Devil's Savior

CHAPTER 5

I’m not surprised when I walk into the office of my Prez, Lucifer, to find the rest of the inner circle present already. I’m a little late, but I wasn’t going to ignore the kindness and leeway Mrs. Bisby has given me by ignoring her or not saying goodbye. I might be a biker, but not a fucking asshole. At least not to a nice older lady who has helped me to keep my woman safe and happy.

The room is full, almost too full. I’m sure it doesn’t help that all of the men inside the room are muscular and large. Then there are their personalities—we’re all leaders within the pack and it shows in the way we carry ourselves.

I give chin lifts to my brothers around the room. We’ve shed blood together and we’ve ridden with the wind buffeting our bodies while the sun shines on our backs. We’re family wrapped up in leather and surrounded by chrome.

Prodigal, Lucifer’s son and our VP, eyes me curiously. His woman, Wrenley, is the entire reason Sioux is in my life. The women are best friends and had Wrenley not come to the DSMC for help I would have never met the woman meant to ride on the back of my bike for the rest of our lives. Prodigal knows how hard it’s been for me to hold myself back while my firefly has been recovering, and he’s helped me as much as possible by getting tidbits of information on my woman from his old lady.

Raphael, our Road Captain, Loot, our Treasurer, Tack, our Sargant at Arms, Hack, our tech genius, and Scythe, the other enforcer for the club, have taken up spots around the room. I take up my position near the door, leaning against the wall while I take in the serious mood of our Prez.

That sliver of dread that had been churning in my gut since I left the high school grows with every second of silence in the room. This isn’t going to be good and even though I brace myself, I fear it’s not going to be enough.

“The RRMC,” Lucifer rolls his eyes as he starts to address his assembled inner circle, “have managed to rally.”

Anger fills me and I can’t help but growl, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Lucifer cuts his eyes at me but doesn’t reprimand me for speaking out of turn. Normally, I wouldn’t want to go up against my Prez. Not only is he not a man to fuck with and can hold his own when it comes to mixing it up physically and violently, but he’s earned my deepest respect over the years. Apparently, the only thing that can shake up my loyalty to my club, and my Prez, is the thought of my woman being in danger.

“As you know we’ve been keeping an eye on them. It took them a long fucking time to get their shit together after the,” he pauses and a sinister smile curls his lips, “loss of their Prez.”

The sounds coming from the men around me are deadly. We might not always follow the law, but some things are sacred to us. Women, children, and innocents are always off limits. The fact that Anarchy came after one of our own with his obsession with Prodigal’s old lady, even if she didn’t hold that title until she came to the DSMC for help, and in doing so injured Sioux, is enough to make any of us see red.

My hands clench into fists as the memory of seeing my woman sprawled out on the concrete pad near the bathroom in the park that we were using to host the Poker Run flashes in my mind. I see it just like I did that day—in slow fucking motion. Every pump of her heart causing more of her blood to seep onto the gray slab. Everything in me is screaming like a fucking banshee.

To get to her.

To save her.

To make time move backward so that she would never know the fire of a bullet sinking into her gut.

But I wasn’t there soon enough.

I couldn’t stop the bullet or step in front of it.

All I’m left with is the knowledge that I failed her, and a promise tattooed on my heart to never let it happen again.

I jerk slightly when a hand comes down on my shoulder and squeezes. Scythe, who is my best friend as well as my brother, is staring at me, his eyes mirroring the pain rioting within my soul. He hasn’t found his woman yet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t understand my pain.

He’s watched me almost fall over the edge of madness repeatedly over the last few months. A few times he’s had to pull me back from the brink. It would have been all too easy to fall into the abyss and roll up to the RRMC clubhouse and torch it until it was nothing more than ash and tainted memories.

If only I had been given the order to do just that.

Because Lucifer isn’t done telling us what that scum of a club has been doing. I take a deep breath and unclench my fists while giving my brother and best friend a nod. After a beat he drops his hand and I take solace in knowing that I have my brothers at my back.

“There was a lot of infighting going on,” Lucifer continues explaining what we’ve known for months. Watching their little band of idiots implode on itself was amusing, but we knew it would never last. Not when they had ties to Juan Martinez, who is still underground and would need some sort of reach into seedier sides of the city. “It seems that has ended.”

