Desert Venom Motorcycle Club: The Complete Novella: (Military and Law Enforcement Erotica)
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One of the men stuck a syringe full of heroin in Becky's arm. She jumped when the needle lanced into her skin. She began to float on the drug within a minute.
The Sheik said, "Keep her high until she leaves here. Have a woman, never a man, keep her aroused all the time. I want her to be able to think of nothing else but drugs and her next finger, tongue, or cock."
***
Outside, Isaac and the local police developed a plan. The building had one entrance and one exit, front and back. About one third of the group would go around back and look for an easier entrance. The other two thirds would attack head on.
Isaac and his men snuck around the back of the brothel.
Isaac nudged Patrolman Jose Bantamera of the Saltillo Police Department and pointed to the door leading into the bottom floor, "Take two men. We'll break open the door on the second. Wait for the guards to run up to the second floor then break open the door." Bantamera nodded in agreement and picked two men. He stayed out of sight behind a dumpster.
Isaac called Lt. Ernesto Guevera who was handling the main force, "Ernesto. We're going to break through the second-floor door. Jose will wait a few seconds for their guards to get up where we are then they'll break through the first floor. You wait a little longer and rush the main door. Okay?"
Isaac waved to three men standing close to him. He whispered, "Let's do it." He and his men scrambled up the crude staircase to the second-floor door. He nodded to the big patrolman with the ram. The man swung back once and drove the ram through the metal door right next to the lock. The door bounced back against the wall.
Inside the room, they saw two women abusing a blonde girl who twisted against her bed. One woman made broad sweeping motions of the wet, wide cleft between the girls legs. The other pulled on the girl's left nipple with her teeth, stretching it away from her breast at least an inch.
All of the men had automatic weapons. The Saltillo police depart used H&K UMP's in .45 caliber. Isaac and his men fired their weapons into the ceiling. The two women ran out of the room. They heard the girl moan and say, "Please. More."
The door on the first floor crashed open as Isaac streamed out of the room. They stood on the landing and waited, guns pointed downstairs. Seven men with drawn guns ran out of the kitchen at the back of the building.
Lt. Guevera and his men broke through the front door at that moment, trapping the seven criminals in a crossfire. All of them were armed except for a man dressed in a white Arab robe with a Kaffiya or headscarf. The six armed men dropped their guns and raised their hands. The Arab man looked feverishly around for a way out.
Sheik Shamir wouldn't find a way out; not only out that building, but out of the American legal system. Becky's testimony was tainted by the drugs she was given. However, the six guards scrambled to be the one who got the lighter sentence for testifying against the Sheik.
The incident produced an interesting side effect. The Desert Venom Clubhouse was taken by the county because it was obtained with the proceeds of a crime. The city administrators sold it to Isaac and Chica, the owners of the former Five Points Clubhouse for a fair price. The property was undervalued because of the neglect of Colt and his men. In two days, it was clean and neat and home to the members of the Five Points MC.
***
Chica had trouble concentrating. The blackmail threat nibbled at her mind. She wanted to concentrate. The man she loved was doing wonderfully loving things to her body. For a man with one arm and a damaged leg, John could move around quickly.
Half an hour earlier, John and Chica had been watching the evening news. John leaned over and kissed Chica's neck. She made a happy sound deep in her throat and he continued. When he'd kissed the left side of her neck completely, he turned the TV off and switched around on the sofa so she was facing him. He worked on the other side of her neck. Chica stretched and leaned to make it easy for him.
When her neck had been kissed enough, John slipped his hand inside her blouse. Chica didn't wear a bra or pants around the house. She would, sooner or later. She wanted her breasts to keep their shape, but for the moment, she wanted to be available for him whenever he wanted.
She felt his hand glide over the skin on her full, heavy breasts. John's hands were roughened through his military service. She felt every coarse spot and callus as he dragged them over her impressive chest. She put her hand on his and guided where she wanted to be touched. Soon her lovely breasts became swollen and sensitive. He centered his attention on her taut nipples until they were tight, little peaks.
He reached under her skirt and stroked her legs. She extended her legs down the sofa, giving him as much of her skin to touch as she could. His hand skimmed over the tender skin on the inside of her thighs. She wanted to grab his hand in hers and pull it more quickly up to her panties. She needed them off and John working on the hot pool of feelings at the top of her thighs. She knew that it would increase her sensation if she waited for him to get there.
Finally, he slipped her panties down her legs and off. She brazenly opened her legs and bent her knees. She bunched her skirt around her waist. Her soft, hidden recess was open to him now. She stroked herself once and said, "Please." John's hand captured the prize and his thumb pressed against her responsive pearl. One finger dove into her wet vagina and moved around until it found an especially susceptible spot. She arched her back and moaned. Her eyes closed halfway and she breathed long and full.
John knew she loved this part of lovemaking. He kept at it without change for enough time for her to peak over the edge to completion. She said, "John. Now."
She helped lift herself up and off his lap. She unzipped him and found his thick shaft. She immediately pulled it into her mouth and gave it loving attention. He groaned.
