Page 114 of Devil's Dilemma

As if knowing I need support, Pyro takes hold of my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently, before leading me in the direction my father has taken. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mother pretend to swoon.

I look around with interest when I reach Dad’s den. While they’ve always lived in Denver, they moved to this house a few years back, and I’ve never had cause to spend time in my father’s domain. While he has an office in the city, it’s clear he does a lot of work at home. The walls are lined with shelves holding serious looking tomes, and there’s a high-backed comfortable leather chair behind a desk.

A tower PC and monitor give it a twenty-first century vibe, while the rest of the room could be something out of a Dicken’s novel. It suits him, and I like it.

In preparation for tonight, he’s brought two spare dining room chairs in, and now he waves Pyro and me toward them.

“Whisky?” he offers.

Pyro readily accepts. When a quick memory of last night resurfaces, I decline, requesting just water. Two shots are quickly poured and distributed, and a glass passed to me.

“Tonight,” Dad starts, his face growing serious as he slips into attorney mode, “I want to get some of the details so I know where to start and who I’m going to be taking on.”

“What do you mean, who?”

“Cops can place officers undercover, or it could be the feds. Do you know which it is?”

Pyro nods. “We touched on this in church.” As my father raises a disbelieving eyebrow, Pyro snorts. “Sorry, nothing religious. It’s the name for our meetings.”

Dad grins. “Yeah, my office has ‘morning prayers’.” It’s obviously another metaphor for briefings.

“Skull didn’t admit to who his employer was, but you’re right, it’s either cops or feds. The Colorado Chapter of the Satan’s Devils hasn’t been on anyone’s hit list, or not that we know. Our mother chapter in Tucson has even worked with the cops and helped them once or twice. We think whoever planted Skull might have been looking to our associations, rather than the club itself.”

“Associations with…?”

“There’s the local mafia, the Silvestri family. While we don’t work with them, we have to co-exist. Then there’s the dominant club, that’s the Wretched Soulz.”

“You have many dealings with them?”

“Only when we have to. But any club must keep on their right side.”

Dad drums his fingers on the table. “So, you think the feds are looking at a RICO indictment against an MC, either yours—which is unlikely—or the Wretched Soulz who they’ve been trying to take down for years?”

Pyro raises and dips his head. “They’ve had some successes in the past.”

“They have,” Dad agrees with Pyro. He types something on his screen. “Then if we think the feds are more likely, I’ll find out who’s the SAC, the Special Agent in Charge,” he qualifies at the bemused look in my eyes. “What I need from you and Pyro are all the details so I know what we’re putting forward. Pyro, let’s start with you at the very beginning. Knowing the background before Melissa came on the scene would help. When and how did Skull first approach the Satan’s Devils?”

“It must be getting on two and a half years ago now,” Pyro starts, blinking slowly as though wading through memories. “Cad would probably be able to supply the exact dates. You know, this shit’s been going around and around my head, but for the life of me, I can’t remember anything suspicious. He came around the club as a hangaround for a few weeks. We had an opening for a prospect, he jumped at the chance.”

“Jumped?” Dad’s eyes light up. “Overeager?”

But Pyro gives a negative shake. “Nah. Many men like our lifestyle, especially when they’ve been hanging around and have come to our parties, where, er, anything goes. They get a taste of the reward which might be at the end of their prospecting days. Like myself, many are attracted to the idea of being part of a brotherhood, a team. We test those who express an interest, make sure they know the hard work they’ll have to expect. Of course, some don’t make the grade as they don’t understand the concept of putting their backs into everything and anything asked. So, yeah, I’ve seen prospects come on board all excited to have a stab at being part of the club, and Skull was no different.”

“He made the grade,” Dad ponders. “He work extra hard to make it?”

Pyro huffs a laugh. “Skull shouldn’t be underestimated. If he was perfect, then that might have raised more than one eyebrow. He did enough to get by, no more, no less. And like a lot of prospects knew the places to hide and the excuses to get out of some of the shittiest jobs.”

Dad nods, taking it all in.

“You beat him…” I say, hoping to speed this up.

Dad’s eyes open wide.

Pyro shakes his head at me. “That came later, and yeah, I’ll go into that too. But I’m answering your dad’s question.” I pretend to zip my lips, making Pyro smile. Then he turns back to my father. “We don’t take people on lightly. When someone comes into the club, they are stepping into our lives, into our family. Lots of people want to join, not everyone makes it. They go through a probationary period until we know they’re a good fit, can be trusted, and are going to be loyal.”

“To sum up, he passed your test, and you trusted him. Would he have known any information about the club prior to that point?”

“No,” Pyro responds. “Well, not in detail. Prospects don’t come to church and aren’t given the same information as patched members. With time, they may learn more of the type of shit they need to keep to themselves, but not enough to bring us down. By the point we ask them to bury a body, we’re usually pretty certain they can be trusted. Or, the hole they just dug will be for themselves.”

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