Hacker perks up at this information, directing his words toward our Prez even as he reaches for his tablet, “Who is at the helm now?”

“A guy who goes by the road name of Hustle,” the disdain is clear to hear in Lucifer’s voice and we all snicker at the name. “From what we gathered about the club before, I remember him being a very low-level brother and dealer. It wouldn’t surprise me to know that Martinez ended up hand picking the new Prez to try and steer all of their focus into peddling more shit on the streets.”

I nod, thinking over the files that Hacker put together months ago on the Riding Rebels. None of them are men of any value or worth, that much was clear from the moment their pictures and information was splayed across the TVs in Church. That doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous, though. Men who have nothing to lose, are driven by greed, and have already been corrupted by the system they’ve grown up in have nothing to adhere their loyal to.

The RRMC isn’t a family, it’s a fucking free-for-all. That much was clear when we paid them a little visit to warn Anarchy to stay the fuck away from Wrenley. He was too cocky to listen and most of his ‘brothers’—and I use that term very fucking loosely—were too strung out or hypnotized by dirty pussy to really understand what going up against the DSMC would mean.

“Fucking Martinez,” Prodigal growls and we all share his sentiments. “Dante is going to be pissed to know he’s still up to his bullshit without actually popping his head out of whatever hole he’s buried himself in.”

I grunt in agreement. Dante Guidice, a man to be feared and respected, will not like this news at all. He rules the Guidice family and New Orleans. The DSMC has been working with him since it was his father at the helm of the crime family. Viola, Dante’s little sister, is best friends with our club princess, Fleur—Lucifer’s daughter and Prodigal’s sister.

It wasn’t that long ago that both women were put in danger because of Martinez and his willingness to cross any lines. Viola was kidnapped, but her men came to her rescue with us at their back because there was no way we were going to let that shit go down without getting involved.

My fists clench with rage again at the memory of how Martinez tried to fucking sell our club’s princess. I guess he didn’t try, not really; he did sell her on the dark web. What no one knew at the time was that our little club princess was involved with the three younger Guidice brothers. I never want the details about how that all went down, since Fleur is like a little sister to me, but certainly caused both the Guidice family and the DSMC to hate him even more.

The man who bought Fleur was intercepted and…dealt with before she was really in any danger. Still, it could have all gone down very differently. She could have been hidden away from us and her men. She could have been traumatized.

Thankfully, she’s very fucking happy with her men and their happiness means the ties that bind us to the Guidice crime family are even stronger and tighter. Not that we mind. We’ve had each other’s backs for years, but now we’re family in a different way.

I can feel the anger growing in Prodigal and Lucifer and I have no doubt they are remembering the same thing I am about how Martinez had the fucking balls to sell the club princess of the DSMC. He’s kept himself out of sight since Viola was taken, but that doesn’t mean his business is gone and dead.

It won’t be until he’s thrown in the bayou for the gators to take care of any evidence of his existence.

“Hustle is acting like Martinez’s perfect little puppet. With him at the top, they’ve been heavily pushing their drugs on the streets,” Lucifer’s voice is a low growl.

I would never go so far as to say the DSMC are angels considering we have no fucking problem selling guns, but one thing we don’t fuck with are drugs. It was clear when we visited the RRMC clubhouse that they didn’t share the same sentiment. People were strung the fuck out; it was almost sad to see, but it’s one thing for adults to make bad decisions. That’s on them.

But we’ve found that the scum of the city who are peddling the worst of the drugs aren’t only targeting adults. They go after kids, which is shit that we can’t ignore.

I brace for impact because I know the worst is still to come in this conversation. I swear the men around me, my brothers, tense their bodies as well. They can see the writing on the wall just as clearly as I can.

Lucifer scrubs a hand down his face, “They have started a flop house masquerading as a brothel at the edge of our territory. From what I’ve gathered, they sucked a few homeless youth and barely legal girls into their web, got them hooked, and then turned them out.”

Loot steps forward, pure fucking agony and anger radiating off him, “What the fuck?”