Before she was ready, he pulled her up. He had her kneel facing him. She held her skirt up and aimed his cock at her vagina. She lowered until his straining erection penetrated her pussy. She dropped her skirt around her. John frowned and unbuttoned her blouse and dropped it down her arms.
As he was doing this, she buried him inside her to the hilt. She stopped everything but a slight movement of her hips which rubbed the tip of his hard, throbbing erection against the back of her vagina, sending delicious sensations throughout her body.
The blackmail edged into consciousness. It was long ago. She looked at him. He was a righteous man. Would her reject her? She couldn't bear that. She'd pay the blackmailer. Make him go away.
She initiated the rhythm of penetration and withdrawal, feeling all of the bumps and ridges on his cock as they scrubbed against her womanhood.
After ten minutes of sweaty, athletic pounding, Chica bent her back away from John and groaned. Her moment of reward was intense enough to make her faint. John rubbed her clitoris with careful effort. She felt heat of his fingers run to her nipples and then over her chest and belly. She grunted every time his cock penetrated her fully. She thought she'd gone past the best part when her body overwhelmed her with a second wave of sensation. She saw black spots in front of her eyes for a second.
Her passion ended with as much affect on her as it started. She gasped as her energy ran out. It seemed to drag from inside her lungs as if someone were pulling it. His mind whirled and she closed her eyes.
She became aware that she was gasping for air. It seemed thick, like heavy syrup. She needed it desperately, but couldn't draw it inside.
John held her to him and rested her head on his shoulder. It took thirty seconds for her to recover. She noticed that his shaft was as hard as it had ever been. She pulled him down on top of her and welcomed him between her legs and with her arms around his neck. She whispered, "Your turn," in his ear.
He knew what to do. He changed the angle of his cock inside her to that it plowed up the center of her vagina, getting stimulation on all sides and all along the length of him. It took ten penetrations to do the job. He buried himself and grunted each time his body sent a spurt of semen into Chica's open, accepting body.
***
The next day, Chica got another letter, no thumb drive this time, just a written note.
Hi Babe,
We can work this out. I don't want money, just your cooperation. Meet me at the Econo Motel, room 256, at three. I'll show you what I want."
Sincerely,
A Friend
She trembled and shook for five minutes after she threw the letter away.
The man who wrote the note watched the clubhouse with binoculars from up the road. He was happy.
The man wore an expensive suit, impressive shoes, and carried a briefcase that cost more than most men make in a month. He asked Chica, in a pleasant voice, if he could talk to the owner, Mr. Stone.
Isaac invited the man into his office. The man said, "Mr. Stone. I'm Henry Tyson of Tyson, Tyson, and Smith. We're a law firm in Phoenix. We have a request to make of you. We'll pay you handsomely, if you'll do what we ask."
Isaac knew lawyers, having dealt with them in the past and asked, "What's your request?"
"Our clients are going to have extensive dealings in this area during the next year, mainly in the Iconus Valley and the city of Iconus. We have our own private security forces and feel our needs are covered. We've had some trouble in the past with local law enforcement, frankly, getting in the way and causing extra expense and delay. We can assure you that we're able to deal with any situations that come up. We'll pay you ten thousand dollars a month if you'll work with us on this."
Isaac caught the general drift of the man's intent halfway through his speech. He replied, "Nicely said. You make it awfully easy to agree. The money is too much if you expect me to believe you're going to operate inside the law. I know there's a threat that comes with this. Give it to me so I'll know how serious you are."
Tyson shook his head, "No, no, no. There's no threat. We don't work that way. We have encountered problems in the past with accidents having nothing to do with our clients happening to people who didn't want to work with us. That's a worry for our clients. They are law abiding people and their reputations were stained with suspicion after those accidents happened."
"Again, nicely said. Nothing there you could be arrested for. Tell me what kind of accidents happened to those unfortunate people who wouldn't cooperate."
Tyson dripped sincerity and innocence, "I'm reluctant to do that because you'll form a link between the accident and my clients if one of them happened to you or someone you care about, but they involved fire or gas explosions. Unfortunately, some individuals were caught in these incidents and killed." He shook his head, "Most unfortunate."
Isaac thought for a moment before answering, "I wish I were more skilled at acting. Or lying. Either one. I would agree and work behind your back to bring you..." He stopped. "... excuse me. To bring your clients to justice. I'm not good enough so I'll just tell you that we won't be taking your money. And, just so we're clear, we won't be committing any extra manpower to Iconus either."
Isaac stood up and Tyson followed him to the door. As Tyson opened the door, Isaac put a hand on his chest and stopped him. Tyson was a bit surprised by this invasion of his personal space. He looked down at Isaac's hand.
"Did your clients have anything to do with a string of brothels just over the border?"
Tyson kept his professional demeanor, "The incident with the kidnapped sisters? No. There's no profit in slavery. The profile is too high. Too much publicity. Bad for business."
Isaac removed his hand. Tyson went past him and through the door to the outside. On his way to his rented car, he shook his head.
