Page 87 of Devil's Due

“Nah.” Now Demon’s eyes rise and look directly into mine. “They’ve asked that we do nothing to help her. That she’s left as the US Marshals problem. Sorry, Beef. Can’t risk this chapter. Can’t risk this club. This is what the dominant wants. They’re neither giving support to the Jokers, or to us.”

“But protecting a federal witness isn’t the same as offing them…”

His eyes gentle. “We’re protecting someone who holds the key to the worst nightmare affecting an MC. RICO.”

“I’ll take her away.” She’s going nowhere with that motherfucker Lennox. I don’t trust him. Even if he didn’t directly betray her, he and his organisation failed to keep her safe.

“I thought you’d say that. Drummer did too. We both saw the way things were heading.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in that familiar gesture. “Fuck this is hard, Beef. You’ll need to turn in your patch. Ain’t enough that you’re nomad.”

The words are hard for me to say, but I voice them without hesitation. “I’ll do that.” I mean them. There was a reason I was turned back at Satan’s doorway; my time hadn’t been then. I’m convinced I was brought back to take care of Stevie.

“Her dog?” Demon asks.

“We’ll take him too. He’s recovering fast, Prez. Better than I expected. I’ll,” I choke over the next words, “I’ll leave my bike. Borrow a truck.” Then get rid of it and swap it at the earliest opportunity. “Can Cad sort us out new identities?”

“You trust the club more than the marshals.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I reply anyway.

“If Cad can’t, Mouse can.” I’m quickly thinking through everything that’s necessary. “Mouse has underground contacts—”

“Don’t underestimate Cad. Nor think if he has a problem, he doesn’t consult Mouse, or Hard Token in California, or Vegas’s Keys.”

I can respect a man who asks for assistance if something is beyond his capabilities. I raise my chin to show I’ll leave my future identity in Cad’s capable, if very pale, hands.

“Knew that was going to be your answer. Cad’s already working on it. Should have something airtight by the morning.”

At least they’re not kicking us out tonight. That gives me time to talk to Stevie, to convince her and reassure her. “Once the court case is over, I’ll want to come back.” With Stevie in tow as my old lady.

“Agreed. The Wretched Soulz should be fine when she’s no longer working with the feds. Unless there’s going to be retribution…”

I just meet his eyes and raise my chin. He knows I’m accepting it may be far longer than that.

For now, I’m just focusing on the shorter period. Two months. I can manage to ride, or drive as it seems more likely, alone for that. Heart went out for six months on his own. Mind you, he went looking for trouble and eventually found it. I’ll be trying to evade it.

I’m itching to get back and start talking to Stevie, but there’re things I need to find out first. “You get anything out of the Warped Jokers we brought back?”

“Mace and Thunder have been questioning them. Last I heard was they hadn’t said anything of importance yet, but Mace’s view is that they’re foot soldiers who don’t know anything.”

Could well be. But, “I’d like to ask them myself.”

“Yeah, let’s go down catch up with the latest. Might have discovered something while we’ve been chattering.”

Offering up a silent apology to Stevie that I’d dropped the bombshell on her about my feelings then abandoned her, I follow the prez down the stairs leading to a locked and extremely well soundproofed door. He unlocks it, we enter.

There’s a quiet sobbing coming from the centre of the room. A man is hanging by his wrists attached to hooks in the ceiling, the other is tied to a chair. The man strung up is bruised and bloodied, but it’s the seated man who’s making the noise.

Mace comes over. “They’re blood brothers,” he says, quietly. “That one would prefer to be hurt rather than see his sibling abused. Think he might break soon.” Then he turns back around. When two pairs of distressed eyes focus on him, he jerks his head toward me, raising his voice, “Well, lookie here, reinforcements.”

Thunder’s a big man, Mace not small either. But my build makes me both taller and wider and is why Drummer’s used me for muscle in the past. Just one look at me and men are intimidated and start calculating their odds, which are never good. I don’t just look the part, I can back it up. Not many men can best me in the ring.

I bash one fist into the palm of my other hand, a warming up gesture. It doesn’t go unmissed.

The man on the chair starts thrashing at his bonds. “He’s had enough. Use me. Please, not my baby brother, no more.”

The man hanging can’t take his eyes off me. They’re wild, whites showing. His mouth opens, but to his credit, he doesn’t beg as I step closer.

“Look, Seeker, this is crazy.”

Hanging from arms which must be really aching, Seeker exchanges a look with his brother. “Cray—,” he starts, his voice scratchy.

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