Page 106 of Red's Peril: Part 1

On that, we’d been proved right when the Crazy Wolves MC came onto our radar. I was incensed to learn they were running a prostitution ring in Vegas, one where the girls were neither paid nor willing. And I wasn’t the only club with a grudge. The Crazy Wolves had taken one of San Diego’s members and his woman.

For the first time in years, all chapters had banded together to defeat them. Colour me impressed at the almost military precision with which Utah ran the operation.

Once the Crazy Wolves were all underground, life returned to normal again.

I never regret becoming the MC prez, and it must be age creeping up on me, but sometimes I look into the mirror and see the lines etched on my face and wonder where I go from here.

I’m not unhappy per se, but something seems to be missing. At times I wonder whether I’d have felt more fulfilled if my life had proceeded along the lines I’d expected. By now, I could have a wife by my side, and kids in their teens. Instead, I get my sexual needs catered to by sweet butts and hangarounds, and my pinnacle of excitement is when I use the BDSM equipment Rope and Cuff installed in the basement.

Then I shake the doubts out of me. Here is where I’m meant to be, and if I lack offspring, well I’ve got a whole damn club depending on me, and at times they themselves resemble rowdy teenagers.

“You take that fuckin’ back.” Petty’s on his feet swearing at Roller, while Twister’s got his hands linked behind his head and is rolling his eyes.

Crash is looking on, his brow furrowed as he assesses whether he should break up the argument.

The other brothers seem to be minding their own business.

“What the fuck’s going on?” I ask, as Petty takes a swing at Roller who blocks him.

I land a hand on Petty’s shoulder. He turns, fist raised, sees it’s me and swiftly drops it.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question.” Waiting, I raise my eyebrow.

Petty shrugs. “Nothing, Prez.”

I change my attention to Roller. “Well?”

“Like he said, nothing.”

I look at Crash who holds up his hands. “They were going at it when I got in here.”

“I saw nothing,” Twister says.

“Anyone?” Those who know decide not to say.

“Fuckin’ hell.” I let go of Petty, waiting to make sure he’s not going to go for Roller again. “Just kiss and make up, you two.”

My words seem to get Petty riled all over again. “I ain’t no perv.”

“I never fuckin’ said you were,” Roller holds up his hands and states.

“You said I was like Joker—”

“I never said—”

“Fuckin’ stop it now!” I shout. “I don’t fuckin’ care. Now sit down and shut up.”

Petty is a fucking homophobe, and for that reason I was glad Joker and Lady had transferred out of the club when Petty was still a prospect. Though the truth hadn’t come out for another year after that, when it had, the man couldn’t hide his disgust. It was as though he’d been contaminated.

I couldn’t care one way or another where any man found love, and when I see Joker nowadays, he’s more contented than I’ve ever seen him. I don’t bother confronting Petty about his, as I see it, shortcomings, deciding it would only be a problem if another gay decided to join the club. I doubt any of the others would judge a man on who he prefers sexually, but I can’t be certain on that. If the time comes, maybe I’ll have to face it.

Roller and Petty are tight, same as Wraith and me. Their friendship had developed even before they shared trials of their prospecting time as they’d serviced together. The only occasions the two men fall out is if there’s any comment or aside that could put Petty’s own sexuality in doubt. As has clearly happened just now.

The two men are still glaring at each other, so I know I haven’t completely shut that shit down. There’s one way of dealing with it. “If you two want to continue this after church, you can do it in the ring.”

“Too fuckin’ right,” Petty growls.

“Bring it on,” Roller snarls back.

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