Chapter 1

Dart

I suspect I’m not alone in disliking hospitals with a vengeance. First off, it’s the smell, that odour of disinfectant that permeates the air and from which there seems no escape. It invades everything you’re wearing, so no matter what you do it’s impossible to shake the aroma that lingers even when you leave. Pain, sickness, and death are all around, and whether or not any effort’s been made to brighten up the décor, it does little to help raise your mood.

Of course, it’s better to be here as a visitor rather than an inmate, but that brings its own challenges, particularly when the patient I’ve come to see is very inaptly named. Heart could more properly be called an ‘impatient’, fed up of being confined to his bed, and visibly suffering under the burden of the news that was delivered to him shortly after he regained consciousness. He’d been in a coma for almost a month.

It’s not particularly easy visiting with a man of action who’s used to being out riding his bike but is now immobilised with one leg badly smashed up and broken ribs. Couple that with someone who has been told he’s lost his wife, and you’ve got one angry, devastated man whose emotions swing constantly like a pendulum. My club, the Satan’s Devils MC is determined never to leave him on his own, even if spending time with him is becoming an increasingly uncomfortable and soul-destroying task.

Tonight I’ve drawn what’s become known as the short straw, and it’s my turn to keep him company for a while. As I exit the elevator on his floor, I’m mentally trying to prepare myself for the ordeal ahead. Don’t get me wrong, I love Heart like a true brother, and not just in the club sense. We’d joined at the same time, prospected together, and formed a strong bond while we were having all manner of shit thrown at us. But now he’s changed. Oh, he doesn’t look or sound any different, it’s just he’s not the same man that he was before the accident. Last time I was here I barely recognised him.

I rap gently on the door and, as Beef steps out, ask in a low voice, “How is he today?” while hoping against hope I’ll be told there’s some improvement. I’m not asking for a medical update, his body’s healing alright, it’s his mind that’s still got a long way to go.

Beef shakes his head, and I pull back my shoulders, prepared to be disappointed. “Bad, man. The doc’s talkin’ about lettin’ him out at the weekend, but there’s no fuckin’ way he can deal with comin’ back to the clubhouse and Crystal not being there.”

Beef’s words are not unexpected. Nevertheless, I’d hoped to hear different. Closing my eyes, I press my hand against the wall, lowering my forehead to rest on my arm. Fuck, not only has Heart got to cope with his debilitating physical injuries, but his mental anguish on top of everything else.

Just four weeks ago, everything was normal. Heart was riding back from a visit to Tombstone, an enjoyable afternoon out with his old lady, when they were deliberately knocked off their motorcycle. The incident leaving my brother fighting for his life, a battle which proved too much for his wife, losing it on the operating table shortly after being admitted.

They’d had to sedate him when he was first told the news and, as much as I love my brother, I’m grateful I wasn’t the one who had to break it to him and watch him go to pieces. Now, a week later, he’s still not pulled back together. The man behind the door is a different person to the one that set off on that ride with his old lady.

“How we gonna do this, Beef?” On top of his loss, Crystal’s bitch of a mother buried her daughter without waiting for Heart to regain consciousness, taking away his chance to say his final goodbyes. While I’ve never experienced a love like Heart and his old lady had, having seen their relationship from outside in, I know how distressing this must be for my brother.

Beef, named for the fact he looks like a fucking bull, shrugs. “No fuckin’ idea, Brother. Fuck, it’s hard for everyone. We all miss Crystal bein’ around. But Heart? This has darn near destroyed him, man. He loved her so fuckin’ much.”

He did. If ever there was a match made in heaven, it was theirs.

There’s nothing I can say. Sure, we’ve lost brothers before—only this past year we’ve lost Hank, a prospect, and Adam, a fully patched member—but losing a woman we all adored has affected every member of the club in a different way. And it’s so much worse for him. Heart’s not just lost a friend; he’s lost his soul mate. Already I’m wondering if it’s even possible he’ll be able to ever recover. Up to now he’s certainly showing no sign. Beef pats my shoulder, a gesture given in solidarity as though to support me through the hours when I’ll be here. Then he strides off down the corridor in the direction that I’ve just come from, his head hanging low. Visiting with Heart is always depressing.

