by Aden Lowe
He paused just inside the door as Crank landed a flurry of kicks and punches on the poor dummy's body. "You're going to kill that fucker one of these days."
Crank grunted and delivered more punishment.
Over by the bag, Skates stepped back, breathing heavily. "Hey boss, 'sup?"
Kellen nodded. "Don't stop on my account. It can wait."
Finished with his combination, Crank stepped back as well. "Wha'cho need, boss?"
First things first. "Anybody seen Hack in the last little bit?"
"Nah, man. He lef' maybe two hours ago. Said he be back in the morning. Yo need som'pin done?" Crank's version of thug talk sometimes left his meaning in doubt. Not this time.
"Not really. Wanted to ask you guys something." Kellen concealed the deep breath he took. The two men never publicly allied themselves with Hack, but like all the Raiders, they were fiercely loyal, and might object to his ideas.
"Anything, boss. Name it." Skates started to pull the protective tape from around his knuckles.
"How you guys think Hack's doing as VP?" Caution prevented him from asking outright if they thought the bastard should be dropped.
The pair exchanged a significant glance. Crank threw a strip of tape into an old five-gallon bucket kept there for that purpose. "Hate to say it, man, but he ain't doin' so hot. Chasin' pills too hard."
Skates nodded. "To be honest, a few of us have had money on how long it would it take you to call for a vote. We need somebody else in the seat."
Something in Kellen's chest loosened, something he hadn't even been aware of. If he'd been a religious bastard, he might have offered up a prayer of thanks. "Any idea who you'd like to see there?"
"Trip be the best for it. Gots him a head for business, be good for the club." Crank grinned. "But don' matter none to me, whoever you says, I'll back."
"Thanks, Crank. That means a lot. But I think you're right. Trip would be the best for the job."
Skates simply nodded his agreement as he dropped the last of his tape in the bucket.
"Another question, then. How many of the boys are looking for a vote?" Yet another factor to consider before he thought about moving forward.
Skates shrugged again and grabbed his cut off the rail. "I can only think of one that might not be ready. Lefty is pretty tight with Hack, but even he's mentioned that Hack ain't paying enough attention to the club."
"Good to know." Kellen turned to head back toward the house. Now he had to decide on a timeline for this big move. It would be the first time in history an Officer of the club would be demoted by vote. He couldn't see any way around it though. Best move for the Hell Raiders. Nothing else mattered.
The cooler evening air offered a relief as he took the path toward the back porch. Kellen paused to enjoy it for a second. The weight off his shoulders was immeasurable. He hadn't imagined just getting confirmation of his doubts about Hack could make such a difference. He felt a hundred pounds lighter, at least.
He stepped up onto the porch, and Dix didn't even look up, occupied with his book and his ice pack. The mental image of tiny Georgie practically laying the big boy scout out with one well-placed punch brought a grin. Unless he missed his guess, more sparks were going to fly there. Good. Georgie would make the kid a good ol' lady.
Inside, Kitty Wells' Walkin' After Midnight filled the house. Not a good sign. Fabio would be touchy enough to kill in short order. He should probably go have a talk with the bastard.
Before he could decide what to say, his phone vibrated. The screen glowed with Vicki's number. He wasted no time answering. "How you doing, little girl?"
"Uh, not so good, baby. Can you talk?" Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she'd been crying or something.
"Yeah, all good here." He stalked for the semi-privacy of his room. "What's up?"
"They hit again, baby. This time, they left me a little present. My second is married, has a kid. Had. They hit his house. He came home to find his wife gang raped and his baby beaten to death. His wife is a good friend. I don't think she'll ever recover. They made sure there'd be no more babies too. This has to stop. They're going to go through my whole crew. Except I don't know how to stop them. That's why I'm calling. I need help."
"Name it." Sure Kellen had a few criminal tendencies. But hurting innocents never entered into his game plan. He'd even put the beat down on a former Raider after the bastard assaulted his ol' lady. No call for that kind of shit.
