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Diablo nodded. “Pretty sure they are. I’ll let you know when the next one is. You guys heading back now?”

“Yeah. Raven’s gonna be so pissed and scared.” Muerto chuckled.

“That makes for a great fucking later on,” Sangre said, and the others laughed.

They went to their bikes and gave Diablo several chin lifts. He watched them as they roared onto the old highway, their red taillights flickering in the dark until they were out of sight. He walked slowly to the entrance, reminding himself not to lose his temper when Bloody Asshole got in his face.

“You took your fucking sweet time,” the promoter said when Diablo stepped inside. “What the fuck happened?”

“Someone let in a rival outlaw MC. They were in Night Rebels territory, so they got their asses kicked.”

“Well that makes everything clearer. Are we in a bad rerun of Brando’sThe Wild One? That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Diablo gritted his teeth. “Are we done?”

Bloody Knuckles’s eyes widened. “No, we’re not fuckin’ done. Rocky, bring the other bouncers. I want to talk to all of you.”

Diablo crossed his arms over his chest.I wonder how long this asshole’s gonna act like I give a shit what he thinks.

Rocky and the other two bouncers came over.

“What’s up, boss?” Rocky asked.

“Which one of you let the bikers in?” The promoter glared at each one of them.

“Diablo let some in, and I guess I did too,” Moe said.

The promoter fixed his eyes on Diablo. “Now I’m finding it was you and Moe who let them in.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I let my brothers in. I didn’t let the fuckin’ Satan’s Pistons in.”

Shaking his head, the promoter raised his hands in exaggerated exasperation. “Whatever. From now on, no bikers are allowed in this venue. I don’t give a shit if it’s a granny on a goddamn Harley—no one with a bike is allowed in here. Got it?” The three bouncers nodded but Diablo didn’t move a muscle. Coming close to him, Bloody Knuckles said, “You got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I do. There’s no fuckin’ way I’m turning my brothers away.”

Anger mottled the promoter’s face. “I own this goddamn place. I put on the fights. I pay your fucking wages. I’m not asking you—I’m fucking telling you.”

“Back away, old man, or you’re not gonna like the way your face looks in the morning.” Diablo uncrossed his arms and leaned closer to the promoter.

He stumbled backward. “If you want to keep your job, then you’ll follow what I say. No bikers. Period.”

“Give me my pay for tonight, then, and I’m fuckin’ outta here.”

“So you’re quitting?” Bloody Knuckles looked frustrated at the way things were playing out.

“Seems that way.” Diablo’s jaw jutted out.

“Boss, some of the biker dudes were here last week and there wasn’t no problem. Maybe it’s because the other bikers were here,” Rocky said.

“I saw the ones who had the devil on the back of their vests start the fight with the other bikers,” Moe added.

Bloody Knuckles breathed out an audible sigh. “Can you promise me this won’t happen again, Diablo? I mean, I lost a shitload of money tonight, and I don’t want people to be scared to come here. When they come, they fucking expect the fights to be in the ring, not in the crowd. Work with me, man. I don’t want to lose you, but you have to give me some assurance.”

Diablo stood silent for a few seconds, loving the way beads of sweat ran down Bloody Asshole’s face. “If no one disrespects them, then it’ll be good. If there aren’t any fuckin’ rival bikers in here, then it’ll be good. Pretty simple.”

The promoter nodded slowly. “All right. I just want to forget this damn night happened. I’ll try and put something together right away. I don’t want people thinking we’re closed for business.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “What a fucking mess tonight was.” He stared fixedly at Diablo and pointed his finger. “I’m counting on you to control shit before it happens.”

Diablo resisted the urge to grab his finger and bend it backward until it broke. The sound of Bloody Asshole’s bone snapping would be music to his ears. “I’m still waiting on my pay.”