Chapter 35

Darcy

They get you up early in the hospital. Waking you even if you’re asleep. I’ve no idea why. Surely rest helps while you’re healing? But no, they seem to work to a different time frame than everybody else.

The physiotherapist has just left me, when there’s a knock on my door. I open my mouth but don’t have time to get out any words before Peg comes barrelling in. He’s got a huge great grin on his face and, crossing to my bed, thrusts a newspaper at me which my hands take automatically.

Too impatient to wait, he takes it from me again, turning it so it’s the right way, then hands it back with the front page facing up.

SATAN’S DEVILS ADOPT OLD LADY – REPORTS OF KIDNAPPING FAKE NEWS

A few days ago, based on information from Samuel Jones, 64, we published a report of the kidnapping and forced imprisonment of his mother, Mary Jones, 93, by the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club. To tell her side of the story, Mary Jones invited this reporter to visit her at the compound.

As the recent Snake Fire swept down the mountains, Mary Jones was alone with her great-granddaughter, Sarah Jones, 21. Sarah had been staying, looking after Mary, who was bedridden, but was unable to get her in and out of a wheelchair. When the phones went out, they couldn’t leave and had no way of summoning help. Sarah refused to leave her great-grandmother, and both were in the direct path of the fire.

Forgotten by the authorities and by her son, Samuel Jones, who lives in Phoenix, the women were all on their own. Remembered only by members of the Satan’s Devils MC. Twelve years ago, Mary had complained bitterly about their presence when they first arrived at their compound, expecting drugs, guns, murder, and mayhem to become rife in the area. In fact, she’d heard nothing untoward from the compound during those twelve years. Until they decided to check on their neighbour to make sure she had evacuated.

On finding Mary and Sarah helpless and trapped in the direct path of the fire, the bikers came to their rescue, taking them to their compound. Mary soon found (as I did when I visited) that it was nothing like she had imagined. Families with children were present—in fact, twins were delivered in the height of the fire by firefighters. The bikers used bad language but were always polite around her and her great-granddaughter. There were a few scantily-clad women, but none held by force. Mary rewarded their generosity by sharing her favourite recipes with them. After years of being bedridden, these strong men had no difficulty helping her use the wheelchair, and, as Mary says, can’t do enough to help her.

When word came that her house had been burned to the ground, the bikers offered her and Sarah a permanent home, which she accepted, preferring the young company instead of going, as her son had suggested, to a retirement home. In Mary’s words, it was her son who wanted to force her to live somewhere she didn’t want to, not the Satan’s Devils MC.

Mary hasn’t seen stocks of weapons, drugs, or any nefarious behaviour and has become affectionately known as ‘Ma’.

Take a second to rethink of your opinion of one of Tucson’s most notorious biker clubs and compare it with their neighbourly behaviour. The Satan’s Devils MC admit they’ve got a past they’re working hard to convince people they’ve left far behind, and part of that proof comes in the form of their hospitality shown to Mary Jones. I think after hearing her story, we’d all like the Satan’s Devils looking out for us.

I, for one, was grateful to be allowed a glimpse into the life of a real-life MC. If it wasn’t for the fact I don’t ride a motorcycle, would think of joining them myself.

Samuel Jones was not available for comment.

I put the paper down, staring at the headline, then look up at Peg. “Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “When that old lady goes to bat she doesn’t hold back, does she? She’s dropped her selfish son right in it.”

“She has,” he agrees. “That she has.”

After a quick glance at him, I look down at the paper again. A flicker of hope burns in my heart. “This might change everything.”

When I look at him again, a pained look crosses his face, and suddenly I feel guilty. He told me he’d leave his club, but I never reciprocated by saying he was more important to me than my job. Now I feel the need to explain. “Peg. If you left the club, you wouldn’t be the same person. And if I left the fire service, I’d feel a part of me was missing. We might make it work, but it’s one hell of a risk. We could end up hating each other.”

My head still turned down, I peer through my eyelashes to see him slowly nodding his head. “I can see why you think you’re right. But for my part, what I feel about you trumps anything about where we live and our jobs.”

But there’s more to it than just our careers. “I might never be the same again, Peg. After Pete…” I don’t need to elucidate.

“I’ll help you to try. We’ll work on everything together, darlin’. If you just give us a chance.”

From the moment he’d walked into the room, I’d felt protected, the continual fear at the back of my mind that Pete might try to get to me, even here, disappearing. A calm I don’t feel with other people, even Truck. Peg would give his life to keep me safe. As his words wash over me, his resonant voice breaks my resolve. “What do you want me to say, Peg?” I whisper.

“I want you to say that you’ll give up on the idea of fuckin’ Truck stayin’ with you. I want you to come back to the club when you’re released from here. I want to know you’re okay and protected twenty-four hours a day so that motherfucker can’t get anywhere near you. I want to hold you in my arms at night, to know you’re alright.” His words, the tone he uses, are almost hypnotic. The picture he’s painting is sounding so attractive.

Biting my lip to stop myself blurting out, yes, I try to make him understand. “Pete hurt me.”

He immediately knows I don’t mean the pain that came from getting shot. “I know that, darlin’. And trust me, I’ll take it so easy. I’ll never go further than what you want. You’re in charge, and if you’re never ready, well, that’ll be alright, as I’ll have the woman I love beside me, in my life and, when you’ve healed fully, on the back of my bike.”

A half smile plays at my lips. “On your bike, eh?”

“Back of my bike,” he corrects.

“Oh yeah? And what if I wanted one for myself?”

He takes a step closer and touches my hand. When I don’t flinch away, he wraps his fingers around mine. “Flash, babe, you must know by now, I’ll do what I can to give you the moon, if that’s what you’d fuckin’ like.”

