“Moondog, you take Darrell and Stan and go greet the guys a couple of blocks back up. Hold everybody there. Keep your phone handy, I’ll call you when we’re sure what we’re doing.” The trio obediently rode back out toward the incoming riders. “So, Doc. What’s the situation?”
Spike pointed down toward the old warehouse. “The Dark Rulers have my brother chained to a wall. They’ve got their merchandise drugged out of their minds in the back units. Fifteen Rulers right now. Most of ‘em got history with me and my brother. And they don’t like us much. But they’re cocky, no look-outs, at least not till the party starts.”
The Jackster looked us over. “Pretty good recognizance there. You just pull all that outta your ass, did you?”
“No. Did some scouting.”
“I’d say so. Them windows pretty high to be showing all that. And I don’t see a ladder. Or any scaffolding.”
“No, you don’t.”
“But you’re sure of your intel?”
“Absolute.”
“Gotta share that with me sometime. Whatever technique you’re using, it’d bring a high price on the market.”
“Not anything you’d call marketable.”
“Didn’t much think so. Well. Here’s what I’m thinking. Especially now that I’m sure it’s a free-standing building.” He lifted the top of his bike’s saddlebags. And proceeded to tell us what he thought. “So whatcha’ think?”
“You’re a genius,” I said. “And I’m goin’ to find a bumper sticker that says ‘I love chemical engineers.’”
“Well now, I wouldn’t go that far. But I think it’s about the best we’re gonna do. So. Let me call the boys, tell ‘em to start moving the formation in slow so they can be ready to rush when the noise starts. And then we’ll all move into position. Let’s get ready to rock and roll!”
Chapter Fourteen
Stacy and I slung the bags holding our ammunition for Phase One over our shoulders and the four of us moved into position. Spike and I headed for the third window down from the doors on the right side of the building, Stacy and the Jackster to the third window down from the doors on the left.
Spike bent forward slightly, turned his hands and laced his fingers together to make a ladder for my foot. I stepped up, grabbed the top of his head and swung myself up onto his shoulders. None too gracefully, I might add. Stacy’d probably done the same thing on the other side of the building with the speed of a gazelle when she’d bounded up on Jack’s shoulders. There was method in our madness. I was shorter than Stacy by several inches, Jack was shorter than Spike by more than several inches. This pairing gave us about twelve feet of height on both sides of the building, more than enough to reach the high windows with their broken panes of glass. Always provided I could manage to pull off the next move, of course, which was to actually stand up on Spike’s shoulders.
“Owwww!!” Spike breathed. Oops. I was pulling his hair, trying to hold on and maintain my balance while he moved closer to the wall, so I could brace myself against it as I stood up.
“Sorry!” I hissed back. I shifted, took a deep breath, and made my move. Okay, one foot up on one shoulder. Spike’s hand moved up and grabbed my ankle to steady me. Then the other foot was up, and Spike was bracing me with both hands while I braced myself against the wall. I straightened. We were right about the height. An empty pane in easy reach just begged to be useful. So I used it. I pulled one of the Jackster’s glass bottles out of the tote around my neck and lobbed it in. It hit the concrete floor with a satisfying crrracccccckkkkkk as the glass shattered. Two seconds later, Stacy’s glass bottle shattered behind it.
Yep, the Jackster knew his stuff. And he was right. These weren’t ordinary smoke bombs. Wafts of smoke floated out of the broken panes of the high glasses. But he’d told us to toss in two more each, to be sure visibility inside was pretty much zero and one thing about me—I was really good at following instructions. When I wanted to, of course. So was Stacy. Crack! Crack! Crack!
“What the fuck?!”
“Sonofabitch!!”
Time for Phase Two. I grabbed one of Jackster’s little metal canisters from my magic tote bag of chemical engineering marvels and lobbed it through the window. It launched World War III inside the warehouse. Ratatatatatatatatatatattatatatatatatatatatataatatat. Stacy’s little canister joined the party seconds after mine. Machine gun fire echoed loud in the metal walls and bounced off the concrete floor. Not really, of course, these were the Jackster’s special noise makers. But if I hadn’t known that, I’d sure be diving for cover. And from the sounds coming from inside, that’s exactly what the Dark Rulers were doing, too. Bodies thudded into walls, onto floors. Ah! That had to be a whole line of cycles crashing down onto concrete. Sweet! I waited for a lull in the cacophony that indicated the first canisters were running low and lobbed another. From the other side of the building, Stacy did the same.
“Get down!”
“Get down where?! It’s coming from everywhere!”
“Where the fuck are the bastards?”
