangerous. Unlike the first one, he doesn’t come close. He mouths something very slowly, and I wish I’d taken more time to learn how to lip read, but I can’t make what he’s saying out.

  “I’m deaf,” I repeat.

  He taps his lips.

  This time I hazard a guess what he’s asking. “I can’t read lips, but I sign. And read. I’ve a little hearing in my left ear if you speak loudly and clearly up close.” Perhaps if I get them in the habit of getting near, I’ll have them where I want them when I make my move. “Wh-who are you and why am I here?” I try to put a quiver in my voice. The last thing I want them to guess is that I was so nearly a member of one of the world’s most revered and feared army units.

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Whether he’s refusing to tell me even if I could hear his response, I don’t know. He doesn’t approach so I have a chance to hear. He might not know I’m an ex-soldier, but he’s still taking no chances with that chain.

  “Please, let me go. I don’t know why I’m here.” I tap my left ear, a plea for him to speak so I can understand.

  His lips move out of habit, but it’s no good. The two men glance at each other, their shoulders shake once more, then with twisted smiles, they leave. Once again, I’m alone.

  The bastards like that I’m deaf. There are ways they could have addressed my questions in a manner I could have understood, but they prefer the additional torture of leaving me in ignorance.

  My hands curl into fists, my short nails cutting into my palms. I’m kidnapped, I don’t know why or who by, and even if he had been explaining, I couldn’t understand.

  Instead of focusing on what I don’t know, I try to consider what I do. I’m not sure of the time, when they took me or when it is now, but Pip will know something’s wrong as my systems failing would have raised an alert in the clubhouse, and maybe by now will have realised I’m missing. I know my brothers will leave no stone unturned to find me. Every one of them will play their part, bringing their particular skills into play. My house will be forensically examined by Honor and/or maybe Duty. Stormy and Piston will be scouring the deep web for clues and Snatcher will assemble a team to follow up on anything they find. I’ve just got to hang on, be patient and wait.

  I can do patient. I can do any fucking thing I put my mind to. It’s not like I’ve not been in a similar situation before, it’s just, last time, I had my hearing.

  Being deaf is inconvenient at the best of times and especially right now. I need to pee, desperately. It’s not using the bucket that I have a problem with, though I do find the concept that after I’ll have to sit here smelling my body’s waste unpleasant. My problem is, I feel vulnerable enough as it is, without being able to hear means I’ll have to chance my captors walking in unheard, catching me with my pants literally down. But needs must. I do the necessary as fast as I can, feeling better once my bladder is relieved.

  Then I go back to doing the only thing I can to help myself escape. I attack the ring the chain is attached to again.

  Positioning myself so I keep one eye on the door, I pull, wriggle and kick the iron loop trying to see if it will loosen. My activity is an outlet for my frustration, but whatever I do, that damn ring holds firm, with not even a crack in the concrete.

  Fuck. In disgust I look down at the cuff around my wrist, it’s too tight to get my hand through. I try, but even when I’ve rubbed the base of my hand raw, the blood doesn’t help ease it off. I could break my thumb. I could, though that doesn’t guarantee my success, and it could incapacitate me. On balance, I’ll wait until that’s the only option that remains to me.

  A bobby pin would come in handy right now. But all I’m wearing is my tank and shorts that I went to bed in, not even a zipper that I could use as a makeshift screwdriver. I flop down on the bed, frustrated as hell, angry that someone got the jump on me.

  Think, woman. Think.

  There must be something I can do.

  The door starts to open. I sit up again. It’s the first man returning. He throws something at me. Automatically, I reach up my hand to catch it. It’s a paper sack containing takeout. At least they aren’t going to starve me.

  He’s also carrying a cup, and I get a whiff of the contents and shake my head rapidly. “Water.” Then belatedly I add, “Please?” Why do all Americans think everyone likes coffee? I can’t even stand the smell, so I’m pleased when he takes the cup back out.

  Ignoring the thought that the food may be drugged—my body needs fuel—I unwrap the cold unappetising burger in its bun. I’ve eaten worse. The fries are also far from warm, but it’s something to keep me going. Shortly after, he returns, tossing a plastic bottle of water onto the bed, then leaves again. I couldn’t say if he’d said a single word.

  More time passes and I’m still left alone. I refuse to be beaten or cowed. I’m more annoyed that this is such a waste of my time. I allow anger to grow inside me, it’s better than panic or fear.

  Having eaten and drunk the water I feel a bit better, as I again work through my options. While I know Pip and the MC will be doing what they can to find me and get me free, I need to do what I can to help myself.

