at their club house but presenting an offer that we don’t actually have yet could end up screwing us even worse.
“Ready?” Brooks asks, looking around. His eyes show his uncertainty, but his body stands with confidence.
We all get outside and once on our bikes we follow in a perfectly straight line. The Raging Devils club house is about five miles out of town, closer to Souls Two, which I’m guessing is why they went there instead of Souls. They know where our club house is located, so it gives me a little relief that maybe they are just looking for some kind of arrangement. If that’s all it is and this works, we can just move on.
Once we pull up to the dilapidated building, we park on the dirt that surrounds it and quickly head toward the door. We can’t give them time to react, we need to be fast. Even as we rush to the broken door, that is literally just a piece of plywood. Alex and Porter pull it down as Riley and I rush in first, guns drawn. They follow behind with Finn and Zane rushes in with Brooks and Enzo behind him.
Hawk, the president and Bane, the vice president stand up, as the rest of the club has guns drawn on us. “What the fuck is this about?” Hawk growls.
“Call your guys off and we’ll fucking talk,” Zane yells.
“Not a fucking chance,” Bane laughs, folding his large tattooed arms. He’s a big guy and definitely hasn’t seen a gym in at least twenty years. His big, round belly hangs over his jeans, his dark eyes bounce around to all of us, while his wild, long gray hair stands at all angles.
“Hawk, we need to talk,” Brooks says, not moving.
Hawk looks around, uncertain of what to do. They trust us as much as we trust them. No one feels safe right now and that’s dangerous. Hawk runs his hand through his short salt and pepper hair, as he looks to his vice president for advice. Hawk rests his muscular tattooed arms behind his head, his broad shoulders getting wider as he appears to be having a silent conversation with Bane.
I glance back at Zane and he nods slightly. If they don’t agree to this sit down, we’ll make sure it’s a painful mistake. I keep my gun pointed as I look around. This place is awful. It’s dark with just a few flickering lights. There are only three wooden tables, covered in beer bottles, and overflowing ashtrays. The walls have holes in them, and the floor is a patch job of tile and two by fours. I have to imagine this is the place they torment people because it looks abandoned. It pisses me off thinking about what could be going on behind the closed-door Hawk stands in front of.
“Brooks, Enzo, and Zane come with us,” Bane says.
A chill runs up my spine as I turn to look at them. I don’t like that he wants to talk in private. I’m not sure who’s in more trouble, the three of them going back or the five of us who stay here waiting.
“No one comes back, if they try fucking kill them,” Z whispers has he walks past.
I nod watching them all disappear behind the door. Once it clicks closed, my eyes bounce between the seven Raging Devils, guns still drawn by us all. Damon and Casper are the only two that I know. The others I’ve seen around but know nothing about. Damon is a massive motherfucker. I like to think I’m built, but I’m nothing compared to him. He’s got a shaved head with tattoos covering every part of him except for his face. His head, neck, arms, chest, and I’m sure more I can’t see, are all covered in ink. The blue T-shirt he’s got on is straining against his muscular body. Casper is not as massive as Damon, but he’s still big. He’s equal to me, but he only sports a few tattoos on each arm. His long brown hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, his dark eyes drill into each of us, as his muscles flex holding the gun. The rest of the club look young, maybe even younger than Finn, which I don’t like. It means they are reckless and not grown enough to question what they are told to do.
Riley whispers something behind me, but I refuse to take my eyes or gun off Damon and Casper.
“You have something