CHAPTER EIGHT
WHISKEY
When I was growing up, there was nothing I wanted more than to be the President of the Rebel Vipers Motorcycle Club.
My Pops was the coolest, most badass man I knew, and I wanted to be just like him when I got older.
But now that I am that man, now that I am the President and boss and husband and father, I’ve learned that his job was never as easy as he made it seem.
Being the club President is a full time job.
Not only am I the one everyone comes to for advice, when they need help solving a problem, or just to have another ear to talk to about whatever is on their minds, I am the boss who oversees it all.
The club, our businesses, the families .
. . I feel the pressure of it all. And this may sound completely crazy, but it is all why I have a very weird love hate feeling about Mondays.
Monday mornings are my Zen time.
Not only is Monday is my day to organize the weight slips for the recycling and salvage yard, but it also is the day I get a few hours to myself with no planned interruptions.
The guys all know that when I lock myself in this office, the one on the yard, not my office in the clubhouse, they don’t get to bother me.
Unless the world is ending, or someone needs to go to the emergency room, I am off limits.
It’s a few minutes to noon, and my stomach is rumbling because I have yet to eat today, so I’m debating what to eat for lunch. I know there are leftover chicken enchiladas in the fridge at home. I wonder when Duchess will be home? I should call her and find out.
Putting the last of the slips in the large manilla envelope, I clasp it shut, write the date on the front, then add it to the tray on the corner of my desk. When I go back to the clubhouse, I will take the pile of folders and drop them off to Kraken for filing.
I push the desk chair in, grab my coat off the hook behind me, then slide it on. Just as I pick my cell phone up off the desk, the entire building shakes.
BOOM!
“What the fuck was that?” There is no one else in the room to hear me, but the words come out on their own.
“WHISKEY!” Someone yells out. “FIRE!”
Phone still in hand, folders forgotten, I run out of the office and into the lobby area. Hammer is standing there, looking out the window, staring at the giant mangled mess of what used to be an Oldsmobile Cutlass that is now up in flames.
“What the hell happened?” I ask him as I hustle to his side.
“No fucking clue.” He starts walking toward the door. “I just came inside to close the front gate. I know the yard is usually closed on Mondays, but the phone rang when I was in here earlier and a guy was asking if he could drop off a junker.”
Just as we step outside, I hear sirens start to wail. Shit. A passerby must have called 911. Well, there’s no avoiding them now.
“Who the fuck was it?”
“I have no damn clue. I’d need to check the sheet they filled out. It’s in the office.” He points a thumb at the building behind us.
“Go do that. Since the law is on their way, they’re gonna want any info we got on whoever dropped this fireball off.”
“I’ll go grab the clipboard.”
Hammer no more than turns around before both of our phones start pinging like crazy. There is only one person who can override a ringtone and make both of our devices sound like an air raid siren.
Cypher: BIG PROBLEMS!
Cypher: Explosions at all club businesses.
I back out of his texts, then send my own to all the Brothers.
Me: Everyone to the clubhouse NOW!
Me: If your people are out, go get them and come back ASAP!
As soon as I’m done typing, it really sinks in what Cypher said.
He said explosions at all club businesses.
Does that mean the bakery too? Fuck, I hope not.
Duchess’s business has no legal ties to the club, so there should be no reason whoever just attacked us would go after her too, but I can’t take that risk.
I pull up my contacts and my wife is right at the top, as she should be. I swipe right on her name and the screen lights up as her and Krew’s picture pops up.
“Hello?”
Shit. I take a deep breath. If she is answering her phone, she must be alright.
“Duchess, are you okay?”
She sighs like the pressure of the world is on her shoulders. “My Dragon. He’s on fire.”
Her Dragon? Oh fuck . . . that’s her truck. “Duchess. I don’t care about your truck. Are you okay?”
There are a few seconds of silence before I hear a different voice in my ear.
“She’s fine Whiskey,” That’s Angie. “Lynn is here too. She called 911 so the fire department is on its way.”
“Okay. The building isn’t on fire, is it?”
“I don’t think so.” Duchess is back.
I look at Hammer, who is also on the phone, probably checking in on Angel who is somewhere across the street, either at the clubhouse or their cabin.
My brain is in crisis mode with a hundred different things trying to push to the top of the to-do list, but I need to focus on getting my wife to safety . . . and getting myself to her.
