Page 83 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

“She’s not having a good time. No one wants to speak to her. If it weren’t for her enjoying her job, I think she’d leave.”

Is it fair on my club to lay this burden on them? Perhaps that would be the best all around. “I’ll talk to Lost, Brother. That might be for the best.”

“Think about it for a moment, Brother. What if Duke knows about her? What if he uses her to get back at us?”

“How do you figure he might?”

“Susie’s in the wind. Don’t forget at one time they were tight, and that’s where she had to have gotten her information from. Susie might have let something slip, Niran. She might have said anything to try to stop them abusing her. Lost’s filled us in on what happened to her, and the hell she probably went through that night. A bitch like her might have thrown your sister’s name in to fuck with you. Cyn’s a link to the club he might follow if he’s sniffing around.”

I start to form the words, let him, then I shut my mouth. This is my sister we’re talking about. Although she deserves some kind of punishment, I don’t want her blood on my conscience. Or at least, not until I know whether the situation calls for that.

When I don’t speak, Curtis, or rather Sharpshooter, fills the silence. “Look, Niran. I’m ringing to ask your permission to get close to her. Something’s wrong, and I don’t know what. I think I know a way to find out.”

It doesn’t take much for me to read between the lines. “You’re seriously asking me if you can fuck my sister?”

Sharpshooter snorts. “Well, after some foreplay, perhaps. Look, Niran, prospects get the shit end of the stick, we all know that. Maybe it takes one to recognise one. I just thought maybe, with you gone, she might appreciate some attention.”

“I don’t give a damn, Brother, do what you want.” I can’t even tell him not to hurt her, she’s done too much harm herself.

“I hear you. I’ll keep you in the loop if I find anything out.”

“Hey, Niran. You ready to roll?” another voice interrupts.

Hastily I end the call with Curtis, then turn to face Bolt with a genuine smile on my face. I sure am. This is my first step back to normality.

We’ve assessed the security and the wisdom of the trip we’re making, but there’s been no trail to link me to Utah, or even anything to say that Saffie or I are still alive. Both of us had been booked into the hospital under fake names.

There’s no reason Duke should be on the prowl. Even if he knows I’m alive, there was no one left alive to say what went on when they tortured me, or him to even consider me needing a new prosthesis.

Now he’s ready, Bolt doesn’t hang around. Ten minutes later, I’m situated in the rear of an SUV, the length of the seat giving me enough room to stretch my injured leg out. Saffie’s up front next to Bolt, and there’s an air of anticipation, of a new start—things to look forward to, instead of looking back. Of course I won’t know how well my foot has healed until the cast comes off, but at least I’ll be semi-mobile sooner than that.

Bolt has told me these people are fast, with an in-house lab, they can produce a new prosthesis within days.

The drive, which soon starts to bore me—like any biker, I hate being in a cage—takes four hours, and hell am I glad to arrive. I’m stiff and aching, and by the way Saffie stretches as we get out of the car, I’m not the only one. Bolt’s busy removing the wheelchair from the rear, and I’m getting ready to manoeuvre myself into it, when a booming voice sounds.

“Hey fuckers!”

Turning toward the voice, I see a tall, heavy-set, bearded man, with a small blonde woman by his side.

“Peg!” Bolt shouts delightedly, racing forward. He links hands, then exchanges back slaps with the stranger. Then, remembering me, runs back and gets me settled in my chair.

The only man I’ve heard of with such a name is the Tucson sergeant-at-arms. What the fuck would he be doing here? I’m confused as Peg and the unknown woman come striding across.

“Niran,” the stranger states, reaching out his hand. “Last time I saw you, you were un-fuckin’-conscious. It’s good to see you kinda up and around. How the fuck are you now?” Automatically, I let his fingers engulf mine, remaining stoic as he grips it tightly. “This ‘ere’s Sophie,” he informs us.

Suddenly things drop into place. “You were there, at the Crazy Wolves compound?” I’m still holding his hand. I give it a hearty pump. “Can’t thank you enough, Brother.” I’ve been told how many men from all the chapters had rallied around.

“And you must be Saffie.” Peg grins down at her. “Fuckin’ glad to see you in one piece, little lady.”

“Hi,” Sophie says, not shy in coming forward and wrapping her arms around Saffie in an exuberant greeting which my woman doesn’t quite know how to deal with. “You’re Niran’s old lady, yes? I’m bloody chuffed to meet you.”

Saffie’s eyes widen, obviously surprised at the Englishwoman’s accent and greeting.

I’m still mystified why they’re here. “Is this happy circumstance or by design?”

Peg grins. “Your man, Bolt, here asked my opinion on this facility. Guys like him,” he sneers, but not in an unfriendly way, “don’t go to the usual pleb places like us.” He nods at Bolt’s bionic hand, certainly well beyond anything I’d expect. Though I doubt I’d have much use for toes which could grip things or any of the other fancy stuff he can do. Just something to allow me to walk is all that I want. Peg continues, “Just so happens both Sophie and I could do with a refit of the sockets for our prosthetic legs, and this is the place we use.”

“Are you Peg’s old lady?” Saffie asks Sophie, who responds with a loud laugh.

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