  Lulling them into a false sense of security is a good start. If they think I’m just weak and helpless, they’ll start to take risks. Then, when one of them lets down his guard and comes closer, I’ll choke him with the chain, or my bare hands, either will work. Then, if he has the key, unlock the cuff, or, if he hasn’t, take his gun and shoot out that concrete and loosen that ring.

  Armed and free, I�
�ll be able to make my escape. I’m confident anyone else in this house will be dispatched to meet Satan. When I’m no longer restrained, they won’t stand a fucking chance. All I have to do is bide my time and wait for the right moment.

  It’s boring as hell, but I’m used to that. A lot of a soldier’s life is hanging around waiting for the moment to jump into action. I doze as I’ve done so often before, allowing my body to relax while remaining partially alert, ready to leap into action.

  My instinct is to protest and fight. Acting timid and scared is so unlike me.

  How would a woman who’s kidnapped behave?

  She would be angry, beg, she’d cry… I can do the former well but not the latter. A soldier doesn’t show weakness, and they don’t shed tears. Well, not in my book anyway.

  22

  Road…

  I’m worried as hell as I follow Snatcher straight into the meeting room. My hangover is a thing of the past, concern has pushed it right out of my head. Pip’s already there, his eyes perusing papers in front of him. He glances up as we walk in, then lowers his head.

  Gradually the room fills, the only person missing is Honor. He’s still back at the house going over everything with a fine-tooth comb. I sit in the seat next to Swift’s empty chair, filled with emotion and regret. Will I ever see her again? Why had I gotten drunk yesterday? Would she have stayed in the safety of the clubhouse had I stayed sober?

  Why hadn’t she just punched me in the balls and told me to get lost? I’d prefer an aching groin to the mental anguish I’m going through now.

  I tell myself I’d feel the same were it any one of the men here missing. Never mind they’re not the same brothers I’ve ridden beside since I patched in, but they wear the same patch. We’re all Satan’s Devils. It’s not anyone else though, it’s Swift, and that knowledge darn near renders me helpless knowing she’s gone, and that I might have made it easy for someone to take her.

  When all the seats are filled bar the one next to me and the one used by Honor, Pip tidies his paperwork and puts it aside.

  “What are we going to fuckin’ do?” Stormy blazes from the end of the table, impatient to get the meeting started. “It’s one of our own, Prez.”

  My eyes widen slightly. Stormy’s an asshole of the highest order, yet he’s the one who’s spoken up first. I hadn’t expected him to be so concerned.

  “I’m fuckin’ aware of that!” Pip thunders. “We’re going to get her back. Update.” His eyes go to Snatcher.

  “They knew what they were doing. Generator was disabled first, then the power line was cut. None of her electronic warning systems would have worked.” As Snatcher goes on to list what we found when we visited her house, I’m still blaming myself that she was there. “No sign of a struggle in that no furniture was overturned, though there was blood, but not enough to be worried about. My guess is that she was drugged.” Snatcher finishes up.

  I concur with that. If Swift had been conscious, she wouldn’t have gone easily. But any blood is worrying.

  “It’s been dry lately.” Thor takes over. “There were tyre tracks, but it’s doubtful we’ll get much from them. Footprints, but nothing distinguishable. Multiple people though, two at least, maybe three or four.”

  “A big load of nothing,” Stormy comments again, his frustration coming over clearly.

  “Until Honor gets back, we won’t know more from her house,” Pip sums up. “Let’s talk about reasons. Duty, have you turned up any motive why she should be taken?”

  Duty takes a breath and pulls his tablet toward him. “I’ve been going through everything we know, Prez. I started with recent cases she’s worked on, but they’ve all been in and out, and unlike her kidnappers, we don’t leave footprints.”

  “Digital ones? Could she have been traced back to us?”

  “Nah. Our systems are watertight, you know that, Prez. We might,” he spares a glance toward Stormy, “be able to get into Fort Knox, but I’d stake my life that no one can break into ours. We’ve got systems constantly tracking external access.”

  “And no one knows we exist.” Preacher’s word supports his brother. “If they knew what we do, they could have come after any of us.”

  “She may have been targeted because she’s a woman?” Rascal suggests, his brow furrowed. “They could think she’s the weak link?”

  “Huh,” Stormy scoffs, rubbing his jaw. “If they do, they’ll soon realise their mistake.”

  Pip taps the paperwork. “I can’t see it’s anything to do with any of our assignments. As you say, Duty, we’ve kept our involvement under wraps. Nothing to link what we’ve done back to the Satan’s Devils MC.”

  “I’ve started looking into her past,” Duty resumes. “Her service record is clean. Of course it was harder to get into the information about her SAS training, but I managed to break in at last. It seemed quite standard. Worth noting she got top scores on everything.”