Ah! I heard the sounds of Phase Three approaching. Time to really get this party started.
“Ari! Chunk the last canisters! We need to get to the doors!”
“Right!”
I lobbed the last two machine gun nests in my arsenal. I slid my hand down the wall till I could reach Spike’s hands where they braced my legs. I sat down on his shoulders and he swung me to the ground.
We raced to the front doors just as the four wheel drive trucks Jackster’d commandeered pulled in front of the warehouse. As one, the three of them braked to form a line, shifted into low gear, and revved the powerful engines. Bikers swarmed onto the lot and circled the perimeter, riding fast. Truck engines revved one last time and lunged forward. The rusted metal doors flattened like pancakes. Smoke billowed out in waves. And so did the Dark Rulers. Coughing and gagging and throwing up in the weeds.
I raced into the smoke toward the interior wall where Chad was chained. I found the wall with no trouble. By running straight into it so hard I knocked myself flat on my butt.
“You always—did—like to—make an—entrance,” Chad ground out between coughs. I squinted and peered through the fog. Jackster was right. He made a serious smoke bomb, but they cleared out quick. Enough so that I could see Chad’s outline. I threw myself down on the floor beside him and hugged with everything I had.
“Hey, ease up, I’m okay,” he got out before coughing again.
And then Spike loomed out of the smoke like a murderer in a horror movie, rapidly snapping the teeth of a big bolt cutter back and forth. “Think these might be useful?”
“Do it, son.”
Spike snipped twice and the chains fell from the wall. Spike reached down and took one of his hands, I took the other, and we hauled him to his feet and out into clear air. The Dark Rulers sat in a circle on the ground, tied securely together. Bikers surrounded them. They weren’t going anywhere.
“You okay?” Chad looked horrible. How much of that was nausea from the smoke and how much was simply due to his bruised and battered face, I didn’t know. Then he hunched over a nice pile of weeds. He looked much better when he stood back up. Nausea then.
Jackster walked toward us. A biker wearing colors I didn’t recognize walked with him. The ornate script made the Club name hard to read. “Doc, happened to find another doctor down here, he wanted to come along for the ride, case anybody got hurt. Figured it’d be a good idea, knowing those poor girls were in there and all. He just checked on ‘em. Mike, you wanta fill ‘em in?”
“Sure.” Mike stepped up and smiled at us. “Well, way the building’s set up, they were in a completely different section. A little smoke got back there but not enough for ‘em to even notice, high as those bastards have ‘em pumped up. They don’t have a clue what’s going on, so they’re not scared or hurting or in any immediate danger. So I’d recommend we just leave ‘em right where they are until the authorities get here and call in ambulan
ces to take ‘em where they can get de-tox treatment.”
He turned and looked directly at me. I stared into beautiful green eyes, dark as moss. As I watched, they narrowed and tilted and took on a yellowish cast. The pupils contracted in from the sides in an oval, turning into vertical slits. Like cats’ eyes. My own eyes widened. He saw the dawning comprehension and shook his head slightly. And winked at me.
“The authorities will be coming, I’m assuming?” asked Jackster.
“I’m pretty sure the authorities will be making an appearance very soon now,” Spike said. “And I’m pretty sure they’re not going to like it, us barging in without them because—”
“They wanted the guys coming to the auction, didn’t give a damn if the girls or your brother got dead in the cross-fire.”
“You got it.” Jack Hudlin, Ph.D., was one smart man. Not just book smart. Street smart. Then again, they didn’t hand out Ph.D.’s in chemical engineering to dummies.
“Time for us to go then, I think.”
“Yeah. Man, I’ll never be able to pay you back—”
“Look us up when you get back home, Doc. Be a Desert Trooper jacket waiting for you, anytime you want it.”
“I’ll be there to get it. Soon as I get back and settled.”
“Here’s the keys to your Road King, you wanta give me back the keys to Moondog’s cycle, we’ll pick it up on the way out. And here’s the keys to mine. For your brother. Don’t think you’ll wanta be asking for any favors from the authorities when they get here. I’ll ride back with one of the trucks. Call me in the morning, I’ll get my cycle back.”
“Man, you think of everything.” Spike handed over the keys to Moondog’s cycle.
“Troopers! Let’s move out!”
I called after the doctor in the unknown club colors. “Mike! Don’t recognize your colors. What’s your club?”
He turned and looked back. “The Guardians.” He waved and turned.
Naturally. What else? I whipped out my phone and punched “micah as angel” into the search engine. It took two seconds to come up. “Angel of the Divine Plan. Micah watches over spiritual evolution, seeking every opportunity to reveal God's Divine Plan and reveal the next steps of our Life purpose.”
