CHAPTER FOUR
WHISKEY
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
Duchess is still not telling me everything.
Yesterday when I woke up, she wasn’t in bed. The amount of times that has happened since we got together is probably in the single digits. Unless I am out of town for a club run, I wake up with her in my arms. But not today.
Just as I went to find her, she came shuffling out of the hallway bathroom.
She was in her own little world, dazed again and not paying attention to anything around her.
Waiting to see how long it’d take her to see where she was going, I stood still and she bumped right into me.
I grabbed her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall, but it was a good thing I did because she just bounced right off me and started to topple.
I managed to get out of her that she wasn’t feeling well, an upset stomach is what she said, so I ushered her back to bed and took care of getting Krew ready for his day myself.
My sister Sunshine and one of her husbands, Ring, offered to take him for a while so Duchess could get a few more hours of sleep.
With him changed, fed, and handed off next door, I headed for my office in the clubhouse to get some work done.
I didn’t plan to work all day, but being the club’s President, more often than not, things don’t always go as planned.
Not only is it the beginning of the month, so all of the club owned businesses have reports to look over, it’s also tax time.
Kraken is our club Treasurer and is in charge of filing all the proper paperwork to the appropriate places, for the legal side of things anyway, but I still like to be in the know of how everything and everyone is doing.
He will be starting the work on his end later this week, so I’m more or less just flipping through stacks of paper to make sure nothing looks too obviously wrong or wonky that I can see.
Part of running a motorcycle club, which makes a majority of its money doing illegal things, is also doing legal things to find ways to make all of our money moving around look legitimate. That is why we have various licensed and taxable businesses.
Rebel Repairs is an automotive mechanic shop. There we fix cars, trucks, motorcycles—really anything with an engine—and charge a premium price for premium, top notch work. Our guys are really good at what they do, so they bring in a pretty penny.
Tellison Recycling and Salvage is just that .
. . a recycling center and salvage yard.
That is where I work my ‘nine to five’. The public brings in almost anything and everything they want to get rid of, and if it can be broken down and recycled, we take it.
From aluminum cans to refrigerators to broken down, scrap vehicles—we rip it apart, sort it into the appropriate metal types or materials, and dispose of it properly.
But that’s not all we do there. TR&S is also a front for our gun running operation.
We use select materials that come in to camouflage the guns and ammunition we pick up from our supplier in the upper peninsula of Michigan.
They fly down over the border from Canada, we load it up what they bring, then transport it by semi-truck down to the buyer who has warehouses at the docks on the south side of Chicago.
Bloodlines Ink Therapy is a tattoo and piercing shop run by Buzz and his father Skynyrd. It is primarily a cash operating business, so adjusting their books is an easy way to cover a large portion of our ill-gotten gains.
The Lodge is a bar and restaurant that we opened to pair with Moraine Craft Brewery, our biggest legal money making endeavor.
A lot of people would be surprised to find out that their favorite beer is made by bikers, but it hasn’t stopped those who do know.
We have a few beers brewed year round, but what we are mostly known for are our seasonal specialty brews.
Summer, fall, and winter are when we sell the most, and some flavors more often than not sell out before the season is over.
We have a great network of distributors who get our product on shelves all over the Midwest, and we’re even starting to branch out into different states.
Ring and Brewer are in charge over there and have been kicking ass.
Knock knock.
“Hey, Whiskey,” I look up to see Steel, Hammer, and Haze file in my office. “We need to talk,” Haze says as he holds up his phone.
“You there?” Raven’s voice comes through the speaker. “Haze?”
“Yea, I’m here,” he replies as all three guys take a seat. “We just walked into the office.”
“Okay,” she says as she lets out a deep breath.
“Is everything okay, Raven?” I can hear the worry in her voice even from miles away.
“I will be once Smoke gets here.”
“He’s on his way, love.” Haze looks at his phone like he can see her through it. “Just stay in your office and don’t unlock the door for anyone but him.”
Hearing the worry in both of their voices, along with the pissed off looks on Steel and Hammer’s faces, I immediately pick up on that this is not just a chill chat we’re about to have.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I was over at the salvage yard when Raven called to tell me there were some sketchy looking dudes over at The Lodge,” Haze starts. He throws a thumb over toward Hammer and Steel. “I ran across to Rebel Repairs to see what other officers were there and found these two.”