Chapter Eight: A Very Big Shipment
Ten years earlier, Larry Wilkins had built a frame house on land across from the clubhouse. He should have stuck to Certified Public Accounting, a trade he handled nicely. The city condemned his house as unsafe after the floor gave way during a meeting of the Daughters of the American Revolution. The house stood vacant for a decade. Earlier in the week, a man named "Jones" bought the house and had the utilities turned back on.
A non-descript man of average looks and build turned on the gas at the junction outside the house then checked the stove inside. Once he was satisfied that explosive gas was flowing well, he turned the gas off. He came back inside and unhooked the gas line to the stove. As he walked outside, he dropped a package on the floor of the living room. The package had a small box and several long, red tubes that looked like road flares.
He saw Mr. Tyson shake his head and drive off. The non-descript man left the house and yard. Three hours later, he dialed a number on his cell phone and waited. Once the connection was broken, he threw the phone in the trash and walked off.
The blast included dynamite as well as the natural gas filling the house. It spread the Wilkins house over four acres of land. Small pieces, no bigger than a man's hand, fell on the clubhouse and the parking lot.
The arson investigator found no evidence of tampering because there was nothing left that could be used as evidence. The blast was so powerful that everything in the house, down to the foundation, was reduced to small pieces.
***
Chica showed up to the Econo Motel, room 256, at three in the afternoon. A man inside the room welcomed her and invited her to sit at the small table in the room. He didn't look like Chica thought he would. He wasn't bad looking and dressed well. He wore the summertime uniform in Arizona of a cowboy shirt and jeans. He had brown eyes and black hair cut short. He said, "You can keep your clothes on."
Chica replied, "Thank you. That's not what I expected."
He was completely at ease. He spoke in a conversational tone without stress, "That was just to get you here. We want your cooperation on a business venture we're going to start in your county. Let me show you what will happen to you if you fail to work with us."
He opened a laptop and turned it so Chica could see the screen. He spoke into his cell phone, "Thirty seconds." He pointed to the screen. It was divided into three parts. He indicated the left side of the screen with a pencil. He tapped the screen.
"This is the man you enjoyed spending time with last week." On the screen, John sat on a lawn chair in back of his apartment, drinking lemonade, and reading a book. He said, "I want you to look at the wall behind him. Look a foot above his head."
As Chica watched, a hole appeared in the wall. She stared. She knew what it was. She saw that John didn't notice. He raised his head as if he'd heard something far off that might have been a gunshot, but he went back to his reading.
The man pointed to the middle part of the screen. It showed Isaac outside the clubhouse. He was watering flowers in a small garden. The man pointed to the wooden sign above the door. He indicated an area in the upper left hand corner. A few seconds later a black hole appeared in the sign. Isaac raised his head much as John had.
The man said, "Finally, Look at the last window." An older woman rocked back and forth on a rocking chair in front of an assisted living center in Tempe. The man said, "Do we need to shoot at something to get our point across? We will kill the man you love, your best friend, and your mother if you don't do what we say. It's that simple." He closed the laptop, "We'll be in touch."
He left the room. Chica started trembling just as she had when she got the thumb drive and the note.
***
Isaac called a meeting of a group of informal, volunteer police officers. Most were members of the club, some were unaffiliated, all were active or former military or law enforcement.
He began by recounting his meeting with the Mr. Tyson, "We have virtually nothing to go on. We don't know when they'll be doing whatever it is that they're going to do. Or where. I don't believe Iconus is the target. They must have known that I might turn down their offer. I can't imagine Iconus is the actual
target." He paused.
"We only have one clue; the ten thousand dollars a month. That indicates a big operation. The fact that they've hired a law firm and that law firm appears to be an ongoing part of their operation means that they're well established. I believe they've done this in the past. You've all dealt with criminals all your working careers. These may be better organized, but they're still criminals. Any ideas?"
Pete Townsend, one of the members of the club and a former Army MP, said, "We don't have anything to work on from the front end. This Tyson gave us nothing. Let's go to the back end and try to predict what they're going to do. Maybe we can work up some things to look out for."
Isaac said, "Good thinking, Pete. I agree. Anybody else?"
A man with gray hair and wearing a cowboy hat raised his hand. His voice was firm despite his obvious age, "It's got to be something with a lot of money. I'd say drugs. That's where the money is these days. If not drugs, then human trafficking."
Isaac nodded, "I think that's right. I don't think it's going to be mules in rental cars with a couple of hundred pounds of coke or weed or a car full of illegal immigrants from Mexico. The offer of ten grand a month means tons of drugs or boatloads of people."
A woman named Isobel Gonzalez raised her hand, offering her thoughts, "That's it. That's the key. They want to bring a really big shipment of something illegal through our county. We have to figure out where they're going to bring it and how. There's only a few ways to haul heavy or bulky loads like that."
Isaac said, "It's going to come in the county inside tractor/trailer trucks or on railroad cars."
The older man raised his hand again and asked, "Why did they do this? There's thousands of both kinds of contraband that come and go every week. Why try to hobble law enforcement? That puts us on alert. They're trying to disguise a weakness. Otherwise, they'd just do it and hope we don't find the shipments."