We’re all feeling the same emotions he is, but we also know why it’s hitting him a little harder. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Loot was living on the streets and barely surviving. But that’s when Lucifer found him. We might be the Devil’s Saints, but there are angels at our backs from time to time.

Who knows if Loot would have survived if Prez hadn’t found him when he did. Who knows what would have become of a man who is solid as a rock and one of the most loyal brothers in the club?

Loot’s eyes slide closed as he takes deep breaths, letting them out slowly. But it’s doing nothing to stop the way he’s shaking with rage.

Over the years, as we’ve done charity runs, Loot has taught us all about the vulnerability of displaced youth and the way people prey on their desperation and weakness. To know another club, even if they are piles of shit, is using that to their advantage is like a punch to the gut.

Raphael, who prospected around the same time as Loot, reaches over and grips his brother’s shoulder. The look they share is one filled with pain, devastation, and even a little fear. None of us shy away from it.

This is our reality. We are men made up of our pasts, be it good or bad. We are built upon the decisions we’ve made and the way they have colored our souls.

Loot is the man he is because of what he experienced after Katrina. He used the chance he was given to help people who wouldn’t get the same opportunity he did. He’s done a fuck ton of good because of it.

To know that there are people out there being taken advantage of and used for the gain of the Riding Rebels and Martinez is like a machete to the gut. None of us will stand for it, but that doesn’t mean havoc hasn’t already been sowed. The likelihood that we’ll be able to undo it all is slim.

Tack’s voice is cool and detached, but we know that is the way he deals with his overwhelming anger, “What is the plan, Prez?”

“We can’t let it stand,” Lucifer states, but his words hardly soothe the need for vengeance whipping around the much too small space. “We need to come up with a plan, then we’ll go in and shut that shit down.”

“Expect retribution,” Scythe grunts.

I glance at my best friend and know from the fire burning in his eyes that he’s not trying to dissuade anyone, least of all our Prez, with his words. He’s only giving us the warning he knows we need.

Lucifer curtly nods, “Good. The RRMC are a group of boys pretending to be men. They have no honor or loyalty.” He scoffs, “Look at how long it’s taken them to get their leadership in order. No one trusts each other and they’re all driven by greed.”

My gut twists because by going after them then we’ll be putting everyone we hold dear in danger. We’ll not only have to take down the Riding Rebels, but we’ll have to ensure that there is no collateral damage—and that includes the people whose lives they’ve destroyed by pimping them out with smack as their favorite John.

“We need to make a plan to not only disassemble their flop house, but to protect all of the women of the club,” my voice is insistent. “I know that I haven’t claimed her officially, but I’m including Sioux in that. I’m not going to go fuck with the Rebels if she’s not going to be protected by the club no matter what.”

“Sioux is family,” Lucifer sounds affronted by even the thought that we wouldn’t do everything to protect her. “We all know you’ve been waiting to bring claiming her to the table until she’s recovered.”

“She’s gonna fight you every step of the way,” Tack snorts which causes some of the tension in the room to break.

“I know she will,” pride fills my voice as I throw my brother a smirk. “It’ll make earning her loyalty and heart that much sweeter.”

Tack’s face twists before he fakes gagging. His tone is incredulous, “What are you, some sort of poet now?”

I shrug one shoulder and shift slightly against the wall I’m leaning against. I don’t give a single fuck if my brothers make fun of me. As long as I prove to my woman what she means to me in the end, I’m good with it. There’s no fucking shame in being in touch with my emotions…at least when it comes to my woman.

“I’m going to put Wrenley on lock down. There’s no fucking way I can let her get mixed up with the Riding Rebels again. They might try and come after her just because Anarchy’s obsession with my woman is what got him killed,” Prodigal growls.

All our eyes turn to our brother. He’s mad, sure, but there’s something else underneath that emotion. Something like terror. I’ve never known Prodigal to be terrified of anything, but I can understand why he’d feel that way with his woman—his wife and old lady—on the line.

Still, there’s something else going on and I tilt my head as I study him to try and figure out what it is.

“She’s pregnant,” Lucifer’s voice rings out in the silence of the room and even though we’ve been discussing how to dismantle a drug house and forced prostitution ring that will, no doubt, involve bloodshed, he sounds elated.