“Smart thinkin’, cousin.” I give him a nod of approval.
“Apparently there were six guys who rode in on expensive ass Harleys, walked in, and started asking Raven lots of questions about her Property cut.” This comes from Steel who is leaned back in his chair.
He’s got his arms folded over his chest and his legs kicked out with his boots crossed at the ankles.
My VP may look relaxed right now, but he is anything but.
Calm is almost like his stealth mode. The slower he moves, and quieter he gets, the faster and deadlier he strikes.
“Were they wearin’ any cuts or colors, Raven?” I ask.
“Nope, just regular street clothes I guess you could say.”
I hear a rustle in the background, then Smoke’s voice joins hers. “I’m here.”
“So anyway,” Raven continues. “I thought it was weird that I heard a bike rumbling outside, but when I looked out the front window and saw six, I just had this bad feeling.”
“We’ve had a few nice-ish weather days recently, but it’s still too damn cold to be out riding,” Hammer speaks up for the first time.
“They were wearing leather jackets, sweatshirts or flannels, jeans, and riding boots. A couple had beanies on.”
“So either they’re not an organized club—”
“Or they are trying to hide who they really are,” Smoke finishes my thought.
“They wanted to know what club I was affiliated with, not like they couldn’t tell by the patches.
Then they asked why I was property of two guys instead of just one.
I gave vague answers, but I could tell they wanted to ask more.
I pretended to be leaving so I told them to have a seat and a waitress would be right with them.
I went into the stockroom and watched them from the small window in the door.
They sat at a table near the front, each ordered only one beer, chugged them down like they were water, handed a crumpled wad of cash to Cinnamon, and walked out not ten minutes after they walked in. ”
I grab my cell phone off the table and call Cypher, our club tech guru.
“Hey,” he sounds half asleep.
“I need you down in my office. Bring whatever gadget you need to pull and show me security footage from The Lodge.”
“Be right down.” This time he sounded wide awake.
“Raven and I are gonna head back to the clubhouse,” Smoke speaks up again. “Brewer is here too, so we won’t be riding alone.”
“Please be safe,” Haze says before taking the call off speaker and mumbling something to them privately and too quiet for the rest of us to understand.
The door opens again, this time as Cypher comes in and shuts it behind him. “What do you wanna see?”
Haze relays the information that Raven gave him.
Cypher’s fingers fly across his keyboard for a few seconds, then he flips the tablet around so the rest of us can see.
It’s just like she described. These guys were in and out quicker than any other customers we have ever had.
Normally people come to have a meal, or relax with a few drinks, but they were not there for happy hour.
“They definitely were scooping the place out,” Hammer says what we’re all thinking.
Steel scoots forward and points at the screen. “Can you zoom in on the guy in the red and black flannel?”
Cypher clicks a few buttons and the guy’s face is frozen then enlarged.
“Fuck,” Steel mutters as he pulls his phone from the inside pocket of his cut. “I know that asshole but can’t remember his name.”
“Know him from where?” I ask.
“Prison,” he replies. “Yo, Ray. Are you near the clubhouse? Okay. Meet me in Whiskey’s office.”
As we wait for Ray, Cypher clicks at the keys a few more times, pulling up the clearest still image he can grab of each of the six guy’s faces. As soon as Ray knocks and walks in, he has all the faces lined up on the screen in two rows of three.
“Well there’s a face that would make any momma cry,” Ray says as soon as he looks at the tablet.
“You remember his name?” Steel questions.
“I don’t think I could ever forget that whiny asshole.
” He cracks his knuckles and points at the screen.
“His name is Drake Sanders. He’s right about our ages, early thirties maybe.
He was in the cell between us for a good six months.
Talked some mad shit about his buddies back home, but I don’t know where he is from or if they were actually into anything illegal. ”
“Did he have any club affiliations you knew of?”
“I don’t think so,” Ray shakes his head.
“I’ll dig into Drake and see if I can find names for the others,” Cypher shuts the tablet case and heads back his room to use his big computer set up.
“Alright,” I have to chuckle a little, otherwise I will throw my chair across the room, “who did we piss off this time?”
“I don’t know the who, but I have a good idea on how I want to make them suffer once we bring them back to The Pit.” If steam could actually come out of Haze’s ears, this is the angry rage face I would imagine being part of that scenario.
If someone intimidated my woman like those men did his, no one could hold me back once I had them in my grasp.