Page 37 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“Water.” I wave the packet of painkillers Doc has had left with me. “I’ll get a beer later.”

Slick grabs a bottle and brings it across. As there’s no immediate call for his duties, he flops down on the couch opposite the one which I’m sitting on.

“That was some shit,” he starts, shaking his head.

“What happened here?” Putting the tablets in my mouth, I wash them back with a huge gulp of water. Fuck knows what I’ve been given. I’m not allergic to anything, and if it takes the edge off the pain, I’m not going to refuse any medication.

“Peg got a phone call and suddenly started to go ape shit. He sent Wraith and me to the fuckin’ armoury.” Slick shakes his head, perplexed. “I didn’t even know they had one, let alone where it is.”

I’ve learned of it recently; it’s hidden beneath one of the filled-in swimming pools. But it’s not my place to enlighten him, nor tell him the phone call that got Peg so heated was one that came from myself.

“So, we came back with rifles and grenades. We were loaded down with all types of interesting shit.” Slick’s eyes gleam at the memory. “Peg sends me out with some explosive, so I set that and a timer. Soon as the trucks appeared, we disabled two of them with the fucking grenades, and I blew the old barn up, setting light to it. Then, well, the rest’s a blur. It was all fighting the enemy.”

“Were they all killed?”

“Nah.” Again he shakes his head. “About half are dead. The others were taken to the storeroom.”

Ah, the storeroom. I might not have witnessed Blade at his work, but I’ve got no doubts on what goes on there. Only a month or so back, us prospects had been tasked with fixing more soundproofing.

“You okay?” He tilts his bottle toward me.

“Just feel like I got a kick from a mule in my kidneys. I’ll be fine. You?”

He shrugs. “Not a fuckin’ scratch. But I think I’ve still to come down from the overload of adrenaline.”

“You and me both.” I salute my own bottle toward him.

“Hey, Red.” Bullet appears in the hallway. “Prez wants you in church.”

“Uh-oh.” Slick grins at me. “You’re in fuckin’ trouble.”

Shit.

Chapter Fourteen

The only times I’ve been in the meeting room before is when the table needed a polish, and cigarette ash swept up. It always amuses me that some joker had put up a sign reading,When the ash tray is filled, please use the floor. Unfortunately, some of the members seem to have taken that to heart.

As I enter, I ruefully think I’ll be back in here soon to clean up. The air is thick with smoke, and it seems Beef and Dollar are the only ones who haven’t lit up. I breathe in the tainted air, letting the second-hand smoke fill my lungs. Nervous as I am, I could do with a smoke myself, but being a prospect, I keep my cigarettes in my pocket.

All heads turn to me as I enter. Drummer’s stare is as steely as I’ve ever seen it. Lefty’s wearing his VP’s version, not quite as scary, but nerve-racking enough. Wondering which way the wind is blowing, I surreptitiously look toward my friend. Wraith, though, seems like he’s trying hard not to meet my eyes.

The others though? Well, they’re looking my way scowling and frowning.

How have I fucked up?I called Peg without waiting for permission, but surely that was for the good of the club?I hadn’t waited to help with cleanup,but it had been Blade who had ushered me away.

Fuck, fuck. Fuck.

Whatever it is, all I can hope is that I haven’t blown the prospects of getting my patch. Cast adrift from the Devils? I don’t think I could bear it. For a brief moment, my mind wanders.I want to be a member. I want this chance. I can’t think of anything more that I want out of life.

But somehow, I might not have lived up to their standards.

Fuck, fuck, and a hundred more fucks.

Hovering at the back of the room, standing behind Tongue who’s sat at the bottom end of the table, I clasp my shaking hands behind my back, and trying to ignore the pain in my bruised kidney, stand up straight.I won’t fail now.If I get kicked out, I’ll man up and take it.

The room’s deathly quiet. All eyes, except for Wraith’s, who worryingly still won’t look my way, keep staring at me.

I bite back any nervous words that threaten to spill out of my mouth.

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