Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #1
Contents
Production Acknowledgments
Cast of Characters
Satan’s Devils
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Other Works by Manda Mellett
Acknowledgments
Stay in Touch
About the Author
Copyright
Published 2020 by Trish Haill Associates
Copyright © Manda Mellett
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book reviews.
www.mandamellett.com
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Warning
This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual, abusive and violent nature. It may not be suitable for persons under the age of 18.
Production Acknowledgments
Cover Design by Wicked Smart Designs
Edited and formatted by Maggie Kern @ Ms.K Edits
Proof reading by Honey Palomino
Photographer: Golden Czermak of Furious Fotog
Model: Christopher Clark
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the memory of Anthony Onasanya, an ex-colleague of mine aged only fifty-three and who was taken far too soon. I will always remember him with a smile on his face and his loud hearty laugh.
His death, coming at the start of the pandemic was a total shock, to myself and other members of his team.
So I’m dedicating this book to Anthony, to everyone who lost their lives to Covid-19, and to the family and friends who mourn them.
Anthony, old friend, rest in peace.
Cast of Characters
Officers
Lost – President
Dart – Vice President
Grumbler – Sergeant at Arms
Salem – Enforcer
Scribe – Secretary
Bones – Treasurer
Blaze – Road Captain
Hard Token – Computer Expert
Patched Members
Brakes
Deuce
Dusty
Keeper
Kink
Niran
Pennywise
Reboot
Smoker
Snips
Prospects
Curtis
Wrangler
Old Lady’s and Children
Alex (Dart’s): Tyler, Isla
Club Girls
Cindy
Eva
Pearl
Tits
Members Out Bad
Bastard
Crow
DJ
Shark
Rattler
Tinder
Deceased Members
Bird (ex-Prez)
Gator
Poke (ex-SAA) Dispatched to Satan
Snake (ex-Prez) Dispatched to Satan
Chapter One
Lost
“This will be you, one day. When you fuck all this up,” the shadowy figure by my side says snidely, pointing to the scene playing out in front of me.
The second version of Snake, stripped of his colours, stands stoically as full-strength brandy is dribbled over his back. His expression doesn’t hide that he knows exactly what to expect, as I do myself. I’ve watched how this plays out often enough, repeated time and time again in my dreams.
Unable to turn away, I stare on as Blade, the Tucson chapter’s enforcer, lights the blowtorch and burns off Snake’s Satan’s Devils’ tattoo. I can smell burning flesh, the air so tainted I’ve got the taste in my mouth. Bile rises in my stomach as I wonder for the hundredth time whether I’d be able to endure the same ordeal as soundlessly as my ex-prez.
Snake only moves when the punch from Drummer, the prez of the mother chapter, forces him to, then rights his head and spits teeth out of his mouth, taking blow after blow. He doesn’t beg, doesn’t ask for forgiveness or offer excuses, or utters any plea for clemency. Only involuntary grunts and gasps escape until his body is unmoving and prone. The bullet to his head is more symbolic than necessary, I think to myself. The man was already dead.
“It comes to us all,” the man in my dream tells me. “I’d like to tell you it doesn’t hurt much, but I’m not going to lie. Hurts like a fuckin’ bitch. Worst pain of my life.” He laughs maniacally. “What will you be like, I wonder? Will you be able to take it? Or will you be like him instead?”
The scene has moved on. Next up is Poke, the ex-sergeant-at-arms, who, unlike his prez, stands screaming, begging for a bullet instead. His shouts grow louder when the blowtorch burns the patch off his back. The sound of his anguish only fading when the hard punches and kicks finally shut him up.
“Will you beg like him, or take it like a man? As one thing’s for certain, you’re going to fuck up. One day this will be you, Lost.”
I turn to look at my tormentor, to tell him I’m not going to fuck up, but the spectre is fading, almost totally gone when his last words reach me. “I’ll be waiting for you in Hell, Brother.”
The fresh smell blowing off the ocean reaches my nostrils. Pelicans fly overhead in formation looking like they are a flock of pterodactyls. Seals bask, the more energetic rolling and grunting beneath us, and squirrels pop their heads up from the undergrowth.
“Never get tired of this.” Dart shields his eyes from the sun, watching the birds pass.
“That’s because you’re still a desert boy at heart,” I mock him.
“True,” he answers with a grin.
