Heart Mended: A Satan's Devils MC Novella Read online

  Copyright

  Published 2019 by Trish Haill Associates

  Copyright Manda Mellett

  This book was first published as part of the Anthology Escaping the Shadows.

  Cover Design by Wicked Smart Designs

  Original editor - Maria Lazarou

  Re-edited and Formatted by Maggie Kern @ Ms.K Edits

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book reviews.

  www.mandamellett.com

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Warning

  This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual, abusive and violent nature. It is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.

  Author’s Note

  I had been invited to write a short story for an anthology, the theme was to be male depression. I had no idea where to start—I’m not known for writing short stories.

  When I’d written Heart Broken, I’d been with Heart every step of his journey, helping him recover as much as he could from the loss of his wife. It occurred to me that while Heart had found his new HEA, he hadn’t achieved closure.

  An image came into my mind of him visiting Crystal’s grave for the first time, and the story unravelled from there.

  Writing that scene gave me goosebumps, poignant but happy at the same time.

  I hope, like me, you enjoyed revisiting Heart and Marc’s story.

  Blurb

  Heart Mended

  Three years ago Heart’s wife, Crystal, died, taking his heart and soul to the grave with her. He thought he couldn’t live without her, he certainly would never replace her.

  No matter how hard he tried to join her, someone kept him alive. Someone who he managed to find space for alongside Crystal in his heart. He could love her, but he’d never put a ring on her finger. That was reserved for his first love. Marc would be his old lady, but never his wife.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Reading Order

  Other Works by Manda Mellett

  Stay in Touch

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Heart. Heart. Wake up.” I feel someone shaking my shoulder. Hard.

  “Come on, babe. You’re dreaming.”

  Jeez. Coming to with a start, feeling my body clammy with sweat, I realise she’s not wrong. It hadn’t been so much of a dream though, far better described as a fucking nightmare. My lungs are heaving as if I’d run a marathon.

  Though now awake, the horrors that have just been disturbing my sleep still paint such a vivid picture in my mind. I can feel and taste the residual fear. I’m both hot and cold at the same time, with goosebumps on my skin and shivers running down my spine.

  Fuck.

  Recently, the night terrors had been lessening, in both intensity and frequency. Something must have triggered me to have one tonight, bringing back the terror I’d felt, making me live it all over again.

  Fifteen months ago, Marc, my old lady, had gone into labour while the compound had been surrounded by a wildfire. Flames rushing toward us, fanned by a wind so strong there had been no way of getting her out, and those babies weren’t going to wait. In my nightmare I lose everything. Are your senses supposed to come alive in dreams? I swear mine do. I feel the heat of the fire, smell, even taste the acrid smoke and see my old lady lying dead at my feet, hearing myself scream.

  The reality, though, had a happy ending. A medic with the fire crews had helped her birth both our twins safely, the wind dropping sufficiently for them all to be taken out by helicopter shortly after. In my head though, I can’t stop thinking of how it could have gone so terribly wrong—the fire overcoming us or Marc dying from complications, losing one or both of the twins. It haunts me in the dead of the night, what could have been, holding me in their thrall, not allowing me to escape.

  My arm goes around her, pulling her to me. Holding onto her tightly as I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the perfume that’s uniquely hers, needing to convince myself she’s really here.

  “Marc, if I lost you…” My voice breaks and I’m unable to complete my sentence.

  “I’m here, Heart. That’s all I can promise you, babe. I’m here right now.”

  That she doesn’t offer a guarantee she might not be able to fulfil is understandable. Both of us have seen loss in our lives. My wife had been killed, murdered. Marc’s whole family wiped out in front of her eyes, courtesy of a drunk driver. What lessons it’s taught me is that nothing is forever. When you least expect it, your life can be turned on its head, everything gone in a blink of an eye. Does it make me hold on to my woman and kids more firmly? To want never to let them out of my sight? Fuck, yes it does. Going through such pain again would kill me.

  I hear a whimper, quiet at first, then increasing in volume.

  “That’ll be Jacob,” Marc whispers, already sliding out of bed.

  As the cry is joined by another, I smile in the darkness.

  “There goes Isabel.” It’s par for the course for one to wake the other up.

  A quick peck is placed on my cheek. “Go back to sleep, Heart. I’ve got this.”

  Instead, I swing my legs off the side of the bed and follow her into the twins’ room, not wanting to slide back into my nightmare again, relishing more the thought of enjoying the reality I have for now. My woman—not my wife, she’ll never be that—and the children we created together.

  Going to the cots placed side by side, she picks up Jacob, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. His mother’s touch seeming to soothe him, he settles and quiets as she takes him to the changing mat. Isabel’s cries are increasing in volume. I go to my daughter, pacifier in hand. It hadn’t taken long to discover it would take more than a cuddle to soothe her. Peace having at last descended, I take her to the second changing mat.

  We work comfortably side by side. Once the babies are in clean diapers, I keep them amused while Marc heats up two bottles of milk, then wait until Marc has Jacob settled, before placing Isabel in the crook of her free arm. I stand back, admiring my woman as she feeds both twins at the same time.