“Good. Don’t go outside. Lock the doors and all of you go into the front of the bakery, but stay behind the counter. I want you to be able to see outside, but stay inside. Okay?”
“What’s going on?” She asks. I’m not really sure what is all happening, I have a pretty good idea who is behind all of this mess, but until I can get to her, I can’t think about anything else.
“I’m on my way to you, Duchess. I promise. Just get behind the front counter. Now!”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Duchess.”
“I love you, too.”
I hang up and shove my phone in the chest pocket of my coat.
“Hammer! I gotta go get Duchess.”
He nods as he hangs up too. “Take your truck.”
“I know I said for everyone to come in, but send a text to all the Brothers that have a business they’re in charge of.
Tell them to grab some back up and get there now.
If they’re not already there, tell them to get there now.
No doubt the law and fire are gonna be spread thin going to all our businesses. ”
“I’ll call Cypher and get him to do that. He can probably do it a lot faster than I can, if he hasn’t done it already. He knows our emergency protocols.”
“And get with Steel to delegate someone if there are any open holes. Keep whatever this is as close to the vest as possible. If this is the Gearheads assholes like I think it is, we need to keep that to ourselves so we can handle it later.”
“I’ll spread the word.”
“And tell everyone to stay inside the clubhouse. I don’t want anyone outside. If there is a chance that we’re being watched, I don’t want them to see anything more than we want them too.”
I take off running. Just as I get across the street, I see the a sheriff’s deputy SUV and a firetruck come barreling around the corner from the east. Ignoring them, because I know someone will stop me if I wait too long, I keep running straight for my truck.
Ray is inside the fence, so I yell as I run past. “OPEN AND CLOSE TO MEMBERS ONLY!” He knows not to let the law in without getting a club officer first, so I’m not worried about him standing guard.
The normally ten minute drive to The Cake Butcher feels like it takes hours. I know it goes by much faster because I don’t follow a single speed limit the whole way into town, but it still feels like it’s taking forever.
When I get to Maple Street, Tellison’s version of Main Street, I am met by two sheriff’s cars parked on the street in front of the bakery.
I also see red lights flashing from the alley that runs just to the right of the bakery.
Knowing I can’t get any closer, I park across the street and start running for the front door.
I’m halfway across when I realize I’m not alone.
Wrecker and Trooper followed me in Trooper’s Tahoe and I never even noticed.
It’s probably not a good thing for a guys like me to be so unaware of his surroundings, but I am thankful that they had my back even when I was focused solely on getting to my Old Lady.
They follow me right up to the front door, which is open, and we file right in. I recognize Thomas, a buddy of Trooper’s from his FBI days, but ignore him calling my name and circle around the counter, not stopping until I collide with my Duchess.
I crash into her. She crashes into me. We are like two cars playing chicken on a back country road, no plan to stop until we are a mangled heap of metal.
As I hoist her up into my arms, she wraps her arms and legs around me and doesn’t let go.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I rub my hands over inch of her I can reach.
“Uh huh.” I feel her head nod against mine.
“You sure?”
“Yea.”
I don’t move from where I’m standing until I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Lynn, Duchess’s friend, standing beside us.
“Whiskey. The deputy wants a word.”
Duchess sniffles as she untangles herself from me. I slowly set her down, but immediately have her face in my hands and kiss her like there is no tomorrow.
When we come up for air, I tuck a few loose strands that have fallen out of her ponytail behind her ears. “I hate to let you go, but we’ve got a bit of a mess on our hands.”
“The dispatcher told Lynn there’s a fire at all the club businesses.” She unties her apron strings and tosses it on the back counter. “Is that true?”
“Unfortunately.” I rub my temples, then run one hand down my face trying to release some tension. I’m going to have one hell of a headache tonight, I can feel it starting already.
“Go talk to the deputy. I’m sure he’ll want statements from everyone.
Then we can go home and regroup.” Duchess wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. I hug her right back.
“I know you’ll need to call Church for when we get back and everyone will go on lockdown.
” Her last sentence is whispered, so I know she hugged me and hid her face so no one else would see or hear what she was saying.
“And this is why you’re the perfect Old Lady.” I drop a kiss on top of her head as we pull apart, then grab hold of her left hand. “Stay by my side while I talk to Thomas. I need you stuck to my side.”
“Stuck like glue.”