Deep down, I know that. I can’t give up someone who thinks so much of me and I know I can believe him when he says he’ll wait. “Peg?”

“What darlin’?”

“Will, will you hold me?”

He perches on the side of the bed, and carefully, oh so gently, puts first one arm across me, curling behind my left shoulder. Then his other hand curls without tightening around the back of my neck, then he rests his head down to touch mine. It’s not suffocating, it doesn’t feel like a trap springing shut. He seems to know just how much I can take. “I’ll always hold you, darlin’. I’ll always be there when you need me. I hate that I wasn’t there when it mattered…”

“It was my fault, Peg. I should have stayed and talked. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left.”

His hand moves from my shoulder, and his fingertips push my chin up. “The days you spent fighting the fire, the birth of the twins. It all added up. I don’t blame you for leavin’, and the only person whose fault this all is, is Mercer.”

“Are the police going to get him, Peg?”

“That was the other thing I had to tell you. His alibi was false, and I’m trying to persuade the woman who said he was with her to come forward.”

“You won’t hurt her, will you?”

“Nah, sweetheart. In fact, we’re doing something to help her. She’s caught in one of Pete’s traps too.”

“Peg?”

“What, darlin’?”

I search my mind, but already know I’m doing the right thing when I tell him, “I’ll come back to the compound.”

His head goes back, and he closes his eyes. Tiny changes in the way he’s holding himself show the tension leaving his body. His physical reaction to the news more stunning than his words. “Flash, I’m going to make it my life’s work to ensure you never regret it.”

Saturday morning sees me being wheeled in a chair to the hospital entrance with my man walking alongside me. It’s strange to be out in the big wide world again after being cooped up for so long, and the wide-open space of the parking lot suddenly makes me feel exposed. I hang onto Peg’s arm. He pats my hand reassuringly, knowing without me telling him how vulnerable I feel. His touch immediately reassures me. Pete won’t get near me if Peg’s here.

The journey back to the compound makes me grit my teeth. However carefully Peg’s driving, the slightest turn or bump pulls at the tender, only just starting to heal muscle in my stomach. The doctors have warned me, getting a muscle to knit back together can take longer than the healing of a broken bone. My foot will be out of the cast within the next month, but my other bullet wound just needs care and time.

The track to the compound is the worst, and I’m unable to suppress the gasp which comes out of my mouth.

“Almost there, sweetheart.”

At last we arrive. As Peg stops the truck in front of the clubhouse, I lean my head back with relief and wait for the pain to subside, remembering last time I was here smoke was billowing around and fire raging down from the mountains. Now all’s quiet except for a Harley engine being revved at their auto shop down at the entrance.

“Swing your legs out.”

As I do what Peg suggests, his strong arms hold me until my feet are on the ground.

“Want to go to the clubhouse, or up to the suite for a while?”

“Clubroom,” I say with determination. I’ve had enough of lying down and being treated like an invalid.

To my surprise, as I hop with my crutch through the door Peg’s holding open for me, I see a banner stretched over the bar, and remember that Heart’s even now collecting Marcia and the babies and bringing them back today. The ‘Welcome Home’ banner must be for them. That explains the bikers and old ladies milling around, clearly waiting to greet them. But to my surprise, they all stop what they’re doing, the room goes silent as conversations cease, and suddenly, everyone’s looking at me. There, at the end of the bar, I see familiar faces. Slade, Hammer, and Truck. I acknowledge them with a little bemused wave of my hand.

I’m still stunned when Drummer steps forward, the president himself. “Welcome home, Darcy.”

I go wide-eyed. Surely the welcome hasn’t been arranged for me?

He sees my confusion. “You’re a bit of a hero here. Fightin’ the fire and deliverin’ Marcia’s babies.”

I don’t feel heroic in the least. Not after what happened with Pete. “I didn’t do any of it alone. I only helped…” I wave toward my crew. “Hammer did most with Marcia’s delivery, and we were all out there fighting the fire.”

“You’re a fuckin’ brave woman.” Peg dismisses my objections. “And everyone here wants to say thank you.”

“I doubt you’re up to a full-on party.” Sam comes to stand by Drummer’s side. “But we’ve got food made up if you’re hungry. And my old man’s right, we feel we owe a lot to you, and your crew.”

Murmurs of agreement come from all corners of the room, and a few of the bikers shout various things, like, ‘Welcome home, Flash’ and ‘Too fuckin’ right’.

My eyes are watering, I put it down to still being weak.

“Hey, come sit down.” Peg disengages from me as Sam takes my hand and leads me across to a couch. “Shall I get you a plate?”

Mouth-watering smells are coming from the kitchen, and having greeted me, the bikers have wandered off and are returning with filled plates. “Please, Sam. But not too much.”

Peg comes and sits beside me, and as the couch dips under his weight, the action pulls at my stomach muscles again. Reaching into his cut, he pulls out my painkillers and passes them to me, then hails Fergus and asks him to get me a soda.

Slade comes over and pulls up a chair. “Glad to be out of the hospital, Flash?”

“Absolutely. And I can’t wait to get back to work.”

“Don’t rush it,” he warns. “Make sure you’re one hundred percent before you come back. ‘Cause I won’t be taking it easy on you just because you got shot.”

That makes me laugh, as it was supposed to and suddenly the world rights itself. When Hammer joins us, I ask about the calls they’ve been on, talking shop with Peg’s arm casually lying over my shoulder. He’s not contributing, just showing an interest in what’s been going on.

I’m surprised Truck hasn’t come to talk to me but looking across the room I see him deep in conversation with Wraith and Drummer. But I don’t have long to wonder what they have to discuss as the clubroom door opens, and Marcia and Heart enter, each carrying one of their twins. Hammer looks at me and grins, and we enjoy a shared moment, flashbacks to when those children were born.