Chapter 4

 

 

It was the kind of day that a man could enjoy the freedom and enjoyment of a nice long ride with no interruptions, no breakdowns and a saddlebag full of income for the club. Klepto had met them at the old church parking lot.

Without physically exchanging anything more suspicious than a handshake and shoulder bump, the transaction and transfer were completed.

No one acknowledged the dark blue sedan that lingered a quarter of a mile down the road at the gas station. Klepto had called last night saying that he had an escort that he’d picked up in Chesterfield. He had been vague, but Trencher immediately knew what Klepto was saying.

“I’m traveling through your part of the country, and wanted to pay my respects, but I’m traveling the northern route through the state. Is there any chance that we could meet midway to catch up?”

Knowing that he was being tailed, and being sharp enough not to bring it to the clubhouse had been smart, and when Klepto left the lot, the sedan followed him. They hadn’t noticed that the bike Trencher rode in on was identical to the bike that Klepto had parked right next to.

When the men said their goodbyes, Klepto got on the bike that Trencher had come in on and left. Trencher would ride the other one back to the crib. It was one of the easiest switches that he’d ever been involved in. When the cops made it obvious that they were paying attention like that, there was usually a reason for it.

Rumor had it that Klepto had pissed off a state attorney, and he was not the forgiving type. It was just a matter of time before the brother got hauled in on some trumped up charge.

The contents of the bags were worth his risk to deliver them to the President of Thor’s Legion, or he could have delegated the job. This time there was a bonus in the form of ledgers and a few pictures to back up the written transactions that those ledgers contained. These weren’t pissy little politicians that they were dealing with this time. Oh no. This time they had two state’s attorneys colluding and making plans to entrap some high profile suspects.

The real bonus was finding two names that the attorney’s kept on as Consultants. The names would be protected from the public and social media, but the ledger named names. It was a damned shame that the man hadn’t kept his dick in his pants, but arrogant people made stupid choices sometimes.

Corder was the attorney that had kept the ledgers, and the videos were courtesy of his soon to be ex-wife. She had called her best friend, who in turn had called Klepto’s old lady who was her cousin. Within a week, the wife had moved out, the safe had been opened, and the contents had been removed. The poor old gal was bitter and pissed when she handed over the information to the safe and alarm system in the house.

The local cops searched high and low doing their damnedest to find a latent fingerprint, but nothing presented itself. The estranged wife had been on a cruise to the Caribbean, so there was no way to connect her to the break in. Since the dirty attorney couldn’t give an accurate accounting of the safe’s contents, the insurance company would have questions. His hem-hawing and other inconsistencies gave the local authorities reason to question whether or not there had actually been a crime committed to begin with.

The fucker’s personal problems were not Thor’s Legion problems. They would use him when and where he might be useful. Other than that, the man could do whatever he wanted. Even if Corder blew his brains out with the .38 revolver that had been the only thing left in the safe, the Legion would still have useful information on all of the rest of the dirty cops and politicians named in the ledgers.

The cash was a bonus that the wife hadn’t known about. Fifty-five grand was a lot of cash to be sitting in a safe, not sitting in a bank account earning interest. The bastard was either getting paid by someone new in the game, or the man was hiding the money from his wife. Either way, the cash minus ten large was sitting all snug in his saddle bags with the paperwork. The sooner that they got those things to the clubhouse, the easier Trencher would feel.

It was almost dark when the six bikes rode up to a curve in the road that had a bright orange sign warning drivers that a seat belt checkpoint was ahead.

Stopped in the middle of the driving lane was a silver blue Lincoln, and beside the car was the craziest looking scene that Trencher had seen yet. Why he was surprised shouldn’t have been his first thought.

Hilda was standing her ground against two uniforms and shaking her finger at them. She wore those fuck me boots that Trencher loved to see on her, and her hair was teased up enough to make him think of a certain country singer’s look. Her stance widened, and those lethal looking claws on her fingertips graced her hips while she leaned forward and kept her mouth running.

Trencher exchanged a long look with Snort and shrugged his shoulders as he dropped the kickstand and hiked his leg over the bike.

Snort did the same thing; only he plopped his ass down on the ride that Trencher had just abandoned. He left the keys so the prez could start her up and ride if he didn’t go to jail today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man went to jail over beating a cops ass, probably wouldn’t be the last.

Most folks knew that Trencher had a soft spot for that bitch, and those cops were about to find that fact out right quick and in a hurry.

