Page 94 of Ink's Devil

They’d had ‘fun’ with Connor after Alder had left. We have a description to go with the name, man in his fifties, grey hair almost white, neatly trimmed beard and a slight paunch suggesting he overindulges. Whether Alder’s the first or last name, they don’t know. Or, apart from the obvious drugs, what business he’s in, or who, if he has them, are his partners. I’m satisfied they’ve told me all they know and haven’t held anything back.

“Finish them off?” Hell suggests, when Judge puts his head around the door saying we’re loaded and ready to go.

“Nah.” Beef’s eyes land on the pair, and he shakes his head. “Connor’s dead. Reckon Alder will kill them himself once he knows, may as well leave it to him to dispose of what’s left.” He then addresses our captives directly, “We’re taking Connor’s body. Reckon his sister will appreciate having something to bury.”

Yeah, we’ll leave them alive to get that message across, and hopefully the heat will be taken off looking for a man who no longer exists in this world.

As we leave the room, I overhear two men speaking in pain filled voices behind us.

“I told you not to fucking kick him in the head,” says the Hispanic who we now know is called Al.

Diego—fuck me, when I’d heard I’d laughed thinking it would be more apt were the names the other way around—replies, “It was probably your kick to his fucking balls.”

I wince on Connor’s behalf.

When they realised we were leaving, their cries to at least pull up their pants went unheeded. Why cover a target that Alder could aim for? Mind you, as we’ve turned off their heater, there probably won’t be much exposed when he turns up to check on his prisoner.

We pile back into the truck to go the short journey to get our bikes. Back at the parking lot, Lizard’s ride is soon in the back. We’re practised at loading up a bike and tying it down, and then Pal drives off. We let him go alone, a smoke for me giving him enough time to get clear. An unescorted truck obeying the rules of the road, less likely to be stopped than one surrounded by bikes in the middle of the night.

Pyro hadn’t wasted time making his call. Two hours later when we draw up at the compound several minutes after Pal, there’s already a man in the back of the truck. It’s Dr Ironside who I’ve met a time or two before. Not for treatment, thank fuck. But there was a time Buzz caught a bullet which had lodged somewhere beyond Rusty’s abilities to pull out.

Pal is standing by the side of the truck. “Want us to get him out, doc?”

“Not until I’ve seen what I’m dealing with,” Ironside snaps. “Christ, this man’s more dead than alive. You do this?”

“No,” Pal replies, sharply.

No, but if doc can patch him up, it might only be to hurt him again. Depends on what Connor says. But I do admit there are signs that I’d been wrong. Beth had been right to believe her brother was being tortured and could have been killed. May still be the result, if the doc can’t fix him up.

“Go get some rest, Mace.” Demon’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You too, Hell, Beef. I’ve got this.”

I don’t take much persuading. Christ, it’s dawn on Monday morning. Been times I thought the weekend would never end. Almost forty-eight hours after I last left it, I’m finally crawling between my sheets and lying my head on the pillow. My eyes immediately close.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Beth

The cops had let me go, but I’d be a fool to think that was the last of it.

When I got home, Mom was pacing the room, her eyes widening with relief as she changed direction and ran over to hug me as soon as I entered the door. By the time I’ve completed my second interrogation that afternoon, I’m brain dead.

I’d had some questions of my own. After the cops had finished searching the house, they’d questioned Mom about where I’d been the night before, clearly taking the opportunity of asking before we’d had a chance to collude and get our stories straight.

As I’d hoped, she’d told them precisely what I’d said, and what she had known at the time. That I’d been tired, took a book and went off to bed and hadn’t gone out. My alibi, such as it is, stands.

I may only have been gone for a few hours, but much had happened in that time. After the police had left, Mom had received another visitor who’d ignored the front door and strangely come in over the back fence. It had been one of the prospects from Ink’s club. Under his watchful eye, she’d placed a call to a number he’d given her, telling the person who’d answered that she had a blocked sink. The prospect had disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived.

Shortly after, Dirt, an apparently qualified plumber, and his assistant Nails, had drawn up in his van to fix said fictional block. A couple of hours later, Nails had driven the van off, but Dirt had stayed. It turns out one or the other will be keeping us company in the house while the club tries to find out who the drugs belonged to, and whether they’d be back.

As hangarounds, Dirt explained, neither currently have a known connection with the club.

To complete the cover story, the kitchen floor is now covered with bits of pipe from the sink, as if waiting for a workman to return. It means Dirt could look busy should the police reappear.

Dirt seems pleasant enough, but I wasn’t keen on having a stranger in the house. I remember him from the party as one of the men Ink had spoken to briefly. My concern then returns to me now.How do they know who they can trust?I know only too well how even the Devils can be deceived.

“Be careful Mom,” I whisper quietly, out of his hearing. “You remember Skull?” She’d met him when he’d come to one of our barbeques with Mel. When she nods, I continue, “You also know he turned out to be an undercover cop.”

“For heaven’s sake, Bethany. Now you don’t know who to trust?” Her eyes go to the ceiling and come back down. “Seems you should have been more cautious yesterday. I, for one, am just glad there’s someone here, and that Demon’s thoughtful enough to spare him to help us. Don’t forget, someone out there thinks we’ve still got a king’s ransom in heroin in this house. Your brother for certain, and maybe someone else.”

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