Page 133 of Ink's Devil

I curl my hand around her neck. “I shouldn’t be long. Get warmed up and visit with your mother. Oh, and when Karl gets here with those women, can you watch them for a bit?”

“I’ll speak to Vi or Jeannie. Whoever’s here.”

“You’ll stay? I want, need to talk to you.”

“I know.” She bites her lips again. Christ, I’ve never wanted to get out of a meeting as much as I want to do now. “I promise I’ll stay. And I’ll make sure the women are made to feel comfortable.” Her face falls, and her voice drops to a whisper. “If you hadn’t have come…” As her voice trails away, I guess she knows what was ahead for the women would also have been her fate.

Patsy doesn’t seem able to take her eyes off her daughter. I don’t think she knows tears are flowing freely down her face. “Bethany, I was so worried. I thought I’d lost you, as well as Connor. I couldn’t take that.” I realise how much effort it had taken for Patsy to keep herself together. It’s now she seems about to break, now knowing her daughter has come back to her.

Beth understands her mother’s concern. “Mom. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m…” her voice breaks off as she looks at me, and there’s a hundred questions in her expression, mirrored in mine I suspect. “I’m home,” she finally finishes.

Yes, she is, and here is where she’s going to stay. Even if she and I currently have a different understanding of where her home is.

I catch her eye, and before walking away, say once again, “We’ll talk later.”

I take my seat in church, a whole different feeling than when I was last here. Last time I was battling with elation at my freedom and bone-chilling horror my old lady had disappeared. Today? Well, Beth’s back. I frown. I’ve just got to convince her that this is where she’s staying. Patsy will have to get used to living alone.

“Ro?”

Demon’s banged the gavel and looking to Pyro for an update.

“Worked like a fuckin’ charm.” The man in question grins.

“Back up.” I raise my hand. “What happened here? Any problems?”

Prez nods at me and raises his chin to the others also looking his way. “So, Pyro came to me and the VP late last night with an updated plan. We adjusted the details as we went along. Didn’t let anyone know in case anything was given away.”

“And?” Hell prompts, looking as confused as me.

“You know Mel bakes?” Pyro says, rather unnecessarily. We all do. The shit she keeps the clubhouse stocked with is good stuff. Even if it tends to add inches to our waistlines.

“What’s that got to fuckin’ do with it?” growls Bomber.

“Brown flour,” Pyro says. “I remember she was experimenting with it.”

For a moment I’m lost, then my lips start to curve as I realise where he might be going with this.

“Yeah, well, it took all night, that stuff’s fucking hard to handle, but I managed to get it into the bricks so they looked identical to the Mexican Horse, Phil was expecting. Of course, I also had to add in a detonator and explosive, but it was easy enough to adjust the weight for that.”

“Saw the results,” I tell them, miming pointing a gun and pulling a trigger.

Rusty slams his hand down on the table. “So that’s why you capitulated and just handed that shit over. Thought you’d gone out of your fuckin’ head.”

“You knew I was going to blow it up,” Pyro reminds him.

“Yeah, but a brick or so to keep him happy. Not the whole fuckin’ lot. Thought it was needed to keep Connor out of jail.”

“It is. And can be,” Demon explains. “Pyro blew up eight kilos of fuckin’ baking flour.”

It’s probably a release of tension, but we’re all cracking up. Suddenly I let out a loud barking laugh. “Firefighters were trying to clean up the shit, was worried it was some sort of chemical. Can’t wait to see their faces when they find out what it really is.”

“You ran a risk.” I frown. “What if Phil had been suspicious and tested it?”

“Yeah, well, we brought one brick down and had it ready in case he wanted to open it. Luckily, he didn’t.”

“The good news,” Beef says, “is that there aren’t eight kilos of Mexican Horse literally blowing around Pueblo. When the cops find out Phil Foster was in that car, I doubt they’ll come looking for us. There could be any number of people looking to take him out, and cops will probably be pleased someone’s put him away for good.”

“Yeah,” Prez takes over, “there’s nothing to link him to us.”

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