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Duke © April 2015 by Candace Blevins
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Duke
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 1
by Candace Blevins
Glossary of Motorcycle Club Terms
Cage: Car, truck, SUV, etc. A vehicle that isn’t a motorcycle.
Church: A meeting. Club business is discussed, items are often voted on.
Colors: Same as Cut.
Cut: A member’s vest or jacket with all of their club patches. It’s earned, and is a huge deal.
MC: Motorcycle Club
Prospect: Prospective member. They often get the first patch, but they aren’t a full-fledged member until they’ve proven themselves and been voted in. While a prospect, they have to do just about anything a member tells them.
And, a southern definition – an “eye” is a burner on a stovetop.
Prologue
Aaron Drake, President of Drake Security
“In the past three months, seventeen people have been murdered in the Chattanooga area. The North Georgia area is supplying meth to us, and is one of the top ten places in the country for meth production.”
Aaron focused on Denny, the chief of police in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia as he said the last bit, and then returned his gaze to Sheriff Beauregard and Assistant Chief Keller, of the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Department and the Chattanooga Police Department.
“You have a problem, gentlemen, and you aren’t going to be a big fan of my proposed solution, but I’d like to take the three of you to Atlanta and let you speak off the record with a few law enforcement professionals down there.”
Denny spoke first. “Not interested.”
“I’m not asking any of you to turn your back on crime, nor am I asking you to ignore the badge in any way.”
“You’re known to play fast and loose with the rules. Not sure you understand the view from behind the badge.” Denny wasn’t a fan of having to call in help for supernatural problems, though he did, when he recognized a problem his force wasn’t equipped to handle.
“I get the job done, and I do it in a way that lets me sleep at night. I’m not asking any of you to follow my moral code. You each have your own, and I know it’s strong, which is why I’m approaching the three of you. Every one of you knows if I was looking for someone to help me out by looking the other way, I’d have picked other people in your organizations.”
They all looked at each other, none willing to agree first. Aaron kept at it. “I’ll drive, or I’ll pay expenses for one of you to drive. The four of us are invited to the local police chief’s home. You’ll meet him, the county sheriff, two vice cops, a homicide detective, and the DA. After hearing what they have to say, if you’re interested then we have another meet with people you’ll hear about at the first meeting. The homicide detective and I will mediate, if you’d like. If not, the three of you go in without us. Your choice. There’s a party that night, some of the law enforcement people you met earlier in the day will attend. We’re all invited. I’ll pay for a hotel room nearby, and we’ll drive home the next day. The party will include wives, girlfriends, and kids. It’ll start out calm, it won’t end calm, but no one’ll get hurt and there’ll be no illegal activity.”
Chapter One
“Our forensic accountant doesn’t have access to all of the MC’s books, obviously, but we have a great deal of information. During the course of several arrests and trials where we subpoenaed various banking and IRS records, she’s managed to put together a nice picture. The majority of their income appears to be from their three bars and their custom bike and hot-rod shop. However, we know they’re pushing funds from their illegal activities through, cleaning it up, but there isn’t enough of a trail for us to trace.”
The Atlanta DA looked to the vice cop, who took his cue and said, “They take care of their girls. First time john — a brother in a cut personally walks her to the door, takes the money. The club has a doctor on staff, retired so he isn’t worried about losing his license. The only drugs we can trace to the club are birth control pills and antibiotics, and unless someone’s on parole, those aren’t enough for us to hassle them over. If there’s suspicion one of their new girls is using anything stronger than pot, they fire her. If she’s been around a while, they offer to detox her, but she doesn’t work again until she’s clean.” He shook his head. “I don’t agree with prostitution, but if it’s going to happen, the way they’re doing it is the way it should be done. We all know there’s no way to stop it, and if girls are going to do it, they should have people protecting them.”
“Doubt they’re doing it out of the goodness of their heart. What kinda cut they take?” This from Denny, the Fort Oglethorpe Chief.
“Less than or comparable to other pimps, but they provide an actual service for the take. The club buys condoms in bulk and supplies them for free, provides the girls with birth control at no charge, and a blood test every six weeks to be sure they’re clean. If a customer gets rough with a girl, the brothers send a message. Doesn’t happen often, but it’s well known you go to RTMC for pussy, you mind your manners.”
Chief Keller spoke up. “Sounds to me like you’re trying to convince us to bring a bunch of pimps to our city. I’m not terribly happy ‘bout that prospect.”
“Don’t blame you a bit,” said the Atlanta homicide detective, “but for some reason we’ve started out with the cons. As difficult of a pill as it is to swallow, there are pros to having them in the neighborhood.”
