Jules called Todd as Rachel drove home, leaving him a message when he didn’t reach him. He kept his sidearm at the ready during the drive, but they encountered no problems. It would be several hours before the cartel realized their little hit and run assault had gone badly for them.

 

As a change of routine, they went to his house. Jules went into the house first while Rachel sat in the idling truck. Satisfied the house was secure, he came out through the garage. Since his bike was still at Rachel’s house, he pulled the quad-bike and its trailer into the drive so she could put the old Chevy in the stall normally occupied by his Harley and the quad.

 

With the house once again locked tight, they retired to his bedroom. Rachel had no sleepwear and had to sleep in the nude. Claiming he didn’t want her to feel self-conscious, Jules also stripped completely nude and joined her between the linens.

 

They snuggled, touched and kissed, talking about the evening’s events. Rachel began to cry over what had happened, distraught that people has been hurt in her establishment, but his kind words, softly spoken, eased her distress and she soon slid into a deep slumber. They were spooning, his knees tucked in behind hers and he smiled into her hair as she relaxed in his arms. He tugged her in just a little bit closer and she wiggled in her sleep, once again becoming comfortable in his embrace as he felt the first tendrils of sleep wrap him.

 

***

 

Rachel was on the phone with her insurance agent while Jules cleaned up the broken glass behind the bar. There was a lot of it. One shot had gone into the large mirror behind the bar with the He’s Not Here logo etched into it, shattering the glass and, somehow, knocking down a row of liquor bottles, which also broke, of course.

 

He was sweeping up the last of the shards when his phone rang. It was Todd. “Todd! Is everything okay? I’ve been trying to reach you!”

 

“It was a long night, Jules. The cartel was on our ass all night. We lost five guys—”

 

“No…” Jules breathed, sick at his stomach.

 

“—with another eight wounded. We’re getting them ready to go to BBRMC in Alpine.”

 

“BBRMC?”

 

“Big Bend Regional Medical Center,” Todd explained.

 

“Oh! Right. That’s where the wounded last night went.”

 

“Wounded?”

 

“Yeah. We were paid a visit by the cartel last night. They hit Rachel’s bar. Three guys. Fish took out two; I got the guy inside, but not before he got off a couple of wild shots. He hit a couple of people, a guy in the shoulder, and a woman in the leg. The woman is the worse of the two.”

 

“Goddamnit! Before it was just property, but when they start shooting people… We need to hit them. Hard! We need to bloody their nose but good this time – go right at them and hit them where it hurts.”

 

“I don’t know, Todd. This could escalate fast. I think we should cool it and see what the cartel’s next move is. They burned our clubhouse; you wrecked their refining and distribution center. They tried to hit Rachel’s place, but we killed three of theirs while we got away with only a couple of wounded. I think we should wait and see if they pull back.”

 

“Goddamnit!” Todd raged. “What is wrong with you, Jules? You’re turning into a complete pussy!”

 

Jules held to his temper. “If this develops into a full scale war, more people are going to die, Todd. We can’t protect the whole town; you know that. The cops can’t either. And the DEA and Border Patrol are fucking worthless.”

 

“If we don’t hit back, they will see that as weakness!” Todd screamed from his phone.

 

Jules looked at his phone as his face twisted in disbelief. Todd is losing it. “Before we take on the cartel in a full on war, we need to vote it,” he said calmly.

 

Todd was quiet for a moment. “Fine,” he said, his voice dripping contempt. “You’ll get your fucking vote. Seven o’clock… the clubhouse… or what is left of the clubhouse,” he said and then he was gone.

 

“Shit,” Jules murmured as he pocketed his phone.

 

***

 

“I need to check on my crews and go to the clubhouse,” Jules said later, giving Rachel a quick kiss as she sat at her desk. “Todd is chomping at the bit to go to war with the cartel and I need to be there.”

 

“What’s wrong with that guy? Why is he in such a hurry to get everyone killed?”

 

“I don’t know. Over the last six months or so, almost since I was elected Vice President, he’s changed. I don’t know if he just has a problem with me, or what.”

 

“I don’t know why he would. You’re the best thing that has happened to Forsaken 99 since they got to town. When they first arrived, they were tolerated, but now, after you started polishing up their image, Forsaken 99 is a respected part of the community.”

 

Jules sniffed out a chuckle. “I don’t know if I would go that far.”