Prodigal swallows hard, his nod jerky as he looks toward our Prez. It’s clear that he’s not looking at his leader right now, but his father. “She just found out last week,” his voice cracks slightly before he clears his throat. “We’re not telling anyone quite yet, but I think you need to know. I won’t risk my wife or my baby for those sewer rats.”

“My first grandbaby,” Lucifer fucking sighs and all our heads whip around to look at the man who is all hard edges except when it comes to his old lady, Cherie, and the other women who breathe life into the DSMC.

I swear I see tears in the older man’s eyes, but it’s probably just a trick of the light.

Or maybe the man has been looking forward to meeting the next generation of blood flowing through the DSMC. He’s always been a lifer and he’s given so damn much to the club.

“I’m sure Fleur won’t be far behind,” Hacker throws out offhandedly, his eyes still glued to his tablet as he works to pull up all the information he can on Hustle.

Lucifer’s eyes go from soft to full-blown annihilation as he turns his gaze on our resident tech genius. The silence in the room is deafening and it has Hacker pausing with his fingers hovering over the screen. He glances around before swallowing hard when he looks at our Prez.

“Don’t talk about my baby girl like that,” Lucifer growls.

Almost anyone else would be scared shitless in this moment, but not Hacker. The man wasn’t born into the club the same way Tack and Prodigal were, but he did grow up right along side the two men. He’s been around the club far longer than I have, and long before he was able to be anything more than a kid who marveled at the bikes and the brotherhood.

Hacker grins and winks at Lucifer. “You’ll be thrilled when she winds up pregnant.” His eyebrows furrow together and he muses, “I wonder if they’ll know which one of the brothers is the father or if that shit doesn’t matter.”

“Oh fuck,” Scythe groans under his breath and takes a step away from the wall and closer to Hacker in case this shit goes sideways.

“Talk about cementing alliances, huh?” The grin Hacker flashes Lucifer is wide and a little taunting.

Prodigal’s hand whips out and he slaps one of his best friends on the back of the head. “That’s my fucking sister,” he warns as Lucifer’s eyes turn flinty.

“Ow, fuck,” Hacker exclaims and rubs the back of his head. He doesn’t sound nearly sheepish or apologetic enough when he adds, “My bad, brother, but I’m just stating a fact. I get that she’s still the club princess, unless you have a daughter and some of these other fucks start procreating, but you gotta come to terms with the fact that she’s going to be a mom. Sooner or later,” he tacks on like that’ll help his fucking case.

“Dude,” Tack stage whispers out of the side of his mouth, “get back to work because you’re knocking on Death’s door right now like he’s hosting a rager.”

Lucifer glares at Hacker for a moment more before shifting his attention back to his son. “Congratulations. I’ll do my best to keep this from your mom, but she can smell when I’m hiding something from her that’s not club business from a fucking mile away.”

“We plan to tell everyone soon, but I just couldn’t not mention it right now. Not when the RRMC is involved in this conversation.” Prodigal is resolute when he admits, “My wife and my baby come first. Their protection is my first priority.”

Lucifer nods, understanding written across his face. “Of course. Hacker,” he snarls our brother’s name, still not over his casual words from moments ago, “will gather intel and I’ll get with Dante to fill him in. I’m sure the Guidice family will want to be involved in whatever we do. We’ll bring it to the table at Church and come up with a plan.”

We all nod, grunts of approval and agreement going around the room. Our Prez gives one more curt nod before he flashes a smile at his son filled with warmth and even a little excitement. The man might live for the club, but we all know his grandbabies are going to be spoiled rotten.

As we start to file out of Lucifer’s office, I slap Prodigal’s back. “Congratulations, brother.”

The words are genuine, but I can’t help the little bit of jealousy that seeps into my heart. I want what he has with Wrenley. It’s so fucking close—right there at my fingertips. I’ve had to be patient, for the sake of my woman’s health, but that doesn’t mean it’s been easy.

Even though worry still lines his features and terror lurks in the shadows of his eyes, he flashes me a smile. “Your time is coming, Apostle. I know why you haven’t pushed her, and it was the right thing to do. It’ll pay off; don’t give up on your woman just yet.”

“Never,” I vow, meaning it to the depths of my soul.