OUR UNLIKELY BABY_Blacksteel Bandits MC

by Paula Cox

  “You’re not in any danger, are you?”

  “No. If they manage to steal our customer, then my name will be Mudd with the club, but other than that, no danger.”

  “How can they do that?” I asked.

  “Just like every other business… they are offering better merchandise at lower prices. The thing is, I think it’s all a scam. I thought I had this headed off once already, but they are like the bad penny. They just keep turning up.”

  “But you can handle it?”

  “Don’t worry. You worry about your new job and taking care of yourself. I’ll handle the Bulls.”

  “Bulls? Is that the name of the other club?”

  “Blacktop Bulls. Yeah.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, wondering how much was the truth and how much was him lying to protect me.

  “Don’t worry. I will keep sending the money.”

  “That’s not why I was asking!”

  “Okay. But don’t worry, okay? The Bulls are always trying shit like this. We’ve dealt with them before; we’ll deal with them again.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “Don’t worry! You’re worse than my mother.”

  I snickered. “I’ll try.”

  “See you in a couple of weeks for your next appointment, okay?”

  “Okay.” We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone. I stared at it a moment. Just when I was starting to feel comfortable with his whole motorcycle club thing, I get a splash of cold water in the face. This was exactly the kind of thing that I worried about: other clubs trying to move in and take over. Cain didn’t seem that worried, but it was always hard to tell over the phone.

  I opened my door and sat down at the computer. I would worry about Cain later. The first thing I had to do was to figure out exactly what The Claw had in inventory. I opened Excel and began to enter all the brands and sizes of liquor from Peter’s handwritten inventory sheet. As I typed, I realized that getting a handle on this was going to be a real pain in the ass. No wonder Peter had given me this assignment. He wouldn’t have to do it himself anymore, and if it made me quit, that was one more problem he didn’t have to deal with.

  ***

  I bounced to the door when I heard the Harley pull into my drive. Cain was going to spend the night tonight then go with me to the doctor in the morning. Despite my cut in pay, I was making ends meet, barely, but I was feeling a lot better. Whether it was because my morning sickness was ending on its own, I was sleeping normal hours, or it was getting out of the bar and sitting at a desk that made the difference, I didn’t know and I didn’t care. All I knew was, I wasn’t as sick as often, and that was a huge improvement in my quality of life.

  While the loss of income was a bit of a downer, of more concern was Cain. He had started sounding more and more depressed on the phone. He kept assuring me that everything was okay, but I was certain that he was lying to me. I was hoping that now that he was here, I could find out what was bothering him and could cheer him up a little.

  I opened the door just as he stepped up onto the porch. It was late, nearly nine o’clock, and he looked like hell. “Cain?”

  “Hey,” he said quietly as he stepped inside. As I shut the door, he turned me to face him, placed his hands under my jaw, and kissed me like it was the single most important thing in his life to do.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t look okay.” I looked into his face, trying to read him, and saw the exhaustion and concern.

  “Bad week at the office,” he said as he picked up his small duffle. “Your room?” he asked as he raised his bag slightly.

  “Yes.” That got me a ghost of a smile. I guess he was afraid that I had changed my mind about us again. I followed him into the bedroom. “Can you tell me about it?”

  He sat on the bed, pulled his boots off, and flopped backwards. I crawled up into the bed with him and lay down at his side, snuggling in close. “I’m on everyone’s shit list in the club. The Bulls are undercutting our deal with our biggest client. The customer canceled their latest order and that has left us hanging with a half-million dollars’ worth of goods. Everyone is looking to me to figure out how they are doing it and I can’t figure it out. It seems impossible.”

  I was quiet a moment, my head on his chest as I listened to the slow thudding of his heart. “Could they be selling below cost to steal your customers away?”

  “Maybe. But I don’t think they have the resources to do that. We couldn’t do that, not for long, and we are in a lot better position than they are.”

  “Do they, the Bulls, have another income stream they could be using?” I asked, trying to help him figure a way out of his box.

  “Yeah. They run whores, but I can’t see that generating enough income to do this.”

  “Is that what you do? Hookers?”

  He woofed out a single laugh. “No. I told you before, no whores, no drugs, and no guns for hire. We…” He paused but I held my tongue, hoping he would finally tell me what the Hellhounds do. “We import guns.”

  “Guns?” I said as I rose up and looked him in the eyes. “That’s the big secret? Lots of people sell guns. Hell, I have one that I carry sometimes – a little thirty-eight. It’s in the nightstand right there.”

