Page 122 of Ink's Devil

I didn’t expect I’d not even have the chance to see her, let alone touch her.

I thought I’d hit rock bottom when I was arrested for something I hadn’t done. Now I’ve reached a new low. My fear for Beth consumes me and hasn’t gotten easier while I tried to catch up with what’s been going down. Quite rightly, they’ve not wasted time walking me through everything, so I’ve had to get up to speed via piecing together the patches of information I’m hearing. One thing for sure, Phil’s bad news. He condoned the beating and death of his son. Now his daughter’s in his hands, I’m fucking terrified.

I’m a man of action. I can barely sit still, let alone waste time going over old ground.

As he’s already done a time or two during this meeting, Demon heaves a sigh, but keeps his calm. “Ink, I know you’re fuckin’ worried out of your mind. I’ve been where you are, remember? But we’ve got to come up with a foolproof plan. This is Phil Foster we’re talking about. We don’t know the lay of the land, who he’s got working for him, or how well he’s protected. We need information before we can move.”

Cad nods across at me. “I’ve got messages out to all my contacts. If they’ve got any info that can help, I should start getting it anytime now.”

“Beef’s gone to talk to Connor,” Thunder tells me. “He’ll give us what he can.”

I stare at Thunder in confusion, but Pal makes a suggestion before I can query his statement.

“If we wait for daylight, we can use the drone.”

Drone?My eyes crease as I know nothing about what he’s talking about. I’ve gathered some of the details of what went down over the weekend but had clearly missed a lot of shit. And why’s Beef off communing with the fucking dead? “Connor’s dead,” I spit out. “How the fuck…”

“He’s not dead. Who told you he was?” Prez says sharply.

“The fuckin’ cops.”

That causes laughter to go around the table.

“They believed it?” Demon asks.

“Yes, they fuckin’ believed it. Part of the reason they let me off. I identified him as the man who I’d taken the bag from on Saturday. Gets me off the hook and Beth in the clear.” I think for a moment trying to process this new information. “Patsy and Beth know he’s alive?”

“No, they think he’s dead.”

My eyes widen. Christ. Patsy must be in pieces. One child she believes she’ll be burying and the other… Well, what could be happening to Beth doesn’t bear thinking about. And Beth thinks she’s lost her brother? She must be out of her head with grief.

“Where’s Patsy now?”

“Here at the compound. Vi’s with her.” Demon’s sharp eyes meet mine. “You can’t tell her, Ink. She’s got to believe he’s dead. Don’t want to rehash the reasons while Beth’s freedom’s at stake, but just accept they’re good ones.”

My club wouldn’t decide to mentally torture two women if there weren’t. I raise my chin, not liking it, but agreeing.

I lower my head into my hands. I’ll have to go and see Patsy, but what can I say to her? Fuck all. I feel some responsibility toward her. I like the woman, and if everything works out how I want it, she’s likely to be my mother-in-law after all.

“Are we ever going to tell them the truth?”

Demon’s shoulders rise and fall. “First thing is getting Beth back. Worrying about sorting Connor’s mess can come later.”

It certainly sounds like a fucked-up situation. But I’m happy Beth’s situation takes priority for now.

“What if we do nothing?” Hellfire suggests. “What’s Beth to us? Worth risking our lives for? I mean, she got you arrested, Ink.”

In one split second I’m standing, leaning over the table and snarling at Hell. “I’ll remind you, that’s my ol’ lady you’re talking about.” I’m about as angry as I’ve ever been. “If you lot want to sit on your hands, then I’ll go fuckin’ rescue her by myself.” Never did I think they’d just abandon her, but when I turn to glare at the ex-prez, I notice a strange, almost twinkle, in his eye.

“That’s the way of it, is it?” Pyro asks. “I wondered.” He looks at Thunder and holds out his hand. Thunder slides a twenty into it.

My eyes narrow. “What the fuck?”

“We were fifty-fifty whether you’d keep up the charade when you came out.”

“Claimin’ Beth is not a fuckin’ charade and this is no joking matter.” My hands clench and unclench, then fist again. Maybe it’s because I’ve been cooped up in a cell, but I’m itching to take action.

“Phil already knows we’ve got his drugs.” Bomber gets back on topic. “Even if we wanted to, can’t see how we can sit this one out.”

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