Page 27 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“A year or so, eighteen months?” He seems uncertain, but a precise answer doesn’t matter. I suppose in that timescale and given the constraints, they’ve done quite a lot.

It’s certainly not what I would have expected as a biker compound, the area around for one. As had struck me when I first arrived, it’s so peaceful here. The scenery is to die for. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier spot.

For a second, I wonder whether I could find a place here.

I like Wraith. I think we could become good friends. Lefty seemed okay, Tongue a bit of a clown. Blade, hmm, on him, the jury’s still out. I’m not sure how much I’d trust him. Then there’s Drummer. Now he’s a man who commands respect. In some ways, he reminds me of Manny, and I wonder whether there are similarities. A man who runs a tight ship, but underneath the exterior beats a heart of gold. There must be some of that. One thing I’ve picked up is these men’s loyalty toward him.

But they’re criminals. They’re outlaws, living outside the law.

“Apart from the construction business, how does the club make its money?” I wonder whether Wraith will tell me. Or, if he does, whether he’ll need to kill me afterward.

Wraith indicates a pile of bricks and goes to sit on it. I take a spot beside him.

“The club’s cleaned up its act since the old days.” His eyes, unfocused, stare out at the horizon. “As a prospect, I only know what’s general knowledge of course. But in Bastard’s day—he was Drummer’s dad, and president before him—the club was into all kinds of illegal shit. Prostitution, gun running, drugs, you name it. Whatever you can think of to bring in money, well, they did it.”

“What happened?” I sense a story.

“Raid by the feds. Half the club were gunned down. Bastard was killed, along with his old lady, and several other members. The Satan’s Devils were almost no more. Drummer pulled what remained of the club together, took on this place and moved the club here. As well as physically rebuilding the compound, he’s rebuilding the club. He doesn’t want the feds to have excuses for coming after us anymore.”

Puffing my cheeks and blowing out air, I revise my opinion. “You’re telling me everything they do is legal?”

Wraith snorts. “I wouldn’t say that. But the legit side outweighs the other. As well as the auto-shop and construction, we have a restaurant in town, and a strip joint that we run. Together they bring in a decent income.”

“The auto-shop?” I give a snort of my own.

He looks at me sharply. “SD Auto Repairs had a good rep, even in the bad old days. Got lots of loyal customers knowing we do a good job and never rip them off. Problem is, the shop’s having to be rebuilt from scratch, and our best mechanics were killed by the feds. Blade, well he patched in just when I came on board a few months’ back. He at least knows which wrench to use, so he’s the manager.”

And hence why he jumped at the chance of a qualified mechanic, I suppose.

“Why did you join, Wraith?”

Again, he gazes out in front of him. “I did two years in the Army. Joined at eighteen. Saw all kinds of shit I can never unsee. I got out, but one thing I’d learned was the benefit of having men at my back. I kind of missed that. I’d heard of the Devils from a man in my unit, so I sought them out. Liked what I saw and decided to join them. That was three months back.”

I crease my eyes. “Don’t you have to sign on in the Army for like eight years?”

He shrugs. “Technically, I have. I’m a reservist for the next five years. The Army could call me back.” He shudders as if he really doesn’t want that.

“I wanted to enlist,” I confide. “Wanted to be a Ranger.”

His eyes widen in respect. “What happened?”

“Life.” I don’t go into details.

“Sucks, man.” He goes to pull out his smokes, but this time I’m ahead of him, getting mine out first. He takes one with a chin lift, then cups his hand to the flame from my lighter.

As I draw in smoke, I consider what I’ve heard. A little voice in the back of my head asks whether it could suit me. But there are drawbacks, of course. “A year prospecting sounds like a fuckin’ long time.”

“It’s not all work, man.” Wraith grins at me. “What’s better than riding your bike along with your friends? I may only be a prospect, but I’m club, and as much as I’ll have their back, they’ll have mine. Sure, some of the jobs are fuckin’ irksome, but you say you wanted to be a Ranger? How d’you think you’d get through the hazing if you weren’t prepared to smile and ask how high when you’re told to jump? Prospecting’s hard, there’s no denying that, but it’s also fun. And at the end of it, there’s that patch. Still, it may not suit if you’re scared of hard work.”

“I’m not fuckin’ scared of working,” I growl. No, it’s the being at everyone’s beck and call I’m worried about. I’d had enough of that when I first started at Manny’s and began washing cars and sweeping floors.

Like Wraith, I stare into the distance as I think back. I kind of had gone through the same thing at Manny’s, hadn’t I? But then as I progressed, I got more interesting jobs, and when I became qualified, it had made it all worthwhile. But I’ve moved on from that now. I’ve got a trade and should be able to walk in anywhere as a mechanic.

They want my skills here too.

“I best be getting back.” Wraith stubs out his cigarette, pockets the end and stands. He turns to me as I do likewise, a serious look on his face. “Club isn’t for everyone. It attracts many, but only a few get a chance. You should think yourself lucky to even be asked, and that’s only because you’ve got something they want. This chapter has had a rough time and is trying to crawl back out of it. They lost good men who are hard to replace. We need a mechanic who knows his shit. Blade and Tongue do well enough, but they’re run off their feet. We bumped into you, or you to us, at the right time.”

“Hey. Some Satan’s Devils passed me when I was in Colorado. Was that you?”

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