Page 32 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

“Your old ladies done good,” I remark to Crash when I pass him.

“Old ladies?” The Vegas VP barks a laugh. “Nah. Rosa’s got more brains than that. She and Tiffany got in touch with a catering firm that does outdoor events.”

“Only two old ladies?” I eye a couple of excited-looking, scantily clad women, and jerk my head in their direction.

Crash chuckles. “That pair are a couple of our sweet butts. Hey, Pixie,” he shouts out. “You behave yourself. You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the visitors later.”

The sweet butt he’s addressed sticks her tongue out at him, then goes back to surveying the newcomers as if she’s just been presented with one of Las Vegas’ finest all-you-can-eat buffets.

When Crash moves on, I spy Blaze and start walking across to him. As I do, I see Curtis helping out behind the bar, and detour in his direction.

“Good call,” I lean in and say softly when I’ve got his attention.

“You’ve got a good one here,” Rope, a Vegas member serving beers, claps his hand on the prospect’s shoulder. “Didn’t wait to be asked.”

“I’ve already been asked to transfer to Vegas,” Curtis informs me cheekily.

“No poaching,” I warn Rope, pointing my finger.

The door opens with a crash, causing me to swing around to see Demon, the Colorado prez, followed by Beef, his VP, stepping in, followed by Thunder, their sergeant-at-arms. Behind them come several of the Colorado members, Pyro, Mace, Buzzard and Ink if my memory is correct. Red waves them in, points to the bar and I step back to clear a space, watching Curtis being run ragged again.

Before I can think of who I should greet next, there’s more commotion from the entrance.

“Make way,” a loud voice yells. Spinning around, I spy Peg, my counterpart from Tucson. He’s such a big fucking man. He towers over the crowd.

Drummer comes in behind him, followed by other familiar-looking men. Like the Red Sea parting, brothers briskly step aside to let the mother chapter members in.

One enters, pauses and surveys the room, then yells, “Fuckin’ shiny side up, Brother!”

I turn in the direction of the response when I hear an equally loud, “Dirty side down.” Then watch with a grin as I see a man break from the bar and stride fast to the speaker. The two men shake hands, then cling on to each other.

Rock and Beef, I remember from visiting Tucson, were always best of friends.

I make my way over to where Deuce, Reboot, and Wrangler are standing, looking slightly awed and out of place. Apart from Swift and Bolt, I doubt they’d met many here before, and those they have, only on the odd run.

I take a moment to shoot the shit with them, to reassure them it’s been more than a minute since we’ve had a gathering such as this. Normally it would be something fun like a charity ride. It’s been a while since we rode with the other chapters in anger, and well before they were patched in.

When I leave the group, I feel a lump in my throat. I just hope Niran knows how respected he is, if in some cases only by reputation. He’s got the whole damn MC coming for him, none of the chapters hesitating in offering their support.

Hang on, Brother. Devils are riding to save you.

“Hey, fuckers!” Another loud shout reaches me, as I again turn, seeing two men walking in—a tall slender one’s arm resting on the shoulder of a brawnier brother. Joker and Ladyif I recall correctly. The two Tucson men who came out. “How’s it swinging?”

A roar greets the ex-Vegas members, and they’re quickly surrounded. I notice only one man standing back with a frown on his face. His name I can’t quite remember.

But the general reaction makes me smile to myself. Yeah, Satan’s Devils are inclusive. Then, as my eyes land on Swift from Utah, my thoughts make me snort. We most certainly are. My amusement is swiftly tempered by the knowledge that unlike us, the Crazy Wolves have strict restrictions on membership, and that they’ve got in their clutches a man who they’d despise, and certainly wouldn’t think worthy of wearing their patch.

That’s why we’re here.

I know we’re shortly going to get down to business, but for now, members who haven’t crossed paths in years seem more interested in catching up. I grow impatient, hoping they remember what we’re here for, and that this isn’t a fucking reunion.

“VP.” I step in front of Dart when he walks past. “When are we going to get fuckin’ started?”

His eyes are full of understanding. “Soon, Brother. Soon.” Then, showing he’s as guilty as the rest, he continues his path toward where Rock, Beef and Road, his ex-Tucson brothers, are standing.

Suppressing my exasperation, what else is there to be done? I drink my beer, go to the bar and grab another, well, riding is thirsty work, and down some fried chicken to keep me going. I’m just wiping off my fingers, when that damn ear-piercing whistle comes again, and Red suddenly comes into view, pulling himself up so he’s standing on the bar top.

“Officers to our meeting room. The rest of you, fuel yourselves up.”

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