Page 76 of Ink's Devil

All Demon gives me is, “I’ll tell you what I can.”

“It’s no good me begging for his life, is it?”

Demon stays quiet.

“Mom and I will go home.” I frown, thinking we’ll just have to put our heads together and decide what to do. The drugs have been removed, of course, but what if someone comes calling for them? I try to shelve that worry, there’s no point mentioning my worries to Demon. His focus is trying to get Ink out of jail, not looking out for the woman who put him there.

Demon raps his knuckles on the desk, getting my attention. “You can’t stay here, Beth. One thing’s for certain, police love to raid us, and Ink has given them just the excuse they need to get a warrant for searching the compound. I don’t want them to find you here, it would be impossible to deny a connection if they did.”

“You didn’t bring the drugs here?” I say fast, worried that I’ve brought more trouble to the club.

His raised eyebrow speaks volumes. Of course, they didn’t.

“You need to go home, go to work. Keep up appearances. But we won’t be leaving you unprotected, Beth. I’ll arrange someone to be at the house with you, just in case, until we know whoever owns the drugs won’t be coming looking for them.”

For a moment I’m stunned, replaying his words to make sure I understood them correctly. That was the last thing I’d expected. “You don’t need to do that, Demon.”

“Not doing it for you, Beth. I’ve got a man inside and I want to look out for his sanity. He might not want you, but what he did was for you. Makes his actions a bit of a waste if you end up dead after all.”

“Will you tell me what happens with Ink? I know he doesn’t want to see me, and I’ll stay away. But it’s my sanity at risk here, too. Please, Demon, whatever happens, let me know how he’s doing.”

Demon’s eyes flare as they focus on me. “I’ll tell you what I can, Beth.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Mace

I’m the enforcer for the Colorado chapter of the Satan’s Devils, a role I’d stepped into a couple of years back, and one I feel I was made for. Of course, I’d rather not have had the vacancy arise in the way that it had, when Ingot, the previous enforcer, had been killed. One of my first jobs had been to deal with the man who we belatedly discovered had murdered him. As it turned out, he’d been killed by one of our own. Taser had died screaming. I’d made sure of that.

I’d been voted into the position as I’m not afraid of doing what has to be done. It was partly Taser who’d spurred me on to be the best fucking enforcer the MC ever had. Having cast doubts on my abilities, I’d set out to prove him wrong.

The natural leanings inside me which make me good in my role are also probably the reason I’m not coping well right now without a target to vent my frustration on, or someone to question in ways that would ease this beast inside.

I’m seething with rage, way beyond angry. My brother’s been locked up and in no way does he deserve it. My hands curl into fists, and I hit them against each other, wishing I could use them on someone’s head. There’s a particular someone I have in mind.

That bitch Ink hooked up with, whose fault it is my brother is where he is, deserves my anger. Fuck, I wish Demon had let me loose on her. Firstly, because my methods would have left us in no doubt whether what was coming out of her mouth was the truth, and secondly, it would have made me feel better.

For more than one reason, I wish it had been me she’d targeted at Pyro’s wedding instead of Ink. Selfishly, I wouldn’t have minded those long legs which go on for miles wrapped around me, and second, I’m not so much of an idiot about women as Ink has turned out to be. If I’d been the one seeing her walking into a trap, I would have stood by and happily watched her put her head in the noose. No bitch is worth doing time for, particularly when she’d been the one committing the crime. He should have left her to get what she deserved.

This story about her brother and her not knowing she was storing drugs? Who the fuck can believe that? Not this man, that’s for certain.

Disbelief is the primary emotion for most of us this morning. A morning when I didn’t wake from my bed—no, I’ve not even lain in it since the night before last—a morning which has seen me having to fist my hands to stop torturing a woman I’m sure knows more than she was telling, and then to top it off, a morning which saw me collecting said bitch’s mom from her house and delivering her back to the compound.

Thank fuck Rusty had been with me. I’d gone in, all guns blazing, well, hypothetically that is, but the old man had kept calm. It was his arm that had supported Patsy when she had what seemed a very genuine reaction to finding she was still storing eight kilos of heroin in one of her bedrooms.

I’d left her with Rusty when we’d returned, making sure Beaver had instructions to take the drugs immediately up to the cabin that isn’t registered in our name. Now I’m back at the clubhouse, an energy to burn off, and no target I can touch.

“This is the fuckin’ pits, Brother.” Thunder comes up by my side. “I’d kick that bitch down to the cops myself if I had a choice.”

“Demon seems to think it wouldn’t get Ink off.” I feel crease lines appear on my brow. “Could be he’s right. Cops might work it to say they’re in it together. You know what it’s like when they get one of us behind bars.”

“Hard as fuck to get out,” Thunder reluctantly agrees. “Still her fuckin’ fault. Even if she was telling the truth, she should have left her waste-of-space brother to wallow in his own muck.”

I answer with a chin lift. That’s my view as well.

I have a beer, and then another. I turn down a third, then looking around, nudge the sergeant-at-arms. “Hey, looks like our visitors are leaving.”

“’Bout fuckin’ time.” He, too, turns and views Patsy and Beth’s backs as they head out the door. Beth’s head is down, her chin almost to her chest. “Wonder what Prez said to them?”

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