Page 86 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

I hear them murmuring behind me,fuck them—they’re going through names.Kink? I snort. Not fuckin’ likely. She’d run away from him fast.

If anyone’s doing any claiming, it will be me.

Creasing my brow and staring down at my hands, I think about it. Sure, from what I’ve seen of Saffie, I like her. I’d hate for harm to come to her. But a lifetime commitment where I’d be tied to someone who, as Token rightly suggested, comes with more baggage than an airport’s baggage claim carousel after a flight’s just landed, I’m not ready for that or qualified to fight her demons.

Perhaps she should leave the club.

That thought doesn’t settle with me either. She’d be alone living with the aftermath of the decision she had make. It hurt me enough over this last month when I couldn’t see her, but at least she had my number and could call on me for help.

I rake my hands over my head, then do it again. I pace to one side of Lost’s office, and then back again.Claiming her makes her my old lady.But only in name. It doesn’t need to be permanent. It’s a ruse to get my brothers to bring her under the full protection of the club, for as long as she remains tied to me. Yeah, that will work.

Before I quite understand what I’m saying, I swing around. “I’ll claim her.”

“Bout fuckin’ time, Brother.” When Lost holds out his hand, Dart slaps a ten dollar note into it.

Closing my eyes, I realise the trap they’d set and that I’d walked right into it. Giving a loud snort, followed by a wry smile, I again sit down. “There’s one condition, and everyone needs to sign up to this.”

“Name it, Brother.”

I meet Lost’s eyes. “I tell her she’s mine in my own time. No one else can breathe a word to her.” I’m fully aware that day might not come.

“Deal,” Prez answers. “We’ll tell everyone at church. Niran, I know you can see the drawbacks, but the one plus is, not one fucker from ours, or any other chapter, will say a single word against protecting her. You’ve just given the Devils a green light, up to and including, going to war.”

“You set me up,” I observe.Fucking assholes.

While a grin spreads across the face of the VP, Lost doesn’t look quite so happy about it. “Don’t want to force you into anything, Niran. But Patsy’s already all but adopted the woman from the looks of it, and she’d have my guts if I didn’t step up.”

“No.” I raise my hand to get him to stop. “You’re right. This is the best way to handle it. Cuts short any discussion about who she is and why we’re prepared to risk our lives for her. I understand.” Brushing my hand down my chin, I add, “I’m just not sure how the fuck I can work this.”

Lost stands. As he moves out from behind his desk and squeezes past Token, he pauses with his hand on my shoulder. “Just play it by ear, Brother. All you need is to be there for her.”

The VP stands and follows the prez out through the door. Token stares at me for a moment before closing his laptop and rises to his feet. When he too has left the room, I stay seated, staring at the Satan’s Devils insignia.

How the fuck did it come to this? I’ve got an old lady. And one who would run a mile if she knew that I’d claimed her.

Staring, thinking, doesn’t give me any ideas about how I should approach her. Answers won’t come if I avoid her. Eventually I stand, and without a fucking clue of what I’m doing, I go out into the clubhouse to find her.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Saffie

While the prospects were tasked with keeping the brothers’ rooms clean and tidy at the clubhouse of the Crazy Wolves MC, they did so with little grace and far less aptitude. If it hadn’t been for me, Duke’s room would have been like the rest, filthy with dust, dirt and cobwebs, and sheets that were never changed on the beds.

I hadn’t given much thought to where I’d be staying, so when Patsy leads me up the stairs, I’ve expectations I’ll be walking into much of the same. The thought isn’t particularly enticing. As we reach the hallway at the top, she turns to me.

“We’ve a few empty rooms. I thought this one would suit you.” She pauses by a door that’s ajar. When she steps back, I precede her into it.

The first thing I notice is that it’s clean. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be spotless if I purposefully hunted for dust, but on first glance, it’s a one hundred percent improvement on any I was used to in the only other clubhouse I have for comparison. The floors are bare wood, with an unblemished rug by one side of the bed. The bed is unmade, and the mattress looks clean and, thank God for small mercies, unstained. There’s a television, a desk, a chair, and a view out of the window. Intrigued, I step up to it. It looks out over the gate of the compound, and as the land drops away, gives me a view of the distant Pacific… and is that the famous Coronado Bridge? I think it is.

“I’ll send a prospect up to get the bed made.”

I turn quickly, my hands held facing her palms up. With memories of Jude coming into my head, I don’t want any prospects putting themselves out for me. Though it’s unlikely anyone here would care as I don’t belong to anybody. I still remember that living nightmare clearly, and I won’t take unnecessary risks.

“If you can bring me some sheets, I’ll make the bed up.” I turn and walk to the door, my experience warning me to check. There’s no lock on the outside, no way for anyone to imprison me. But nothing to secure it on my side either, I’d be unable to keep anyone out. I’ve met a number of the bikers so far, and though they seemed okay, they’re men. And there might be more I’ve not met and not gotten the measure of yet. Anyone could walk in here. I turn around in consternation.

Patsy’s eyes have been following me and must notice my look of dismay as I place my hand against the door. Shrewdly, she interprets it immediately. “I’ll get a prospect to pick up a lock and we’ll get it sorted. But Saffie, no one’s going to be anything other than respectful here. You’ve got your privacy, lock or not.”

It’s evening now. While I know stores are open at all hours, the likelihood is that even if the promised lock is collected, it’s unlikely to be fitted tonight. While the bikers I’ve met seem pleasant enough and so different from their Crazy Wolves’ counterparts, drinks flow freely in clubhouses. Who’s to say they won’t revert to form when they’re drunk? I doubt I’ll have a wink of sleep tonight, and as soon as Patsy’s gone, will search for something with which to defend myself and jam the chair under the door handle.

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