Page 89 of Red's Peril: Part 1

I made the right call. The job I’d sent them on did indeed reveal Lady’s strengths, but only at the cost of Joker getting a concussion and breaking a few ribs. His injuries would have been far worse had Lady not been there to have his six.

The timing of that was unfortunate, our road captain out of action when we most needed him. The Tucson chapter had lost a prospect under circumstances which meant the man, Hank, was posthumously patched in. The kid had given his life for the club, and due respect would be shown. The Vegas Chapter would be putting in an appearance at the funeral.

A sad occasion for sure, but visiting Tucson to pay my respects led me to reconnecting with Wraith once again. To my equal shock and delight, he’d found himself an old lady.

It had made me cast my mind back to years prior and a conversation we’d once had, about how we could meet a suitable civilian girl and bring her into our life. The only way, we’d joked, was if one turned up at the club. Which is exactly what had happened in his case.

When I saw his Sophie, a woman who needed protection from the Devils, I mentally called him a lucky fucker, then repeated that to his face. She was like a little blonde pixie. If he hadn’t seen her first, I’d have stepped in myself.

Sophie, though, was broken. Physically because she’d lost a leg, mentally as she couldn’t accept she was still a whole woman in a man’s eyes. On that memorable occasion, I’d shared a woman with my best friend again, but for the last time. I was happy helping Wraith to prove a point but knew I’d never again cross that line. If ever there was a better match, I hadn’t seen it. Sophie was his old lady and would be for life.

It had been the Rock Demon’s that had taken Tucson’s prospect out. Shortly after the return from the funeral, I had news from Drummer that the Demons were again stirring shit. This time, they were travelling through our territory as well as coming for Tucson. I took out a team comprising of Twister, Sarge, Hammer and Cobra and took those coming into Vegas out, while Crash, Rope and Cuff went to assist Drummer and his crew, blowing up the Demons’ clubhouse in Phoenix.

It was while we were celebrating the end to our enemy when we got news that Adam, a brother from Tucson, had been killed protecting Wraith’s old lady. Thank fuck she was okay, but it meant we were off to yet another fuckin’ funeral.

There was an unexpected consequence of Tucson’s loss to the Vegas club. Feeling his club was exposed and wanting to boost their ranks, Drummer requested me to transfer one of my members. After a bad experience with a San Diego transfer who’d tried to rape Sophie, and who was obviously now dead, Tucson wanted to make sure any new members were solid and dependable.

Unwilling to lose anyone, I’d already asked around, and had had two men approach me individually. I’d had to laugh. Unbeknownst to each other, Joker and Lady had put in separate transfer requests.

While I was loath to be down a road captain, I knew Shadow could step into Joker’s shoes. When I recommended both men to Drummer, I was amused to keep the information from him, that Lady and Joker tolerated each other, but were far from being friends. I suppose it was cruel of me. Joker would have been happier either staying here while Lady went or going alone. But something told me they’d mend their differences if they were both newcomers in a different club.

Petty and Roller were already on board as promising new prospects, so it hadn’t hurt to lose two men from the club.

Two surprising things happened shortly after Joker and Lady transferred. Drummer, the man who got his name from banging every woman in sight, settled down and took an old lady. It sent a ripple of shock through the whole club, in a good way for once. Many a glass was raised in his honour. But when you met Sam, you could easily see how she’d ensnared him. She was a true one-off. How many women could rebuild a Vincent Black Shadow from the ground up?

The other event, one which unsettled every man wearing a Satan’s Devils’ patch, was Snake’s betrayal of the club in San Diego. As Prez, I witnessed his torture and demise. If any man ever deserved to be dispatched to Satan, it was him. He’d turned a number of members against the club. One, his fucking sergeant-at-arms, shared his death sentence. Seven others were sent out bad. That a prez could turn on the club was something we all had to recover from.

My boys are solid, but many a church meeting immediately after was spent reassuring each other that we were all on the same page. If it went down hard in Vegas, fuck knows how the San Diego club could recover from it. Kudos goes to Lost who stepped up as their new prez, along with Dart, a transfer from Tucson who became his VP. Somehow, they managed to hold that chapter together. I doubted that was an easy job.

The Vegas chapter doesn’t operate in a vacuum, we’re all Satan’s Devils at heart. Over the years, we ride to support the other clubs, and host their members and old ladies when they need to get away for a while. As Prez, I okay the arrangements, accompany my men, or sit back and let Rosa take over the organising when we give harbour to those from other clubs.

Apart from the odd skirmish with those stupid enough to want to bat heads with the Devils, the chapter begins to settle back down. Before I know it, another six months have passed, and Crash takes me aside to talk to me.

“What is it, VP?”

“Petty and Roller.” Crash raises his beer. “They’ve done their prospecting time. Shouldn’t we patch them in?” He shrugs. “Or kick them out.” The way he says it shows either option would be okay with him.

Fuck me, he’s right. Time passes so fast, one day blurs into another. “Bring it to the table. We’ll vote on it.” Like him, I wet my throat with my beer, then interested, ask, “What’s your opinion?”

He doesn’t immediately answer. His brow furrows, and his hands pick at the label on the bottle. “They’re both as hotheaded as each other, but I think Roller’s more sound.”

“They’re pretty tight, aren’t they?”

An up and down of his head, then he gives me the words. “They served together, so yeah. Not sure how it would work if one got in and one was out.”

I tend to agree that could cause problems. Leaning back, I link my hands behind my head. “There could be an issue if Joker was still here.”

“Yeah. I picked up on that.”

But Joker’s not, and as far as I know, none of the other brothers are of the same persuasion. But who the fuck am I to know? And furthermore, it’s none of my business. Nevertheless, I’m driven to shake my head. “Joker and Lady, hey? I never saw that coming.”

“You didn’t?” Crash raises an eyebrow.

“You did?” My brow furrows.

“Fuckin’ obvious when I saw them kissing one day.”

“You did?” I repeat my question, my own eyebrows rising. “You didn’t say shit.”

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