Chapter Seven
Roark
“What’s up, Darnell?” Roark’s phone was pressed to his ear as he strode toward the clubhouse near noon. Nitro, one of the Club’s dogs, a pit-mix, happily greeted him, and Roark gave him a good scratch on the head before entering the building.
“Took another hit last night.”
“Fuck. What’s the damage?” He stormed through the door, holding up his hand when Motley tried to speak with him.
“Excavator’s been disabled on the job site. Bucket cylinder smashed and the engine compartment destroyed.”
“You getting another excavator out to the site?”
“Tomorrow. Wasn’t supposed to work that site today but got a call about the wrecked equipment from Keys.
Won’t move anything out to the site tonight and chance it getting fucked with.
The damaged piece is being loaded on the lowboy and hauled back to the yard for assessment right now.
Looks like a whole new engine will be needed if you want to salvage it.
It’s an older model, so, might be worthwhile to invest in a brand new or newer model. ”
“Thanks, Darnell. Keep me updated.”
“Will do, Sarg.”
Roark disconnected the call and faced his Prez, giving him the rundown of the situation. Griff’s face hardened while Motley cussed.
“That’s the third strike within two months,” Roark said. “And that’s not counting the concerns at the range. We have no clue as to who the fuck is targeting us or why.”
“You hear of any others taking hits of any kind?” Griff asked.
“Nothing of this magnitude in the Magic Valley to my knowledge,” Roark said. “Petty shit like shoplifting and graffiti, but no damage to property.”
The Magic Valley consisted of Twin Falls, the largest city in the region, along with surrounding areas that included eight counties.
“Feels personal,” Motley chimed in. “Why us and why now?”
Griff rubbed the stubble on his chin, contemplating. “Summertime, kids out of school, getting bored, doing stupid kid shit. Job site is just outside of Hazelton, so, not far-fetched to think some bored punks are up to no good.”
“All the hits are on job sites where there’s no security, no video. No one and nothing to stop someone from coming along and sabotaging our equipment,” Roark said.
“And the sites aren’t linked in any way,” Motley said. “The jobs are spread out, unrelated to one another. Sounds personal to me,” he stressed.
Griff pulled out a notebook and began flipping through the pages. He stopped on a page, running his finger down the paper.
“First hit was end of May, south of Kimberly on Murdock’s property.
Set fire to the trencher which spread and resulted in burning up half his cherry crops.
Second hit was two weeks later in Jerome.
Hydraulic hoses sliced, leaked fluid into the irrigation system, and ruined two fields of potatoes for Gibbs.
And now the excavator in Hazelton, which is... ”
“In close proximity to Keys’s rhubarb crops,” Roark stated.
Griff looked up and pinned Roark with a stare. “Contact Josh Keys, find out if he’s discovered any effect on his crops yet. Maybe someone is targeting these farmers, and we happen to be in the middle. A catalyst to catastrophe.”
“Fuck,” Roark and Motley swore at the same time. “On it,” Roark said as he lifted his phone and pulled up his contacts.
“No fire, but possible fluid leak,” Motley said. “What the fuck? Saboteurs so lazy now they can’t bring their own shit to ruin what they want to ruin?”
Griff snorted. “Maybe they’re thinking a two-for-one—hurt us while also hurting farmers. But why? Did we piss in someone’s cereal lately?”
“Not that I’m aware of. This is the first of any problems in years.”
Roark looked at his Prez. “Josh said he’s looking over the field now and will let me know what he finds.”
Griff nodded, then looked at Motley. “Check in with the other sites about when the jobs will be completed. Talk with the neighboring farmers as well as the others already affected about any concerns they may have had. About anything. Something doesn’t sit right, and we need to nip this in the bud before more damage, or worse, is done.
Tech got video surveillance set up at the shooting range, so if any more shenanigans occur, we’ll have evidence.
The gun shop and our yard haven’t had any incidents. Let’s hope that continues.”
The Prez then looked at Roark. “All good with you and Charli?”
“Better than good. She got a lot off her shoulders last night, and as much as it pained me to hear what she went through, I think it was cathartic for her.”
Motley snorted. “Cathartic? Listen to you with the fancy words.”
Roark kicked the VP’s boot that rested atop his knee. “I’m a veritable wordsmith. Stick around, and you just might learn a thing or two.”
Motley snorted while Griff chuckled.
