Page 28 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

“Trouble?” He sits up straighter. “I heard she’s got fucked-up shit to do with her pregnancy. Women’s stuff. There’s no help I can be with that.”

“She lives in a shithole and I don’t feel she belongs there, for a start.” When he gesturesgive me more, grimacing, I tell him, “I took Mary to see her. Jeez, Toke, we had an up-close-and-personal demonstration that place is the pits. There was an altercation while we were there between a junkie and a dealer—came right to her front door. Mary thought it was best to get her out of there, and I was on board, but as soon as the clubhouse was mentioned, she straight up asked if we were in a biker club and freaked at the answer.”

Token’s eyes sharpen, and his previously dilated pupils return to a more normal shape. “You think she’s had a run-in with bikers and is scared of them?”

Scared? “Fuckin’ terrified is more like it. As for the reason, I can’t think of anything else.” I shrug, adding a head shake to show I’ve put my mind to it.

Token deals with computers and data and spends a lot of time joining dots. I’m not surprised when he poses his next question. He eyes me seriously. “You like this bitch, Niran? Is it personal?”

Leaning forward, I clasp my hands between my knees and frown, not having it in me to lie and seeing no reason for it. “I wouldn’t say I like ‘like’ her. I don’t know her well enough, and I’ve far from seen her at her best. But we clicked. I call, called, her my friend. It hurts that I left her to deal with some heavy shit on her own.” Again, I raise and lower my shoulders. “Can’t say more than that, Brother.”

Raising his chin, he responds, “Fair enough. I’ll do some digging and let you know what I find out. In the meantime, Brother, are you going to try to try speak to her again?” His frown seems to question why the fuck I’m talking to him when I could be with her.

Grimacing, I explain, “She threatened to call the cops, Toke.”

His head tilts, his eyebrow rises, then his mouth opens as he forms an ‘O.’

Yeah. Welcome to my life, Brother.

“Best steer clear.” Token shakes his head. “Unless you want one of us to try to approach her?”

“Nah, Toke.” I brush my hand over my face. “I don’t think she took my colour into account. I got no such vibe from her. Any biker’s likely to upset her.” Even if one of them went minus their cut, most have tats and look just what they are. Even if Dusty or Deuce could hide their ink, now she’s on the lookout, I doubt even they would get past her. “Too risky, Bro. We’d risk her calling the cops on whoever turned up. Lost would fuckin’ love that.”

He would. Not. Prez would be furious if any of us garnered unwanted attention. Cops are always just one step away from getting a search warrant. They’d jump at any excuse.

Whichever way I look at it, I’ve got to put distance between Saffie and me. Maybe if Token can find something to explain her extreme reaction, I could take the risk of visiting her again, this time armed with arguments that would convince her I’d never hurt her. Until then, if I relish my life and freedom and that of my brothers, I’d do best to stay clear away. In any event, just my presence is likely to upset her, and she has far too much on her plate as it is.

I leave Token’s office slightly pissed that I have no choice. Saffie needs help and support, and I very much doubt there’s anyone else to give it. She, herself, had told me as much.

Who’s there to hold her, who’ll mop up her tears? Who’ll make her that disgusting decaf when she gets in from work?

No one. That’s who.Not my fault,I reason with myself.She’s the one who’s irrationally scared of bikers, and who dismissed us without giving us a chance.

What really bugs me is why she hadn’t judged us on our behaviour but rather on a reputation she’d assumed. The only answer I can come up with is that she’s once been badly burned, and still bears the scars from it. Irrationally, I’m irate at the unknown biker who’s scared her so badly, and though I don’t want to believe it, I doubt it’s too much of a stretch to think maybe he raped her and bears responsibility for the situation she’s in.

If that’s the case, I’m determined to find out exactly who he is, then tear him apart limb by limb.

Until Token works his magic, there’s nothing I can do. It’s frustrating as hell. It’s not like me to wait stagnant being unable to take any course of action.

I’m an extrovert. I possess the ability to mix with those from many different walks of life, and hence the type of person who likes people around. While I wouldn’t describe myself as the life and soul of the party, I prefer to spend my free time in the clubroom, enjoying making conversation and joining in with games of cards or pool. For me to keep to myself and be introspective is unusual enough that my silence and the ‘leave me alone vibes’ I’m giving off tonight doesn’t pass without comment.

“What’s up, Bro?” Kink comes over to the bar I’m seated at alone and purposefully at a distance from other brothers. Uninvited, he takes the stool next to me and places his beer in front of him.

I’m not in the mood for company, but my innate instinct isn’t to be rude, though I do ask snidely, “No pets again tonight? Must be a record.”

Kink laughs. “I’ve not been to the club. It’s only open from Thursday through the weekend. Right now, I haven’t taken even a temporary sub, so,” he raises his hands, “I’m all yours.”

“Now why does that thought send chills down my spine?” Exaggerating my gesture, I wince.

He chortles and slaps my back. “Not going to put a collar and leash on you, man. I don’t give a damn what others do, but I’m not into dicks.” His brow furrows then he grins. “But I can find you a nice cock and ball cage if you want to torture yourself.”

No fucking way. My eyes widen in horror.

But Kink’s teasing had been to serve a purpose, as he all but admits, “Now I’ve got you out of your head, what’s got you so down in the fuckin’ doldrums?” He picks up his drink, swallows a few times, and finishes it. “Or are you just itching to get back to your woman later, and the hours are passing too slow?”

Raising two fingers to Curtis who correctly interprets the gesture and appears with two fresh beers, I incline my head toward a table in the corner. Once seated and our throats have had the initial wetting, I proceed to tell him about my afternoon, finishing with, “So I won’t be going to see her again.”

His face grows gradually darker as I reveal the sad story.

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