“We’re listenin’,” said Sheriff Beauregard.
“The local club’s compound takes up an entire city block,” the homicide detective continued. “The bike shop and bar across the street are theirs. If you want to talk to them, you go to one of the public places across the street, because the heavily fenced compound is treated like an embassy, their own nation.” He glanced at the DA. “Legally, when we’re on official business, we don’t go in there without a warrant. Ever. Tonight, some of us are invited as guests.” He took a breath. “However, they claim more than just these two city blocks. They consider their territory to go out six blocks north, south, and east, and nine blocks west. That’s a lot of ground, and they patrol it, heavily. There’s no visible prostitution, there are no dealers, no drugs, and rarely a break-in. Crime in their section of the city is almost none
xistent.”
The Atlanta sheriff leaned back and his deep, smoker’s voice rumbled, “Like it or not, we’ve developed a truce with them. On the rare occasion we need to arrest one, they don’t fight us. I don’t worry about one of them pointing a gun at one of my guys, and if they see a deal going down on the street where a drug dealer has a gun on one of my officers, they’ve been known to take Blue’s back. Keep my man alive.”
One of the local vice cops stood and walked to the coffee machine as he said, “I consider several of the men to be something close to a friend. They know I’ll arrest them if I catch them doing something illegal, and I know they’re never going to call me to report a crime because they’re going to take care of it themselves, most likely in a way I won’t approve.” He shrugged. “They’ve never once asked me to turn my back on my morals, and I promise you we’ve had some tight run-ins. I’ve arrested a few of them, charges have stuck a couple of times, fallen apart a few others, but when I go to their barbecue blow-out tonight, no one will hold it against me.”
“MC President’s son dated the daughter of one of my lieutenants last year.” The Atlanta police chief shook his head. “They were both adults, young twenties, but my lieutenant went off the reservation and messed up our truce. It reminded me why we’d agreed to it in the first place, and it took a few sit-downs to fix the mess.” His gaze narrowed in on Chattanooga PD Assistant Chief Keller. “If they come, don’t hassle them over bullshit. Arrest them if they do something criminal, leave the petty stuff alone. No pulling them over for going three miles over the speed limit or not using their turn signal. Show them respect and they’ll return it. Let them invite your men to their parties, find some goodwill. Once they’ve moved in, talk to the people in the neighborhood, get your own feel for how the residents see them. No one has ever offered me payoff to turn my back. If they had, I’d arrest ‘em. If a new member or prospect acts out of line, but not enough to arrest them yet, pick up the phone and call the president or one of his lieutenants. If you have to arrest them, pick up the phone and let the leadership know why.”
“You’re suggesting we work with vigilantes? Help them break the law?” asked Denny.
The vice cop who hadn’t spoken yet, finally had something to say. “Point is, this is a cohesive group of men who see themselves as guardians. I don’t agree with the way they go about it, but there’s only so many hours in the day, and so much manpower available — my time seems better spent going after the actual drug dealers, thieves, and murderers.”
“Not sure why this applies to me, or why I’m here.” Denny, the Fort Oglethorpe police chief, didn’t look at all happy.
The Atlanta DA smiled. “My forensic accountant tells me the MC already owns land in your neck of the woods. She stumbled on the fact two of the members owned houses on the same street, and eventually figured out all nine houses are owned by either a member, or an umbrella of the club.”
She tossed him a folder and he opened it to see a map printout, as well as pictures of the houses, cost, square footage, and a picture of the men who owned two of them.
The local police chief reached over and touched the map, his fingers landing on a large forested area adjacent to the homes, jutting right up to their back yards. “Here’s where we get into the fucking strange rumor portion of the evening. In every city, the club owns property next to a large, protected, forested area. Cop lore says it’s so they have a place to bury the bodies, woo-woo lore says it’s because they’re werewolves and need a place to run on the full moon.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t help much, their numbers are reduced the night before, of, and after a full moon. Hard to argue the notion a third of them are gone the first night, a third the second, and a third the last. Every fucking month, in every fucking city.”
“Sheriff’s department put surveillance up at the known houses a few times, just to try to dispel the rumors. The group walks into the woods, disappears, and doesn’t return until after daylight. They have no shovels or bodies, no camping gear.”
“Yeah,” said the vice cop. “But we only caught that action once. The other times, the cameras malfunctioned as dark hit and we couldn’t get them back online until well after sunup the next day.”
