Demon (The Northern Kings MC #1)

Chapter Thirty Two

Demon

“We have all the gear here?” My Dad asked Magnet, who was now three cans into the rally already.

“Aye. The prospects are in charge of selling it.”

“Is that wise?” Indie asked.

“If they want to get patched in, they’ll not fuck up. Reckon they’ll do just fine.”

I glanced around at the twenty Kings members who were stood in a circle in front of my father’s tent, trying to count how many shared mine and Indie’s reservations that leaving a shit load of party drugs in the control of the prospects was a good idea. Not that it would make any difference, as knowing Magnet, he would come out stinking of roses, anyway.

The group dispersed, returning to tents to drag out more beer, and the twins looked like they’d been popping party pills since the moment they’d arrived. It surprised me they hadn’t brought a girl with them. Just the one girl. They took the ‘all for one and one for all’ motto way too literally. My Dad hadn’t moved. He stood, watching the Kings wander away, a faraway look on his pale face. This was his last blowout; he’d told me last night. His last hoorah before he started the treatment that would only buy him more time, but never cure him.

And now that he’d told us, I could see the greying illness plaguing his skin, his face gaunt, the once rounded belly no longer protruding over the waistband of his bike trousers. How had I been so blind to it? How could I not have seen he was so ill? He claimed he hadn’t known either. That the night we’d rushed him to hospital was the first time he’d suspected it was more than a rebellious virus that had been hanging around. And we just hadn’t seen it. None of it.

He turned, his eyes catching mine, and a faint smile pulled at his lips. It was sad and lonely and knowing. Knowing it was too late to be the father I’d always hoped he’d be. For him to see me the same way as he saw Indie. For him to look at me with anything more that resignation that I was actually the other son. And even those times, when I’d done his bidding, and people had drawn their last breath as a result, when I’d carried out his orders blindly, ruthlessly and cruelly, he’d never thrown me a tidbit of appreciation. But now he looked at me with sadness, not love exactly, but maybe, maybe there was an ounce of regret on his face.

I caught them in my peripheral vision. And so did some of the others. Suzy hurrying up the hill from where the food and bands were located, almost in the centre of the field. She was pushing Ciara, who didn’t seem to share in her urgency. Indie rose to his feet, his eyes catching them, and then looking back at me as if I somehow knew what the fuck was going on. I shrugged, pointedly.

“Magnet,” Indie called, “Magnet. Get out here!”

The girls made it to the top of the hill. Suzy’s cheeks flushed pink whilst Ciara looked barely out of breath, her long legs coping with the steep bank. Reaching out for her, I scooped her into me, protectively, but not knowing what I was supposed to be protecting her from.

“Suze?” Magnet’s voice was calm, yet the look on his wife’s face was anything but. “What is it, babe?”

“I… we…saw them.”

“Who, babe?”

“The Notorious.”

“Yeah. We knew they’d be here. We can’t really keep them out, we’re supposed to be at peace….” Indie started, but Suzy was shaking her head vigorously.

“No. No. It’s not that. Not them. Not exactly.”

“Fucks’ sake, Suzy! Spit it fucking out.” Fury’s patience was almost as good as mine.

“Fuck off talking to my lass like that!” Magnet let go of her, making a beeline for the tall, dark-haired beast of a man that stood to my side.

Dropping my arm from around Ciara I stepped forward, putting myself in the path of the raging Pitbull that was Magnet, before he could bite off far more than he could even fucking nibble. Fury would annihilate him, and I didn’t want Suzy fussing over the husband who might be soon sparked out at our feet. I wanted to know what was fucking going on.

“Steady, mate,” I cautioned, receiving a murderous look from the man whose chest was pressing against my arms as I kept him out of Fury’s reach.

“The Bloody Hand,” Suzy blurted, now looking more flustered than ever.

“What about them?” I was confused.

“They’re here. At the rally.”

“Are you sure?” Indie moved closer, shooting a look at me and Fury.

“I’ve just seen them. Just going down to the food.”

“How do you know?” I asked, watching Suzy whirl round to face me, frustration and anger now replacing her fear.

“Because he’s got a giant fucking bloody hand on his back!”

“He?” I stepped closer. “So, there’s only one?” I glanced up at the men who had now surrounded us.

“There’s never only one,” the growl of my father’s voice came from behind us. “The fuckers hunt in packs. Where there’s one, there’s at least four more.”

