by Paula Cox
“Come on. Breakfast will wake you up.”
After breakfast, while ten brothers watched the fence and another watched the cameras, the rest of the club pulled orders. Most of the brothers weren’t familiar with how to efficiently pull orders, but they had so many hands, they were done in less than two hours. Chet and his team, the brothers who ran the shipping department, carefully checked each box, then sealed and labeled it as other brothers staged the boxes to be loaded into the van after the three o’clock pull.
With nothing else to do, they began to rotate brothers in and out of watch, giving those sweltering in the rising heat a break.
Arsen had just come in from his turn of baking in the Arizona sun when the lunch plates began to appear. He retreated to the bathroom to wash the sweat off his face and arms before sitting down beside Quinn.
“How you doing?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’ve found clear plastic containers that I think would be perfect for the salts and beads. They come in a bunch of different sizes, and I think you should offer three. The larger the size, the less the price per unit so the customer will buy more. That will save you on shipping and your regular customers will feel like you’re saving them money. I also heard back from a box vendor and she wants to come talk to me about boxes. I put her off until next week because of, you know. Do you think that’s long enough?”
“Probably,” he said, picking up his hamburger and taking a bite. “If they’re going to hit us, I expect it tonight or tomorrow night.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything, keeping her fears to herself. The Blades ran like a well-oiled machine, everyone pitching in and doing their part, but Arsen had enough to worry about without her hanging all over him.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, picking up on her mood.
“Just nervous, that’s all.”
He nodded. “After lunch, let’s go someplace quiet, and you can show me the containers.”
She smiled. She knew what he was doing, and she appreciated it. “Okay. As soon as I help clean up from lunch.”
Cleanup didn’t take long since the Blades had a commercial kitchen in their clubhouse. Quick rinse in the sink, then into the commercial dishwasher, and they were done.
When she appeared from the kitchen, Arsen was waiting, and gave her a nod of his head. She picked up her laptop and followed him to the idled production building. “People who are pulling the night shift are trying to sleep,” he explained as they tromped up the steps to the lab. “This way we don’t have to worry about bothering them.”
She nodded as she followed him up the steps. Not everyone was sleeping, not yet anyway. As they passed the guest suites on the way out, she heard the squeak of a bed and the passionate whispers of a couple making love.
“Show me what you’ve found,” he said as he took the laptop from her, sat it on the bench, and opened the lid.
She called up the website and showed him the jars she’d selected, along with the lids, seals and labels. The jars were more expensive than the plastic bags they were currently using, but not as expensive as he expected when buying in bulk. “Everything I selected is off the shelf,” she finished.
“No prices on the boxes?”
“Not yet. I want to use a wax window box with a full design.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“More than you’re paying now, but the impact will be a lot more too. According to Sue, that’s the sales lady, it’ll be about 10% more per unit than you’re paying now, plus there will be an initial setup fee for the artwork.”
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing in comic suspicion. “What did you do before? You seem to know a lot about this.”
She grinned. “Worked behind the desk of a motel. As far as this, the internet is a wonderful thing. You can learn a lot of you are willing to do a little digging. Plus, I know what I like, and I figure I’m about average, so if I like it, I figure most women will like it. We like to think we’re getting a bargain, even if we’re not, and we like pretty things. A pretty box with a fancy jar inside will go a long way to making us want to try your product, especially when the jar contains those colored, sparkling bath salts. They look like decoration, so it’s like we’re getting a twofer. Something we can use to decorate our bathrooms, and something we can use pamper ourselves at the same time.”
He chuckled as he shook his head. “You missed your calling working in a motel. I think you could sell snow-cones to people in the Arctic.”
She smiled as she looked down, warming with his praise. “You opened your house to me, and your club welcomed me in. I’m just trying to do my part,” she said softly.
He waited until she looked up. “I didn’t open my house to you so you could help us in some way.”
“Why did you then?”
“I thought we covered that last night.”
“I’m just having a hard time believing it, that’s all. Nobody has ever done something for me without expecting something in return. Not like this.”
He shrugged. “I got something in return. A little peace.”
She could feel the tears coming and she couldn’t stop them. “Remember what I said about wanting to cry for no reason?” she whimpered as she fought her tears.
“Come here,” he said softly, rising to his feet and pulling her in, holding her tight. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she sniffed.
He was holding her, waiting for to her shrug him off, when he they heard the gunshot. “Stay here,” he said, shoving her away.
“Arsen! No!” she screamed as he bolted from the room and pounded down the steps.