Taking a breath, and then bracing myself, I enter the room, seeking any change from the last time I was here. There’s not much. Heart’s leg’s still in plaster from his hip to his ankle, but the bandage has been removed from his head. Having been shaven to treat the wound, his blond hair on one side is at last growing back, but short and stubbly, the other side left long. Inanely I wonder whether he’ll get it all shorn off to match, but how his hair is styled is probably the least worry on his mind.

Eased off the pain medication, his eyes for once look sharp and bright as they track my approach, a change from the slightly dazed look he had before. I pick up the chair by the side of the bed and turn it around then sit astride it, my arms leaning on the back, and my chin resting on my hands. Neither of us speak.

When the silence gets too grating, I’m the first to break it. Nodding at the crutches he’s obviously been given to use, I start, “Beef tells me you’ve got your ticket out of here. In a few days you’ll be home, Brother.”

His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. “Home? I ain’t got no fuckin’ home.”

It’s not the first time he’s snarled at me, but I ignore it and remind him, “You’ve got us, your brothers. You’ve got the club…”

“What’s the point of the fuckin’ club when I ain’t got no ol’ lady.”

“You’ve got yer kid.” Yeah, he’s got a three-year-old daughter, Amy, who he’s consistently refused to see.

“She’s better off without me. Fuck, let her gramma have ‘er. She wants her.”

We haven’t told Heart the whole story, it’s too much for him to handle in the state he’s in now. But yeah, he’s right. Crystal’s mother wanted the kid, but only to sell her to pay off her debts. She’d started the ball rolling that ended with their accident. It’s only the fact we don’t take out women easily that she’s still breathing air. And I won’t be alone in hoping she gets hold of some bad shit, or overdoses and removes the problem herself. All we’ve said to him is that she’s entirely unsuitable to look after a young child. He’s got too much to deal with without adding that information just yet.

But I emphasise what’s already been explained. “Heart, she’s so into the shit she can’t even look after herself.” Yeah, she owed people for the crap she injects into her veins.

“Well, let the kid stay with the prez and his ol’ lady. They seem to have taken to her.” We’ve all noticed he doesn’t even use the child’s name. And yup, Drummer and Sam have been looking after her, and well. But, “She needs her dad.”

Heart sneers and looks down at himself. “Ain’t no fuckin’ good to anyone like this.”

I don’t remind him she won’t care, that she just needs to know one of her parents is still there for her, whatever shape he’s in. All of us have tried, but Amy, the spitting image of her mother, is the one person he won’t allow into his room. I keep my mouth buttoned up and my thoughts to myself. Better people than me have tried to persuade him. When he’s home it will be different.

Pulling a brochure out of my cut, I try to interest him in something else. “Club’s replacin’ your bike. We’ve voted to get you a new model. Want to have a look at what you could get? Don’t know about you, but the new Low Rider looks fuckin’ ace to me.” His own was totalled as a result of the crash.

But he’s closed his eyes and turned his head, pretending to sleep. I end up flipping through the pages by myself. It’s par for the course. Heart’s hurting so badly he just lives in his head, unable to move past what he’s lost and get on with his life. If neither the thought of his daughter or getting a new bike can start bringing him out of his fugue, then I’ve no fucking idea how to get through to him.

A gentle tapping at the door gets my attention, and I look up to see an unwelcome but familiar face entering. It’s the fucking heat, one of the detectives who have been buzzing around Heart’s accident. Detective Hannah. Her erstwhile dirty partner, Archer, is long dead. Not that she has that intel yet, all she knows is that he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.

I nod at her, and pretend to look past her into the empty corridor. “Detective. On your own today?” I hide my smirk. Oh, we’ve solved the mystery of who ran Heart and Crystal off the road. Archer admitted it himself. But that secret we’re keeping close for obvious reasons, including that Slick shot off his dick before our Vegas brother cut his throat. The cops won’t be finding a body either, Slick made sure of that. Just a few charred pieces of bone, which will take them time to put back together.

“Detective Archer is unavailable,” Hannah says tightly.

Oh, he definitely is.

The new voice has disturbed Heart. He stirs, opens his eyes, and impassively regards the detective. From his expression, I take it they’ve met before and that he’s not particularly pleased to see her.

Hannah’s viewing him just as intently. She clears her throat. “How are you today, Mr Norman?”

“The name’s Heart,” he growls. “And how d’ya fuckin’ think I’m doin’?” He sneers as his left hand indicates his plastered leg. Painfully he goes to pull himself up. I go to help, knowing his wincing comes from his broken ribs that are still healing, but he waves off my assistance, grimacing through the pain. I push the button for his pain meds closer to his hand, but he ignores it.

