Page 26 of Red's Peril: Part 1

As I frown at Blade and go to refute his proposal, Drummer growls, “And why do you want to join the Satan’s Devils?”

It’s time I stuck up for myself. “I don’t want to join a motorcycle gang at all,” I hiss.

His fist slams down on the table as he rears forward. “We’re a club, not a fuckin’ gang. Why the fuck are you here if you don’t want to join us?”

My temper flares. “I wasn’t given much choice in the matter. I was basically kidnapped and brought here.”

Drummer narrows his eyes at Blade. “What the fuck?”

“Lefty was there.” Blade sounds like a petulant schoolboy and presses his lips together. “We need new members, and a mechanic. Thought he looked likely.”

“I’ve got a bike,” I spit out. “Just because I ride doesn’t mean I want to join a fuckin’ … club.”

“You’re not local,” Drummer says sharply. “Where you from? How long have you been in Tucson?”

“I’m from Vermont. I rode down, arrived yesterday.”

Astute eyes zoom in on me. “So, what are you running from? Or are you running toward something?”

He’s shrewd, I’ll give him that. “I’m looking for something new, something different.” I add in a shrug. “Tucson was just a pin on the map. Doesn’t mean this is where I’m staying.”

I feel like I’m under a microscope, or a butterfly pinned to a board for someone’s entertainment. I can’t move away, can’t move my eyes from his. I’m tense, my muscles flooded with fight-or-flight endorphins.This man is dangerous.

“His dad died,” Blade puts in, as I inwardly wince, regretting sharing my history with him.

Slowly, very slowly, Drummer moves his eyes from me, fixing them instead on the man beside me. His lips begin to curve, though only slightly, as though he’s not a man used to smiling.

“You may be on to something, Blade,” he says at last. Then to me he states, “You don’t just join an MC. Any man who wants in has to prospect for a year or so to show whether they’re a good fit for us, and us for them. Works both ways, you see. No commitment on either side until a patch is offered, or it’s not. You’ve apparently got skills I’m needing, and maybe there’s something we can offer you in return. A home and a family, which I suspect you’re lacking.”

Has he got a crystal ball hidden somewhere?I startle as he’s read me right. Drummer might not be far off my own age, but he’s far more mature than I. I wonder how he got his experience and suspect his life might have been hard. He clearly hasn’t let the world pass him by for seven years of his life.

He turns back to Blade again. “Get the prospect to show him around. If he sees anything he likes, then bring him back to speak to me again. Oh, and Blade, you might be wearing that brand-new enforcer patch but that doesn’t mean you can go around picking up strays and forcing them here at knifepoint.”

Blade eyes me, one eyebrow rising as he studies me, and his mouth curves. “Had a feeling about this one, Prez. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have fleas.”

“Get out,” Drummer growls, but without malice. It occurs to me it’s probably just the way he normally sounds.

Chapter Ten

The prospect and I have reached the top of the compound. I stand for a moment, gazing out at the forest beyond, noticing an area has been cleared in front of it.

“Firebreak,” Wraith points out. “They say lightning doesn’t strike twice, but we wanted to make sure of it.”

That makes sense. I turn, looking down at the rest of the compound. Wraith’s been a good guide. From what looked an absolute shambles when I’d first entered the gate, now is starting to make sense. The old resort was made up of several guest blocks, each housing two suites. A number of these, apparently the least damaged, have been done up and now serve to house members of the club. Wraith had let me in to his to show me an example. I was impressed with his balcony and the view from it, and that they’ve kept the facilities meaning every man has his own bathroom. The suite next to his was vacant but looked like it was ready to be occupied.

To my astonishment, he’d also shown me a swimming pool, shimmering with bright blue clear water and ready to be used. Apparently, there used to be three, but two have been filled in now.

At the top of the compound, where we are now, the foundations for three houses have been laid. He’d told me, one will be Drummer’s, one for sweet butts—whatever they are—and one for visiting members from other clubs.

“There’s a hell of a lot to do.” I indicate the start of the building work behind me, and then on down to the burned-out blocs waiting to be restored.

Wraith nods. “Viper and Bullet are slowly getting around to it. As we’re down a mechanic, Viper helps out at the shop when he can, but he and Bullet spend most of the time at SD Construction in town. It’s like everything. Building takes time and money, and the civilian work brings the money in. They can only work on the compound part time. Most of it, evenings and weekends. But we’ll get there.”

“I notice the clubhouse wasn’t finished.”

“It’s got walls, a roof and a bar.” Wraith grins at me. Then he shrugs. “But yeah, it’ll be done eventually.”

“How long’s the club been here?”

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