She stood, frozen in terror, her hands at her mouth, as gunfire erupted. She ran to the landing outside the door and looked over the edge as Arsen eased the factory door open, then shut it.
He looked up at her. “Go back in the lab and shut the door!”
“Don’t leave me!” she cried, shaking so hard she was afraid she would tumble down the steps.
“I’m not leaving you!” he called, trying to put her at ease. “Just go back in the lab where—” Before he could complete the sentence, the door burst open, hitting him in the back and causing him to stumble. He regained his balance and turned as a huge man rushed through the door, a large, long handled hammer in his hands.
Quinn was certain her heart stopped when Arsen turned to face the man. The thug charging through the door was as surprised to see Arsen as Arsen was to see him. They paused a moment, obviously shocked in having come face to face with each other, then Arsen recovered and grabbed the handle of the hammer.
The door hitting him in the back was bad enough, but when the gorilla charged through with a sledgehammer in his hands, he was so shocked he couldn’t move for a moment. Obviously the attack at the front of the clubhouse was a distraction so this guy could get in and wreck the production equipment. The gorilla slid his hands down the handle as he began to wind up for a swing. A solid blow from the hammer would kill him, and even a glancing blow would disable him. That was the primary threat. Realizing he didn’t have time to clear his weapon, he grabbed the hammer to stop the swing.
Unable to bring the hammer back with Arsen hanging onto the handle, the man charged forward, trying to drive Arsen back and down. Arsen went down, holding onto the hammer and dragging the gorilla down with him, putting a booted foot in the man’s chest and driving him over his head. The thug landed hard on the concrete floor. Arsen released the handle and scrambled to his feet, throwing himself on the man and forcing the handle into his neck.
The man kicked, trying to force the handle back up, but as big as he was, he was no match for Arsen and his advantage in leverage. As his struggles slowed, Arsen kept the pressure on, snarling down at the man, until the handle suddenly dropped lower and crushed his throat.
Arsen rolled off the dead man and looked around for another threat. Seeing nothing he glanced up at Quinn, staring down at him, her eyes wide with her hands at her mou
th. She pounded down the steps with reckless speed as he got to his feet, throwing herself into his arms.
He was still holding her, watching the door, as the pops of gunfire ceased and the wail of police sirens approached.
Chapter 28
The raid was over in minutes. It was clearly a hit and run operation designed to take out their ability to manufacture.
He continued to hold Quinn as she shivered in his arms. “You okay?” Arsen asked.
She shook her head but said nothing. He lay his cheek against her head. She was clearly flashing back to the raid on the Desert Riders compound. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
A moment later, the door burst open with a bang. He glanced up, ready to shove Quinn behind him, but quickly recognized Phil. Quinn’s back was to the door and she screamed, turning to look over her shoulder and fighting to get away.
“I’ve got you!” he cried, holding her tight as she struggled. “You’re safe!”
She struggled a moment before she recognizing Phil herself and quieted.
“Jesus! We didn’t know where you were!” Phil cried.
“Anyone hurt?”
“None of our guys. Two Horsemen dead.” He looked at the man in the floor. “Make that three. One wounded. Berk is sitting on him waiting for the cops to get here. What the hell happened? In the middle of the day? Are they fucking crazy?”
Arsen toed the dead body. “I think they were trying to cut off our ability to manufacture, maybe as a precursor to starting up their own lab again.”
“But in the middle of the day?”
Arsen shrugged. “Trying to hit us before we can get organized, just like we did them.” Quinn had stopped shaking, but she was still clinging to him desperately tight. “Can you handle the cops to start with?”
“What should we do with him?”
“Leave him and let the cops do their thing. We have nothing to hide. Don’t let them into the clubhouse without a warrant. We’ve worked hard to make sure we’re covered if something like this happens. It’s time to put it to the test, but we don’t have to make it easy for them.”
The sirens were close and coming hard, and Phil turned and trotted away to meet the cops.
“You okay?” he asked her. She shook her head but said nothing. “Come on, I have to deal with this. Let’s get you back to the clubhouse.”
He led her back into the clubhouse and she never let go of him. “Michelle! Take care of her,” he called to the first old lady he saw.
“What happened to her? Is she hurt?”
“Not hurt. Terrified.” He began to pry her hands off of him. “Michelle is going to stay with you until I get back.”
“Don’t leave me,” she begged.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to talk to the cops. Michelle is going to take care of you until I get back, okay?” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Listen to me! You’re surrounded by God knows how many cops and thirty brothers. Every one of them will give their life to protect yours. You’re safe. I have to deal with this. If you’ve ever trusted me, if you’re ever going to trust me, now’s the time.”
