Page 74 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

Saffie

Patsy’s kind-looking eyes gentle, though instead of answering me, she poses a question. “You’ve had a bad experience with an MC, haven’t you?”

Abruptly, I stand. I should have shut her out, shouldn’t have let her in and shouldn’t have given a damn what would happen to her in this apartment block. Now I’m tolerating a stranger’s presence in my home, and one who’s broached the one topic guaranteed to send terror shooting through me. “I’d like you to leave.”

“Saffie, I’m here to help,” she says, imploringly.

“No, you haven’t offered a word of help or asked about me.”Except for that worrying reference to an MC.“I’m not telling you anything. It’s best you just go.”

Patsy’s eyes sharpen slightly. Good, I’m getting her riled, but she makes no move to vacate her seat.

“Have you heard of the Satan’s Devils MC?”

My hands curl into fists. Yes. That’s Niran’s club. But I choose to lie. “No and I don’t need to. Motorcycle clubs are all the same. They’re outlaws and threats to normal people like me. If you’re after information, take my advice and leave them well alone.”

She chuckles softly. “I’m afraid it’s far too late for that. You see, I’m very happily married to the president of the San Diego chapter of the Satan’s Devils.”

She’s what?The words take a second to resonate, then I realise she’s an old lady,just like me.“Get out!” I shout, feeling all the blood rushing from my face. I won’t listen to a lecture about how I’m still a man’s property.Duke must have sent her,although, admittedly, sending a woman to do a man’s work isn’t his normal approach.

“Saffie, you need to listen to me.”

“Get out now. I’ll call the cops if you don’t.” That threat had worked on Niran and Mary, I’ve no doubt it will work on her.

But she proves a more difficult nut to crack.

“And say what?” She scoffs, obviously unimpressed. “That a middle-aged woman is trying to have a conversation with you? Have I threatened you, pressured you? Pulled a gun on you? No. Unfortunately for you, I’m not Black.” She crosses her legs and folds her arms. “Until you listen to me, I’m staying right where I am.”

She’s not Black?Very belatedly, I realise why the threat had worked so well on Niran, and at the same time realise it has no power on the woman in front of me now. I had more ground to stand on when there was an actual biker in my living room. It makes me slightly ashamed that calling the cops and adding the words Black and threat would have had them here in no time, and him taken out in cuffs if not worse. They’d laugh if I called Patsy a danger to me.

Neither would my neighbours look kindly on me calling the police to the apartment block. So, it seems like unless she leaves of her own accord, she’s staying.

Shaking, thinking the whole world’s against me, I wonder what her purpose is.Is she here to persuade me to go back to Duke?

It seems though, I have little option but to hear her out.If she mentions Duke, just once, I’m calling the cops and to hell with it.If she confirms a relationship with him, hell be damned, I’ll base my accusation on her association with an MC which I suspect has a high chance of not being legit.

Forcing my voice to sound a lot firmer than I feel, I demand, “Just spit out what you’re here to say.”

Patsy’s eyes soften, and she keeps her voice calm as she begins, “I knew of the Satan’s Devils before I moved here. My daughter got friendly with one of the Colorado members. That’s who she’s married to now.”

I’d told myself I’d only pretend to listen, but it’s hard to block out her words.Poor girlcomes into my head. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone to marry a biker. Hold up, but Patsy said she’s married to one as well, and to the president to boot. But she seems happy enough and doesn’t look abused.Bruises don’t need to show.There’s nothing to say she wasn’t coerced into coming here but it’s the why I don’t understand. Are the Satan’s Devils in league with the Crazy Wolves? If so, I’m on borrowed time.

I know what bikers think about property. In their eyes, I’m Duke’s. Is she here to persuade me to return to him? Or does he already know where I am? My legs threaten to not support me, but I don’t want to sit down. Seated, I’d feel more vulnerable.

My baby’s gone but I’m alive. Suddenly, I know I want to live, and not a living death that Duke would impose on me.

“My son, Connor, is now a prospect for the Devils too,” Patsy continues. “He’d gone off the rails. What happened to him showed him the seedy side of life and taught him it was something to steer clear of. The Satan’s Devils have put him on the right track. He’s now going to college, and learning a trade, all paid for by them.”

What?Duke would have laughed in anyone’s face if they suggested he sponsor a prospect to go to college. A prospect for the patched Wolves was patched inifthey got through their probation period alive.

Noticing my confusion, Patsy seizes her chance. “Not all MCs are the same.” She pauses, “Saffie, you might not know, but your escape was aided by an MC. They’re part of the Freedom Trail. How else do you think I knew the password that would give me access to you?”

Her words take a moment to compute. When they do, I flop down on the chair.An MC works with the Freedom Trail?That was totally unexpected. “Why? How?”

“In cases like yours, they work in the background, make the arrangements, get new identities, alter databases to give you a history which stands up, get any tickets required to you and organise the people who help.”

“Why an MC?” It’s the first thing I ask. In my experience, MC members are only out for themselves. “Do they get paid?” If so, by whom? I hadn’t been asked for a cent, which is lucky. I’d left with nothing and had still been wearing my hospital gown.

“They do it because they’re good men and they want to help women like you get free and have a chance at a new life. Why an MC? Well, they straddle the line between right and wrong.” I open my mouth to snark that it’s the wrong side of the line most of the time, but she doesn’t give me chance. “My new ID was set up by the feds as I was legitimately in witness protection. In a case like yours, the cops wouldn’t have helped. Oh, they might have arrested the man who put you in the hospital, but you’d have to have appeared in court, and whether or not he was given a sentence is a matter of your word against his.” When my eyes widen in horror, she nods. “That’s bad enough when it’s just one abusive ex, but when that one has an MC behind them, it would have been signing your death warrant.”

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