Page 75 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

Saffie looks at me. “I could do with a coffee,” I tell her.

The next stop on our tour is an equal revelation, a kitchen equipped with top-of-the-line very new-looking appliances, and a man called Cowboy leaning over the stove.

“That smells amazing,” Saffie can’t help but exclaim as we walk inside.

The man turns around and gives her a nod. “Nothing fancy. Just Boeuf Bourguignon. Done the traditional French way of course.”

“Beef stew,” Rascal informs us none too quietly.

“Fuckin’ heathens.” Cowboy slings an oven glove onto one of the worktops. “I don’t know why I fuckin’ bother sometimes.”

“Because you love us?” Rascal suggests. Then, clearly alerted by a text, he frowns. “Okay, let me show you to your accommodation now, then, Niran, Snatcher wants us in church.”

“You,” Cowboy points a spatula at Saffie, “you’re welcome here anytime. You, Rascal, not so fuckin’ much.” He marches across to a wall where a sheet of paper hangs up, and points to it. “These are the mealtimes. Don’t be late.”

Mealtimes?Confused, I glance up at my wheelchair handler, who just shrugs, then expertly turns me around, and we’re retracing our steps, or tracks in my case, back into the clubroom itself and go straight to a hallway the opposite side to the kitchen.

As we move down the corridor, I remember what Grinch had said, as a doorway comes into sight, one with bare unfinished wood around it. This must be where they’d quickly widened the doorway. That they’ve done so much on my behalf gives me a warm feeling. More than anything else, it makes me feel welcome.

Rascal reaches around me and opens the new door and reveals our accommodation. “Bathroom through there,” he points out. “I hope you’ll both be comfortable here.”

A soft gasp from Saffie has me realising what he’s said. Well, fuck me, there’s only one bed, and this room is for both of us.

Oblivious, he continues, “Take a moment to get freshened up, and then come out. Snatcher wants you in attendance.” The final sentence is said to clear up any doubt.

He pushes me fully inside, then after waving Saffie in, steps out, closing the door behind him.

Before she can speak, I get in fast, “That’s a big fuckin’ bed, Saffie. And I’m in no state to do anything to you, even if that’s what I wanted.”

She bites her lip and takes a moment to think. “To be honest, I’m kind of glad we’ll be together. It makes me feel safer.”

I wheel myself in further, checking the bed. It looks brand new to me—mattress, sheets and bedding, all clean and smelling fresh. “This is a very different club,” I tell her. “Even to me.”

“They seem…” She seems lost for words.

“Odd?” I chuckle. I’d thought that myself.

I wheel over to the bathroom. Disabled handles have been conveniently placed close to the toilet I’m pleased to see, and there’s enough room to wheel myself in, and turn around. Glancing at the walls, I see the telltale signs of new sheet rock, and feel overwhelmed at the amount of work they’ve done just in a day or two, and all to make life comfortable for me.

“I gotta freshen up,” I tell her, closing the door, then heaving myself from the chair to the commode. Jeez, I feel like a kid having to sit down to piss.

When I’ve finished and have made the return transfer back into the chair, washed my hands and splashed water on my face, I wheel myself out, pausing for a moment when I enter the bedroom. Saffie’s already put herself to work, emptying the bags that have been brought in. New clothes purchased for the both of us by the Utah club.

I’ve a lot of thanks to give, and not just for our rescue.

I watch her for a moment, enjoying the view as she bends to her task, then with some regret, tell her, “I better go. You going to be alright by yourself?”

She turns and offers a weak smile. “Sure, I’ll just stay here. I’ll be fine.”

There’s no point in me telling her she’d be okay making herself at home in the club, so I don’t waste the words. She’ll have to learn that for herself. Nothing I could say would convince her.

I exit, and head for the clubroom. A man wearing a prospect cut is waiting for me. “This way.”

I’m grateful when he lets me wheel myself then holds open the door to a meeting room. When I enter, I notice enough space has been left at the table for the wheelchair.

“Welcome, Brother.” Snatcher lifts his chin toward me. “Some of us you’ve already met, but I’ll go through them again in case you haven’t. At my left is Thor, my VP.” He raises his right hand. “This here is Preacher, sergeant-at-arms and pilot.”

“Medic too,” I remember, giving him an appreciative nod.

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