Page 104 of Devil's Due

Devil stands and leaves the room with the parting comment he’s off to make the arrangements. RIP follows him out, and I know he’ll be calling Stinger. Demon isn’t far behind them, but he returns shortly with a tray full of beer bottles. They’re only half drunk when the other two men return. Devil saying a plane will be waiting for us in two hours at Pueblo Memorial airport, and RIP reporting Stinger will try to find a Warped Joker. His grin and slight shake of his head suggests the LA Soulz prez isn’t fazed by the task he’s been set.

Four hours later we’re setting down in LA. I’m hopeful we’re not far on the heels of Stevie if this is indeed where she’s been taken. The drive from Denver would take eighteen hours, and that’s if they drove or rode without stopping. We’re less than a day behind her.

Surely not much could have happened to her in that time?

When we disembark, it’s to find three SUVs waiting for us. Stinger, himself, has arrived to escort us to his clubhouse. Chaz and RIP ride with him, I find myself in the next with Drummer, Wraith and Thunder. Charmer, Bull and Devil take the third.

Automatically I go to shrug out of my cut before getting into a cage and catch Wraith’s eyes.

“Feels naked, without one, doesn’t it?”

I’ve worn a cut for fifteen or so years, so it certainly does. But we’re not in Satan’s Devils territory, so couldn’t bring them with us.

“You gonna be okay, Beef?” Wraith’s eyes are watching me carefully.

I shrug, not knowing how to answer. If we can’t find Stevie, I’ll wish I hadn’t risen from the dead last year. I’d believed I had something to live for, but without her, it seems I’ve lived only for life to have a chance to torture me. Why had it taken so long for me to pull my head out of my ass and know I wanted to claim her? If I hadn’t friend-zoned her for so long, I would have been the one she’d turned to instead of Lennox.

“We’ll find her.” It’s Thunder who sounds adamant. “You’ll have her back, Beef.”

He can’t know whether that’s possible or not, but the sentiment is something I have to hang onto.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to be positive. “When,”yeah, when, not if,“when we get hold of a Joker, I want to take lead, Drum.”

He fastens those steel-grey eyes on me. “Know you do, Beef. And I would if I were in your shoes. But the fact is, we’re in the Soulz hands now. On their territory and will be in their house.”

“But—”

“Beef,” Wraith interrupts. “You’re likely to kill him. You’re too emotionally involved and I don’t fuckin’ blame you for that. If it was Sophie, yeah, I’d want my fists on him too. I’ve no doubt the Soulz will make him hurt, but they’re likely to get him to talk. You let fly? Break his jaw? Might cause him pain but won’t get your woman back.”

LA traffic is a bitch. We seem to be stopped more times than we’re moving and I long to be on my bike. Lane splitting is legal in California and getting through this traffic would be a breeze on two wheels. On four it’s hell on earth. I hate being enclosed in a cage at the best of times. At least the air-conditioning works. The way the road is shimmering as I look ahead reminds me it’s high summer, and the temperature will be hot as hell. Not quite as hot as to what I was used to in Tucson. The climate in Pueblo is slightly cooler, that’s one thing going for it. Though, I wouldn’t be looking forward to snow in the winter. Uh uh, not this Arizona boy. Not that I’ll be there to experience it.

Stupid thoughts, but I welcome anything to get my mind off Stevie and what she might be going through. I long for a call from Pueblo to say she’s reached out for help, or for Devil’s guys to find she’s on a Greyhound bus and that they can track her. Devil managed to get a plane fast, he can probably manage to get her picked up from whatever bus station she arrives at. Yeah, Stevie’s got away and is safe, and we’re here on nothing more than a wild goose chase. That’s the thought I’ve got to hang onto. The alternative is something I don’t have it in me to even consider.

I swear the journey from the airport to the clubhouse takes longer than the plane ride. As the SUV pulls up, I’m subjected to the full heat of the sun for just a few seconds before being waved on through the door without having had a chance to examine the exterior of the Wretched Soulz clubhouse. Inside it’s much the same as any club I’ve been to. A bar in prime place, pool tables, games machines and an odour of cigarette smoke, stale beer and sweat. A man’s environment. A girl is down on her knees sucking cock, a sight I wouldn’t usually object to, but the thought that Stevie could be forced to do what the club whore is doing voluntarily makes me go cold to my gut. I turn quickly away.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Despite the heavy traffic, we arrive at the LA clubhouse only minutes behind the first SUV, and the third no more than a few seconds behind us. We’re in time to see the various Wretched Soulz prezes meet. Arms clasped, backs slapped and then hugs. I try to suppress my impatience while the greeting ceremony takes place, and the obligatory small talk which follows. Then, finally, when to my mind an inordinate amount of delay has passed, Stinger comes over to us.

Gritting my teeth, knowing we could have been out searching, trying to find a man with knowledge of where Stevie is, I do my best to be polite when he gets to me.

“You’re Beef.”

I raise my chin and hold out my hand.

Stinger’s face splits into a grin. “Got some news you might like.”

I tilt my head to one side.

“Found us a Joker.”

“Where is he?” I rasp.

He jerks his head as though indicating somewhere behind him. “Secure. Got my enforcer softening him up. Letting him know what to expect. Left the actual questions until you got here.”

“How’d you find him so quick?”

“Assholes were still using their favourite bar.” He spits on the floor. “Stupid motherfuckers.”

---