"I don't know what can be done. Do you have any ideas?"
Kellen thought for a minute. "Strategic retreat. Pull all your innocents and weaker people in. Do you have a place they could all go that's more secure than your place?"
She made a small sound as she considered the question. "My mother's house would probably be the best place, as much as I hate to go there. It already has a security system and we can beef that up with some defense. They only got in for that hit because of the stupid party. She'd had all the security pulled so her guests wouldn't be uncomfortable."
"Okay, I'd say go with that plan then. Do you have enough shooters to protect the place if they come after it?"
"I have six I can count on to stand solid. The others are part timers and might be a little gun shy when bullets start flying." She paused. "I'll have to hire someone, I guess."
Kellen considered. The Hell Raiders were uniquely suited to that sort of job. And the club could use the money. Should only be short term, until Vicki figured out who was harassing her and put an end to it. "I might have somebody. Let me call you back in a few."
He went through to the living room. "Hey, Trip, I need an emergency Church meeting."
"Coming right up." Trip pulled his phone out to send the group text that would bring all the voting members in a rush.
"Thirty minutes. Anybody that can't get here will have to vote by phone. This can't wait for them to take their sweet time rolling up." He turned and stalked toward Fabio. Time to do something about that shit, too. He dropped into the seat across from the former Marine. "Hey, man, need your brain in the game right now."
Fabio looked up, startling blue eyes deep pools of misery at the moment. "Just point me where you need me. I'll be there."
"Man, you gotta quit this shit. Shut the golden oldies off, and get your shit together. This won't be a walk in the park. I just called for an emergency Church." Pretty good, considering the struggle to keep his annoyance out of his voice. It wouldn't do to set Fabio off right now.
Fabio looked away for a moment, then rose to shut the stereo off. He tied back the long blond hair that had gained him his name. "I'm here boss. Name it."
Kellen nodded. "Thanks, man." He started to say more, but Trip chose that moment to come over, all serious and shit.
"Sent the summons out. Already got one reply. Thought you should see it." He handed his phone over to Kellen.
Kellen had to read the message from Hack three full times before it sank in.
Fuck that. I'm busy. Don't bother me with this shit.
Fury burned through his brain in the first ten seconds. Never. A Hell Raider never ignored a summons. Something like relief stepped in for the rage. Perfect. This provided all the grounds he needed to call for a vote to remove Hack as VP. No one would oppose him after that text.
"Screen shot that shit and send it to me. Time to fix that problem too." He headed for the office. The VP vote could wait until they finished the job for Vicki if the other Raiders were in favor. The bylaws allowed him to appoint an interim officer if the need arose. Hack refusing to do his duty to the club should qualify as need.
The ledger of the club's assets sat in the safe, like always. Kellen gave it a quick look so he could provide an update if anyone called for it in Church. Several times, he'd been tempted to move those records to a computer, but every time, Trip had argued against it. Computers were simply too vulnerable, he said, too easy to hack or damage. A single hard copy gave them the best chance of keeping the information out of the wrong hands and safe.
>
At the moment, Kellen was glad the club had agreed with Trip. Ten-to-one, that was how the Russian mob was managing to find Vicki's vulnerabilities.
Chapter Ten
The room Kellen had added on to the side of the old farm house that served as the Hell Raiders clubhouse made a perfect conference room. He stationed Dix outside the heavy door to collect cellphones as the voting members filed in.
With the ATF and every other law enforcement agency in the country looking to shut down MCs, Kellen nearly gave in to the temptation to check everyone for electronics as the entered Church. That would act as a slap in the face to all the Hell Raiders though. They had to trust one another absolutely. He had to depend on their honor as his brothers and hope none of them had a motivation to take the club down.
One by one, the other voting members took their seats around the big plank table. The only exception was Hack. When Crank and Skates entered, bringing up the rear, Kellen signaled Dix to close the heavy doors and went through an abbreviated version of bringing the meeting to order.