  Could there ever be a more beautiful sight in the world?

  My dream comes back to me. The thought I could have lost her, all of them, almost brings me to my knees.

  “Daddy.”

  Raising my eyebrow toward Marc and sighing, I glance at the clock. Yeah, morning has come already for Amy, my, our, six-year-old daughter. No chance she’ll be going back to sleep now.

  Our door is already cracked open in case Amy needs us in the night. It’s only two steps to her room and I pause on the threshold. Grunt, that fucking puppy Marc adopted two years ago, is lying peacefully on Amy’s bed. As I often do, I shake my head while I watch him. He’d looked small enough at first, then when he started to sprout, my brothers began placing bets as to how big he was going to grow. I’m just hoping like fuck he’s stopped now. Whatever else is in his makeup, the wolfhound part seems to have won out.

  “Grunt wants to go potty,” Amy tells me, her little face pouting. “He woke me, Daddy.”

  I rather suspect it was the other way around. Grunt, once his eyes have closed, sleeps like the dead. My suspicions are confirmed when she asks, hopefully,
“Can we take him for a walk?”

  Amy loves her new siblings, but also enjoys her one-on-one time with me. I can’t deny her. I spent too long apart, lost in my own misery when Crystal, Amy’s mom, my wife, died. Now I appreciate every moment I spend with her. The fact she forgave me so easily, accepted me back into her life, sometimes makes me feel small.

  “Let’s get you up and dressed then, sweetheart. Then we’ll take Grunt out.”

  After telling Marc what we’re doing, it’s only a few minutes later when I step outside the house, Amy and Grunt bouncing along beside me. Grunt sniffs at every bush on the way, then stops to take a dump, just when Peg, the sergeant-at-arms, is walking up. As I take out a black plastic bag and crouch down, the sergeant-at-arms laughs.

  “Fuckin’ dog.”

  Standing, I tie the handles together, wincing as a whiff of shit reaches my nostrils.

  “Come on, you love him, Peg,” I chuckle.

  Peg doesn’t look convinced, but instead of his usual scowl, his lips curve up. He’s a happier bastard now that he’s married and has a young son. His isn’t the only new kid on the compound either. Rock and Becca’s baby was born last month, and Slick and Ella’s shortly before that. With Joker and Lady’s toddler, and Prez and VP’s second children, the club’s become overrun with kids. Even Mouse has gained one, though his is older. When Drew had first come to the compound he’d been on his best behaviour, now he’s found his place, he can be a sulky sixteen-year-old.

  My mouth quirks. I guess I’ve got the dreaded teenage phase coming sooner or later. I can’t complain about the influx of children, not when three of them belong to me. However, it’s certainly changing the dynamic of the Satan’s Devils MC. Not that it’s made us weak, the opposite in fact. We’ve got more to live for and protect. Heaven help anyone who fucks with us.

  “Daddy! It’s Drew!” Amy leaves my side and goes bounding over, stopping shyly just short of the boy/man.

  “Squirt. How you doing?”

  I grin, watching the pair interact. While there is ten years between them, it’s clear Amy already looks up to him. If she were older, perhaps I’d be worrying. I laugh at myself. Plenty of time for her to enjoy her childhood, I won’t be getting out my shotgun just yet.

  Drew raises his chin toward me.

  “You’re here early.” I state. Mouse and his family live off the compound now.

  “Mouse wanted to check out some data. I came in with him.”

  Which isn’t unusual nowadays, Drew seems entranced watching Mouse work his magic with computers.

  “Can you play with me, Drew?”

  “Not now, squirt. Maybe later?” Touching her shoulder briefly, he gives me a mock salute, then walks off.

  “Hey, Heart.” Blade, the enforcer, appears out of the blue and slaps my back hard, almost making me drop the bag full of shit. Swinging around, I threaten to throw it at him. He laughs and jumps back. As I go to throw the offending item into a nearby trash can Amy tugs at his sleeve,

  Blade bends down, listening intently to something Amy says to him, then shakes his head as he stands up. When he walks off chuckling, Amy stares wistfully after him.

  “What’s up?” Amy’s pout makes me wonder what their conversation had been about.

  “I asked if I could be his bridesmaid.”

  I sigh deeply. “Thought we’d been through that. Blade and Tash are getting married quietly, they don’t want any fuss.”

  Clearly it’s hard to explain to a six-year-old girl.

  “Daddy?”

  “Sweetheart?”

  “I can be your bridesmaid when you marry Mommy, can’t I?”

  “Amy, darlin’, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Marc and I aren’t getting married. We’re happy, just as we are, aren’t we?” There’s only room for one wife in my heart, and Crystal owns that place. Amy can’t comprehend it. Blade and Tash’s plans to get hitched seem to have planted weddings in her mind. I saw her last night watching television, some soppy film with a princess bride, and of course her attendants all dressed up. Amy takes after her birth mom, a very girly girl. Wearing frills and lace would certainly appeal to her. Marc, my biker old lady? Nah, not so much.

  As Grunt waters the flowers, Amy skips alongside.