I looked back up from my screen. Jackster was climbing in one of the big trucks. I didn’t see Doctor Mike anywhere. Just Micah’s sleek, black body disappearing into the weeds by the side of the next building. That sneaky little devil. Angel. With him, I wasn’t sure there was too much difference.
“See you at home, Micah!” I called. I knew he’d be waiting on the porch railings when we got back.
“The cat?”
“Sometimes.”
“Okaaaay. If you say so.” Chad looked better by the minute. He watched our Cavalry ride out. “How in the hell did you pull all that together?”
Spike snorted. “Think you’re the only cloak and dagger man in the family?”
“Thought I was the only one stupid enough to make a habit out of it.”
“You didn’t still look so green, I’d knock you down, but I’m afraid you’d puke again. This time on me.”
“You’re pissed ‘cause I knocked you out in Cyanide, huh?”
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
I shook my head. How had I ever missed they were brothers? “Anybody notice there’s a helicopter circling overhead?” I pointed upward. “Or hear that car door slam? Or see the guy walkin’ toward us lookin’ really pissed?”
The man was stiff as a ramrod and wore a suit that just screamed “government man”.
“I’m arresting all of you for obstruction of justice!”
Spike and Chad moved forward together at the same time. I stepped between them and held my arms back in a blocking motion.
“I got this one, boys.” I turned to the agent and smiled. “Luigi, I presume. How nice of you to join the party after we wrap the presents for you.”
He ignored me. “Garrett, you and your brother been nothing but trouble for us for years! Now we’ll never get the buyers who were going to be at that auction! That’s three years of work wasted because Forrester couldn’t wait! I’m through covering your asses—”
Damn. Nothing makes me madder than being ignored. I stepped in front of the ranting agent and stared straight into his eyes, pouring power from mine into his.
“Luigi! I don’t think you understand the situation. Chad Garrett’s not even here. Neither is Spike Forrester. You haven’t seen them in years. None of us are here. You won’t even see us leave. A rival gang busted the Dark Rulers before you ever got here. Now, do you understand me?” I held his stare and poured more power through. “I said, do you understand me?”
He turned around and stalked rapidly back to his car, barking furiously into his phone.
“Damn it to hell, get me some ambulances out here for the girls! Place is cleaned out, they’re just tied in a circle waiting for us! Must’ve been at war with another gang!”
“Baby girl, you rock.”
“Yeah, I do, don’t I? How you feelin’? Think you can ride that Harley?” I pointed at Jackster’s Roadster, patiently waiting beside the Dark Angel.
“I gotta be dead not to able to ride a bike.”
“Then I think it’s time for us to cruise. In just a second.” Spike dropped to one knee in front of Stacy. “Anastasia Anson, before any more outlaw gangs try to kill us or another Luigi clone tries to arrest us, you are going to marry me, aren’t you?”
“You goin’ to teach me to ride a bike by myself and buy me a Harley?” I shook my head. My sister. The family athlete. The she-devil dare-devil.
“I can do that.”
“Then I think we can come to terms, yeah. As long as we can do it at the Tunnel of Love Drive-Thru on the Dark Angel.”
“Mom’s goin’ to have a shit-fit, you cheat her out of her last chance at a weddin’.”
“Can’t let you and Chad have all the fun.”
“Works for me,” Spike said. He stood up and cupped his hand around Stacy’s jaws for a short, forceful kiss.
“Okay, are we ready now?” Chad revved the engine of the borrowed Harley.
The Dark Angel revved back. And the newly formed Garrett-Forrester Coven, forged in bonds of blood and love and marriage, roared off into the falling night. On Harleys.
The End.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gail Roughton has spent close to forty years in a law office as a legal secretary/paralegal. During those years, she raised three children and quite a few attorneys. She kept herself sane by writing books, tossing each completed novel in her closet. The children are grown and she decided it was time to clean out the closet. Now multi-published, she still maintains she couldn’t have this much fun for free doing anything else. Her credits include the first two novels of the War-N-Wit, Inc. series, The Witch and Resurrection, as well as the two book Dark series, The Color of Seven and The Color of Dusk. She sends special thanks to fellow writer and cyber-sister, Roseanne Dowell, her rock throughout the writing of this book. The Coven, like all the War-N-Wits, is dedicated to Magic Man. Wherever he is.
FROM THE PUBLISHER
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War-N-Wit, Inc. - The Coven (War-N-Wit, Inc. - Book 3) Page 9