Hannah takes a step closer. “I need to know if you’ve remembered anything more about the accident?”

Accident? Murder more like.

Heart touches his hand to his head. “Can’t remember fuck all as I’ve told ya already. Last fuckin’ thing I remember was ridin’ back from Tucson with my ol’ lady ridin’ bitch behind me.” It’s impossible to miss the moisture gathering at the corner of his eye.

“What have you discovered so far, Detective?” I probe. It would be useful for the club to know how far they’ve got.

She looks from my brother to me. Heart doesn’t seem at all interested. Even when we explained what had happened and that the man who caused Crystal’s death has been dispatched to meet Satan, he seemed to focus on the loss of his wife rather than the punishment meted out to the perpetrator.

Just when I don’t think she’s going to speak, she sighs. “We’ve tracked the vehicle down to a rental agency, seems the person who rented it used a fake name and papers.”

Doesn’t surprise me. The Herreras, the crime family in Tucson to which Archer had a distant connection, wouldn’t find it difficult to create a false identity.

“Oh, and we found the vehicle. Burned out.”

“No evidence?” I ask, hoping that Archer had left fingerprints. We all know, and that includes the detective in front of me, that he was a dirty cop, but proving his involvement in what happened to Heart is going to be impossible. He’d only admitted it to us. And then we made sure he wouldn’t be saying anything at all.

The detective shakes her head. “No. No fingerprints.” When I think she’s finished, she continues, “But we got a description from the rental agency.”

And then she clams up. It would be to our benefit if they find evidence it was Archer. Perhaps knowing his culpability, they wouldn’t be too concerned when they eventually identify what’s left of his body. Literally burying a cop on the make would be easier than going through the rigmarole of taking him through the courts.

Hannah tilts her head to one side, and once again tries to engage Heart. “I’m pleased to see you conscious. I hear you’re going to make a full recovery. I expect you’re looking forward to being with your daughter again.”

Oh fuck. She did not just go there, did she?

Gasping, Heart leans forward and points a shaky hand toward her. “Pig, I suggest you stay out of my fuckin’ business. Your job’s findin’ out who killed my fuckin’ wife, and you can keep your filthy nose away from anythin’ else.”

For a moment she looks taken aback, and then a fleeting look of sympathy comes over her face. “I’ll keep you informed as to what progress we’re making.” As Heart gently lies himself back, unable to escape the groan of pain, she gives a stiff nod, then turns and walks out of the door.

“Fuckin’ cops,” Heart grumbles, and closes his eyes once again.

After a while, gentle snores begin showing that this time he’s dozed off for real. I try to make myself as comfortable as I can on the hard chair, and think about Hannah’s visit, smiling to myself as I realise this is one of the few times that a brother’s actually told the police all he knows. We’ve asked him ourselves, but he really has no recollection of the Ford F-250 hitting his bike. Can’t recall seeing it at all. His last memory is of Crystal’s arms wrapped around him, speeding along an open road. That he has no recollection of seeing her broken body on the ground has got to be better than remembering everything and reliving it over and over again in his nightmares. He must have fought hard but been unable to prevent the bike leaving the freeway, and I can only imagine the panic and fear he would have felt. Thank God for small fucking mercies that he’s got no memories at all. I hope the detail never comes back.

Eight hours later, and Blade’s entrance marks the end of my shift. Heart being asleep meant the time had passed with no further conversation. My muscles feeling seized, I stand and stretch, then give our enforcer a similar update to the one Beef had supplied to me, and we exchange sorry shakes of our heads. I update him on Hannah’s visit, and once that’s completed, at last I’m free to leave. While we’re all elated to see Heart physically improving, I walk out just like Beef had done after spending time with him, head down and dejected.

Outside the autumn sun is shining, a pleasant temperature, not as harsh as it is in mid-summer. Monsoon season has passed, making it one of my favourite seasons to ride. Starting the engine, I point my bike towards the clubhouse, more than ready to go home, using the miles and the time to give the breeze a chance to clear sombre thoughts from my head and the condition of my injured brother from my mind. But when I arrive at the clubhouse, where I’ve been is obviously written on my face. It’s an expression we all seem to wear when we come back from visiting Heart.

