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Demon
Demon walked into Savage Hell and looked around. If he didn’t find Savage, he was sure that all hell was going to break loose and that was the last thing that he needed. It had already been a shittastic week, and now this.
“You look lost,” Bowie said from behind the bar. If anyone would know where Savage was, it would be his husband, Bowie. “You need a beer?” he asked.
“Beer’s not going to cut it,” Demon admitted. “You have anything stronger?”
“Well, you know that Savage keeps the good stuff back in his office. Should I go back and get it?” Bowie asked.
“Is he back there?” Demon asked, nodding to the back of the bar.
“He is, but I have to warn you, he’s not in a good mood. He’s probably already hitting up the good stuff, and you know how misery loves company, right?” He had to admit, he was already pretty damn miserable himself.
“I’m not sure which one of us will be misery and which will be company, but I’ll take my chances,” Demon said.
“It’s your funeral, man,” Bowie teased. He gave Demon a mock salute and shook his head at him. Demon had no other choice in the matter. He needed to talk to Savage about the shitstorm that was about to hit the Royal Bastards. His Prez had a right to know about it before it happened.
Demon knocked on the closed office door, not sure how he was going to even get the words out. Every time he thought about it, he wanted to punch something, and he had a feeling that Savage was going to feel the same way.
“I told you that I need some time, Bowie,” Savage growled. “Leave me the fuck alone and I’ll come to you when I’m ready to talk.” Well, shit, Bowie wasn’t completely truthful with him when he said that Savage was in a bad mood. He was in a fucking awful mood, and it had to do with a domestic issue that he was walking into the middle of.
“It’s not Bowie, man,” he shouted back, “it’s Demon and we need to talk.” Savage slurred together a string of curses on the other side of the door and Demon wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or haul ass out of there for his own self-preservation. But this news couldn’t wait—he knew it and walking into that office was the only way to make sure that nothing else happened to any of their members or their women.
Savage pulled open his office door, his expression murderous, and he waved Demon in. “This better be good,” he warned.
“It is,” Demon promised. “We have trouble and I need to know how you want me to handle it.”
“Shit, Demon,” Savage grumbled. “I already have enough damn trouble, what now?”
“You might want to take another drink of that and have a seat, boss,” Demon said, nodding to the open bottle of whiskey on his desk.
Savage grabbed down two shot glasses and poured them each a drink. “You look like you could use this too,” he said, handing it over to him.
“Thanks, man,” Demon said. “I could use more than just this, but it’s a start.”
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Savage asked. He didn’t. Hell, Demon didn’t even want to think about what had happened, but there would be no denying it once the local press got ahold of it.
“I got a call from the new guy, Joel,” he said. “You know he’s a cop, right?” he asked. It was a stupid question. Savage knew everything that there was to know about each of their patched members. He was the club’s Prez, and it was his job to be in everyone’s business.
Savage shrugged, “Sure,” he said, “what about him?”
“Well, he gave me a head’s up that one of the guys was found dead on the side of route 72,” Demon said.
“Shit—who was it?” Savage asked. “And why wasn’t I called in first?”
“Because Joel knows what I do for the club. He knew that I’d need to be called in to take a look at the scene, under the radar, before he called it in. It was Spider,” he breathed. He could still see the guy laying in the ditch every damn time that he closed his fucking eyes. It was something that he’d never be able to forget, no matter how much he drank trying to do just that.
“Fuck,” Savage shouted. “He just got out of prison. What the hell happened? Was it a bike accident?”
“No,” Demon said. “It wasn’t an accident. It was murder and his bike was nowhere to be found. Whoever killed him did it someplace else and then dumped his body in the ditch on the side of the road.”
“Does Joel know who did it?” Savage asked.
“Not officially, but this was tossed on top of the body.” He handed Savage a patch that said, “Ghost” across it. He knew that they were involved, he just had no idea what they wanted and what Spider had to do with any of it.
“The fucking Ghosts did this?” Savage asked.
“There’s more,” Demon said.