There were two ride along volunteer assistants that the heat had been using to assist them, and the two men waved the small crowd of bikers past because there was beginning to be a back up behind the noisy machines.

Snort didn’t bother to acknowledge the uniforms; he led the rest of the Legion’s brothers past the checkpoint. His cargo was too important to risk being confiscated. He would have run for it if he had to, but this close to home, he was happy that it hadn’t been necessary. He had to get the club business taken care of and then sit tight and wait to get the call for bail money.

*****

Trencher approached the three people standing in the road slowly. It looked like Jeb Wilson and Dennis Childs were losing patience with the Mae West look-alike.

Hilda looked better up close than she had looked from twenty-five feet away, and Trencher felt his dick stir. She was an evil little bitch, and she was as mean as a woman could be, but damned if he didn’t want her every time she was around him. He decided to speak up before startling the men with guns.

“Hey Hilda, you having car problems, or are you just standing in the hot sun fucking with these fine specimens of manhood for entertainment?”

The look that she turned on him made him toss up his hands in surrender even as he smiled at her. “I don’t know what bit you on the ass, but I’m damn glad it wasn’t me.”

He looked at the scowling cops and shook his head. He looked back at her and asked her what was up. “I thought maybe that old boat finally died in the middle of the road. I can call Bitter over at the garage if you need a tow. He’s got that new rollback that he’s dying to try, so your baby can ride in comfort instead of being dragged behind a hook off a chain.”

She actually stomped her dainty foot, drawing his attention to those black leather boots. “Woman, you need to stop doing that; you’re giving me ideas, and none of them are what you might call pure.” He looked her up and down. “Now, what’s the problem?”

Jeb Wilson must have decided that his authority was being stepped on, and he swaggered over to where Trencher was standing. He got too close, and Trencher looked at him by turning his head sideways and holding his arm straight out to stop the man from advancing any further.

“You can talk to me from there, Jeb. I’ve got PTSD, and you damn well know it after the last time I beat your ass. Don’t fuck with me; I won’t beat your ass again, that’s the deal.” He didn’t bother to look toward Dennis, but he still warned him off too. “Dennis, get your fucking hand off of your gun, or I’ll beat Jeb’s ass and shove that fucking glock that you’re so proud of up your ass.”

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled before demanding that she tell him what was going on.

She looked worried for a minute, but her smile was for him when she invited him to laugh with her. “It appears that the boys here have never looked inside of a classic car before. When I stopped for their little checkpoint, Jeb here told me to get out of the car. He said I had defective seatbelts and that they would impound my girl and he wrote me a ticket for defective equipment.” She gestured to the small pieces of paper littered on the ground.

“I ripped the damn thing up because he’s full of shit and wasting my time. I even told him to call Judge Kizer; she has a beautifully restored Packard- you saw it last month at the cruise in over at the root beer stand.”

Hilda turned and began walking to her car, and Jeb stepped into her path, and when he stepped down, his big foot landed on her little toes. She screamed bloody murder, while Jeb grabbed hold of her to regain his balance.

Hilda was not a lightweight woman, and when she landed on his stomach with one knee between his legs. Old Jeb screamed loud enough to have the people in cars that were backed up and rubber necking the side show, hanging out of their windows.

Dennis looked at Trencher and snapped the flap on his holster down. Both men leaned down to help the two up. Trencher opened the door to the Lincoln and set Hilda on the white leather seat, while he checked her over for injuries. He pulled her left boot off, and she gritted her teeth and whimpered, so he stopped pulling and pulled out his knife.

Her hand connected with the top of his stupid head when he opened that knife. “You do not take a knife to my nine hundred dollar handmade boots. I’d rather you cut my damned foot off. Go ahead and pull it off, I’ll deal with the pain. Just do it.” She gripped the steering wheel and the back of the seat while he picked up her foot and again began to pull the boot from her injured toes.

He admired her determination but knew that she was in pain, especially when she didn’t bitch about snapping those long nails off on the leather as she dug her fingers into it. She had a light sheen of sweat on her face and having her booted foot in his hands combined with that look in her eyes, made his cock jump.

Telling himself to knock it off was doing no good at all. The last time he had her booted foot in his hands, he’d been tying it to the end of the bed.

The boot finally came off, and Hilda took her time relaxing her hand from the steering wheel. She finally took in a deep cleansing breath and let it out before looking at her foot. Three of her toes were already turning a storm cloud grayish purple, and swelling rapidly.

