“This has been a long time coming.” Max listened to his Uncle Alex address the crowded bar. Every available member of the Skeleton Kings had packed inside the flimsy building. The air was thick with sweat and cheap beer.
Max stood towards the back beside Henry and Aaron. His head still throbbed from the wound he’d picked up during the bar fight back in Colridge.
“Too long have the Red Riders taunted us,” his uncle raged to his enraptured audience. Pack members hollered in agreement, raising bottles of beer to the air in a toast. “Too long have they crept into a territory that isn’t fucking theirs.”
“Your Uncle is certainly fired up,” Will whispered quietly to Max. All Max could do was nod stoically in agreement. He had hoped he’d have time to talk to his Uncle, privately, before the entire crew assembled. He wanted to do all he could to discourage his Uncle Alex, from going to war with the Red Riders. But as soon as he pulled into the bar’s parking lot, he knew he was way too late. Almost a hundred motorcycles were lined up outside, glistening in the early morning sunlight, like precious polished toys. All members of the Skeleton Kings were in residence; his Uncle was preparing his troops.
“I like where the old man is coming from,” Henry growled with delight, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall.
Max said nothing. He continued to gaze over at his Uncle, who was decidedly more animated than usual as he addressed the packed bar.
“I say tonight we show the Riders who really runs things around here!”
People were cheering, salivating at the prospect of spilling blood.
“We’ll run them out of Colridge, out of the state, with their tails between their legs like the pathetic dogs they are!”
“Ooow! Yeah!” men howled like wolves.
Groaning, Max tried to disappear into the shadows of the bar. He couldn’t stop thinking about Brittany, about how his old uncle had known about her all along. Surely, she was now in danger? But he couldn’t go back to her, not at the risk of turning the entire pack against him. They’d tear him apart before he’d made it to his bike. No, he needed to tread carefully, especially now.
Finally, his Uncle dismissed his audience, insisting everyone go home and rest up before the big night. But this dismissal hadn’t included Max, which he realized as he headed for the doors with the others but was promptly pulled back by a strong pair of hands which clamped around his shoulders like a vice.
With a sigh of resignation Max stopped and turned around, letting the other members pass around him on their way out, as though he were a rock in a stream. The heavy hands which had stopped him belonged to one of his Uncle’s most favored cronies, a six-foot five rider called Bulldog.
“I don’t get to rest up then,” Max gestured towards the doors which Henry and Will had previously gone through.
“Rest is for the weak,” Uncle Alex waved a dismissive hand through the air as he staggered back to his regular table. All of the confidence and bluster had gone, and he was once again a feeble old man. Still burning with resentment for his Uncle, Max followed him to the table with Bulldog lingering close by, keeping guard.
“I told you we were going to war,” Alex declared with a sinister smile.
“That you did,” Max agreed flatly.
“And I need to keep you here, where I can see you.”
Max squirmed uncomfortably. He felt more like a child than a man, being held captive like this at the bar.
“If I let you leave here, all you’ll do is go and warn that little girl of yours, and there’s no way in hell we're having that.”
Max tensed with anger.
“She’d warn that brother of hers,” Alex continued. Max wanted to correct him, to insist that Brittany was loyal to him first, but he knew that would be a lie. Brittany loved her brother, she’d do all she could to keep him safe. She wouldn’t be the girl he loved if she’d do otherwise.
“She can’t get mixed up in this,” Max tried to sound menacing but knew he was failing. He was exhausted and his wounds were burning, causing his thoughts to fog.
“Someone caught you real good,” Alex nodded at his wound which Max could already feel was bleeding again.
“A guy at the bar had a blade.” Max winced as he spoke, it was starting to hurt to move his mouth.
“We should get that taken care of,” Alex nodded at Bulldog, who left them alone and disappeared off behind the bar.
“I’m fine,” Max insisted tersely.
“You’re not,” Alex shook his head, gazing at his nephew intently. “And I can’t have you in anything less than top form for tonight.”
“Tonight?” Max kept wincing. He felt like something was hammering a jackhammer against his skull. “Why so soon?” he felt almost delirious from the pain.
“We can’t afford to wait,” Alex explained. “The Red Riders will already be mobilizing, and we'd be smart catch them off guard.”
In Bulldog’s place returned a blonde with a heavily lined face. She was carrying a bright red first aid kit, which she dropped down on the table before kneeling down beside Max to scrutinize his wound.
“Ahh,” he protested, pulling away as she fingered around the tender flesh.
“Don’t be a baby,” Alex chastised. Max wanted to retort that it was easy for his uncle to be so dismissive. He couldn’t remember the last time his old uncle had left the safety of the bar.
“It needs stitches,” the blonde didn’t inform Max. Instead, she spoke directly to Alex who nodded his consent.
“Best take you out back to do them,” she was talking to Max now, nudging his shoulder to get him to stand up.
“You’re in good hands with her,” Alex gave a thin smile. “She’ll fix you up as good as new.”
“Come on now,” the blonde was guiding Max through the bar, away from his uncle.
“Don’t knock him out too good,” Alex called after them. “I need him on his feet by tonight.”