 

“I would. Everyone knows I have the ear of Forsaken 99, so I hear things. Before people would say things like, ‘Forsaken 99 keeps the town safe, but I wouldn’t want my daughter dating one’ or ‘I like Forsaken 99, and I’m glad they’re here, but I wish they wouldn’t shop where I do.’ Now those caveats aren’t there. Now I hear things like, ‘Forsaken 99 really helped us out with the fair’ and ‘do you think Forsaken 99 would be willing to help us with our fund raiser?’”

 

“But they still don’t want their daughters dating us?” he asked with a grin.

 

“Well, that may take a little more time. But there is one daughter in town that has the serious hots for one of the Forsaken 99 guys – one of the good looking ones.”

 

“Oh? Who’s that?” he asked with a mischievous grin.

 

“Kristen Wilks for Fish.”

 

Surprised by her answer, Jules barked out a laugh. “Oh! Her. Yeah, I noticed that.”

 

“Who did you think I was going to say?” she asked, her face and voice the picture of innocence.

 

“Nobody!” he said, his grin growing wider as he held his hands up and shook his head in denial.

 

“Okay then,” she said with a grin. “When will you be back?”

 

“I shouldn’t be gone long – just long enough to make sure my crews aren’t sitting around on their collective asses and get this shit settled. I kind of thought you would come with me.”

 

“Me? Why? I have no business with the club and I have my own business to deal with.”

 

“I know, but it would be safer for you if you came with me, just in case.”

 

“Jules, I’m still dealing with this mess,” she said as she gestured in the direction of the public area of the bar. “I want to open tonight, if I can, and give those cartel assholes a big ‘fuck you.’ And the adjuster should be here before long, too.”

 

“I can understand you wanting to open, but…”

 

“Don’t worry, okay? It’s still daylight. They would have to be seven kinds of stupid to do something in the middle of the day. Just be back by dark, okay? I’m brave, but I’m not that brave.”

 

He pondered a moment and decided that she was probably right. Hopefully the club meeting wouldn’t take very long and he would be back well before dark. “Okay. Give a guy a lift to his bike?”

 

Rachel smiled. “Why shore, sugar,” she said, laying on the accent.

 

Jules grinned as she rummaged in her desk for her purse. Damned if I don’t like Texas women!

 

***

 

Rachel looked around the bar. Other than a few bullet holes, and the missing mirror, the place looked normal. The bullet holes would be fixed in a couple of days, and the mirror was on order. She unlocked the door and turned on the Open sign in the window. Fuck you, you cartel assholes!

 

By seven-thirty, she had put Jules out of her mind. Some of her regulars, and a herd of gawkers that stopped in to see the results of the shoot-out the night before, kept her hopping.

 

By nine, the crowd began to thin, most people not wanting to be caught out after dark in case of a repeat of last night – not that she blamed them. But of more concern… where was Jules? He had been gone for six hours… two hours past his scheduled meeting, far too long for just a club meeting.

 

During one of her lulls, she called Jules’s cell. She got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when he didn’t answer. She put the phone under the bar for a while as she tended business, but then tried calling him again later – still no answer.

 

“Jules, this is Rachel,” she said to his voicemail. “Call me as soon as you can. I’m worried that you haven’t called and it is well past dark. So call me, okay?”

 

As she hung up, she bit her bottom lip. Something isn’t right! Something has gone wrong, I just know it!

 

***

 

“Last call, gentlemen. I’m closing early tonight in lieu of what happened last night,” Rachel said to her last two remaining customers at nine-forty-five. She had worked herself into a right old state worrying about why Jules hadn’t called.

 

The men had barely stepped out of the door before she tossed Angie and Tim out and locked the door. She would deal with cleaning up in the morning. She hurried to her desk, retrieved her purse and keys, and bolted for her truck.

 

She dialed Jules again as she sat down in her truck while fumbling to get the key in the ignition. When his voicemail answered she whimpered softly in fear as she tossed her phone onto the seat. As the truck grumbled to life, she jammed it into reverse and whined quickly backwards before hauling the lever down into first with a chattering growl, the truck protesting her rough treatment. As soon as the lever banged into gear she floored the accelerator and dumped the clutch, causing the truck to lurch into motion.

