Page 63 of Red's Peril: Part 1

The meet’s around the back of a casino that had been built too far away from the strip, only lasting a few years before it went bust. Crash, Twister, Indian, and Joker are already in strategic positions, hidden with high-power rifles.

The decaying casino is bordered by a high steel fence aimed to keep out intruders, but there’s a gap where druggies, pushers and whores have long since broken through. To suit all nefarious purposes, that modified entrance is out of the way and in an area not covered by CCTV cameras. It’s wide enough for us to ride our bikes through. We’re expected so there’s no reason to hide our presence. Our approach is in no way covert. The gang are already here waiting for us, as Twister had already informed us. Our snipers had gotten here first.

We draw up just a few yards shy of the group standing around the back of the building, kicking down stands and cutting engines. I remove my helmet, hanging it over the handlebars, then place my gloves and safety glasses inside.

Rainman glances around, checks we’re all in position, then gets off his bike and takes a step forward. Cuff, Rope, Cobra and I line up behind him. We’re outnumbered, but some of the punks move backward at our approach, making me stifle a smile.Fucking cowards.

“Ringo.” Rainman nods his head coolly at the man who we know leads the gang.

“Rainman.” Ringo steps forward, his eyes flicking back toward his men as if to make sure none are going to start running.

The VP reaches into his pocket and gets out his cigarettes. Without offering them around, he takes one out and lights it. Only after twin plumes of smoke have come out of his nose, does he speak. “I ain’t got all day, Ringo. What do you want to talk about?”

“Er,” Ringo starts, then closes his mouth. When his men shuffle uneasily behind him, he clears his throat. “We need you to stay out of our business.” His words are spoken so fast they almost run together.

Rainman shrugs. “You’ve come into our side of town. You were warned to stay out.”

“Yeah?” The little punk puts his hands on his hips. “Well, we warned you not to try to take over.”

“Not taking over, man,” Rainman says easily, blowing smoke out again. “You’ve got your own territory, just stay out of ours.”

“It was fuckin’ ours until you lot chased us out.” A man behind Rainman breaks ranks and steps forward. Behind him, others are getting noticeably agitated.

I share a look with Cobra. How did they expect this to go? We just shake hands and agree to take a cut in our payments? No fucking way.

Cuff’s eyes meet mine. He widens his eyes, and shakes his head, then slightly turns his body, pulling my eyes in his direction of sight. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what’s caught his attention. Several of Ringo’s men are fidgeting, and their hands look like they might be going for their guns.

I give a slight raise and dip of my head to show that I’ve gotten his point.

“Rainman,” I say, softly. “Think both messages have been delivered. Why not allow Ringo to think on it?”

I’ve got a feeling this will be a fucking blood bath if we rile them up further. It’s time to shut this shit down, and resume when we’ve got more of an upper hand.

“Think on fuckin’ what?” Ringo asks, his body actions awkward. “There’s nothing to think about. We need that money.”

Rainman half turns to me and raises his chin.Message received and understood.“I’ll take your requests back to the prez,” he offers.

Brick won’t change his mind, and neither will the club.

“Why the fuck isn’t your prez here? It’s him who I wanted to meet with tonight, not his fuckin’ trained monkeys.”

“I can speak on his behalf.”

“Then why don’t you?” Ringo is getting more riled. “Agree to pull your men out and let us take over.”

A voice rings out, “Told you, you couldn’t trust fuckin’ Devils.”

“You can trust Devils,” Rainman contradicts, keeping his voice calm. “We’re just sticking to the agreed boundaries. You stay out of our territory, and we won’t go into yours.”

“Ringo? Whatcha going to do? You gonna let them get away with this?” Another voice, this one high pitched and desperate.

As murmurs of discontent go around, Ringo leans in, lowering his voice. “Give me something or I’m going to lose this crew,” he desperately confides.

“I’ve nothing to give,” Rainman tells him apologetically. “Can’t help with your problem, man.”

Ringo’s face contorts. He looks angry, upset, a man at the end of his tether. Then, he suddenly launches forward, closing in on Rainman before I can get my gun out.

Rainman gives a sharp cry and folds to the ground.

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