Demon (The Northern Kings MC #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Demon

“So, a dancer from Trouble , huh?” Indie mumbled, smoothing the new pane of glass into the back passenger side of the car.

“She’s a barmaid. Not a dancer.” Not that it mattered what she did.

“Biting much? Guess you like this one?”

“Wouldn’t bring her to the clubhouse if I didn’t.” Although there was a danger in that. I’d done that once before and vowed never to do it again. Yet here I was.

“She’s Irish? Where from?”

“I’ve never asked, Indie.”

“And that’s a nasty scar on her face. Pretty fresh too. What’s that about?”

I knew why the fucker was digging. I had a habit of getting involved with people that had baggage. Not just the failed relationships or mental health issues sort of baggage, either. Those none of us cared about, as most of us had dragged those things around with us at one time or another, or still did. My baggage would have to be surgically removed. No, I went for women with the whole crazy ex who tried to burn the clubhouse down in retaliation, or another who drove his pickup truck all over a bunch of our bikes. Caused a right mess. We’d dealt with each one of those, as was the club rule. You take on one of us; you take on all of us.

And then there was the ex that went after the Kings’ president as rebound when I broke up with her. And there she’d stayed, eyeballing me daily.

“Someone cut her,” I said eventually, as we carefully lowered the next pane of glass into place.

“Well, I figured that. Didn’t look like it was the kinda shit she’d do to herself.”

“I dunno Indie. I didn’t ask. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Would be good to know what shit we’re going to have to clean up for you this time.”

“I can clean my own mess up.”

“Really? Because I don’t remember a time I’ve seen that. If you weren’t the President’s son, we’d have got rid of you a long time ago.”

“Like you all did to the Viking? Huh? And some of us know how that turned out. Don’t think being the President’s son would save you from that?”

It was a cheap shot. Helping a banished club member was an exile sentence to us all. But we’d done it anyway because Indie felt sorry for him. Or maybe it was the Viking’s woman. None of us had missed how he’d looked at her. Either way, we’d let V back onto our territory, knowing that if my father and the other club members found out, we’d have been in the deepest shit of our lives.

Indie scowled. But he didn’t retaliate. He knew the risks we’d all taken on his say so. The least he could do was absorb a few cheap shots.

“You owe me for this job, brother. And I don’t want payment in tattoos.”

“Thanks, Indie.”

“Just let’s not half kill anyone for the next few weeks. I’m running out of places to put these fuckers.”

“What did you do with him?” I grabbed a cloth from the toolbox, spraying the glass with window cleaner and rubbing it in small circles.

“Planted some shit on him and left him in the Marine Park in South Shields. To everyone else, it looked like he hadn’t paid for his gear.”

“And the Police?”

“Cops won’t be interested. Word has it they’re busy looking for bigger fish to fry. Apparently, there’s some new product being dealt.”

Indie grinned, slapping me on the shoulder, hard enough that for a moment I wanted to swing back.

“Come on, time for church. Me Da will be pissed if we’re late.”

The clubhouse had filled up, a sea of leather cuts milling about, voices booming, shouting over each other. Ciara sat at the table I’d left her at talking to Magnet’s wife, and even from this distance, I could see the animation on her face. The scar moved over her cheekbone; the slight redness of the puckered skin was just evident. But what I couldn’t take my eyes from was the way her face changed when she relaxed. I’d not seen that smile anywhere near enough, the deep smile lines lifting her face, exaggerating the heart shape and beautiful rich brown eyes set within it.

She glanced over at me, her eyes catching mine, the smile faltering slightly, a scowl developing across her eyebrows. And even that glare she fixed me with was sexy as fuck. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to see her smile or see her face contort. Or her brows pull together as she lay underneath me as I fucked her into the mattress. Both. I wanted both.

“Howay, Demon,” Indie nudged me, tipping his head in a direction behind the bar.

I followed up, leaving the bar to the women and the prospects and a couple of hangarounds that were sniffing about, hoping someone might sponsor them. Church was held in one of Indie’s rooms above the pub that you could have almost dismissed as a dining room, until you examined the divots and scars on the old oak table that stretched the length of the room. Knife injuries and cigarette burns. Evidence of wild nights and even wilder arguments.

Magnet sat opposite me; his cocky smile replaced with a sombreness. For a moment I could have rejoiced in it. For once, the world had fucked him over. His stream of luck looked like it had finally run out.

Ste took the seat at the head of the table, beside Indie on his right as vice president and Fury, the club’s Sergeant at Arms on his left.

“Magnet,” my father’s voice boomed in the loaded silence, everyone knowing that Magnet was about to have his arse handed to him on a plate, verbally at least. “Want to explain what happened to the club?”

“Aye. Seems someone was watching us. The cutting house was targeted a few nights ago. All the product stolen, and the prospects beaten up.”

“Which ones?” Cade or Caleb, I could never tell which, asked.

“Sicknote and Tony Cannelloni. Did Sicknote over good too.”