“You ever get homesick for Tucson?” I ask my VP. He’s made a life for himself here in San Diego over the past three years, but still something drives me to enquire. He’d originally come as my temporary right-hand man when the trouble with the club had blown up, but had stayed and his transfer had become permanent. One important reason was to be close to the specialists treating his adopted son, Tyler, who had had sickle cell disease, but due to a bone marrow transplant, had recovered. Thank fuck. When I’d first met him, he’d been a sickly kid prone to distressing seizures. Now, you wouldn’t know there had ever been anything wrong with him.
Dart seems to be considering my question seriously. “Change is eve
rywhere, Lost. Tucson’s become a different club over the years—oh, for the better, not the worse. My brothers have almost all found old ladies, something I never thought would happen.” He breaks off to chuckle. “Since I left, Heart’s got a new woman, and Peg, Rock, Mouse, and even fuckin’ Blade have fallen. New faces have come in, some have gone. Things don’t stop moving, which is just how it should be.” He looks sideways at me. “I didn’t know it then, but it had been time for me to move on. I feel the honour the club bestowed on me every fuckin’ day. When I first rode into San Diego, I never imagined I’d step into the role of VP. Add to that, I gained a wife and family. I couldn’t be fuckin’ happier, man. Do I miss Tucson? How could I not? But I’ve no yearning to return there. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”
It’s much as I feel, without the woman and kids that is. How the fuck did I, the man known for losing everything, end up the president of the Satan’s Devils MC San Diego chapter? That question has me beat. I might have been in the role three years now, but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop which it’s bound to do at some point. Fuck knows, I know that better than anyone.
“How’s the baby?” Niran, the man standing to Dart’s other side, asks him conversationally.
“Cute as a button and already a bundle of mischief.” Love for his one-year-old daughter shines from his eyes. “Tyler is besotted with her, though I can’t see that lasting.”
Niran chuckles. “The eight-year age difference between them could see him getting fed up with her being in his space. Now she’s sweet, but when she starts cramping his style?” He shakes his head.
“You got experience of that?” I seem to recall he was an only child.
But it seems the background research we did on him hadn’t led us amiss. “Sister? Nah. I was an only child. But my friend had one much younger. Fought like a cat and a dog in the end. She used to follow him everywhere, cute at first, but not so much when we became teenagers.”
Dart harrumphs. “Yeah, I can see that happening. Already it’s hard catering for the age gap. Tyler wants to do things any boy of his age does, but it’s a hassle taking Isla out. You’ve no fuckin’ idea how much a one-year-old needs.”
I slap his back. “Think we do, Brother. Looks like a fuckin’ baby store when Alex brings her in—stroller, diapers, formula, changing bag, blankets, spare clothing and toys.” My voice trails off as I finish my list.
Dart laughs. “And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
“Alex coping okay?” Listing the equipment has reminded me how much work a baby must be.
“Workload’s been fairly light, and most of it she’s been able to do at home while the baby is asleep.” There’s a touch of pride in Dart’s voice.
So there should be. The Satan’s Devils had paid for Alex to complete her studies. Now she’s qualified, she’s the official club lawyer. Luckily there’s not been much trouble lately that has required much more of her help other than reviewing contracts for our businesses. Last time she was called on to help a brother in real trouble was when Truck, from Tucson, got himself locked up. Other than that there was one of Red’s crew in Las Vegas who the cops had picked up for having drunk too much and getting into a fight. Alex had stepped in and he’d been let off with a warning. I’ve a lot of respect for Dart’s old lady and I’m glad she’s working for the club.
We all stare out at the scenery for a moment. My attention is caught by a kid trying to get too close to the seals who have adopted the beach here, but her dad gets to her in time. The seals are friendly enough as long as no one disturbs them, but they must be tempting for a child.
“Ask,” Dart instructs, turning his head the other way, facing Niran head-on. My VP had gotten us all relaxed before addressing the issue that had brought us here. Something Niran hadn’t wanted to bring up in front of the club.
Niran was the first black member of the Satan’s Devils MC in any of our chapters. As well as being responsible for the Satan’s Devils acquiring a new lawyer, Dart had also brought the club into the twenty-first century. When he had gotten together with Alex and had adopted her son as his own, he’d raised the question, what happened if Tyler grew up and wanted to prospect? We’d been a whites-only club up to that point, mainly as no one had ever brought it up. Faced with that query, it hadn’t taken long for our outdated bylaws to be changed. Niran had been brought on board as a prospect shortly after and had been patched in after he served his time. He’s been sitting around the table for a couple of years now. He’s serious, always thinks before speaking and is a fuckin’ good man to have at your side. Dart had done good when he encouraged him to join.
