“A loud piece of cake.”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take. A blowtorch will not only get us guns, but I’m sure we’ll run into other metal doors as we go along.”
I have an idea. “Hey, I brought a roll of duct tape. Let’s put it on the glass first and it will make a lot less noise.”
Beaming a smile my way, Hank laughs. “Brilliant.”
The window consists of three floor-to-ceiling panels. We choose the end one nearest the outside wall to work on. We run the tape vertically and then horizontally creating a less than perfect grid.
“That’s the end of the tape.” I announce as the roll in my hand shows cardboard.
“Good enough. Stand back.” Hank picks up the crow bar and taps the center of the pane. Nothing happens.
Giggling, I tell him. “You’re gonna have to hit it harder than that.”
“I was just trying to be quiet.” He takes another swing, this one much harder. The window breaks, and the tape does its job. It sounds like ice cracking rather than a large crash.
“God, it worked. You’re a damn genius, Shelley.” Hank tells me as he works the first piece of broken glass out of the frame and places it on the ground.
Five minute later, we step into the shop and procure an oxy-acetylene torch and everything we need to use it. Thankfully, the heavy torch unit is on a wheeled cart and after building a ramp out of a piece of lumber, we’re able to roll it right into the van.
“Let’s try firing through the backdoor’s lock first. That way we’ll be out of sight.” I say as we head back to the gun shop.
Hank nods in agreement.
Watching Hank use the torch is scary and sexy at the same time. He’s got some serious muscles I can’t help but notice. Within minutes the door lock is history. “Wow, Hank, you’re the man.”
“We’re quite the team.” Hanks says as he lifts off the auto dark helmet he’s wearing.
After we load the torch back in the van, we grab our flashlights and head inside. We both smile as natural light from skylights fills the rooms.
“We won’t need our flashlights, yeah!” I cheer.
Hank looks at the display cases and lets out a whistle. “We’ve hit the mother lode.”
“No shit.”
First stop is the pistol display case.
Hank looks the guns over carefully. “We need two each, one at our waist and a hidden one strapped to our ankles. We’ll get extras to put in our caches, too.”
He picks out three guns and places them on the counter. “Tell me which one of these feels best in your hand.”
Cautiously, I pick up the first one. “Boy, it heavy.”
Hank snorts, “Sissy girl.”
“Am not.” Determined to prove him wrong, I stop complaining and examine the guns. The first pistol’s grip feels too thick for my hands. I put it back on the counter and pick up the second one. It’s still feels heavy, but the handle is slimmer, and I can reach the trigger with ease. Hanks’s third choice, although lighter than the other two, feels long and my finger doesn’t feel comfortable on the trigger.
I point at the second one. “That one.”
“Smith and Wesson Shield, semi-automatic. Good choice.” Hanks tells me as he hands me another smaller pistol. “This is a Glock G43. We’ll both be carrying these as our backup guns.”
It feels good in my hand. “I like it.”
He chuckles, “My turn.” He then chooses some big ass pistol for himself groaning like he just had sex. “Come to Papa.”
Hank points at the back wall. “Let’s go to the storeroom and get the extra guns.”
I giggle as I try the door. “It’s open.”
“Lucky us.” Hank whispers in my ear.
We find and put multiples of the guns we chose in a to-go pile then find the holsters we’ll need and add them, too.
Hank points to the other section of the store, “We need long guns,” grabs my hand and pulls me in that direction. As we turn the corner, Hank stops and lets out another whistle. His face looks like a boy in a toy store. “Will you look at that, they have some military grade weapons.” He takes off across the store.
“Hey, wait for me.”
He points to a sign that reads: These weapons are for display only, not for sale. “Stores like this aren’t allowed to sell military grade weaponry.” He snickers and adds, “But I’m not buying, I’m taking,” as he chooses some big assault rifles.
“They look complicated.”
He pats them. “I know exactly how to use them. I just hope they have the right ammunition.”