  Marc gets it though, doesn’t she?

  My old lady knows the reasons why I don’t want to say ‘I do’ again. I’ve given her my property patch, that’s enough for her. I’ve shown my commitment without the need for all the legal stuff. She’s got everything she needs, hasn’t she? My love, my children.

  A small hand touches mine, wrapping fingers around it, tugging. I stop walking and look down. Seeing my daughter frowning, I sink to my haunches.

  “What’s up, little one?”

  She points. My eyes follow the line of her finger. Beyond the fence of the compound, the ground is still slightly blackened, evidence of the wildfire that had come so close. New growth is coming through, but the damage can still be seen.

  “Will the fire come again, Daddy? Like the ones on the TV last night?”

  Yeah, there are nasty fires burning in California. Again. I’d changed the channel when I’d seen her watching, but clearly hadn’t been quite quick enough.

  “Hey, short stuff. Don’t worry your head about it, okay? Daddy will keep you safe, I promise. I know the fire was scary, but the firefighters kept it away, didn’t they?”

  Fuck, but that had been hard work. Days I don’t like to remember. When all we did was clear the firebreak and put out small fires caused by burning material blown by the strong winds. Daytime had become night, the roar of the wildfire burning sounding like a freight train. I’m not surprised Amy had been frightened. I’d been scared myself. Especially when, in the midst of it, those twins had decided it was time to enter the world.

  Her lip trembles. “I don’t want our house to burn down.”

  “If fire comes, it comes, sweetheart. We’ll do the same as we did last summer, stop it getting too close, but even if we lost the house, Amy, those are just things. Mommy, Jacob, Isabel, you and me, that’s what’s important to protect. I’ll always keep you safe, you know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  As I reassure my child, I’m sick to my stomach that in the end, I might be powerless to help, just like I’d been when Crystal was murdered.

  “Daddy!” An indignant voice, and a tugging at my hand makes me realise I’ve tightened my fingers around Amy’s a little too much. Releasing my grip, I wish I could hold on to her forever, keep her close and never let her out of my sight.

  It hadn’t always been that way.

  “Come on, little one. Time to get back. Grunt’s had enough exercise for one morning.”

  She reaches up her arms. Amy might be getting older and bigger, but she still loves to be carried by her dad. It’s no effort at all to reach down and sweep her up, marvelling at the trust of a young child.

  She sits on my hip, making no effort to hold on, forcing me to do all the work. My strong arms hold her securely as she leans almost fully back and calls out, “Grunt.”

  The dog bounds over at the sound of her voice.

  “Heart, babe. Thought we’d get breakfast in the clubhouse.”

  Marc’s walking down to meet us, her progress slowed by a clean and fed baby balanced in each of her arms. They’re getting bigger now, and heavier. Both have learned to walk, but mostly prefer the easier mode of transport offered by their mom. Or their dad. Either parent would work.

  “Mommy,” Amy yells excitedly, as though she hadn’t just seen her only minutes before. I smile down into her hair, remembering the first time she’d called Marc that. My reaction hadn’t been good—I’d sent Marc away, accused her of appropriating a title that belonged to another. Yeah, we might have gone through hell to get where we are today, but it had only made us stronger.

  Once I had my head on straight, I knew how lucky I was that Amy took to Marc at first sight. Marc’s done her best to keep Crystal alive for he
r, but I know my daughter’s memories of her real mom are fading. While I may regret it, in my heart, I know that it’s right. I’m grateful Marc stepped into that role for her, blown away by the size of my woman’s heart that anyone seeing us would know she loves Amy, as much as the babies she birthed herself.

  Amy wriggles, now wanting to get down. After I let her slide down my body, it’s natural for me to reach out and take the nearest bundle, which happens to be Jacob, from Marc. In a similar unrehearsed movement, Marc’s free hand is there for Amy to now hang onto, while she simultaneously makes sure Isabel is firmly balanced on her hip.

  “You ever worry it might come again?” I lean down and whisper into Marc’s ear, my head jerking to the burned scrub around us. Amy’s concerns and the nightmare from last night bring my worries to the fore.

  Her eyes narrow. “Maudlin thoughts today, lover?”

  Moving my body slightly in front of her, I make her halt.

  “I don’t, can’t, won’t lose any of you.”

  Her eyes narrow. She gives a pointed look down at the little girl holding onto her hand, thumb in mouth, looking up at us, her parents. A quick side-to-side movement of her head lets me know this conversation isn’t for now.

  “Amy.”

  At the sound of the VP’s three-year-old daughter’s excited voice, Amy leaves us without a second look and runs to Olivia. Eli, Prez’s son, only a month or so younger, not far from her side as always.

  Sam and Sophie have got shit for the children organised already. Marc happily leaves the twins with them. They’re eager to get down and start playing with their toys. All the paraphernalia around makes the MC clubhouse nowadays look more like a nursery during the day. It’s good for Amy to grow up here, cousins to play with and keep her amused. That’s why we elected to build our house at the top of the compound. Already she’s on her tummy trying to interest the younger kids in some game.