Page 79 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

“Heard a lot about you,” Grumbler states, stretching out his hand and ducking out from under Niran’s arm. “Welcome to the clubhouse, Saffie.” His voice is gruff, and immediately scary, but the smile on his face looks genuine, and not in the least predatory. But as my eyes drop, I notice he’s the sergeant-at-arms, just as Slit had been. And Slit was definitely an enemy.I’d never guessed Mary was married to the sergeant-at-arms.She’d seemed so, well, normal.

The Crazy Wolves’ sergeant-at-arms had certainly not been a friend of mine. More than once when I’d transgressed, Duke left it to him to punish me while he looked on, raising a drink and encouraging him. In full view of the man whose ring I wore, Slit had violently raped me and more than once. With my eyes focused on the patch Grumbler is wearing, memories slam back into me as if I’ve run into a physical wall.

Niran’s eyes miss nothing. In a light voice, he offers me something about the man. “Grumbler’s a fuckin’ amazing guitarist and singer. He and his band often play here.”

For a second, the blood rushing through my ears drowns out what Niran had been telling me, but slowly it sinks in.Grumbler’s a singer and guitarist?

Still half in flight mode, I try to concentrate on my breathing, taking in deep breaths through my nose and breathing them out through my mouth. Slowly, my panic subsides to a manageable level and I feel slightly embarrassed that both Niran and Grumbler are patiently waiting, giving me time. I belatedly realise Grumbler had dropped his hand when he realised I wasn’t going to shake it. But he gives no sign he’s been slighted.

Instead, tossing me a quick grin, and continuing as if I hadn’t just had a minor breakdown, Grumbler asks, “You got any favourite songs, darlin’? You just let me know, and I’ll try to work them in.”

“Yeah, the older that shit is the better.” The man who’d picked up the child has now joined us. “Grumbler’s band tends to focus on the classics. I’m Salem, by the way, as no one’s fuckin’ bothering to introduce us.”

He takes care to respect my personal space and doesn’t hold out his hand, probably having noticed my treatment of his brother, but gives me a respectful raise of his chin.

I’ve heard many biker handles; indeed Patsy had already spoken about his merits, but not why he’d been named. Suddenly I wonder how he’d come by it. I’m not rude enough to ask, but he seems able to read my mind as my brow furrows.

Salem indicates behind him to the man who still has two kids crawling all over him, their childish voices and giggles seeming so out of place in a clubhouse. “That there is Pennywise. You wondering about the handles, darlin’?” He snorts a laugh. “Unfortunately, our old prez was a Stephen King fan. I’m just pleased he didn’t call me IT.”

“Would have suited you, clown face,” Grumbler snarks.

Salem’s arm snakes out and goes around his brother’s neck, pulling him into him, making the sergeant-at-arms growl and bat him away. “And you got the handle that fits. Saffie, would you believe this man’s always fuckin’ moaning? I have no fuckin’ idea what Mary sees in him.”

“Oi! What’s the hold up?” An impatient voice sounds from behind me. “Are you fuckers going out, coming in, or just taking up residence in the doorway?”

The loud voice makes me startle, and I feel like a rabbit trapped in the headlights, frozen to the spot and unable to move. Niran’s eyes focus on me so intently, I stare at them as though they’re a lifeline. “Your decision, Saffie. No one will stop you if you want to leave, but if you come in, you’ll be safe. I promise no one here will lay a finger on you.”

“Too fuckin’ right,” Grumbler snarls. He taps his patch. “If they so much as look at you wrong, I’ll be on them quicker than they can blink.”

“Same goes for me, sweetheart. And I enforce the rules around here.” For that, Salem gets an appreciative raise of Niran’s chin.

Without making a sudden movement, Niran holds out his hand, leaving it hanging in the air, and the decision up to me. “I swear I won’t let anyone hurt you, Saffie. You’ve got my personal assurance on that.” His voice drips with conviction.

I continue to stare at his face, then drop my eyes to his leather. I shudder, then slowly, feeling like I’m jerking like a puppet on strings, my hand rises to rest in his.

He closes his fingers, but only a smidgeon, allowing me to know I can pull away at any time. As he tugs gently, I allow him to encourage me away from the doorway.

As the bikers I was holding up walk in, I draw closer to him, as though he’s my protector, innately trusting him to keep his brothers away.

A few seconds later, the final arrival just barges in, shouting loudly, “What’s for fuckin’ dinner? It better be something I can eat!”

Hearing his voice, a woman emerges from the kitchen. “I’ve pureed yours just like I have Isla’s,” she yells back.

“Yeah, yeah. Very fuckin’ funny,” the newcomer calls out to her, revealing a mouthful of missing and crooked teeth.

“Snips has got problems with his teeth,” Niran tells me, quietly. “And he’s scared stupid of seeing a dentist.”

Grumbler grins. “Last time we had to sedate him to get him there.”

The aforesaid Snips turns sharply, suggesting there’s nothing wrong with his ears, and catches sight of me for the first time. His eyes meet Niran’s before descending to me still holding his hand. He compresses his lips, then pouts and says in a whine, “See how these fuckers are cruel to me? You’ll be on my side, darlin’, won’t you? You won’t let them cart me off to the dentist again.”

What would I have to do with it?The Crazy Wolves wouldn’t put up with a woman telling them what to do, or even making a suggestion. Hell, most of the time they didn’t talk to me. I don’t know what to answer, or whether I’m even allowed.

Seeing my difficulty though he won’t be able to guess the reason for it, Niran steps in and replies on my behalf, “Saffie’s got more than enough problems without worrying about your sorry ass, Snips.”

And to my utter astonishment, Snips looks chastised, and goes so far as to apologise, with a wink, though, which loses some of the effect.

Dental hygiene had been the least of the Crazy Wolves’ worries, and if anyone had pointed missing teeth out, there would have been a few more gaps in the mouth of the person who’d mentioned it. But Snips seems to take it in stride, instead, he’d played on my sympathy. He’s more like a big kid than a scary biker, and I have to fight back an actual smile.

---