by Aden Lowe
Vicki gave a little laugh and nipped his lower lip. "I'll hold you to that one, baby." She drew back. "But now, we need to figure out what to do, I guess."
Kellen released her, reluctant to step back into the very real world of trouble she was in. "Yeah, I guess so. You have anything in mind?"
"Not really. Ask me where to find the most exclusive meal or gown on the East coast, and I've got you covered. When it comes to this kind of thing? I'm pretty well lost."
"Okay. We start with the basics then. You've got your people here. I need to look everything over and see where we can best use the Raiders and how." He stepped and held one hand out to indicate she should lead.
Vicki showed him around outside first, around the perimeter of the property. The size of the place startled him. He'd known it was huge, but damn, it was practically a country estate in the middle of a decent sized city. Insane.
He poked around the garden shed, but found nothing but ordinary tools, garden soil, seeds and all that good stuff. Nothing he could really use in defense of the place. Too bad, since the building sat so far from the house, and yet, too close to abandon it to the enemy. He'd have to come up with something different. He buzzed Trip, ready for a quick meeting to get some suggestions. The place had already been attacked once, so they couldn't leave anything to chance.
Trip was already busy for the moment, scoping out what sort of resources the house had to offer the twelve innocents currently in residence. The discussion with Trip delayed for a short time, Kellen took a close look at the rest of the exterior. There were too damn many ground floor windows. The place had an entry point everywhere he looked. They would have to figure that out, for sure.
Finally, he figured he'd found the most obvious vulnerabilities they would have to address, and headed back inside to meet up with Trip and Vicki. The woman cleaning blood off the wall had moved to another spot, and when Kellen asked, directed him to the kitchen. There, he found Vicki, Trip and Crank, along with a plate of sandwiches. He snagged a chicken on white and a bottle of water and stepped back to eat and wait the arrival of the others.
One by one, the other Raiders came in, got food, and waited. When Lefty strolled in, talking with one of the innocents as he walked, Kellen decided business time had come. "We know the Russians have attacked here once, and they're slowly picking her people off. As soon as they figure out the innocents are here, they'll probably make another hit here. What we have to do is figure out the best defense, and help however else we're needed."
"Whatever you need, boss." Crank stepped up for another sandwich. "Already told you that."
Kellen nodded. "Yeah, I appreciate it Crank. I've told you a little of what's going on, but the fact is, we're up against the Russian mob here. If anybody wants out, walk away now."
The Raiders stood, just as he'd known they would. They always stood ready to put it all on the line any time he asked.
Trip cleared his throat. "So, I've been thinking." He went on to describe the plan he'd developed, and patiently explained when the others had questions.
Half an hour later, they had a viable defense worked out. Kellen sent Dix and Lefty to pick up supplies in a van kept for that purpose. Crank and Fabio went to check all the spare weapons and ammo, while the others were sent in teams to board up windows and secure entry points. By the end of the afternoon, they had a fairly secure fortress capable of sustaining the current residents for a month or more.
Satisfied with their progress, Kellen assigned sentries and sought Vicki out. He needed more information from her if he was going to do her any good. He found her in her mother's study as before, but this time, she sat behind the elegant desk and pored over one of the ledgers from the box.
"Any luck?"
She looked up, slightly startled at his presence. "Actually, I think so. I found a series of transactions that look odd."
"Odd how?"
Turning the ledger a little for him to see, she motioned him to come close. "See here? It has the price per unit, the number of units, and payment received. That's where it doesn't match up. This buyer paid less than half the selling price. It doesn't make sense."
The figures were hard to interpret at first. Kellen stared at them, puzzled. "What's this?" He tapped one of the numbers.
"Oh, sorry. My father insisted on the European style of writing numbers. It caused me no end of trouble in school, because I tended to mix it with what I was being taught in school. My teachers didn't appreciate it." She read off the number he'd indicated.