I look around Dart, casting my gaze on Niran for a moment. He’s been spending time with the sergeant-at-arms, proving like Grumbler, his foremost thought is keeping the club safe. A few months back when Grumbler had landed dirty side down, Niran had done what needed doing without being asked and took over for a while as Grumbler’s proxy.
He finally addresses the question he brought us here to ask. “Who was Shark?”
“Shark was one of Snake’s men,” I tell him, my jaw clenching.
Niran nods. “That’s what I thought.” He considers his next words carefully. “I wasn’t here at the time, but I’ve heard his name mentioned as if he was fuckin’ Satan himself. Didn’t want to dredge up what went down, not in front of the club, not without cluing you both in first.”
“Appreciate that, Brother.” It’s never going to be easy to do the unmentionable—bring up names of men who betrayed us in the past. Bringing things thought lost in our rearview into the present is always going to be hard.
Three years ago, the San Diego chapter nearly ceased to exist when it came out that Snake, the president at the time, had persuaded eight other members that the drug trade was lucrative, even though the Satan’s Devils had decided years back they didn’t want to touch it. Not only that, he’d painted the prez of the mother chapter in Tucson as weak and ineffective and had formed a plot to kill Drummer. Snake’s plan—having disposed of Drummer—he himself would have then taken his place. It wouldn’t have been a change for the better. I shudder even thinking about it.
Such a mutiny couldn’t go unpunished. Snake and his sergeant-at-arms, Poke, had been dispatched to meet Satan, and the other members were sent out bad. Almost half the fucking club lost in one fell swoop. I’d put my hand up expecting to lose my patch. I was guilty, I hadn’t seen what was happening, hadn’t had a clue how Snake had turned. That I was left wearing my colours was a surprise and one I didn’t deserve. And the shocks didn’t stop there.
While I otherwise respect the hell out of Drummer, he’d ignored my past, both recent and history, and proposed my move from the VP spot into the prez’s seat. Drummer’s proposal was met with approval by the decimated club and they voted me in. I suppose there was little choice at that point. Dart, initially only here to support me temporarily, had gained the confidence and respect of the club and he took over my old position as VP.
Dart had been invaluable in keeping this chapter going at a time when I wasn’t certain we could survive. The remaining members had nearly chosen to walk away from the club. No one, including me, who wasn’t in Snake’s inner circle, had had a clue anything was wrong. Until the betrayal came to light, all of us would have pledged our lives for the men we’d ridden beside.
Just surviving those first few months had been hard. The remaining chairs around the table far too spaced out for anyone’s liking. Though they’d been tested harder than ever before, our prospects at the time, Al, Lloyd and Dave, had all proved themselves and joined us, taking the road names Deuce, Reboot and Keeper, respectively. Then, a year later, Niran had moved from prospect to member and was brought to the table as well, strangely enough without picking up a road name. Fuck knows why, but none have fallen into place which suit.
Eight men out, four new bloods in. Slowly we’re regaining our strength and the trust which had been lost.
But a
reference to Snake was enough of a reminder that could threaten to send men’s minds back to that dark time, and how the certainty of life continuing without huge potholes in the road couldn’t be guaranteed.
“It was a bad fuckin’ time.” Dart voices my thoughts. “Thought we might lose the club. Even Drummer had had doubts we could pull through. Each man who stayed had lost brothers they trusted with their fuckin’ lives.”
“Prospects don’t know shit, but it was easy to tell the mood of the club at the time.” Niran jerks his chin toward the VP. “Wondered what I’d stepped into if truth be told. But everyone pulled together and got there, which is thanks to you, VP, and you, Prez.”
I go to refute it but shut my mouth. It’s still my view the VP had the most to do with forging a cohesive unit out of the men we had left. Men who were and remain fiercely loyal to the chapter and our way of life. It took more than a moment to stop silently questioning each other as we made sure we had all the bad apples out. We’d taken time to heal, and from the reaction around the table when Shark’s name was mentioned, are still healing. It had been Smoker’s mention of him at last night’s church that found us taking some space to discuss it today. Niran had judged it right—old history was best not resurrected in front of the whole club.