Jeb was on his knees with Dennis trying to help him stand, and Hilda was not feeling friendly towards either of them. She looked at Trencher, murmured, “Thank you,” and jerked her head for him to move out of her way. “You need to leave now; I’ve got it from here.” He looked like he was going to argue with her and she narrowed her eyes at him.

She knew that she could be arrested for what she was about to do, but she had also seen the two people that had gotten out of their cars earlier and were filming the entire mess. It wasn’t like she owed the big bastard anything, but he had tried to help her, so she would trade the favor.

“Get on your bike and get out of here.” She cut her eyes to the left. “Those people are filming this, and it will be all over the internet or the news in a matter of hours. I’m going to be okay; you need to leave.”

Trencher stared at her and knew that she was right. The problem was that he didn’t want to run away when she was injured, it went against everything in his ego. “I’ll stay. I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore.” He shrugged and smiled at her. “The only time you should be in pain is when I’m spanking that pretty ass of yours, or clamping those pink nips. Hell, you know that I’m a sucker when I hear you whimpering. But I only like it when I’m doing the deed.”

She twisted her lips and shook her head. His words warmed her, but he was too damned thick-headed to take the hint. “I plan to hurt these boys. To do that, you need to not be here. Leave now.”

His, “What the fuck, Hilda? You can’t shoot a couple of cops, and you damn sure can’t fight them,” pissed her off and she scowled. “Get the hell out of here, Trencher. I mean it. You fuck up my plans, and I swear I’ll ban your club from the Lodge for a month. I’m not joking.”

He stared at her for a long second and stood up to walk to the bike without a backward glance. She knew that he was butt hurt, but as Dennis stood in front of Jeb’s kneeling position, he had maneuvered himself into the perfect position.

She planted her booted foot on the pavement and pulled herself up with the door. She might have pushed the heavy door a little too hard, and it flew back to shove Dennis’s ass, which in turn shoved his zippered crotch into Jeb’s face. Both men went over, but Dennis landed in a position that looked like he was doing push-ups over Jeb’s face. The teenager with the side of her head shaved and an earring in her nose, laughed out loud and ran back to her car.

Hilda looked down at the tangled men and waited until the cursing was at a low minimum before she yelled at them.

“I’m in pain. Jeb’s too heavy to go around stomping on a woman’s foot, and I think my toes are broken. You need to move out of the way so I can drive myself to the hospital and get my poor toes x-rayed.”

The uniforms that had been trying to do the job that they’d been brought along for gave up. They waved the cars through and other than taking license plate numbers from a couple of vehicles that were blatantly running no plates or illegal plates, they sent everyone past the silver blue Lincoln and the officers of the county sheriff’s office. The fun was over, and Jeb was limping to the passenger side of the squad car.

Dennis came over to her open door and looked down at her swollen foot and groaned.

“Dammit, Hilda; this wasn’t supposed to go down this way. You were supposed to come with us and sit in the cell for a few hours ‘til me and Jeb could strike up a deal with you to let you out. No one was gonna get hurt, and we damn sure never thought about people taking pictures like that.

“You just had to run off at the mouth like you always do. I ought to take you into custody for real and slap the book at you, but I don’t have time now.”

She sat there in disbelief. Those two knuckleheads actually believed that they would have talked her into letting them double on her? Her voice was low and progressed into yelling as she got her case of mad worked up.

“You mean to tell me that you and that brainless fuck decided to toss me in jail until I agreed to have sex with either of you?” His shrug and the way he looked at her face and then away, told her what she already knew. “You wanted me to have sex with both of you at the same time.” She didn’t phrase it as a question because there was no question about it. His nodding head was her answer.

She was pissed. She wanted blood, but she was starting to feel the throb of the injury on her foot and knew that delaying medical treatment wasn’t a good idea. She told him to move away from the car door.

“I’m so mad right now that I want to run your ass over and take my gun and shoot your friend. If either of you come after me again like that or any other way, you’d better hope you kill me. This wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t a particular fantasy of mine, and if you boys want to keep your jobs, you’d better leave me the hell alone.”

She almost fell down onto the wide seat and picked up the injured leg by pulling the tight material covering her legs high enough to get it into the car. She shut the door and started the motor. “Get out of my way, and don’t ever let me see you at the lodge.”

He backed away as she pulled the car around the police cruiser, and headed to the hospital.

All the way there, all that she could think about was a way to get even with the two cops. Those two needed a lesson. It might take a while, but she would find a way.