With the translation, Kellen figured it out. Ones resembled inverted vees and sevens and zeroes had a cross line at the middle. The ones were the source of his initial confusion. He studied the columns. "Any idea who this buyer is?"
"Not yet. That part's in code and I still haven't figured it out." She pushed back her hair and sighed. "I'm no good with this kind of thing."
The need to taste the curve of her neck again jumped up and slapped him, but he managed to resist. She likely wouldn't welcome it at the moment. "I'm not either. A couple of the Raiders are pretty good with codes and stuff. If you'd like, I can ask them to take a look."
"At the moment, any input would be a good thing. I just don't have a clue."
"Okay, I'll leave you to it. Maybe if you bring the ledger out to the kitchen or something in a bit, the boys might be able to figure it out." The thought of sending any of the Raiders to speak with her in the privacy of that little office made him a little nauseous. Not happening.
"I will. Thanks for the help." She lay one hand against his jaw and smiled before she turned back to her work.
Kellen could have walked through fire or hell or driving rain at that moment. Her appreciation meant altogether too much to him. He didn't like it. Rather than give in to the impulse to kiss her, he scowled and stalked from the room. Time to get real and do his job, so he could get the hell away from her.
In the kitchen, which seemed to have been commandeered as a war room, he found Trip studying some sketches and making notes. "Find anything?"
"Not sure yet. But I'd like a word if you have a minute."
What the hell? Trip never asked to speak, just said whatever he needed to. Kellen shrugged. "Sure."
"Walk outside?" Trip stood and shuffled his papers together and stuffed them in his back pocket.
"Okay." Nervous. That's what that jittery feeling was. Totally new to him.
Outside, they walked a hundred or so feet from the house and Trip took a good long look around before he stopped. "I don't want to question you, or be disrespectful, Kellen. I take this VP thing seriously. But if I see something that could be trouble for the club, I think I should say it."
Kellen nodded and lit a smoke. "Agreed."
"I think this job is fucked from the start." Trip kept his voice low, barely audible.
"What do you mean?" Kellen held back that first rush of anger at having his decision questioned. "And why didn't you say so at Church?"
"I didn't see it until we got here. But you have a thing for this woman. I'm afraid she's using that, leading you around by your dick to get you to do what she needs." Trip lit his own cigarette.
Huh. That possibility never occurred to him. "Why do you think that?"
"She needs soldiers. We're a small club, and even though we're good shooters, there aren't that many of us. The lady has some serious connections. Why isn't she tapping those? Kellen, this is the Russian mob. We can't hope to outgun them." A cloud of smoke surrounded Trip's head. "I'm worried."
Kellen had to admit it. His VP's concerns were legit. But what to do about it? Still. "I don't think it's anything. I was there when she found out about the attack. I expect that's why she asked us for help."
"Could be. Just something to be aware of." Trip ground his cigarette out under his heel and headed back for the house, leaving Kellen to his thoughts.
He walked the grounds, preoccupied, replaying Vicki's request for help. Could there be anything to Trip's suspicions? Or
was the bastard just being overzealous with his new job?
At the back of the strictly manicured garden, he found a small alcove where the pump for a little pond gurgled. The plants were gone mostly wild, not all trimmed and carefully in their spots. They overlapped, hung over the path, and provided a riot of color. A puzzle in the midst of the structure all around it.
Practically mesmerized by the big Koi swimming peacefully in the pond, Kellen suddenly found himself drawing a parallel between that little area and Vicki. She might be all about appearances with her designer clothes and perfect hair, but inside, she definitely had a wild streak. And that wildness drew him like a moth to the flame.
Surely he could taste it without getting burned. Even while every survival instinct he possessed demanded that he climb on his bike and get the hell away as fast as he could go.
Chapter Twelve
Kellen finally went back inside. Hunger presented an irresistible challenge and sent him to the kitchen. Someone had made a huge pan of baked ziti, cheese garlic bread and a salad. He helped himself and found a seat at the table with Dix and Lefty and a handful of the innocents. The food provided a delicious distraction from his preoccupation with Vicki.