"Only new business today, and it has to be fast. First, we've been offered a shooting job. One of our gun suppliers is up against it with the Russian mob breathing down her neck, and they're hitting innocents. She's pulling her people into lockdown, but she doesn't have enough men to defend her location. She's asked us to help." He took a slow look around the table, gauging each Raider's feeling on the matter. He went on to give more details, and then called for a vote. Trip seconded, and in just under a minute, the decision was made. They were taking the job.
"One other thing." He passed a sheet of paper around showing the screen shot of Hack's reply to his call for emergency Church. Anger transformed every face around the table.
Fabio spoke. "I move we take a vote. Remove Hack from the VP seat, and put Trip in it. It's been a long time coming."
"I second." Surprisingly, the second came from Lefty. Hack's buddy.
Kellen filed the observation away for future reference. "All in favor?"
The vote was unanimous, with Trip abstaining.
Kellen took a moment to make it official and swore Trip in. "Okay, we roll for the job in half an hour."
Crank tapped at the closed door, signaling Dix the meeting was over and it was time to open it up. Dix complied, and the Raiders filed out. The only thing left was to inform Hack of his demotion. The fucker was lucky Kellen hadn't called for disciplinary action for dereliction. Refusing to attend an emergency meeting was a very serious matter.
Anxious to get rolling, Kellen started for his room to grab what he needed.
Fabio stopped him in the hall. "Got a minute, boss?"
"Yeah, man, what's up?"
"Just wanted to tell you, my shit won't interfere with club business. I'm solid."
"I know that, brother. No need to worry. Just go easy on that memory lane shit, not always good for you." He slapped Fabio's shoulder and went on for his room.
Most of his weapons found their usual spots, concealed in various places on his body. The rest went into the duffle bag he would tie onto the back of his bike. Since they were all illegal, he had to be able to dump them quickly if the need arose. His saddlebags were reserved for other things he might need. A change of clothes. A couple of paperbacks. Phone charger. All that good shit.
He normally didn't bother much with grooming while they were on a job, but this case was a little different. He could hardly come to Vicki's bed if he stunk like a hog. And he had every intention of spending as much time in that bed, with her for company, as possible. So he took the time to throw a shower and shave kit into the saddlebag. Some emergency rations and his medic kit topped it off. He could handle nearly anything now.
Outside, he secured everything to his bike, checked his tires and everything else he would before a major run. The bag with the weapons was on top of everything else, secured with a quick release knot. One little pull on the string and he could dump it at ninety miles an hour if he needed to.
The other Raiders all performed similar tasks, and within moments, all were ready to roll. He took a moment to text Vicki so she could be prepared for his arrival, and looked around, satisfied. They were a tight unit, ready for anything. A final word with Fabio, his Road Captain, and Kellen gave the sign to mount up.
They rolled into Stags Leap en masse, something they rarely did. Citizens stopped what they were doing to watch, a little wary. Kellen led them into the lot of Rita's Rattlesnake tavern. By prior agreement, he could leave messages there for any Raider who happened to miss some news. In this case, Hack.
The Raiders stayed with the bikes, and Kellen went inside himself. A hundred dollar bill accompanied the sealed envelope with his coded note to Hack when he passed it to Tyler, the bartender. The guy nodded and slid the bill into his pocket and the envelope under the bar. No need to exchange words.
Kellen and Rita might not be an item anymore, but he had no reason to expect the staff at the Rattlesnake would be any less cooperative than they'd ever been. The whole town of Stags Leap generally supported the Raiders, and the Raiders took care of the town and spent money in the businesses. It was a good arrangement.
Back on the road, he kept the column's speed just over the edge of legal. They didn't need any delays from getting pulled over for speeding. That would just lead to a world of trouble. It was nothing unusual. The Raiders normally tried to at least appear legal when they went on the road. No need to provoke local law.