Drummer, our president, standing at the bar, notices and waves me over. Jekyll, one of our prospects, puts a beer into my hand. After a quick look at me, Drum nods to the top shelf where his best whisky is kept. Declining ice with a shudder, but grateful to have something stronger, I pick up the shot glass, knocking the spirit back in a couple of swallows.

“How is he today? Any mention of Amy?”

Sadly, I explain, “I tried, Prez, but he’s adamant he won’t see her. Fuckin’ shame for the kid. She doin’ okay?”

Drum turns and points to where his pregnant old lady, Sam, is playing with the little girl. “Kids are resilient, she’s settlin’ in with us fine. But she needs her father. And Heart needs to see her.”

That he does.

“Hannah came sniffin’ around.”

“Oh? She got anythin’?”

“Nothin’ at all. ‘Cept they may have a description of the fucker who rented the Ford.”

Drum taps his fingers against the bar. “Could be interestin’ if that matches Archer. ‘Bout time they put the clues together.”

I nod. My thoughts exactly. “We gonna make a move on Clyde? Heart still doesn’t know she’s a problem.” Susie Clyde was Crystal’s mother, and as far as I’m concerned should be in the ground for her sins.

“Want Heart to be part of that decision. We’ll set him straight on what she did when he’s in a better state of mind.”

I suppose that’s the right thing to do. Turning around, I survey the room, freshly painted and with all new furniture. There’s no doubt it’s freshened the place up, but the reason for the redecoration is something else that fucker Archer was responsible for, he and his cop friends had destroyed the place using a trumped-up search warrant. As I’m glancing around, I see the sweet butts are just coming in, and a good fuck might be just what I need to clear the last few hours from my mind. I nudge the prez and indicate Paige. “Think I’m gonna give her a try.” She’s been here a couple of months now, but to date I’ve not been with her.

His sympathetic eyes meet mine, and he gives a quick nod. “Yeah, go get laid, Dart.”

He turns back to take a sip of his drink and I wonder how he deals with his pent-up emotions now he’s restricted himself to an old lady. Sure, the fucking’s probably good, but having no variety? My eyes fall on the other new girl, Diva. I’ve already seen they’re both up for threesomes. Having two girls service me tonight will surely bring me out of this funk that I’m in. Drummer used to be up for multiple partners before he tied himself down.

Before I move off, having gestured toward the girls I’ve chosen and received their eager nods in response, I ask him, “How can you cope with having just one pussy, Prez?”

He swings around and a smile comes to his lips. “Ain’t the hardship you’re thinkin’, Dart. One day you’ll find the one, and she’ll be so good that you’ll never want your cock to go anywhere else.”

I laugh, and shake my head so violently my long hair comes loose from my bun. “Ain’t no one girl alive could satisfy me, Drum.”

His lips remain curved as he replies, “Perhaps you just haven’t found the right one yet.” He pauses and points around the room, indicating the whores ready and waiting. “There are girls you fuck, and girls you make an ol’ lady.”

I chuckle, not persuaded in the least. I’m still moving my head left to right in negative dismissal as I walk away, going over to the Paige and Diva, who stand and enthusiastically link their arms with mine. Within moments we’re in one of the crash rooms, clothes scattered over the floor, and I’m lying flat on the bed while Diva sucks my cock into her talented mouth and Paige sits on my face. God, this is the life!

Tomorrow I could go with another of the club girls, or perhaps one of the hangarounds who come to our parties. A different experience every night. No siree, I’m never going to find a woman who’s got everything I want in one package. Uh uh.

After I’ve come in Diva’s mouth and in Paige’s cunt, I’m totally drained. Having ensured both girls have been satisfied, I send them away and, too tired to go up to my suite, settle down to sleep where I am.

My last thoughts before my eyes close return to Heart. When we thought we were going to lose him, it wasn’t only me who felt the loss, he is my best friend after all. It affected us all, and some of the soul went out of the club. Heart was our conscience. Heart was a lover, a peacemaker, though he’d fight alongside any brother when needed.

Heart, Crystal, and Amy were our resident family, their love for each other making all of us smile, cheering us up on the darkest of days. When he came round, I thought at least we now had him back. Damaged for certain, that was a given, it’s hard for anyone to deal with the devastation that comes with losing a mate. But what none of us expected was he’d be totally broken.

That man in the hospital bed? I don’t know him at all.