Page 62 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

I’d noticed when Bolt entered, Saffie had taken her hand from mine and huddled up on a chair. It’s not hard for me to understand. Bolt must be referring to us going to their clubhouse, a step very much too far for her and perfectly understandable, given recent events. Not wanting to lose the ground with her I’d gained, I look straight at Bolt.

“I’ll go to the hotel with my old lady until Lost can get us home.”

Bolt raises an eyebrow, but instead of answering me, he turns to Saffie. He crouches down as if to make himself less of a threat, but Saffie still flinches and draws into herself.

“Hey, little lady,” he starts. “Know you’ve got some issues with bikers, and after what you’ve been through, who could blame you? Our chapter’s part of the Satan’s Devils, but our expertise isn’t in running auto-shops and tattoo parlours—not that we’d have any issues running such businesses.” He adds the last fast and to me with a wink. “Our team is specialised, and what we do is highly secret. But you need to know who to trust, and I’ve been authorised to share with you some of it.”

Saffie’s eyes sharpen, but she still doesn’t relax.

“The Freedom Trail got you away from the Crazy Wolves, didn’t it?” Without waiting for a nod, he carries on. “Well, we work with them a lot. We take responsibility for moving people through our area, and as for the new paperwork, well that’s all us. We had set up your new identity, darlin’. Got you that home you moved into and sorted you out somewhere to work.”

“Did you see her fuckin’ apartment?” I can’t help myself. They’re not doing a good job if that’s where they moved her to.

“I moved,” Saffie jumps in fast, sending a calming glance my way and an apologetic version to Bolt. “Duke got my details. He knew I was in San Diego. He must have hacked into your database.”

“Not ours,” Bolt says fast. “The Freedom Trail had your details, and that’s where the security vulnerability was. We’ve helped them plug it. And as for you moving, that’s how it works, and no one’s judging you, darlin’. Once a person has relocated, they’ve a name to contact if they need help, but otherwise they’re on their own and free to make their own life. You’d have been safe if the Wolves hadn’t had an ex-fed at their disposal.”

“Grit,” she confirms with a shudder. Then with a little spark of interest, asks, “Is that all you do? Relocate abused women?”

Bolt shakes his head. “No, we do a lot more. Our bread and butter is setting up security. We’re also experts in kidnap victim extraction.”

“But you’re a biker club.” Saffie seems confused. “You wear the Satan’s Devils patch.”

“We are. Like most bikers, we want to live and ride free, but like any club, we need to earn money. Won’t say all our methods are legal, doll, and that’s where the Satan’s Devils umbrella comes in handy. Wouldn’t have been able to take out the Crazy Wolves as we have if we were a legit organisation.”

Her mouth rounds in an O. She must have seen the destruction which was more of a military affair than one organised by the authorities. Even a SWAT team would have been more circumspect. Devils didn’t care and weren’t looking to leave survivors. But then she frowns. “You keep whores?” she asks, almost accusatory.

Bolt shakes his head adamantly. “No.”

I wonder whether they don’t has anything to do with security. If so, they’d be right in that. Just look what happened with Susie. Which reminds me, I need to have a conversation with Bolt, but not while Saffie’s here.

Bolt elaborates on his answer. “There are two women in the club. Swift who’s a full member and capable of kicking anyone’s ass, and Cat, who’s Stormy’s old lady.” He breaks off to chuckle. “And she’s no shrinking violet either. Pulls Stormy up on his shit. She’s pregnant. That going to be a problem for you?” He’s not shy about being direct.

Saffie pales slightly, glances at me, but accepting everyone seems to know her business, gives a sad shake of her head. “Any problem I have will be mine, not anyone else’s. It’s just all too fresh. Seeing someone having what I lost… I can’t lie, it will hurt. But I’ll have to get over it.”

“No pregnancy’s easy sailing,” Bolt responds, then looks at me. “Speaking of which, got you a phone so you can check in with Grumbler. He’d like to speak to you.”

I draw in a breath. I sit up straighter in the bed, wincing when the action puts pressure on my foot as well as my other injuries.

“What’s happened, Bolt?”

To Saffie’s credit, her hand has covered her mouth, her eyes widen in shock, and an, “Oh no,” is sighed from her.

“Call him.” Bolt gets to his feet and hands me a phone. Christ knows what happened to mine. The Wolves had taken it off me. “This is new, set up with the numbers of your club and ours.” He pauses and says, “Brother, I know you don’t know us well yet, but that’s something we hope to rectify. Some of the San Diego brothers are here as you’ve seen. But if you can trust us, let them go back. They’re torn, wanting to be here for you, and there for Grumbler.”

He walks to the door, then once there, turns back. “Oh, and, Brother? Dart had a word with me. That situation? We’ve got it handled.”

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