After choosing a twenty-gauge shotgun for me, Hank heads for the ammunition room while I go fetch the crowbar from the van. We need to break open the locked firing range door.
I just finished prying the range door open when I hear a loud banging noise coming from the back of the store.
“What was that?” The sound of male voices has me frozen in place. I mouth, “Marauders.”
Frantic, I look for a place to hide. Not finding many, I settle for the bottom cabinet of a display case. I crawl in and slide the door closed, leaving it open just enough to hear clearly. My breathing goes out of whack. Please, I can’t have an asthma attack right now. Grabbing my inhaler out of my front pocket, I flip its lid and suck in a dose of medicine. My lungs respond within seconds and my breathing normalizes but my fear doesn’t. What if they find me? Will they take me away from Hank? Rape me? What? Oh God, Hank, I hope he’s okay and hiding, too.
A rough, male voice calls out, “Darlin’, we saw you outside. We know you’re in here. Come on out.”
Damn it, I didn’t do a surveillance check before exiting the building when I went back for the crowbar. Shit, shit, shit! My saving grace is they don’t know about Hank. I whisper, “Please Hank, be okay and get us out of this.”
The same voice shouts out again. “We won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”
There’s no way I’m going out there. If they want me, they’re gonna have to find me.
Chapter Seven
Hank
The shop’s ammunition depot is right by the back door, and easy to break in to. As soon as I swing the door open, I turn my flashlight on since there’s no skylight in the room. “Score!” The shelves are jammed packed with colored boxes of every imaginable cartridge made. “They even have ammo for the big guys.” I pull a thousand rounds of each type we need and make a to-go pile then start loading magazines for the guns we’ll be practicing with on the range.
A large slam rattles the walls of the room. It sounds like someone kicked the back door open with a heavy boot. I mouth, “Fuck!”, and instantly go on high alert, turn off my flashlight and move behind the door.
A deep male voice grumbles, “Shit, man, you didn’t need to kick the damn thing.”
Another male voice, answers, “I guess I’m excited. I know she came in here.”
“Calm down and let me handle this. I’m smoother than you.”
“Okay, Leo. You sweet talk her real nice.”
The guy named Leo calls out, “Darlin’, we saw you outside. We know you’re in here. Come on out.”
He thinks that’s sweet talking a woman? Knowing Shelley, the minute she heard voices, she’ll find a hiding place. I mouth the words, “Stay out of sight, Shell, please. I’m coming.”
It’s up to me to get us out of this. I push the door closed and get to work. Needing light, I place my flashlight face down on the counter and surround it with ammo boxes to limit its brightness. I put two loaded magazines in my pocket then chamber a load in my new Glock and stick it in my waistband. I also grab Shelley’s loaded gun. Needing to be stealth, I do a rattle test to make sure nothing in my pockets or on my clothing jingle or make noise. Almost ready, I close my eyes and visualize the layout of the shop. After a deep breath, I open the door.
The two men are not looking in my direction. I duck walk over and hide behind the closest display case. When I peek, I see one of the men no more
than five feet in front of me. He’s wearing a kutte with a large patch on the back that reads, ‘Satan’s Best’.
Shit! Bikers!
Where’s the other guy?
Then I hear, “Damn it girl, don’t hide. We only want to talk to you.” The sweet talker, Leo, is a good twenty feet in front of me off to the left, near the rifle display.
Good thing the guns in the store aren’t loaded but I bet they have their own, loaded and ready to use.
Never one to play defense, my plan is to grab one of them. Pulling my gun, I slip the safety off and wait for the perfect moment. When Leo moves forward toward the range room door, yelling, “Damn it girl, don’t hide. We only want to talk to you,” I spring out of my hiding place, grab bad guy number two and put my gun to his right ear.
I growl, “Don’t move, asshole,” and dig the gun into the side of his face.
His first action is to jerk and then go stiff. “Fuck.”