Trip came in as Kellen finished eating and pulled out the next chair. "They're here."
Kellen focused immediately. "The Russians? What are they doing?"
"Looks like they're watching and waiting. There are two in a van out on the street, and two more are walking around, just outside the property line. But they all keep searching the house over with binoculars." One of the women brought a plate over and Trip accepted it. "What do you want us to do?"
Several options presented themselves. "We could just wait them out, see what they're going to do. But in the meantime, I don't like them gathering info and figuring out our defenses. We could have Vicki call the police. They would believe her being scared after the attack. Or we could just take it to them and kick them out of the neighborhood and send a definite message that we're here."
"So which you want to do?"
"I'm thinking the direct response is the best in this case. Wait a bit and let them think everything is quiet, and send Crank and Fabio and Skates to visit that van." He gave careful consideration to the next bit. "If the others are still walking around, you and Lefty can send them back to the van."
"Sounds good to me." Trip stood and took his plate with him, eating as he left to deliver orders.
Kellen pushed his chair back and rose. One more part of the plan needed figuring out. They had to have an option in case control of the mansion fell to the Russians. The innocents would have to be removed to a safe location, one they could defend. Some of the supplies would probably have to be abandoned, but there really wasn't anything he could do about that.
Searching out a quiet corner, he texted Badger, whom he'd left in charge of the Home Guard—the men responsible for keeping everything at home running along smoothly. It might be a risk, but the clubhouse was really the only option he had for a fall-back location. It would have to do. With luck, they could avoid taking the conflict along to Stags Leap.
Satisfied with the decision, he decided to take a tour of the house yet again, and make sure all the defenses were in place as he'd asked. As he started up the stairs, his phone buzzed to alert him to a text from Trip, a simple, one-word message. Moving. The Raiders were heading to deliver his well-wishes to the Russians.
His belly tightened like it always did at the prospect of a good fight. He'd been told that feeling was blood lust, but it didn't seem like that. It was more the sensation of becoming hyper-aware of the circumstances and seeking the advantage. Either way, didn't really matter.
No doubt, the Russians would retaliate, but they'd have a job to do. He wasn't about to stand by and let them hurt Vicki, or her people. On the second and third floors, he checked the locations of all those she sought to keep safe. They might need to move at a moment's notice, so he gave the warning.
Finally, with everyone accounted for, he headed to the kitchen/war room to wait for Trip's report. Vicki came in and sat by him, occupied with her father's ledgers. She stayed silent, just waiting with him.
When his phone buzzed, he grabbed it immediately while Vicki watched his face for hints of the conversation. "Yeah Trip. Give me good news."
"They've pulled back for now. Crank got hold of one, fucked him up pretty good, so that's one down."
"Glad to hear it."
"The thing is, I think them pulling back is a play to draw us out. And now they know who we are."
Kellen had considered that as well. Revealing the Raiders could carry consequences. "Alert them back home, just in case they decide to retaliate."
"Will do, boss. And for now, I'd suggest we don't allow ourselves to be drawn out. They could easily just pick us off."
"Yeah, pass the word. Everybody stays in the safe zone where someone else can cover them. We don't want to lose anybody on this one." Annoyance set Kellen's teeth on edge. Only a few hours into the job and already he wanted it over. Had the client been anyone other than Vicki, he'd have walked as soon as he saw how thin the mansion's defenses were.
One glance at her worried frown, though, had him willing to renew his commitment to help her. After filling her in on the news, he mentioned the need for a contingency plan. "We should have some idea where to take everyone, and a way to get them there, in case we can't defend this place."
She studied him a moment. "You have something in mind?"
"Yeah, I do. The Hell Raiders clubhouse is—" A flurry of gunfire cut into his words. "Shit." He bolted from the table to his agreed upon position at a front window. From there, he had a clear view of a section of the street and the front grounds.
