Page 1 of Demon's Angel

Chapter One

Demon

As soon as we’re through the door of the tattoo parlour and out in the fresh air, Lizard takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking the opportunity to top off his nicotine levels before we get back on our rides. Moving upwind, I lean back against the brickwork, content to wait patiently for him.

He inhales, then breathes out smoke. “What did you think?”

Taking a moment to give his question some serious consideration, I glance around me. Devil’s Ink was one of the first businesses to be opened back in the eighties when the motorcycle club became established in Pueblo, even pre-dating the merger with the Satan’s Devils. The building itself has seen better days, and the location, well, life has moved on, leaving the shop behind, with the result that it’s no longer getting the foot traffic it once attracted. Lizard, as manager and chief ink-slinger, is on the right track with his proposal to move into a more affluent part of town.

“Tattoos are more popular than ever.” He fills the silence, mistakenly believing I’m not seeing things in the same way as him. “It’s no longer just bikers and military types. People from all walks of life, a lot of women as well. We need somewhere modern, with more room. Extend our piercing services, too.”

His last suggestion, offered with a wink, makes me grin. Yeah, clit and nipple piercings are definitely on the up. Cock piercings, too. Personally, I say fuck that shit. I can satisfy a woman enough without putting my dick out of commission for a few months and taking the risk of having to spend the rest of my life pissing sitting down. But there are a few of the brothers that swear by them.

“If we move, Liz,” I speak at last, “I’d definitely like to look at expansion. Get another artist or two. A woman to handle some of the more personal shit.”

“You spoil all my fun.” But he’s said it only because it was expected. Lizard’s a good man. His throwaway lines hide a seriousness underneath. Previously a Marine, he earned his handle for his ability to stay so still he fades into the background, then to move and pounce startlingly fast. He gave up objecting to how we often shorten his name to the ill-fitting female form years ago. Whatever his moniker, Liz lives and breathes the club, always putting his brothers’ interests way ahead of his own.

It doesn’t take long to make up my mind. “Bring it to the table. I’ll back you.”

His quick up-and-down of his head shows my response hasn’t surprised him; it would be hard to find an objection. “Already spoken to Buzzard. He’s looking at the financial implications.”

I’m not unhappy that Lizard has approached the treasurer before speaking to me. If we couldn’t afford the move, it would be a non-starter. “You looked at the projections?”

“Yeah, I reckon we could increase our takings enough to pay for a couple of extra hands. Buzz agrees.” For years now, it’s just been Liz, another tattooist and a part-time receptionist.

“Should be a formality, then.” I watch as Liz makes sure he’s locked the door. “You gonna show me this new place now?” My question needs no reply. It’s the reason I’ve come along after all.

Getting on our bikes, we ride the short distance to the new mall in town. It’s a mix of large businesses with some artisan shops as well. Lizard is proposing we lease one on the end. It’s located close to a hair and makeup salon. Not too near to put more manly types off, but with the right displays in the window, we could attract the feminine trade as well. Liz is already adept at inking unicorns and fairies.

The club’s tattooist opens the door with the keys the real estate agent had given him. There’s not much to see. The shop’s devoid of anything inside, bare walls still smelling of paint, plain concrete on the floor. It’s a good size and the rent isn't extortionate; priced to attract new business, not to put it off. Liz starts pointing out where the drywall would go to give privacy for the cubicles, still leaving a good-sized reception area as well. It will be his baby, and I let him rattle on as, excitedly, along with lots of gesticulations, he brings his vision to life already knowing he’ll have my vote if Buzzard is indeed on board with the costings.

When he runs out of steam, I slap him on the back. “Good work finding this, Brother,” I tell him at last, when he’s run out of things to offer to persuade me. “Bring it up in church. We can do the internals ourselves.”

Lizard beaming, pleased that my endorsement is one step closer to bringing his project to fruition, we at last exit what, hopefully, will be our new premises, stepping outside into the sunlight. While I glance around, noting that the large parking lot would be good for customers, he bounces the shop keys in his hands.

“Best get these back to the agent.”

I nod, distracted. My attention has been caught by a blonde head walking past pushing a stroller.Is that…?My eyes crease.I’m sure it is.

“Liz, I’ll catch up with you later,” I toss quickly over my shoulder.

Whether it’s who I think or not, I know I’m going to have to make sure.I didn’t know she had a baby. Maybe looking after it for someone else? Fuck. How many years since I last checked up on her?I wouldn’t know if she’d gotten married or not.If it’s her, what’s she doing back in Pueblo? And, why didn’t I know she was here?

As Lizard nods and goes off in the other direction, I quicken my step, heading the way the woman had gone. It certainly looks like Violet Palmer, but I need to get closer to make sure. I’m assailed by guilt, remembering the promise I’d made to her brother to look out for her. I’d followed her progress through college from afar, getting information from mutual friends. When she graduated and moved out of state, appearing to be settled, she’d gone out of my mind. It dawns on me I probably haven’t spared her a thought for what must be all of three years, if not more.

The blonde-haired woman pauses to look into a shop window. My steps come closer together in an effort to catch up. In profile, she even more resembles the sister of my dead friend. So intent on a display she’s examining, she jumps when my shadow falls over her.

“Violet? Is that you?” I say quickly. A large tattooed biker would likely scare a young mother if she’s not who I think she is. If I’ve made a mistake, I’ll back off fast.

She swings around. One glance into those vivid blue eyes and I know I have the right woman. I’m perplexed when she looks scared, those brilliant orbs looking right and left as if seeking an escape route. Her reaction is puzzling, I’d have expected a welcome. But then, it has been a few years.What do I know of her nowadays?I’m wearing my cut and she might not want to be seen with a biker.

My promise to her brother, however much overlooked, means I don’t want to leave without some kind of conversation, at least a belated check-in to make sure she’s okay.

“Violet.” I repeat her name. “I didn’t realise you were back in Pueblo. Why the fuck didn’t you let me know you were here?”

A purse of her lips, a little sigh of capitulation as she sees she’s not going to be able to evade this confrontation, then words finally leave her mouth. “Dave,” she acknowledges, for some reason more than a little reluctantly. “I’ve been back a year and a half.” Her hands gesture meaninglessly. “I didn’t know I had to check in with you. Nathan was the only connection we ever had between us.”

My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. For some reason, her statement and the tone in which it’s delivered, upsets me, leaving me with the feeling I’ve let her down.

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