“All right, get gone. Be productive,” Griff said. “I—” His ringing phone interrupted him, and when he looked at the screen, frown lines marred his face. “It’s Glenda.”
Roark tensed. His mom rarely called Griff, usually contacting Dad or himself no matter the problem.
Griff accepted the call, putting it on speaker. “Hey, Glenda. Got you on speaker. Roark and Motley are here.”
“Good. Less calls to make. Figured I’d start of the top so you can spread the word. One, my coffee shack in Hunt was burned down last night.”
“What the fuck?” All three men cursed. “No one was hurt?” Roark asked.
“No,” his mom answered. “Happened in the middle of the night. I don’t have the gals open on Thursday until later, so as soon as Brandi arrived, she freaked and called me.
Two, Roark, get over to Harvey’s. Seems Charli’s presence is creating quite a stir.
Plenty of lookie-loos when I drove by this morning on the way up here. ”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s here with me, talking to Sheriff Lutrell. We’re giving our report. Already contacted the insurance company, and they’re sending an agent, so we’ll hang around until they show.”
“I’m heading to Harvey’s,” Roark stated as he turned for the door. He heard Motley tell their Prez he’d check with the other sites and farmers as requested. Then he jogged to catch up with Roark.
“Hey, want company?” Motley said, grinning.
“Think I can handle it. You got your own shit to do.”
“Swing by one of the stands and grab a coffee and muffin or something. Make your visit look like you’re not there to bust heads because your lady is drawing a crowd.”
Roark gave his VP the side-eye then nodded.
Motley slapped him on the shoulder and wished him good luck before veering toward his bike.
Roark headed to one of the Club’s vehicles, deciding to take that instead of his own bike.
It needed maintenance anyway, and apparently, Roark needed a goddamn cupholder.
With the key already in the ignition, Roark fired up the SUV and left the compound, waving to Monte, the prospect guarding the gate.
He wound through the north side of Hunt and down County Road 1450, to Hunt Road, then Eden Road.
He’d have to head into Eden to hit the coffee stand then backtrack to Harvey’s shop, but at least he’d get a glimpse of the commotion on his way south.
And when he passed, he grumbled at the number of vehicles that not only filled the half dozen parking spots, but the other handful situated haphazardly in the large lot next to the garage.
Roark didn’t get a look inside the bays that were open, figuring Charli was in there somewhere simply doing her job and not worrying about the curious town folk.
He pulled up to the coffee stand and when it was his turn, he greeted Gemma, one of the two baristas working today.
After placing his order, he waited, watching as more vehicles got in line behind him.
He then noticed a black SUV slowly cruise by before turning onto Eden Road, gunning the engine and heading north. Toward Harvey’s.
Roark didn’t recognize the SUV, and not that he knew every vehicle in the county, but something in his gut told him to go. Gemma got his attention, handing him his order, and after thanking her, he calmly pulled away and headed toward the shop. Using his hands-free mode, he called Harvey.
“Well, hey there, Roark. You hear—”
“No time, Harvey. Sorry, but keep an eye out for a newer model, black SUV, dark tinted windows. It may or may not be heading your way, and I’m not far behind. We took another hit last night. I’ll tell you about it when I arrive.”
“Copy that.”
Roark disconnected and hit the accelerator, speeding north.
Harvey may not be a patched member of the Club, but he was considered an honorary member and kept in the loop about much of the happenings.
He was a good friend and a long-time mechanic for the SoS.
Stew and Tonto, and, well, now Charli, would be taking over those duties, keeping the Club’s vehicles in tip-top shape.
In no time at all, he caught up to the SUV that slowed down as it cruised past Harvey’s shop. It then pulled into the lot and circled the vehicles. Roark was pulling into a parking spot that had become vacant right in front of the shop. He then watched as the SUV sped past him, heading back south.
“What the fuck,” he mumbled while watching the vehicle disappear.
Roark grabbed the coffee and bag of treats, slammed the door, and walked into the reception area of the shop.
It was standing room only since every chair was occupied.
Two others stood at the counter, getting helped by Harvey.
When he saw Roark, he nodded toward the shop and continued with the customers.
Roark walked through the door that led to the bays, ignoring the whispers from those in reception.
There were eight stalls with doors on both sides of the shop so vehicles could drive straight through if needed.
Every bay had a car or truck in it, and Roark watched Stewy walk from one across to the other on the opposite side.
He hadn’t yet seen Tonto or Charli, but he could hear their work as power tools engaged.