“The Vandals said they thought they were here in the UK again.” Indie ran a hand around the back of his neck, tension showing in the strain of the muscles that ran either side of it. “Fuck! Why here? Why now?”

I glanced at my dad, catching Indie’s eyes on him too. They’d smelt weakness long before we’d even got the first whiff. And that meant the coarse peace we’d been living in for the last few years was looking more and more brittle. The fact they were hanging with the Notorious was nothing new, but it was significant. And we all knew it.

*****

“Who is the Bloody Hand, Demon?” Ciara shouted in my ear over the heavy music of the main stage.

We weren’t in the middle of the melee, but sitting at one of the bench tables on the periphery of the crowd dancing and jostling in the middle of the flattened grass. There were more than a thousand bikers here, and we were yet to see either the Notorious or the Bloody Hand, but I was alert.

“They’re an international MC. They’ve been trying to get a foothold in the UK for years, and about twenty years ago they’d managed. The Notorious wanted to join them, an honorary chapter, but that would have brought them too close. The MCs in the area were already warring with each other anyway, but with a foothold in the North East and their international influence, the Bloody Hand would have wiped us all out in no time. It was probably the first time we’d ever come together. But it wouldn’t last.”

“So how did your dad manage to get peace this time round?”

“Me.”

She looked at me, confusion in those rich brown eyes.

“Those dirty deeds I told you about. I was deployed. That’s all you need to know. The consequences of anyone stepping out of line was being whisked away to a warehouse with just me. That sent a message.”

“DDC,” she said suddenly. It was a whisper, words to herself that I couldn’t hear above the heavy cover of AC/DC’s Back to Black. But I could see those beautiful lips move, and I could see what she had said.

I nodded.

“Dirty Deeds Club.” I knew she’d seen it on my jacket.

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

“Do you really want to know?” I cautioned, a glimmer of hope her curiosity would not get the better of her.

Ciara shut her eyes, holding them closed for a second, although it felt far longer as I waited for her to respond. And when she opened them, all she did was nod her head.

“It means I’ve killed for the club.”

She bit her lip, a hard chastising nip, and I suspected she wished she hadn’t asked. Yet she didn’t look at me in horror, but pity. And I think that was worse.

We sat for a few more minutes, gazing around at the crowd, drinking and dancing. The music changed, and as if the universe was mocking me as the heavy tune picked up, a cover of the Australian rock band’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap . Ciara looked at me and then laughed. A big hearty laugh, lighting her face, the scar on her cheek moving in the shadows, pulling at her skin, and that same fuzzy warmth that I felt every time I looked at her filled my chest. She made me less empty. More human. And somehow, she chased the crazy away, like she balanced me out. I pulled her towards me, pushing my lips against her forehead, inhaling the perfumed scent of her hair.

“Gannin for a slash, darl. Be back in a minute.”

I was two or three. Nipping to the row of plastic cubicles, just sited a few metres back from the party area. Enough time for someone to move in on her when I was gone. They were there when I got back. I saw the jackets first; the bull heads embroidered on the leather, staring at me. Laughing at me. And I felt the anger rise. I almost ran back to where I had been sitting, covering the ground in big, long strides, my fists already balling at my sides, my arms tense as I desperately tried not to swing before I’d asked the questions.

Ciara stood up. She hadn’t seen me, but I could see her. See the tension filling her body, the little step back and the glance around her surroundings. The taller of the two, with the shaved head which reflected the neon lights that spilled off the stage, stepped closer. He reached out, hooking his arm around her waist, his face far too close to her. But it was the redhead I crashed into, forcing my right fist into the back of his skull. He collapsed forward, first onto his knees, and then tipping, his face smashing into the grass in front of him.

The crowd around us parted, moving away, and somewhere, over the music, there might have been a shout. But I couldn’t really hear the music anymore, only the blood rushing in my ears. Stepping over the body at my feet, I grabbed the soft flesh of baldy’s throat. He made it easier, turning to face me, leaving his throat open to be squeezed until he drew his last fucking breath.

“What the fuck?” he growled over the deep vibrations of the bass.

“Get the fuck off my lass.”

“Your lass? She told Thrash here that she was no one’s ol’ lady. So, no harm done.” He glanced at the unconscious mass of red-haired muscle lying face down on the floor and then back at me.

“She’s with me. You look at her the wrong way again and I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.”

There was a swarm around us. Men in leather cuts, pulling at my arms.

“Fuck’s sake,” I heard Indie behind me. “He’s just laid out the Notorious’ VP. That stupid fucker will have started a war.”