Page 90 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“Wasn’t my business, Prez. I judge a man by his deeds not who he’s doing.”

Crash is one hundred percent right. I tilt my beer bottle toward him. “I hear you, Brother. I fuckin’ hear you.”

The next church, Petty and Roller are patched in when all hands are raised in their favour. And if I have a small doubt in my mind, I remember the VP’s wise words, to judge a man by his actions. On how Petty has fulfilled his prospecting duties, well, there, I can’t fault him.

Which leaves us on the lookout for new prospects, but there are always men in the wings wanting their chance to ride with the Devils. Only weeks later, two drop into our hands, a scrawny lad who wears thick-rimmed glasses, and who immediately picks up the handle, Owl.

His complete opposite, a brawny fella, stocky, almost as wide as he is tall, also comes to our attention. His trade? He’s a butcher for fuck’s sake. He soon comes to be known as Meat.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I’m sitting at my desk, discussing the latest takings with Fox when my phone rings. Annoyed at the interruption, I glance down to identify the caller, then shooting a look of apology toward the treasurer, pick the device up. It’s the new prez from Colorado. Hellfire had not long ago stepped back, and his son had taken his place. A man so it happens I’ve got a lot of time for, and none of the reservations I’d had about Snake.

“Demon, what can I do for you?”

Fox pulls the paperwork together and gives me a wave of his hand. In return, I offer a chin lift confirming we’ll get back to this later. I settle back with the phone to my ear and listen to what becomes an incredulous story.

“We’ve got a missing member, Red. Had given up on him as he disappeared months back, thought he was dead. But his ol’ lady’s friend just sent her a picture. He’s been spotted alive and living it up in Vegas.”

My eyes widen incredulously. “What the fuck? He run out on the club?”

Demon sighs heavily. “Not that we suspected it, nor his pregnant ol’ lady. There was no fuckin’ reason for him to have left. One day he was here, the next he and his bike were missing.”

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah. She’s fuckin’ cut up as you’d expect. Truthfully, it would have been better if he’d stayed dead. As it is, well, we want to fuckin’ find him.” Demon’s voice hardens. “Him being alive raises too many fuckin’ questions.”

It sure does. A member does not just walk out on the club. During prospecting, there’s a chance for a man to walk away if they don’t feel a good fit, but once you put on that patch it’s for life, unless there’s a fuckin’ good excuse. Even then you’d leave with a beatdown at the least. Most times, you’d forfeit your life. You have to be one hundred percent trustworthy to walk away with the secrets of your club.

“Who is this fucker?”

“Name’s Skull. He’d not been patched in that long, but he’d done his time and we thought he was solid.”

Him being new is why I don’t recollect him. “Send me the pictures, Demon. I’m presuming you want me to keep a look out?”

“Yeah. But there’s more. Brothers and I thought he was fuckin’ dead. Him strutting around carefree has caused a fuck ton of bad will as you’ll understand. I got members here itching to get their fists on him. I want to send some brothers to Vegas, so I’m calling to see if we can partake of your hospitality, and if so, have you got room for Judge, Wills and Sparky?”

Fists? “Man’s a fuckin’ traitor whichever way you look at it. I’ll gladly hang, draw and quarter him for you.” Having snarled that out, belatedly I answer his question, “Yeah, of course they can stay.”

“You can do what you like with him after I’ve finished,” Demon states firmly. “What I want, Red, is him alive so I can talk to him. There’s a reason he turned his back on the club and his ol’ lady, and I want to know what the fuck that is.”

The way Demon growls makes my lips curve up. I can understand him completely. “You got whatever help I can give, Brother. And of course, we’ll put anyone you send us up.”

I end the call and don’t have to wait long for the ping that tells me that the photos have been sent on. Examining them carefully, I see a young man and don’t have to look twice to see why he was given his handle. His face looks like a skull with skin stretched over it. But he’s still handsome enough, I suppose, at least sufficient to attract an old lady. Though it’s his companion in the pictures that I settle on longer. She’s pretty, the kind of woman that appeals to a man like myself. She reminds me a lot of Cheryl. She’s pushing a stroller with a kid in it.Hers? Hers and Skull’s?If so, I could be looking at a man leading a double life, and if I’m right, she’s not got a clue about it.

He doesn’t look like a biker. Sure, he’s wearing jeans, but no cut. He looks just like any man you’d pass on the street.

I wonder if learning his biker momma was going to spit out a brat made him run back to his first love. Maybe she’s his wife. If I’m right, there’s one hell of a lot of pain coming his way and the fucker will deserve it.

Bikers aren’t the most loyal creatures, I know that. But most of us remain single if we want to have a good time. Satan’s Devils tend to treasure their old ladies, and not many step out of line once they’ve claimed a woman as theirs. It’s part of the reason I’m so particular about settling down. Temptation is always around me unless I can be certain the woman I choose is enough for me to be faithful to for life, and so far, I’ve found no one who’d hold my attention for long.

Brick had had that with Rosa, Fox with Tiffany. As far as the others in my chapter are concerned, they’re much of my mind. Why give over your balls and independence when you’ve got pussy on tap? But I’ve seen examples in Tucson and Colorado how much the members are devoted to their old ladies.

Skull had claimed Melissa, and then he’d walked out. Whether he was fed up with his old lady or with the club is the big question mark. Whatever the reason, he abandoned her, and worse, disrespected his brothers. I can’t think of an excuse that would allow him to escape with his life.

The following day, the three Colorado members duly arrive. When I greet them, Sparky comes up with an extra request, asking sheepishly if we could provide space for Pyro and Melissa, the woman who thought she was Skull’s.

While I question the judgement that puts a pregnant woman in the stressful situation of being faced with an old man who not only is unfaithful but could have another family, I have to admire her spirit. It was her, as well as the club, who was wronged. Consequently, I’m eager to meet her. Her plight calls my protective instincts to the fore. When I hear Pyro and Melissa are on a plane, something makes me want to be the one to meet them.

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