  “Not these types of guns,” he said softly as I put my head back on his chest. “These are full auto, machine guns like the Army has, and heavy sniper rifles. Things like that. Not the type of thing that you can buy at the local gun store. We buy Eastern Bloc weapons from a dealer in Albania and import them. They come in as parts — machined parts — and we put them together.”

  “And someone is doing it cheaper?”

  “Worse, they are selling U.S. and NATO hardware for less. It’s like we’re selling Chevys, and they are selling Mercedes, but they are selling their Mercedes for less than our Chevys. I don’t know how they are doing it. Our contact in Albania doesn’t know how either.”

  “What happens if you can’t figure it out?”

  “The Hounds will be in a world of hurt. A lot of us depend on this deal for our livelihood. Me included. Without it…”

  I felt a rush of doom. I hated to be so calculating, but if Cain could no longer send the checks…I was making ends meet on my reduced income, but barely. When the baby arrived, I wasn’t sure how I would manage.

  He must have realized what I was thinking when I became quiet. “Don’t worry. I have some money put back. I will keep sending money as long as I can. You’ll be okay; I will make sure of it. By the time the kid gets here, we will have this resolved one way or another.”

  “That isn’t what I was thinking,” I lied.

  “Well, it’s what I have been thinking,” he said. “I’ve been talking to our supplier and customer, trying to put a deal together. We’re not going to go down without a fight. There will be blood in the streets before we let the Bulls march in and take over our contract.” I stiffened in alarm at his choice of words. “Metaphorically speaking, of course,” he said and I relaxed.

  “I hate it when you say things like that.”

  “Sorry. I sometimes forget that you think I’m some kind of gangster.”

  “How long can you stay?”

  “I have to leave right after the doctor’s visit tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We have tonight. Will you hold me? I’m afraid for you. For us.”

  “All night, if you like.”

  “Good.” I snuggled in a little tighter and threw a leg over his to get comfortable. We lay still and quiet for a long time, my eyes closed as his slow steady breathing relaxed me. Even with us still fully dressed, I was so warm, comfortable, and secure in his embrace that I didn’t even realize when I slipped into sleep.

  ***

  We awoke early. Because of my new schedule, I had moved my appointment to the first one in the morning. Cain and I hadn’t made love last night. He held me, as I asked, until I felt him relax and his breathing became sl
ow and regular. I wanted him, but he looked so tired that I just let him sleep, thinking we could make up for it this morning. Unfortunately, though the morning sickness was better, I was in no mood for play, much to our mutual disappointment.

  All during my breakfast of fruit, I watched Cain. He didn’t look as ragged as he had last night, but he still didn’t have the crisp, playful, attitude that he normally did, and it worried me.

  Breakfast completed, we visited the doctor and everything checked out fine. I was really starting to show now, but everything was progressing just as it should be. As the doctor was talking to us, Cain’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out, looked at it, then silenced it and tucked it away. But I could tell from his face something had happened.

  The moment we stepped outside the office he pulled his phone. “I need to check in,” he said as he dialed the phone. “Thad, what’s up?” he asked as he took me by my elbow and escorted me to my car. “They what?” he shouted as he stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot. He looked at me and I could see the fury on his face. “I’ll call New Jersey right now and then I will be there as soon as I can. I’ll leave within the hour.” He stabbed at the screen of his phone with a thumb and for just a moment I thought he was going to throw it. “Something has come up. I have go,” he growled.

  “I gathered.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he said as he hustled me to my car. “You have to go to work anyway, right? I will be back as soon as I can.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The Bulls. They are talking shit and stirring up trouble. This has just about gone far enough and we are going to have to deal with them once and for all.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we are going to have to step on their dicks. Nothing to worry about. We’ve done it before, and we are about to do it again.”

  Chapter 17

  It had been three days since Cain left in a flurry to return to Dallas. He had called me that night and apologized for leaving so suddenly, but I could tell he was distracted. My emotions were all over the place. On one hand, finding out that the Hellhounds sold black-market guns didn’t bother me all that much and I was much relieved that it wasn’t something worse. But on the other hand, the problem with the Bulls was exactly the kind of thing that I had been worried about. I didn’t know what ‘stepping on their dicks’ involved, but it sounded violent and dangerous.

  Then there is this shit, I fumed as I stared at the computer screen. Something wasn’t right with the inventory. There were losses that I couldn’t account for and I didn’t know if it was my error or if the new bartender was being a little liberal with the free drinks. For the life of me I couldn’t get the receipts to tally to the inventory, but the books were in such a mess when I took them over, I wasn’t sure of anything. I had checked my numbers three times, and I was still off by nearly eight grand for the week. With a sigh I pulled out last week’s receipts and started again. I had already verified my inventory count, so if I didn’t tally this time, I was going to bring it to Peter’s attention and give him a heads up that something wasn’t right.