I whisper, “Shut your mouth and don’t move a fucking muscle. If you do, you’re a dead man.”
He nods and stands still.
“Are you carrying?”
He nods yes. “In my waistband.”
I take his gun putting it in the back of my waistband with Shelley’s gun.
Leo, seeing a gun to his friend’s head, raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, what are you doing?”
I shout back in a deep authoritative voice like I was taught in the corps, “What do you want with my girl?”
“We just want is to make sure she’s okay.” Number two says.
Leo adds, “Yeah, put down your gun and we can all walk out of here alive.”
I growl, “Not gonna happen. I don’t want to shoot anybody, but you need to know she’s mine and I don’t share.” I yell out, “Shelley, come out here, Baby.”
I get no response. I try again. “Shelley, Baby. I have a gun on the bad guys. Come out.”
Guy number two mumbles, “We’re not bad guys.”
The range door opens slowly, and Shelley sticks her head out. Her voice high and shrill, she calls back, “Hank? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Baby girl, I need you to carefully make your way over to me.”
“Are they marauders?” Her voice squeaks as she talks.
Leo chuckles and blurts out, “Darlin’, we’re not marauders, pirates or anything like that. Promise.”
Guy number two adds, “We aren’t here to hurt anybody.”
I smack his head with the gun. “Shut the fuck up.” In a softer tone, I address Shelley, “Baby, come over here but give our guests a wide berth, okay.”
“Coming.” She scoots along the wall until she’s behind the display cases and then moves in my direction.
Leo smiles and start to lower his arms. I press my gun harder into guy number two’s head. “If you want your friend to live, you’ll keep your damn hands up.”
He raises his hands again. “Okay. Okay.”
Shelley stops walking. “Hank?”
“Baby, remember I’m a trained Marine; neither of these guys will touch you.” I watch her out of the corner of my eye. “Oorah.” I add, “Keep walking Shell, come to Papa.”
She makes her way around and finally arrives at my back. “I’m here.”
God, I’m glad she’s playing along. She’s a smart one. “Baby, take your gun out of my waistband and hold it up against this bastard’s back.”
I speak low, only to Shelley, but I know they hear me, too. “It’s loaded, there’s one in the chamber and the safety is off. All you need to do is pull the damn trigger.”
“I can do that.” She places the gun against number two’s back.
“She’ll do it if she has to, so you better stand still.” I whisper in number two’s ear before lowering my weapon.
Stepping around number two, I head over to Leo, my gun pointed at his head. “You’re turn, give me your weapon.”
Leo slides his gun out of his waistband with two fingers, puts it on the ground and kicks it in my direction. “There. Just to make things clear, we didn’t come in here to hurt anybody. When we saw Shelley outside by herself, we decided to come warn her to be careful.” He smiles over at Shelley. “You guys are Hank and Shelley. I’m Leo and that’s Gus.”
“Careful of what?” I bark at him.
Leo speaks up. “The guys riding around with long guns.”
Gus finishes the statement. “There are four cars, obviously stolen, riding around with two guys in each of them. They see you and they try to pull you over.”
I ask, “A red Porsche and a black mustang?”
Leo nods, “That’s two of them. They took shots at us yesterday when we wouldn’t stop and talk.”
“We heard them.” I signal Shelley to lower her gun. “Okay, we’re lowering our guns. We believe you. We saw them too, but luckily they didn’t see us.”
Leo walks over and offers his hand. “Sorry we scared you, but I think you’re right to be careful.” He looks at Shelley. “You’re the first woman we’ve seen.”
Shelley’s face goes white. “How many people have you seen?”
Leo answers as he adds on his fingers, “You two, eight of those Car Guys, and three more men scattered across the valley. That’s thirteen plus us; fifteen.”
“No children?” Shelley whispers, her face showing defeat.
I can’t let her give up. “Shelley, stay calm. Statistics dictate that there have to be some kids and more women.”