Chapter Two
Duke was waiting outside the bike shop as Aaron Drake pulled into the parking lot with a car full of law enforcement brass. He’d let Aaron know their options — the lounge area of the bike shop, next door in the bar, or across the street in the clubhouse. He’d left the decision to Aaron.
After introductions, Aaron said, “As much as I’d like a beer and some wings next door, I think our conversation might be better suited to the clubhouse.”
Duke nodded. “Most of the guys we wanna talk to are already there, so that works. Let me tell the Sprite to text the others real quick, and we’ll walk across.”
Duke saw Aaron’s mouth twitch. Violet happened to be an actual Sprite, so the nickname fit. She’d had a tough start in life and the men were very protective of her. If the move to Chattanooga looked like it’d go smooth, she’d be making the change with them because it would do her good to get away from bad memories in Atlanta.
Duke looked around the clubhouse as he led the group in, once again seeing it as a stranger might. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust after the bright sunlight, but when they did, the paneled walls, hardwood floor, and multiple sofas came into focus. They’d bought a nice old wooden bar from a downtown restaurant before it was demolished, and it looked great. However, he walked them to one of the larger tables, where some Chattanooga maps were already spread out. The men sitting at the bar joined them, and Duke made introductions.
“This is Bud, our president. Next to him are Tiny, Dozer, and Bash. Dawg and Brain are headed in. I wanted to keep our numbers low out of respect, but the six of us, not counting Bud, will be your main contacts and I felt it important you meet us all. For the purposes of the meeting, it’ll be mostly me, Bash, and Brain talking.”
The door opened and two waitresses walked in, their arms loaded down with food. Duke explained, “I asked Sprite to send over some wings and other munchies. We have beer on draft at the bar, as well as sodas.”
The waitresses asked everyone what they wanted to drink, and brought it to them as Duke got everyone seated around the table and spread the maps so the men from Chattanooga could see.
He lifted the overlay from another table and settled it over the largest map as he said, “We’ve already been in some negotiations and talks, and the blackened out areas are where we’ve agreed to stay away. That’s all your tourist areas except a portion of MLK, and most of the UTC and Erlanger property.”
He took a drink and ate a wing as he gave the men a chance to take in the dark areas. “The red hashed areas are your highest crime sections, the purple hashes are where most of your murders have happened. A lot of intersection there.”
Sheriff Beauregard pointed to one of the green sections. “I take it green represents property you’re considering?”
“Got it in one.”
Chief Keller asked, “We here as consultants, or are you asking permission?”
Aaron opened his mouth but Duke held his hand up as he considered the question. “A little of both, but this is mostly about respect. We intend to come to Chattanooga, and we’ve done our homework, but it’s your city and if any of you have an opinion, we’d be happy to hear your reasons.”
“The business you run here, you going to repeat that in our town?”
“Right now we’re lookin’ at the bike shop and a bar across from wherever our compound ends up. Possibly another bar on the outskirts of the Hamilton Place area, but we’ve agreed to stay away from The Billiard Club, so that’s still up in the air.”
“Not talkin’ bout your legal ventures,” said Sheriff Beauregard, his already rough voice even more of a growl.
Duke had been standing, leaning over the table, and at this, he pulled out a chair and sat. “Whatever neighborhood we move
into, we’ll take care of it. We don’t ask for protection money, but we do ask for respect. There are three pawn shops on our street here in Atlanta, and the owners of all three are careful to turn down hot merchandise. Some things occasionally filter in, but they make an honest effort to steer clear of it. None of them have been broken into since a few months after we moved in. Unlike a lot of MC’s, we don’t care what color you are. This means the automatic hatred between the MC’s and the gangs doesn’t have to happen. Does in some cities, not in others. We’ll do our best to make friends as we move in, but we’re gonna make some people unhappy when we claim territory, no doubt about it, and it might get worse afore it gets better. Won’t lie.”
“I take this to mean you’re gonna peddle women in our town, too.”
The door opened and two more men came in, and Duke smiled inwardly as the Chattanooga group looked Brain over with surprise. He didn’t look much like a biker — tall, thin, and lanky. He was their hacker extraordinaire, but he also threw a helluva punch.
“Sorry it took so long. I’m Brain and this is Dawg.” He pulled a chair out, flipped it around, and sat beside Duke facing the chair’s back. He leaned forward, pointed to the map, and started talking. “From a purely retail point of view, the Third Street / Orchard Knob area plays best.” He moved his hand. “Couple properties on twenty-third look promising, but there’s a wooded lot on Bailey I really like, though it would throw a wrench in logistics when it came to the bar and bike shop because they’d be a few blocks away. Good retail location could more than make up the security expense, though.”
Duke Page 1