Page 82 of Ink's Devil

“Down on the floor. Keep your hands where we can see them.”

Even old ladies and prospects aren’t exempt it would seem. Not my first raid, but it’s hardly top of my list of fun things to do. I catch sight of Beef glaring fiercely as Pyro helps Steph down, Max, dropping beside her gives a lick to her face as though to reassure her he’s close.

There are cops with guns aimed at us, and two officers going around, handcuffing hands behind backs, and removing weapons. I catch Thunder’s eye and give a little shake of my head.

“I presume you’ve a search warrant?” Demon asks, refusing to drop to the floor. “If so, I want to see it. If not, you can set my men free and leave.”

A cop, obviously the leader of the team, steps forward as another wrenches Demon’s hands behind his back. “Oh, we’ve got a warrant alright. Saves us all time if you just tell us where you store the drugs.”

“Nothing here, or on any of our premises,” Demon says, confidently. “Maybe some grass, but that’s legal in the state.”

“We know the law,” the SWAT leader growls. “And that piece of paper shows we’ve got the rights to tear this place apart.”

“And you’ll pay for every bit of damage,” Demon says seriously, clearly meaning it. “You’ve got no grounds to suspect the club of anything.”

“Judge disagrees. Damon McNeish who’s in custody is a member of this club.” With that, the SWAT team leader turns away.

Grounds to search Ink’s room, but the whole club? Well, I bet they just love having an excuse.

Belly flat to the floor, I raise my head and watch as another man enters, accompanied by an excited looking cocker spaniel, his tail wagging furiously. At least someone enjoys their job.

Max rises to his feet, his hackles rising. I even hear a low growl come from his throat.

“Keep that dog under control,” a cop barks out, “or I’ll fucking shoot him.”

“He’s a seeing eye dog,” someone shouts back. I think it’s Pyro.

“Down, Max,” Steph orders, and Max obeys, while still keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the intruder. He’s still grumbling, and his body’s vibrating. Guess he’s picking up a vibe from us and has taken a dislike to the canine cop.

“Let your sniffer dog search,” Demon orders. “He won’t find anything here. Devils don’t have anything to do with drugs.”

“No? Then why is one of your members sitting in jail on a drug charge?”

“Because he was trying to help you do your fuckin’ job,” Demon snaps back, but his answer is ignored.

It’s a waiting game now. First the dog sniffs each of us, the hair on the back of Max’s neck rising again when he gets too close.

He’s just got to Thunder who’s at the end of the line when Bitch appears. Now Max might be able to be instructed to control himself around a four-legged interloper, but Bitch is under no such constraint. She flies across the room toward the strange dog and there’s a loud yelp.

Followed by a shot and an agonised screaming meow. Fuck no! My reaction startles me. Fucking cat did not deserve that.

I watch in horror as she gets to her feet, and staggers from the room, a trail of blood left in her wake. She’s not dead. Not yet.

I think that action stunned us all more than the raid itself.

“You bastards!” Beef roars.

“Bitch! What’s happened?” Steph, an animal lover to the core cries out, clearly distressed.

Someone reassures her that the cat is still alive, for now.Dying, I think to myself, surprised at the amount of anguish I feel for the feline who hates men.

“Just get the fuck on with it and get gone. We need to take our pet to the vet,” Demon roars.

“That cat attacked a valuable trained animal,” a cop says unrepentantly.

“Your fuckin’ dog’s fine,” Demon snarls back. “He just got a scratch on his nose.”

From the shocked and disgusted growls all around, I know everyone’s feeling the same way. We all pretend to hate the cat who only tolerates women and kids. She’d just turned up one day, such a misfit, we let her stay. We might not want to get close to her claws, but to think of her injured and dying, well, that’s just fucked up. Especially knowing the SWAT team will leave here finding nothing, unless they plant something, of course. That’s always a concern.

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