Page 48 of Caution to the Wind

That’s somethin’ they teach you in the sandbox. You get in front of an insurgent, you never show fear. Not even in the instant before certain death.

And I knew, somewhere in my gut, that I wasn’t dyin’ at the Golden Door Inn at the hands of Jiang Kuan.

“Which would your brother have a harder time with, do ya think? That fact that you’re fuckin’ awhiteman or the fact that you’re fuckin’ a whiteman?” I murmured, cognizant of the thugs at the door who’d drawn their guns but remained where they stood across the room, waitin’ for a sign from their boss. “Smart of you to hide from him.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” he snarled, the pressure of the gun against my temple a cold, painful bite. “How thefuckwould you even find that out?”

“Give a thug an education, and there’s no tellin’ what he’ll do,” I snarked softly. “When it comes to protectin’ his family, he’ll do damn near everythin’.”

Jiang stared into my eyes for a long moment, every muscle in his face tensed. Whatever he found there seemed to settle somethin’, and he slowly sat back into his chair, though the gold-plated pistol stayed on the table in easy reach.

“You want to keep livin’, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make sure that knowledge never leaves your mouth again,” he stated demurely, as if he wasn’t threatenin’ me.

“You want all of us to keep on livin’, I’m sure you’ll find a way to see what I’m offerin’ and work with me to find an amicable kinda solution,” I replied with an easy smile.

Even though, beneath my breastbone my heart was poundin’ like machine fire.

Jiang leaned back in his chair as if I’d given him a choice he could live with, as if he’d been the one to bring it to me myself, and he said, “Talk to me.”

So I did.

It was a gamble, an enormous one.

Jiang could’ve killed me on the spot for revealin’ I knew his secret. It didn’t matter the colour of your skin or your criminal outfit, homosexuality was still viewed cruelly by any kinda thug. I had Jiang’s life in my hands, and he had to trust I was just as vulnerable if he was gonna let me live.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, my plan involved goin’ above Rooster’s head to Zeus, the leader of the entire fuckin’ Fallen MC, which put me and mine in just as bad a position as Jiang.

The way I saw it, it was the only way to untangle this fuck fest without rivers of blood runnin’ through Calgary’s streets. Seven Song would get their product back and uncontested rule over the hard drug trade, and The Fallen would keep to our gun runnin’ and weed production.

I just needed Jiang to convince his brother it was a wise idea.

When I finished talkin’, Jiang looked at me with somethin’ like respect in his eyes and said, “Zuk nei hou wan, Axe. You’ll need it. I don’t take kindly to men who threaten me…or mine,” he acknowledged with a glower, cedin’ the point that I was right about his boyfriend.

I made a silent oath to buy Old Dragon somethin’ expensive for Lunar New Year. I didn’t have a clue how he knew about Jiang’s sexuality, but the old man still had connections in the underground, and he didn’t hesitate to use them for me.

“I will speak with him tonight, but I make no promises. He does not take kindly to opinions that are not his own. The problem is,” Jiang continued, almost conversationally, pourin’ more rice wine into his cup, “I am not in charge of the triad. Kasper is.”

“You can bend his ear.”

“Not as much as you may think,” he admitted wryly. “He is much older than me, and he has been doing this his own way for a long time. I am the muscle, not the mind. I think you understand very well the position I am in. A Vanguard is only a different kind of enforcer.”

I tipped my head in acknowledgment. “I’ve often wondered if it wouldn’t be better, the mind and the muscle in one body takin’ control.”

Jiang’s smile was sharp as the edge of thedaosword secured to his hip. He tipped his rice wine cup to me and waited for me to match the gesture before he said, “You and me, both.”

HENNING

The Fallen clubhousewas a shitty building on the outskirts of the city in the industrial district. Once, it had been some kinda warehouse, but the club had turned it into a clubhouse with a main room complete with a shoddily built bar and a collection of bunk rooms in the back. A row of motorbikes was parked in a sloppy line along one side of the building, their chrome backs glintin’ harshly in the light from the huge industrial lights loomin’ over the parkin’ lot.

It was a Friday night, so the place should’ve been packed with brothers and biker groupies, but the air was still, thick with heat and eerie silence. When I pushed through the door, the main room with the makeshift bar, comfortable and well-used furniture, and stained wood floors was completely empty.

A chill skittered down my spine.

“Prez?” I called out, my boots thunkin’ against the floorboards, overly loud in the ringin’ quiet.

“Back here, Axe.”

I moved through the room to the back hall and to the left to our chapel, the room we held meetings and formal shit in. The door creaked ominously as I entered.