  She would, that doesn’t surprise me.

  “Was she ever used for a kill or something that a person might want retribution for?”

  Duty grimaces. “I wish I could say it was as easy as that, but she’s clean as a whistle. She never took up her post in the SAS, so wasn’t involved in any of their activities. Of course,” he glares at Stormy before he can ask more, “I’ll keep digging as something could turn up. If in her service career she pulled the trigger at the wrong time, there could have been a coverup. But there’ll be a trail, somewhere.”

  “On the face of it, there’s nothing to suggest why she was taken.” Pip rubs at his clean-shaven chin. “Therefore, nothing to suggest who.”

  “Should we contact her parents?” I ask.

  “Her parents? Why the fuck worry them?” Stormy rolls his eyes.

  “Because,” I turn to him with more than a hint of anger in my voice, “if there’s going to be a ransom demand, it’s likely to go to them.”

  “Road’s got a good point,” Pip states firmly. “We need to discuss it. Far as I know, Swift’s on good terms with her parents, had mentioned taking a trip back soon to the UK.”

  Duty’s tapping on his tablet calling up some information. “Her dad’s retired with a small private pension, and the mortgage on their house is all but paid up. But it’s not a mansion and they live comfortably, not extravagantly. If someone wanted to shake them down, this is an international operation which has to be expensive. I can’t see they’ve got the money or contacts for a payout that would make it worth it.”

  “In which case for now, let’s keep it quiet,” Pip decides. “I don’t want to worry the parents unnecessarily. They know where Swift is. If they get a demand out of the blue then they’ll contact us, if only to confirm she’s missing.”

  On balance, I suppose he’s right. No point getting her parents involved when they’d be concerned as hell and couldn’t help. An unwelcome thought occurs to me. “Could it be sex trafficking?” I wonder aloud. “That there’s nothing in her past, just the fact she’s female?”

  “Who’d want to traffic Swift?” Piston’s eyes open wide.

  “I know she’s female, but…” Rascal opens his hands wide as if the prospect is unthinkable.

  “She’s a mighty fine woman,” I snap. Though I have to be pleased that no one here seems to view her sexually.

  “Well you made it plain what you’d like to do with her last night.” Preacher gives a quick grin, then grows serious again. “Road might have a point. She might be athletic and muscular, and she doesn’t flaunt her feminine assets, except when they’re needed on a job, but she could be a type someone is after. There are some twisted fucks out there with particular tastes.”

  Pip nods. “We can’t rule it out. Duty—”

  “Already got searches going, Prez. If someone is looking for a woman matching her characteristics, hopefully their request will turn up on the dark web.”

  “Christ.” Bolt’s shaking his head. “I almost pity the motherfucker.”

  Cowboy raises his hand. �
��Could it be opportunistic? Someone broke into her house thinking it was empty and found her?”

  “It’s got to be premeditated and researched. Else they’d have missed the generator or not disabled that first.”

  Thor looks distraught. “She had top-of-the-line security. Maybe someone saw that and thought she was protecting money, jewellery or something else worth stealing?”

  Snatcher looks across at the enforcer. “We found blood,” he repeats. “Not a lot, but it’s possible you’re right. If that’s what went down, and they found her there unexpectedly, then we could be looking for a dead body.”

  I’d been hanging onto the idea she’d been taken, not that she’d been killed and her body dumped. If she hadn’t heard anyone enter, she could have been hit over the head hard enough to knock her out, so there might not have been much blood. Or strangled, choked… My gut churns at the thought. Not Swift. No.

  “Check the morgues, police reports—”

  “On it already, Prez. Hospitals too. So far we’ve drawn blanks.”

  Pip looks around the table. “Let’s concentrate on the positives for now. Without a body, we’ll work on the assumption she’s alive. Getting back to what we know. I hate to say it, but I think Road might be on to something. We know there are kinky bastards out there. The fact she’s deaf might make her attractive.

  “She’s not mute, though.” The way Preacher puts it causes a quick chuckle to go around, but the moment of mirth is short-lived. It’s as though he’s reminded us all that there’s someone who should be sitting around this table who isn’t.

  “I’m worried. She’ll be lost without her hearing aids. She won’t know what the fuck’s going on.” I drop my head into my hands and massage my temples.

  An incredulous bark comes from Thor. “I’d be more worried about the people who’ve taken her. She can look after herself.” The enforcer looks down the table. “We have to remember, Swift is probably better equipped to handle this situation than anyone else here. Don’t forget, she was trained for being in a kidnapping situation.”