 

She braked to a stop at the remains of the Forsaken 99 clubhouse, the headlamps of her truck painting the dark landscape. She had been desperately hoping that she would find him here, unable to hear his phone over loud music. Hell, I would be glad to find him passed out drunk… or even balls deep in some biker chick… if I could just find him!

 

Her eyes tearing in worry, she turned the truck around and started back to town. She drove to her house, hoping beyond hope to see his bike there, but her drive was empty. She sat for a moment, the truck idling quietly, numb with fear and bordering on tears. With a gasp to reign in her pending tears, she pulled away from the curb.

 

As she drove, she noticed that the headlights behind her always seemed to be there, always following her. Her heart leapt into her throat, but she continued resolutely to her destination. I’m just jumpy. It’s probably not even the same headlights, she tried to tell herself. But every time she turned, the headlights followed.

 

She pulled to a stop in front of Jules’s house and the headlights stopped a half block behind her. She desperately wanted to go ring the doorbell, but the headlights were scaring her. Before she pulled away from the curb, she pulled her purse to her, unzipped the hidden compartment, removed her pistol, and placed the gun on top of her purse in easy reach. She then picked up her phone and tried Jules one more time.

 

Battling her tears, she tossed the phone back in her purse when his voicemail picked up. She pulled away from Jules’s house… and the headlights followed.

 

She pulled into the brightly lit parking lot of the local Walmart and stopped under a street light. She watched a black full size Toyota truck, jacked up with oversize tires, pull into the lot behind her and park a dozen spaces away. She watched, but nobody exited the truck. I should take my pistol, march over to the truck, and find out what the fuck they want, but then a chill of fear passed over her. The cartel...

 

On a sudden thought she found her phone and located Fish’s number. Her hand shaking she held the phone to her ear as she silently pleaded for him to answer. When his voicemail picked up she canceled the call without leaving a message as she sniffed and struggled to not cry.

 

Scared and worried over Jules and the following truck, she didn’t know what to do. The black Toyota hadn’t moved and no one had exited the truck. She started her truck and turned on the headlamps. As soon as she started moving, she saw the Toyota’s lights pop on. With the cold hand of fear gripping her heart, she turned onto the road and headed toward the center of town.

 

As she drove she once again fished her phone from her purse. Three punches on the keypad started the phone ringing.

 

“911 emergency. State the nature of your emergency,” the calm female voice on the phone said

 

“My name is Rachel Wallace. A truck has been following me for the last fifteen minutes.”

 

“What is your location, Rachel?”

 

“I’m on Main Street, headed West, toward the police station.” Rachel could hear the clicking of keys as the woman typed.

 

“You are headed West on Main Street, is that correct? Can you give me a cross street?”

 

“That is correct,” Rachel said then squinted at a sign as it passed in the darkness. “I just crossed Church.”

 

“Can you give me a description of the vehicle following you?”

 

“Late model Toyota Tundra four by four. Black. Jacked up with big tires.”

 

“What are you driving?”

 

“A red 1950 Chevy pickup.”

 

“Are you still proceeding West on Main?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I have dispatched a patrol car. Continue West on Main. Do not stop when the officer arrives, okay? I will stay on the line with you until the officer is on the scene.”

 

The 911 operator had just stopped speaking when a cruiser with blue lights flashing blew past her at high speed before braking hard and immediately turning around. The black truck roared as it blasted past her, the cruiser, it’s siren now wailing, in pursuit.

 

“The officer arrived and is chasing them,” Rachel said in relief as the cruiser wailed away into the darkness.

 

“Yes… I see that on my display. Additional units have been dispatched. We’ll catch them. Are you okay? Do I need to dispatch another officer or emergency medical?”

 

“No. No… I think I’m okay. Thank you.”

 

“My pleasure, Rachel. I recommend you go home and a make sure your windows and doors are locked. I will put a note on file to have a unit cruise past your house every now and then tonight, just to make sure you don’t have any further issues.”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Rachel said.

 

“My pleasure, Rachel,” the woman said, then was gone.

 

***

 

Rachel was turning into her drive, the door to her garage rumbling up, when her phone rang. She slammed on the brakes and grabbed at her phone, her relief turning to disappointment when she didn’t recognize the number.

 

“Rachel Wallace,” she said as she fought tears of disappointment.

 

“Rachel? This is Rich Marshall. I’m a member of Forsaken 99. You need to come down to the Urgent Care as soon as you can. There’s been an accident. Jules is hurt.”