Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,3

him to show me around?”

Drummer grins. “Yeah. You’re just passing and thought you’d be friendly, stop in and say hi.”

“You sending me as a nomad?”

He raises his chin toward me. “No official role. Just a brother taking it slow as he heals up. While you’re there, you listen, learn and report back.”

“Prez,” I choose my words carefully. “Are you sure I’m the right person? I know my limitations. Give me a bike and I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. Show me a puzzle, and I’ll not see what part’s out of place. Can you give me a clue as to the kind of shit you want me to look out for?”

His eyes pierce me again. “Don’t put yourself down, Road,” he snaps. “When you were a bouncer at the strip club, you showed initiative. Wouldn’t have made you the manager if you hadn’t done that. Since then, you’ve increased the takings, got the books straight so Dollar has no complaints. You might not have a fancy degree or much schooling, but life has shaped you well. I have no problem sending you out to be my eyes and ears.”

I reckon it’s more that most other brothers have old ladies and children, and wouldn’t want to go. But I’ll take his words at face value. Maybe others have already turned him down.

“As to what to look out for, I can’t help you there. But you know how this club runs. Just look out for anything different to the ordinary. Sometimes,” he shrugs, “it’s hard to say. But when I speak to Snatcher, it almost seems too rosy in that part of the woods.”

“You think they might be into something illegal?”

Another rise and fall of his shoulders. “I’d say no and feel it’s unlikely. But that’s for you to find out, and then, for me to know.”

This is not just going to be a simple visit to another chapter, such as when I’ve visited Red’s chapter in Vegas, or Demon’s in Colorado when I’d ridden up to see Beef. It might be a chance to socialise and have a drink with a new set of brothers, but it looks like my role is more of a spy. Hmm.

“Road?” Drummer gets my attention. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Snatcher doesn’t give me that vibe. Not questioning his loyalty. Not going to forget he lost Thumper in Colorado. I just want something to put my gut at rest. If I thought it was going to be dangerous, I’d not send you on your own.”

If he’s done nothing else, he’s given me something to think about which doesn’t revolve around my lost sport. Feeling more lighthearted, I raise my eyebrow. “You sure I can’t just get you some Pepto-Bismol?”

Drummer snorts. “Get out of here, Road.”

2

Road…

The Satan’s Devils are loyal supporters of American-built bikes, with the vast majority riding Harleys, though there are a few Indians dotted around the other chapters. Despite my vast experience of riding and having my own trial bike on which I’d already won competitions, they only let me join as a prospect on the condition that I got myself what to them was a proper bike.

Of course, I kept my off-road bike, but bought myself an old Harley. Apart from the difference in weight and that I couldn’t ride it on tracks, I soon settled to the relative comfort. It had two wheels, and I wasn’t confined like I’d be in a cage, so what was there not to like about it? The benefit was admission to the Satan’s Devils MC and the ready-made family I was fast accepted as a part of.

After my prospecting time was done and I’d become a full member, the extra money in my paycheck and no living expenses, as I lived at the club, meant I could trade in my road-legal bike for a real trials model. One for which things like lights and indicators were sacrificed to make it as fast and manoeuvrable as possible. I also, recently, upgraded my Harley to a more reliable and newer version. The seat is soft, padded, and probably to compensate for the discomfort of the trials bike, I’d gone for all the comforts of a tourer. A perfect bike for the five hundred and fifty miles I needed to go.

I’ve done twenty-four-hour endurance races. An eight-hour ride would normally be nothing to me, but even despite the comfort of the Harley, now riding for long distances with my leg in the same position