Page 34 of Red's Peril: Part 1

I open my cut and show him I indeed have, in a shoulder holster. I might never have handled a gun before arriving on the compound, but Peg’s got me up to speed, and I pride myself on being a good shot. Not that I’ve ever shot at a human target before, but if it’s them or us, I think I can handle it.

“Good man,” the VP mumbles, before doing a final check on everyone else.

I head to the crash truck, just as I’d been instructed. I wait until the bikes pull away, then follow them out of the compound. My last sight in my rearview is of Slick sliding the gates closed behind us.

I don’t envy him staying safe at home, no, I feel privilegedto be going along tonight. Even if it’s only to guard the bikes and transport home injured or captured.

Not having been given the route details, I carefully follow the bikes ahead, my hand occasionally patting the gun in my cut. It feels so alien, so different from everything I knew before. The Red Manny knew would have been horrified to see me.

I’m surprised at myself. I’m ready for violence, ready to defend my brothers. Over the past nine months, all the morals I thought I had have become turned upside down and resorted. What use would cops be if they were called in when a brother was run off the road? No fucking use at all. In our dog-eat-dog world we have to get justice for ourselves.

Prospecting has shown me this outlaw life is worth living. If no one fucked with us, we wouldn’t fuck with them. Hell’s Damnation brought trouble to us. We didn’t go asking for it. If we don’t retaliate and hit them back hard, they’ll just go on picking away at us.

The old Red would have looked away in horror.

I may not have joined the Army as I had planned, may not have served my country, but hell, the Satan’s Devils stand for all that I am. Individual freedom and a lifestyle worth dying for.

The bikes pull over to the side. Drummer gathers the brothers around him. When I hang back not sure of my place, Blade takes my elbow and pushes me forward.

“How the fuck will you know what to do when the time comes if you don’t bother to listen to instructions?” he hisses, and I think it’s a little unfairly. But sensibly, I keep that thought to myself.

Listening, I hear them plot how they’re going to surround the compound, approaching on foot rather than loud exhausts announcing their arrival. That it will include traversing some rough ground explains why they left the sergeant-at-arms out of it. Peg’s coming on in leaps and bounds since he got his new prothesis, but stealthily walking long distances is probably not where his strength currently lies.

My duties are simple. Stay with the truck, watch no one tampers with the bikes, and keep my phone at hand. I’ll only be called on to come closer if I’m needed to pick up any injured, or if they’ve taken a captive.

Once the plans are finalised, the brothers waste no time heading off. Although I regret not being in the forefront of the action with them, I know being their backup is an equally important job, so I go back to the truck, position myself behind it, and light up a cigarette, shielding the light and glowing tip just in case anyone’s around to see it. Unlikely, as we’ve parked well off the road, but my new skills have been drummed into me.

They’ve given themselves thirty minutes to get to the Hell’s Damnation compound. The brothers have been gone for less than half that time when sounds reach me. Easing out from behind the truck and walking to where I can see down the road, still staying hidden so no one can see me, I spy three trucks heading my way. It’s hard to tell from the first two, but the second has men crammed into the open back, leading me to suspect the other two are also packed.

Fuck.I make the obvious assumption.

I take out my phone and dial a number. “Lefty? Yeah, I’ve seen three trucks come past. Think they might have come from the Hell’s Damnation compound.”

He quietly laughs. “Love your fuckin’ enthusiasm, but no, Red, they can’t be the Damnation. They haven’t a clue we’re coming. We’ve eyes on the compound, and no one has left it. Lights are all blazing inside. They’re having a fuckin’ party.” He chuckles in anticipation of the way their celebration will be ending.

I stare at my phone. I should be reassured, but something in my gut is niggling at me. But Lefty says things are alright, and he knows better than me. “Okay. Yeah. Just thought I’d mention it. Shiny side up, Brother.”

“Not going to criticise you for keeping your eyes open, Prospect,” Lefty says magnanimously, then ends the call.

I try to settle but the uneasy feeling inside me doesn’t abate. I’ve heard my VP,but…I stab at a few more digits and call up a different number. A guy can’t lose his chance at a patch just by being cautious, can he?

“Peg? Yeah, it’s Red. Look, Lefty’s certain this is nothing to worry about, but I’ve seen three truckloads of men heading past me. Bit of a push, but it makes me wonder whether the Hell’s Damnation could have gotten wind of our attack and are thinking to catch us with our pants down.”

Peg’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Good thinking, Red. Even if it’s nothing to do with them, I’d rather be prepared. If Lefty asks, I’ve got the compound covered.”

Like Lefty’s going to ask a prospect anything at all, but I feel better having made my call. If I’ve raised an alarm for no reason, then no harm done, maybe suffer some jokes at my expense. But I’d rather be thought overzealous than risk my home and the people I’ve come to love, only to have them come under an unexpected attack.

Chapter Thirteen

Having done all I can, I settle back to wait. A second cigarette is smoked down to the butt before I hear gunfire.It’s starting.

But the brief burst is soon over, and long before I expect. I know Blade’s an expert with a knife, and had hoped to get up close and personal with some wet work, but surely the resident bikers would have put up more of a fight?

My phone rings while I’m still thinking what to make of it.

“Get the fuck down here now, Prospect,” Lefty shouts.

My immediate response is to jump into the truck, start, then gun the engine. It’s a mile on foot or as the crow flies, two by road. I cover that distance in only a couple of minutes, making the rear of the truck swing out and spit gravel as I slam on the brakes.

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