Revelation by Kyle West Page B

was short, well-muscled, with black hair, pulled off his helmet, revealing mischievous brown eyes. He was dressed in black leather, and a shadow of stubble covered his chiseled face. He grinned as he put down the kickstand and stepped off his bike. Immediately, the six men who had been with him followed suit.
    “Sorry if I’m late,” the man said. “Business.”
    Cain waved him away, but there was a slight smile on his lips. I could tell that they were friends. Jade gave no reaction, but it looked like he was trying to mask anger – and perhaps, jealousy. Boss Dragon gave a single nod of acknowledgement. I could tell that the man, whoever he was, was highly respected in Vegas.
    “That’s Grudge,” Michael said. “Leader of the Suns.”
    Makara nodded. This was the guy Michael had said was a loose cannon. Now, though, he looked calm and in control. Respectable, even. But I knew not to trust that. I noticed, as the other riders took off helmets, that two of them were women. I was surprised. Up until this point, I hadn’t seen any girl gang members.
    Grudge walked across the tarmac, clasping hands with Cain. Grudge seemed genial and friendly. I wondered how he had earned the name, “Grudge” but it would be a while before I found out. Despite his easy smile, there was no doubting the element of danger the man exuded. I noticed the two Suns women gazed at him in an almost reverent manner.
    Now that Grudge was here, there was one gang left – the Kings. The Kings were, by Michael’s admission, the most powerful gang in Vegas, so it made sense that they would show up last to emphasize that point. As Grudge went back to his spot, I thought, not for the first time, that we were way in over our heads. Getting these gangs to do anything would be like herding cats. Maybe more like herding lions.
    Another five minutes passed, each group talking amongst itself. The groups quieted when the sounds of engines approached from the direction of the Strip. The Kings were coming.
    As they passed the security gate into the airport, I saw that they had no less than four Recons, all military grade, with turrets in the back. They gunned it for the circle, as if their aim was to run us all down. I noticed that the Dragon gang members clutched their rifles a little more tightly. At last, the Kings pulled to a neat, orderly stop, in the last space remaining in the circle of vehicles. They sat for a minute inside, tinted windows making it impossible to see within. For some reason, they were trying to drag this out as long as possible.
    Then, they stepped out into the dull red sunlight. There were eight gang members total, two for each Recon. Then, exiting the passenger side of the back Recon came Rey himself – a tall Hispanic man who was probably forty years of age. He smoked a cigar, his eyes narrowing smugly as he watched the other gangs, like a king surveying his lords. He blew out a cloud of smoke, tipping some ash onto the runway. He wore a dark pinstripe suit that was immaculately clean, a pink rose pinned to his jacket. Where he had found that rose, I had no idea. It only added to his mystery, his power. It was not just Rey who wore a clean suit – it was his men, also – these elites who were a reflection of their lord. Like the rest of the gangs, excepting the Dragons, the Kings carried no visible weapons. The New Angels and the Dragons were the only gangs to openly show their guns.
    Rey walked up to the circle, flanked on each side by his men. Rey was clearly the most powerful of the gang lords. Not only had he made the biggest showing of everyone there, he seemed the most in control – of himself, and of the situation. The other gang leaders looked to him, expecting him to speak first. Boss Dragon on the other side of the circle could not mask the scowl that came to his lips.
    “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Rey said, looking pointedly at Boss Dragon. “And ladies. I first want to thank Elijah, Boss Dragon, for this