Page 42 of Demo

Fuck, he wished he had his equipment bag. Hell, right now he would give his remaining left digits to have the portable x-ray machine his old unit used to use. It was more out of habit than anything for him to even have an equipment bag. Demo wasn’t afraid to admit that it was a bit of a crutch and let him sleep better at night knowing he had it.

He never expected to actually need it.

Or for the first night in years that he slept away from the clubhouse to be the night he would need it and wasn’t sleeping next to it.

Demo shook off those thoughts. They did not help him. He would not get anywhere if he kept going overwhat ifandif onlythoughts in his head.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Demo turned his head to yell at Steel for disobeying him—and would probably die in the process of getting those words out—only to freeze when he saw who was standing over him.

Scar knelt down in the snow next to Demo. He handed out the black folded carrying bag that held all of Demo’s tools.

Demo shook off his bewilderment that Scar was hereandthat Scar had gone into the clubhouse, not knowing what was going on with the bomb, to risk getting Demo’s equipment bag for him. Demo took the equipment bag. With a quick pull on the strap, the folded canvas unraveled on the snow by Demo’s right knee. He’d specifically gotten this bag to carry his tools and equipment in so he wasn’t wasting time fiddling with a zipper.

“I’m not even going to ask where you came from or what you’re doing here,” Demo said dryly.

A quick glance at his former club brother showed that Scar had started to gain the weight back he’d lost when he’d first left the club. Nearly a year had gone by since Scar had gone rogue and slaughtered most of the offending members of the Heaven Haven Community, the cult that had held Abby captive for sixteen years. Bulldog had called for blood and Steel had stressed caution. They didn’t have enough information for the full-scale attack Bulldog wanted. Per Bulldog, Scar knew that Bulldog was going to go with or without Steel’s approval. Rather than have Bulldog risk his life, Scar had gone in his stead.

Demo still didn’t know how Bulldog knew that. Maybe it was a guess, maybe it was fact. Bulldog was the only one in the club who knew Scar’s past. Hell, Demo was pretty sure Bulldog was the only one who knew Scar’s legal nameandhad ever heard him speak. Given their history together, Demo could only assume Scar had served in the Army, but no one knew for certain. Bulldog had always said that was Scar’s story to tell…which, obviously, the silent man was not telling.

Bulldog still insisted that Scarcouldtalk and chose not to.

After nearly six months of no contact, Steel, Jumper, Bulldog, and Ghost had run into Scar at a rival MC’s clubhouse. Or, rather, Scar had randomly shown up exactly when they needed him to and covered their backs while they made their escape. Since then, Scar had been ‘around’, but he hadn’t been reinstated into the MC or been to any of their meetings, club runs, or events. No one had seen him over the holidays, though he’d left every club kid a gift. Lucky also said the present Harper had left Scar under their Christmas tree had been gone Christmas morning.

Demo did not know how he would feel if he had a home and knew that Scar just spontaneously went in and out of it as he pleased. Per Scotty, Scar was a magician who could magically appear and disappear anywhere.

“Thanks, man,” Demo said sincerely. “Now get out of here. You don’t need to be risking your life too.”

Scar stayed exactly where he was.

Not having the time to argue with him, Demo pulled out a small drill. It looked like a screwdriver but for the carbon steel hole saw bit at the end. Carefully, he placed his left hand on the lid to keep the bucket steady without applying pressure. With his right, he drilled a thirteen millimeter hole into the side of the bucket just under the lid.

His former commander would rip him a new asshole for drilling blind into an IED but Demo had little choice. He needed to see inside.

“If you’re staying, you’re going to be useful. Take this.” Demo held out the drill. Scar took it, careful not to touch Demo’s skin.

Demo pulled out a borescope camera. He secured the screen to the inside of his left forearm with the attached Velcro straps. Carefully, he pressed the tip of the camera to the hole he’d created—and frowned.

Other than what looked like two batteries taped together with electrical tape, there was nothing inside the container. No screws, nails, shrapnel… Nothing to cause additional damage outside of the blast itself.

Not wanting to waste any more time looking at the device through the camera, Demo quickly turned it upwards to look at the underside of the lid. It was clear. No wires or pressure plates.

Demo withdrew the camera. “Something’s not right,” he told his former club brother. “This is a bomb to scare, not to create mayhem.” With where it was by Bones’ cage, it could have been placed there to destroy the vehicle. But Demo didn’t think so. The duffel hadn’t beenunderthe cage.

Demo was still not convinced there wasn’t a timer. If it was remote activated, how was the bomber to know when Bones had entered his cage. It was on the passenger side. Maybe it was meant for Pumpkin’s cage on the other side?

Demo disconnected the scope from the screen attached to his arm. He didn’t want to waste time playing with the Velcro again. He handed the scope to Scar next. “I’m opening the lid. Last chance to step back.”

Scar stayed where he was.

The lid popped open as soon as Demo lifted the edge slightly. It wasn’t a secure seal. What the hell was going on? The bomb was complex in its design but not in materials. He half-wondered if the explosive clay was even real plastique. Why wasn’t the lid boobytrapped? Or even made to look like it? A simple hidden wire would have done the trick and easily created a time delay in opening the container.

Demo looked for thin wires as he lifted the lid barely an inch up. Grabbing a penlight with a push button, he shined the beam at various angles to ensure he hadn’t missed something. There was nothing.

Straightening, Demo removed the lid fully. He placed it on the snow next to his left knee. What the hell?

A glance up at Scar showed the other man was just as perplexed as Demo was. Inside, just as the camera had shown, were two battery packs, maybe six inches long each, taped together in two places with black electrical tape. Small holes were drilled into the bottom of the bucket, much like Demo had just done, to feed various wires through to the batteries.

It reminded Demo of a spiderweb.

---