Page 24 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“Well, we might,” he interrupts. “Get on your bike and follow us.”

Oh shit, no.Visions go through my head of them abducting me, stealing the bike they seemed pretty interested in and no one ever finding my body. But how can I politely refuse?

I’d had a fucker try to mug me once, and I managed to fight him off. I’m certainly not afraid of sticking up for myself, but that’s one-on-one. One against six? Hell, the way these men hold themselves show they’re no strangers to violence. The VP has a scar down his face that I suspect was caused by a knife.

The one called Blade has his namesake out and is cleaning his fingernails with it.A threat?“Thought you wanted a job,” he says, lazily.

I do. But how can I say,but not with the likes of you?

“Offer’s legit,” Lefty states, then shrugs. “It’s up to you.”

If they had genuine work like wanting me to keep their bikes in running order, sure, I could do that. Tune them to get the best from them as well.But join their club?That’s what they seem to be asking of me.

I shudder. I might ride a bike, but I’m not a biker, or not in the way that they are.

I try to back out gracefully. “Look, I’d love to come back with you, but I really need to search out employment.”

“Which I’ve already said is what we might be able to offer you,” Lefty states, as he narrows his eyes. “You turning us down without giving us a chance?”

I can feel the tension around me, and it’s not lost on me that these men are all armed.

Fuck.

Swallowing hard, I manage to sound firm as I capitulate. “I’ll follow you.”

Chapter Nine

What the fuck am I doing?

I’m riding behind five patched members of the Satan’s Devils MC, with the prospect Wraith riding alongside me. Before, I’ve only ridden with one of the other mechanics from work, and only know from television shows that groups of bikers ride in formation. I’m nervous as hell. My biker pride wants to show I’m no weekend warrior. Hell, I’ve just ridden close to three thousand miles what with the detours I’ve made, my bike an extension of my body. I shouldn’t fuck this up, but the men around me ride with practiced ease, looking like they’re taking part in a choreographed dance as though they’ve ridden together a thousand times before which undoubtably they have.

Along with my fear of keeping myself and everyone else shiny side up, I’m concerned about what I’m heading into.Is this some sort of press-gang, a way to find new members?Fuck. I don’t want to join a motorcycle club. I hadn’t lied when I’d told them I’d never stepped the wrong side of the law. Doing so hadn’t even occurred to me. I’d never taken anything that I’d not earned, nor solved arguments with my fists. One thing for certain, I won’t fit in with this club.

Feeling like a kidnap victim, and for once, not enjoying the feeling of my bike under me, knowing if I’d had any other kind of transport they wouldn’t have given me a second glance, I dutifully ride on. When Lefty makes a hand signal showing he’s going to make a turn, the gesture clearly for my sake, I tap down through the gears as I slow. Instead of some broken down building, we turn onto a track.

It was clearly at some time a well-maintained road, but the elements have taken their toll. I follow the others as they move into single file, and watch carefully as they wind their way around potholes and cracks in the pavement. It seems to go on for miles as we cautiously head through the desert, but from a glance at my odometer, it’s only half a mile before we eventually draw up at some steel gates.

Lefty waves Wraith forward. The prospect dismounts his bike, pulls the gates open, letting the rest of us pass. Blade pulls to a stop just inside the entrance, indicating to me I should do the same, while the other bikes peel off and continue on. Not far though. As I turn off my engine, the noise of their engines also soon stop.

The first thing I notice is the silence. Birds, unfamiliar to me, squawk and chatter, but there’s no noise of traffic reaching up from the freeway. It seems an isolated spot.They could kill me and bury my body.Grimacing, I realise, even Manny doesn’t know which state I’ve stopped in. If I go missing, there’ll be no one searching for me.

For once, I’m pleased Cheryl didn’t come with me. It’s only me who’s gotten myself into trouble, and no one else. Wondering whether the future I’ve promised myself is about to come to an abrupt full stop, I kick down the stand, swing my leg over the saddle, and get off.

The scary man called Blade is standing expectantly. A slight curve to his lips comes as he waits for me to take in my surroundings. Having analysed the sounds, I now take in the sights.

We’ve parked outside what looks like a hastily thrown up building. Inside, there are a few bikes and a couple of cars. A hand-drawn sign is slowly swaying in the gentle breeze, announcingSD Auto Repairs and Servicing. Inside, I can see tool benches, a mechanic’s pit and a ramp, and a man lying under a car.

They hadn’t lied. They’ve got a shop.But it’s not one I’d ever have approached for a job.

Blade tilts his head, indicating I should look further, in the direction in which the rest of the bikes have gone.

I do, creasing my eyes to make sense of what I’m seeing. Burned-out hulks of what seems to be accommodation, and beyond that, some buildings which look new or restored.

“What the fuck is this place?” I find myself asking.

Blade gives a real grin now. “It’s our compound. We moved here a couple of years back. Well, I didn’t, as I wasn’t part of the club then. It’s something, ain’t it?” He smiles with pleasure as he stares around. “It was an old vacation resort that got wiped out by a fire. Club bought it cheap.”

Yeah, very cheap, I expect. There are hulks of structures that look like they’d be better torn down.

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