  “Peter,” I asked an hour later as I stuck my head into his office. “Can I get the last two months of inventory and receipts?”

  “Sure. Why?” he asked.

  “I can’t get the numbers to balance and I’m looking for a starting point.”

  He grinned at me. “See why I asked you to take this on? Inventory was so screwed up that I finally got to where I just took your numbers and adjusted the inventory to match.” He turned in his chair and dug in a file cabinet. “Here you go,” he said as he handed out two thick folders.

  “Your inventory system leaves a little to be desired,” I teased as I took the folder.

  “I know. Believe me, I know. That’s why this is perfect. You can get this mess straightened out while you are pregnant. Thanks again for doing this.”

  I smiled and gave him a nod as I backed out of his office. It’s always nice to have the boss thank you.

  I spent the next six hours checking and rechecking. I went back to the last two months that I was working the bar and started there. I had to fudge the numbers to get them to align to start with, but from there inventory and receipts tracked close enough that I felt confident that I had starting point.

  But then when I had been replaced as the bartender, the receipt and inventory had started to diverge again. It was almost six o’clock and I saw Tina head down the hall, grinning at me as she passed. I didn’t like her very much because she was under the mistaken impression that she had gotten my job because she was a better bartender than I was, not because I was pregnant. That fact was still a secret between Peter and me.

  “Tina!” I called, rising to follow her.

  “Yeah?”

  “You have a minute?”

  “For you? Sure. What’cha want?”

  “I’m having trouble balancing your receipts to the inventory.”

  “And that is my problem how?”

  “I’m just checking to make sure you’re recording all the drinks you serve, including the comps.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing. I’m just looking for a little help here. I have to start someplace.”

  “Why don’t you start with your counting?”

  I bit my tongue. If I were in her shoes, I would be insulted at the question myself. “I already did. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just looking for the problem.”

  “No. You’re looking to create a problem. Just because Peter asked me to replace you is no reason to get all bitchy with me.”

  “I’m not being bitchy!” I protested. “Peter asked me to get a handle on the inventory. Okay, that’s what I’m trying to do. But we are having a lot of losses, more than I can explain by slop.”

  “Sloppy bookkeeping you mean.”

  She was really starting to annoy me. “Look, all I want is a straight up answer. Are you recording all your receipts?”

  “Yes. Now, why don’t you go back into your little office and let me do what I do, okay?”

  I didn’t like her tone, not one little bit, but I said nothing. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.” I turned on my heel and reentered my office. It was time to go anyway. I gathered my stuff and as I walked out, my day done, I decided that I was going to have to dig a little deeper. I was confident in the inventory now, so that left only one other place for a problem.

  ***

  “What are you doing?” Peter asked as I tallied the bottles behind the bar. It was almost time for the bar to open, but I was nearly done with my count.

  “I can’t get receipts to balance,” I said as I finished my count. It was only a gross estimate of what was behind the bar, but it was one more data point I could use to track usage.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, his tone saying more than his words.

  “Maybe. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “Do you think the problem is with Leslie or Tina?”

  “I’d rather not point fingers,” I said, though Leslie and I had worked together for a couple of years and we never had a problem.

  “Okay. Let me know what you find.”

  “I will. Can you pull the last six months of receipts and inventory?”

  “If I can find it. Why?” Peter asked as he looked at me through narrowed eyes.

  “I’m trying to get a baseline for losses.”

  “Didn’t you go to school for biology?”

  I giggled. “Yeah, but I can’t stand it if my numbers don’t balance. I’m one of those that obsesses over a penny in her checking account or on her credit card statement.”

  Peter chuckled. “I knew there was a reason I picked you to do this. Yeah, stop by later and I will give you the receipts as far back as I have. The rest are in storage.”

  “Thanks, Peter. If I find out anything I will let you know.”

  “I’m counting on it.”<
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  ***

  It took almost two days of head down number crunching, but I finally worked out that over the previous six months, The Cat’s Claw averaged a loss of about two percent, which seemed reasonable. That accounted for spills and what I called slop, the splashes and drips that invariably occur when flairtending, along with the slightly uneven amounts served up. But for the last three weeks, we had been averaging a loss of about five percent. That was just too big of a jump to account to for with just a change in bartenders. Tina was either skimming or she wasn’t recording her comps properly, but either way, she was crooked.