“How much was stolen?” Fury asked.

“Everything. Everything in the house, anyway. I have another drop coming soon, but no means to pay for it now.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

“We found out who they were yet?” Indie asked.

Magnet nodded.

“I put the feelers out. Ran into a few dead ends. But there is one name standing out from the crowd.” Magnet paused for effect.

“Fuck’s sake Magnet. Just fucking tell us. We’re not filming a fucking murder mystery here,” Indie grunted.

“The Aces.”

I glanced up from the table to where my father sat, flanked by his officers, catching my brother’s eye and Fury’s exasperated look.

“Who the fuck are the Aces?” My dad shrugged, shaking his head.

“Street gang,” Magnet continued. “Been around a while from all accounts but been pushing the boundaries recently.”

“Well, they’ve fucking snapped this boundary. Fury,” my father turned to his left, “find them. Make sure they never steal from us again.”

“Got it.”

“Magnet. You either find a way to pay for the next lot of product or you get the shit back from these Aces. Either way, this isn’t fucking coming out of club funds. Understand?”

Magnet nodded, his skin turning just a little paler and I couldn’t help grin inwardly at his sudden misfortune.

“Now. The rally. Let’s talk logistics…”

My father’s voice crackled a little, the rattling cough he’d had for weeks taking hold, irritating his chest, unrelenting as he barked and spluttered and struggled for breath. Indie pushed his pint of lager towards him before taking over the conversation, and we planned out the last bit of detail of the event we put on in Newcastle every year.

*****

We emerged from Church an hour or so later, re-joining the prospects and hangarounds in the bar downstairs who were getting rowdy as they waited for someone to serve them. Any regular bar left unattended would probably have been ransacked of alcohol by now, but our lot knew the rules, or mostly the consequences of not following them.

Ciara and Suzy sat apart now; Ciara’s head bent below the laptop that looked like it was from the dark ages. I could hear the frantic tapping as I approached, her fingers flying over the keys, her eyes darting left and right, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip.

“You ok, Ciara?”

My voice made her jump, and she swore, almost under her breath.

“Yeah,” she said eventually, not looking up at me, “fine.”

“We’re going to hang around here for a drink. Want to stay?”

She didn’t look up, shaking her head, her eyes not moving from the screen. But she did speak, her fingers moving over the keyboard at the same time.

“Is my car fixed?”

“Yeah. All done.”

“Thanks. I’d better get away then.”

“Right.”

Something heavy hit me in the stomach, a rapid deflation. Disappointment. I slid the keys across the table reluctantly, watching her close the laptop lid and push it into the bag on the seat beside her. She moved out from the table, hoisting the heavy old computer onto her shoulder, stopping in front of me. For a moment she searched my face, like she was looking for something, but I didn’t know what that something was. And then she dropped her gaze, and I didn’t know whether I’d detected a hint of sadness. But when I looked again, it had gone, and her face was as defiant as usual.

I stepped sideways.

“Thanks, Demon,” she said as she walked past me, her head down this time, studying something on her feet.

Then she was gone.

“Nice girl,” I heard Suzy’s voice call from behind me.

And suddenly that disappointment exploded into something much worse. My usual reaction to any emotion I couldn’t control. Anger. Turning, I stalked back to the table where Magnet’s wife sat.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” I heard the growl come from deep in my chest, rage simmering under the little control I had.

“I…what?”

“What did you say to her? Last time I saw her, she was talking to you. And now she looks like she wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.”

“Nothing…I … we were just talking. She was nice. I…I liked her… Demon, I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything,” she squeaked, and suddenly I realised I’d moved, stooping over the top of her, oppressive and demanding.

“What the fuck you doing, Demon?” Magnet grabbed my shoulder, attempting to spin me round to face him.

I shrugged his hand free, knocking him off balance. He straightened suddenly, his left fist coming out of nowhere and hitting me square in the mouth with a dull thud. There was a sting of pain, and the sudden gush of heat, blood staining the back of my hand where I’d pressed it against my lips. Fucker.

Lurching forwards, I drove my forehead down onto the bridge of Magnet’s nose, pain rushing through my skull at the same time as he roared. He staggered backwards, dazed, but regaining his balance quickly, jumping at me with balled fists. A woman squealed from behind me, feet pounded the thin carpets, someone’s hands grabbed my arm and I launched an elbow backwards into a soft gut. Magnet’s face gushed blood, running all over the t-shirt he wore under the cut. Clutching the leather lapels of the waistcoat, I lifted him off his feet, slamming him down onto a table. There was a low groan, from Magnet or the table I wasn’t sure, but suddenly his dazed body dropped away from me, the table crumpling underneath him, and they both fell to my feet.

Something hard hit me from behind, shunting me forwards, as I tried not to tangle my feet in the debris of wood and limbs. But I fell forward anyway, heavy bodies piling on top of me, pushing me down. Magnet groaned from beneath all of us.