Vicki came up behind him and peered around his shoulder. On the street, three black SUVs sat at an angle, all the doors open, and being used as shields while men shot automatic weapons around them. Toward the house. Glass shattered as bullets found their mark.
"Vicki, I need you to go make sure all the women and children are in the interior of the second floor, just as we discussed earlier." Kellen didn't take time to watch that she obeyed, just turned back to the window and fired a few rounds to make a point.
The front tires on the SUVs were flattened, and the windshields had turned into opaque messes from bullets hitting the safety glass. According to the plan, a grenade rolled under the front of the first one and men shouted and dove for other cover. Trip seemed to have everything well in hand. Bastard was like a damn general or something.
Now hopefully the neighbors wouldn't rush to call in the local law. Kellen knew from experience though that they wouldn't wait long. The average citizen called as soon as they realized that pop-pop-pop wasn't firecrackers or a car backfiring. And encounters between local cops and armed criminals rarely went well.
His damn phone started buzzing. He considered ignoring it, but since Trip had no other way to reach him, he took the call.
Badger's gravelly voice replied, instead of Trip. "Boss, I know you're busy, but we've got foreigners in town. Thought you'd want to know. A couple of them busted up Zipporah's pawn shop and scared the piss outa her."
A rock settled into Kellen's belly. The mob had come after them on two fronts. Fuck. "Thanks, Badger. I'll call you back in a few minutes, it's heating up here now." He ended the call and stared at the phone for a minute.
What the hell was he supposed to do? There were too many options. He could walk away from Vicki, leave her with the wolves gnawing through her door, and go home and defend what was his. He could stay and help her, and leave Stags Leap to its own devices and hope it came through. Or he could walk away from both—just pass word to the Raiders to bug out. They could meet up later, and start over fresh. Hell, he could even go it alone.
For something to do, he looked out front again. One of the Russian SUVs had its front end blown up, and a dead, or nearly dead, guy lay under the driver-side door.
Another option sudden
ly presented itself. The house would fall, sooner rather than later. So why not give it up?
Things clicked into place in his head. A series of quick calls later, his plan started to move forward. He just needed things to happen at the right times. Vicki confirmed the timing on her end.
Fifteen minutes later, armed to the teeth, they took advantage of a small window of opportunity the Raiders had opened and got the hell out of Dodge. Two vans, packed to the gills with innocents, and driven by Vicki's men, blew through the garage doors and straight to the street, bypassing the driveway.
Kellen and the other Raiders surrounded the vans immediately, providing a heavy escort. As they rolled out, Kellen used his burner phone to dial nine-one-one, and when the dispatcher came on, he reported a huge gunfight and gave the address. Diversion created, he dropped the phone and got the hell out of there.
Sirens echoed in the distance before he made it out to the street. That should keep the enemy busy for a bit so the Hell Raiders could put some distance between them. He'd prefer to avoid a running fire fight, especially while trying to shield two vehicles.
At the moment, no one challenged them and the column quickly formed up to roar through the neighborhood. Kellen imagined the residents of the nearby houses hiding behind their drapes and hoping the end of the world hadn't just landed on them. Probably plenty of pants needed changing behind all those fancy doors.
A small sense of relief settled over him as they got out of the ritzy area. Too damn many mansions in one area to suit him. Why the hell would a rich person want a house that close to another? It simply made no sense to him.
Trip directed the column to the town's bypass so they could keep everything bunched up tight. If traffic cooperated and they didn't hit any delays, maybe they could make it back across the River before the Russians collected themselves enough to follow.
Kellen concentrated on ensuring no one tailed them. One car raised his suspicions, but after riding his bumper for three blocks, it turned. Everyone else on the road seemed smart enough to keep their distance. Good thing. He'd rather not have to scare the piss out of a bunch of soccer moms and house husbands to get them to back the hell off. Scaring the citizens usually brought cops, and he didn't need those at the moment.