Slowly she released her death grip on him.
He kissed her softly on the lips. “That’s my girl. Go into one of the guest rooms with Michelle. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but if I can’t, do you feel up to talking to the cops?”
“Will you be there?”
“Count on it.”
She nodded then took a deep breath and stood up straight. “I’m okay.”
He grinned. “You’re doing good,” he said, then turned his attention to Michelle. “Stay with her.”
The moment Quinn’s eyes flicked to Michelle, he turned and strode away. He had the utmost confidence in Phil, and all his brothers, but this was his club and he’d be the one who spoke for it.
The Tucson police had arrived in force, but Phil already had the situation in hand and the cops’ guns were holstered.
“Thank you for responding so quickly,” Arsen said as he approached Phil and the cop with the sergeant stripes on his sleeves. He glanced at the sergeant’s name tag. “Arsen Kyle, President of the Blacktop Blades.”
“Your man here tells me he has no idea what this was all about.”
“That’s right.”
“So these Chrome Horsemen rode all the way down from Phoenix just to have a little shootout with a bunch of innocent citizens?”
“What can I say, Sergeant Tamprone?” Arsen said with a winning smile. “They’ve been a rival of ours for a long time. I guess it’s gotten personal.”
“Rivals? In what way?”
“I can’t speak for them, of course, but it’s kind of like a pair of high school football teams. There doesn’t have to be a reason, they just are. I always thought it was a friendly little game, until now.”
“Game? How?”
“Who’s the biggest? Who’s the best? That sort of thing. They’re a lot bigger than we are, but we make more money.”
Tamprone looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “You expect me to buy that this known outlaw club attacked you for no reason other than a friendly rivalry gone bad?”
Arsen shrugged. “You’ll have to ask them the reason.”
“Sarge!” a cop called trotting up. “The live one said they run a huge illegal drug manufacturing facility here.”
Tamprone turned his attention back to Arsen. “Mind if we look around?”
“Have a warrant?”
“Do I need one?”
“If you want to search, you do. By the way, there’s another dead body in the manufacturing building.”
“And what do you manufacture, Mr. Kyle?”
“Soap.”
“Soap?”
“Soap, bath beads, and salts.”
“Craig! Check out the body in the manufacturing building! Mr. Kyle will show you the way.”
By the time all the statements were taken and the bodies were cleared away, Tucson’s finest had a warrant to search for illicit drugs and a dog.
“That good enough for you, Mr. Kyle?” Tamprone asked, slapping the paper into his hand.
He read it over. “Perfectly. Thank you. It’s nothing personal, officer, but generations of Americans fought to give me these protections, and it would be a crime to dishonor them by giving those rights away.”
The sergeant grunted. “Search the place,” he ordered, waving the team forward.
“Phil, you and Zane help them with clubhouse. Let them look any place they want. Have Berk join me in manufacturing in case these fine gentlemen want to open any access panels.”
***
It was almost eight o’clock, more than six hours after the shooting started, before the cops completed their search. The dog hit on several items, and the cops tried to seize all the finished product and raw material in the entire facility, but a quick phone call to the club attorney put a stop to that, though they did take samples for analysis.
“Satisfied?” Arsen asked.
“I think you’re guilty of exactly what that thug accused you of,” Tamprone growled.
“How? You’ve been here for how long? I’ve let you test every sample you’ve asked for. I’ve even shown you our books and the formulations for all our products to show that we actually use the items the dog hit on in our process, even though you had no right to see them.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“Why is it so hard to believe we are what we say we are? Is it because we like to ride motorcycles?” Arsen grinned. “To show there’s no hard feelings, would you object if we gave you and your men a selection of our products? For their wives and girlfriends, of course.” When the sergeant stared at him, he chuckled. “It’s not a bribe. It’s not for you, it’s for your wife.”
When he didn’t say no, Arsen turned to Zane. “Go put together a gift box for these gentlemen.” He smiled at the men. “It too bad this had to happen now. We’re in the middle of a
packaging upgrade. Next month, they would have been really impressed.”
Zane and Phil, returned twenty minutes later with nine large shipping boxes full of their various products, neatly stacked on hand trucks.
“A small token of our gratitude for your quick response and the job you do.” The cops looked at each other a moment. “I’d really rather not have to unpack the boxes and put the stuff back in the racks, and I’m hoping after they try them, your wives and girlfriends will order more,” Arsen encouraged.
The moment the first police officer picked up a box, nodding in thanks, the rest of the cops took one until there was only one left.