Page 108 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“I didn’t mean anything, man,” Roller again says to him.

I speak fast, not wanting to get pulled into their argument again. “Crash, Fox, Keys and I will meet with the management.” There’s a chorus of groans until I add, “And whoever wants can come with us. You’ll stay on the floor, look for weaknesses, check out the security personnel they’ve got, and report back to me with any observations.”

“Ah, fuck, Prez. Can’t we just go and enjoy ourselves?” Cuff looks disappointed.

“You can enjoy yourself and still work.” Indian looks at him sternly.

“Will we get drinks on the house?” Shadow asks optimistically.

Cobra cuffs him around the head. “We’re there to drum up business, not to get drunk.”

“So?” the road captain retorts without rancour. “I can do both.”

“Want me to set it up, Prez?”

Grinning at my VP, I confirm, “Might as well. Keys, can you take a look at how secure their systems are?”

“On it already, Prez.” Keys points to his laptop where he’s clearly been jotting down notes. “Would be good to go in with some ideas for improvement.”

Christ, I love this team I have around me. And I love the idea of having more income coming into the club, all legit and above board.

“I’ll leave it with you to set up the arrangements.” I turn to my VP. “We’ll go check it out, then meet back around the table to confirm it’s something we want to take on.”

A couple of them are still joking about letting Devils lose in a casino, but most of them seem to be on the same wavelength as myself. It sounds a good deal, and I’m wary of looking a gift horse in the mouth, but it wouldn’t do without making sure. There’s a warning at the back of my mind that letting an outlaw club take over security could be a way of fucking us up, of us being convenient fall guys if all goes to shit.

Why are they coming to the Satan’s Devils for help? That needs checking out.

“Okay. Let’s move on.”

Church then gets back on its normal track. When we wrap up, Petty and Roller seem to have made up. Either that or they’ve both decided their argument wasn’t worth risking getting their faces smashed in.

Crash had spoken to his contact and arranged for us to go to Lucky Fortunes the following Thursday. A day when it would be busy enough as usually is the case in Vegas, but not so crammed it would hinder us getting a good look at what could be a lucrative job.

While I, my VP, and Keys will be meeting with their management team, Twister and Indian will be keeping an eye on the rest of the members who all want to go with the exception of Sarge, and the prospects who have no choice.

We arrive at the casino at ten o’clock. Walking in, I notice the tables are busy. The décor still looks relatively new and fresh, and even welcoming. Whoever decorated knows their shit. The cacophony of sound which greets us is not unexpected. Machines chime and play stupid tunes, balls crash around wheels and even the snap of cards being shuffled reaches my ears as I pass by the croupiers dealing. There’s a rumble of conversation, and beneath everything else, background music playing.

Crash, having been here before, leads us through and toward a staircase at the back. A uniformed man is standing beside it. When Crash approaches, he uses a two-way radio, then getting an answer, unhooks a rope and gestures we should proceed up.

The casino certainly doesn’t rival its biggest competitors in size, but from what I’ve seen it makes use of the space it has got. There are no frivolities like a fairground, or gondolas. It caters to people who want to chance their luck, rather than pulling in all sorts for the entertainment.

We’re led to a room which overlooks the floor. Having not seen it from below, I gather it’s one-way glass, but it offers an uninterrupted view of what’s going on below. Staff are watching both the physical action and that transmitted by cameras and viewed on monitors.

I watch, interested. Key steps up beside me and seems to be checking out what views people have on their screens. After a few moments, Crash taps me on the shoulder and jerks his head in the direction of an office I haven’t yet seen.

Dragging Keys away, I follow Crash. We end up in a small meeting room with four men inside, one of whom stands to greet us.

“I’m Jordan Crossman, and these are my partners, Clancy Rodgers, Austin Carson, and Trent Greaves.”

“Colt Masters,” I introduce myself. “Otherwise known as Red. Peers West, or Crash, I think you’ve already met. And this is Gabe Hickson, otherwise known as Keys.”

“Your security guy.” Crossman shakes Keys’ hand, then takes mine and gives it the same treatment. “Crash, good to see you again.” He stands back and gestures toward the empty chairs. “Please sit.”

We do. The next hour is spent going through what the partners of the casino want from us, and them listening to some ideas that Keys has come armed with. I start to relax as I realise we can provide all the services they’re after, and on their part they’re satisfied with what we can provide. Keys will take a look at the technology, do extra background checks and provide suggestions for upping the security. We can arrange to have a brother here during opening hours, with others in the club on call for backup if it becomes necessary.

Apparently, our anti-protection racket work has gotten a good reputation, and Crossman thinks it will stop trouble from gangs if the Devils are in this from the start.

We talk figures, the tally of which makes me more than happy. Once hands are again shaken, and the Satan’s Devils have one more legit business to line our pockets, Crossman suggests we descend to the bar and raise a glass to celebrate our new partnership.

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