“God, I hope so.” Gus says.
Leo catches Shelley studying his kutte. “Yes, little lady, Gus and I are, were, part of a motorcycle club. For some reason, only God knows, we both were spared.”
Gus adds, “The club was a true brotherhood. They were our family. We buried our brothers, their old ladies and kids on the hill behind our clubhouse.”
“Sorry for your loss, at least you were there to put them in the ground.” I tell them.
Bold as hell, Shelley asks, “Should we be scared of you?”
Gus belly laughs. “Not at all. My club never hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. You and Hank seem like good people who could use a few soldiers. You want to adopt us?”
Jealousy rears its ugly head. Do I want two extra guys sniffing around Shelley, competing for her attention? “How do I know I can trust you?”
Shelley gives me the evil eye. “The same way I knew I could trust you. Gut instinct.” She puts her hands on her hips. “If you remember, you’ve only been with me one day. I took a chance on you, didn’t I?”
Leo snorts, “So, what’s with the Baby and Papa stuff?”
My face heats up. “I thought it would help protect her if you thought we were together.”
Shelley moves out in front of us and takes over the conversation. “First, I’m not with anybody.” She uses air quotes when she says with. “I trust Hank and I want to trust you two. Plus, you’re right, we need extra help, especially people who can use a gun.”
Leo offers, “I believe there’s safety in numbers. And you can trust us.”
Gus raises his arm and makes a muscle. “We’re strong, willing to work and we’re fast learners.”
Gus puts his hands together like he’s praying. “Give us a chance, please.”
Shelley looks at me and I give her a nod. We do need the help. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”
Gus then offers me his hand. “Marine, huh?”
“Oorah.”
He points at his chest. “Army.”
Leo smirks. “I played football in high school. Does that count?”
This makes us laugh.
“Okay then, Gus, Leo, pick out some extra guns and then let’s load up all the ammunition we can carry.”
“Did you get cleaning kits?” Gus reaches for some off a shelf.
“Not yet. Put some in the to-go pile along with anything else you think we might need.” I walk over and pat the pile of our stuff.
Shelley whispers in my ear, “Let’s forget the firing range for now. Let�
��s just go home.”
Half an hour later, the van is loaded.
Shelley walks over with a smirk on her face. “I just thought of something. Hank, can the torch seal the back door closed? I mean tight and hard to open?”
I give her a high five. “Brilliant idea.”
I look over at the guys. “Gus, Leo, come help me get the torch out of the van.”
Door sealed shut, we head home with Gus and Leo following us on their Harleys.
Chapter Eight
Shelley
Two blocks of absolute silence out of Hank has me asking, “You angry I let them join us?”
He pinches his lips together and snaps his head in my direction. “Mad? No! Worried? Yes! How do we know we can trust them?”
“Listen, we need the help. There is just too much to do for two people alone. I’m willing to try it.”
“They’re bikers, Shelley!” He yells, his fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
“Damn it, I know.” I shout back then soften my tone. “Listen, I’ve been around MC’s before. Mandy, my childhood best friend’s father and brother were in a MC. What I saw was a big extended family that cared and loved each other. Sure, they were rough around the edges, but I never once felt threatened by them.”
I watch as Hank softens, his hands loosen on the steering wheel and his shoulders relax.
Putting my hand on his shoulder I add, “I believe if Gus and Leo feel wanted and accepted by us, they’ll treat us like family. Besides, they need us just as much as we need them.”
“You’re the one I’m worried about Shell, I don’t want them taking advantage of you.”
“You mean rape me?” One loud unladylike huff later, “I don’t think that will happen but if you’ll feel better about it, we’ll put them across the street in the Henderson’s house.”
“Good idea.”
Gus pulls alongside the van and revs his engine.
“Shit, those bikes are loud.”
Hank’s slaps the steering wheel. “Fuck, you’re right. They could get us shot at.”
“Pull over. Let’s talk to them.”
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