The ride to the bridge across the Ohio River seemed endless. A dull throb started in Kellen's temples, brought on, no doubt, by sheer annoyance at the distance and time it took to reach Vicki. Anything could happen in the two hours it took to get to her.
But finally they crossed into Ohio and he could start counting down the minutes until he saw her. Despite the rush, he took a roundabout route to avoid leading anyone to her door. Just in case.
At the edge of her town, he pulled in at a convenience store. Time to make sure all the tanks were full and give some last minute instructions. As the bikes took their turns at the pumps, he gave his orders to Trip and Fabio and trusted them to pass it along without being overheard or misunderstood.
Fifteen minutes later, as they headed in the opposite direction from where they needed to go, bikes peeled off the column in pairs and threes. Each group would take a different route to Vicki's mother's house. Finally, only he and Crank remained.
Kellen chose to wind through a residential area, acting like a sedate law-abiding citizen out for a short ride. As soon as he was sure no one followed, he hit the throttle and rocketed toward her, forcing Crank to push his bike hard to keep up.
When he reached the massive Victorian estate, seated amid its grand gardens, he circled around to the back of the house to conceal his bike, as he'd instructed the others. In the next five minutes, the rest of the Raiders arrived and followed directions perfectly. They always did. The penalty for fucking up could be harsh. Even Dix knew that one.
The prospect remained behind as usual to make sure no one fucked with the bikes, and the others followed Kellen to the broad French doors standing wide open. Just inside the door, a small Latino guy nodded to Kellen and stepped back to allow them to pass.
On the other side of the room, a dark-haired woman wearing jeans and a modest t-shirt, scrubbed at the wall, removing the blood spatter from where someone had been shot during the attack. The smell of bleach permeated the room. At least someone knew what they were doing with that.
His heart nearly stopped when movement caught his attention. One wall of the room was dedicated to a huge fireplace, and glass-fronted cabinets of what Kellen was certain were delicate antiques. Vicki stood in front of the fireplace, staring up at the gilt-framed painting above the mantle. Damn thing must be life-sized. A dark-haired version of Vicki wore a formal gown, something fancy and white, but not a wedding dress.
Vicki turned and gave him a sad smile. "My mother. She was twenty-one. This was painted for her debut. That's
where she met my father. Spoiled little rich girl fell hard for the Russian mobster who bought his way into the debutante ball. And he fell even harder. They came from different worlds, but they loved each other and were happy."
Kellen moved up beside her and studied the painting. "You look a lot like her. She was beautiful."
"Yeah, she was."
"Vicki, I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say.
She turned away again, sighing. "I know. I am too." Another sigh. "Thanks for coming. I was afraid you wouldn't and I didn't really know where else to turn. I don't have close associations with anyone else who could do something like this." A hint of redness colored her cheeks. Embarrassment? Surely not.
"I'm glad to be here, and glad the Raiders agreed to take the job."
"Me too." Something about the set of her shoulders, some hint of vulnerability, made him want to wrap her in his arms and keep the world at bay. She shouldn't have to deal with this. She likely wouldn't welcome any sign of protectiveness from him, though, so he refrained.
"Let's go where we can talk. Figure this shit out." The sooner it was over, the better. He could get back to concentrating on getting his fill of her.
With a quick nod and a glance around, as if to ensure everything was in place, she led the way from the parlor, or whatever it was, to a large suite of rooms on the second floor. A living room done in pastels and neutrals opened into a large bedroom with matching décor.
To one side, an oak door led into a small, dark office. The dimness came from the dark wood paneling and the floor to ceiling shelves filled with books on all four walls. A saltwater fish tank glowed from the wall behind the heavy walnut desk.
"This was originally my father's office. After he died, my mother used it for her personal stuff, but she kept all his things, too. I think she just enjoyed being in the room where he'd spent so much time."
Kellen stared around him and kept his mouth shut, for a change. The only sign of female presence in the room was a shelf of paperback romance novels. He looked back to Vicki. "Any new leads on who's doing this shit?"
