“The Chrome Horsemen are on the move again,” Arsen said, looking around the table. Lunch was over and he had gathered the brothers together.
“What do you mean?” Phil asked.
“Quinn opened up last night. The Desert Riders have gone dark because the Horsemen wiped them out. They took her and a couple of others and kept them locked up.” He didn’t need to elaborate on the details. The brothers knew. “She didn’t know a lot of details, only they wanted to take over the weed business and the Riders pushed back.”
“First they wanted into our market, and when that didn’t work, they went after a softer target. But why?” Zane asked.
“I don’t know, but that adds credence to the idea they killed Mom, Dad and Holly to throw the club into turmoil.”
“It might have worked if they’d gotten you too. It’s not like you can advertise in the paper for an illicit drug chemist,” Berk said.
“Yeah, but we still no have no proof, and I’m not going to start a war until I know for sure.”
“I don’t get them,” Zane said again. “We have the molly and the Riders handled weed. What do they want with weed when they’re moving cocaine?”
Chet shrugged. “For that matter, why our molly?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find out,” Arsen said. “Phil, I want you to find out what the Horsemen are up too. Spend what it takes to make it happen. Since they went after the Riders, we may be next.”
Greg nodded. “They tried it once before and we kicked them in the nuts. They’re probably still smarting from that.”
Arsen nodded. There were three major outlaw clubs in Arizona: The Blacktop Blades in Tucson, the Chrome Horsemen in Phoenix, and the Desert Riders in Flagstaff. The Chrome Horsemen were the biggest of the three, bigger than the Riders and the Blades combined. The Blades were the smallest, but most likely the richest of the three clubs. Between the manufacturing of the MDMA, and the surprising profitability of B3, they had two income streams, though B3 alone wouldn’t support the club. If B3 continued to grow, though, they might eventually go completely legit. It would be peaceful, not worrying about losing brothers and loved ones to drug violence.
“Maybe,” Arsen agreed. “But something is driving them and we need to find out what. I can sort of see them coming after us, but the Riders? Weed isn’t shit compared to coke, so why bother? Quinn has given us a heads up that something may be coming down, so we need to pull that thread and see where it leads us.”
“You think the Horsemen are the ones suppling the counterfeit Hearts and Daggers?” Reggie asked.
“The fakes turned up in California, so probably not. There is plenty of action out there, and we know we have competition, so it’s probably a local.”
“Unless they are trying to take over all the drug trade in Arizona.” Zane pointed out.
Arsen shrugged. “Since they hit the Riders, you may be right. The Advocates are working that end for us. Eventually they’ll find out who’s making. When they do, we can pay them a little visit and express our…displeasure.”
Berk shook his head. “I have to hand it to you, Arsen. I thought you were crazy as shit bringing her back here, but it turns out it was a smart move.”
“You always were a lucky son-of-a-bitch,” Chet teased.
“That’s why I have the gavel,” he chuckled. “Phil, get me that info as fast as you can.”
“We have a pretty good inventory right now,” Zane said. “We can shut down manufacturing for a few days to free up some guys.”
“We’ll do that. The sooner we know what’s coming, the better prepared for it we can be. Just make sure the crew is back here Thursday for the special.”
Phil nodded. The special was their short hand for an MDMA run. They ran the special once a week, then immediately sent the product out so it didn’t sit around on site.
They had the capacity for over eight million tablets a month, but that would require the plant only on MDMA production and they would lose the cover of the bath salts business. Many of the component chemicals that went into MDMA production were also were used in the production of the various aromatic oils, soaps and salts, so it kept them off the radar. Now they idled along, running molly one day a week, producing to demand, and making between 150,000 and 300,000 tablets a month. That had a street value of over four million dollars, and put between hundreds of thousands of dollars into their pocket month after month. It was a business model that had worked for them for years.
“Anything else?” Arsen asked.
“What are we going to do with Quinn?” Greg asked.
“I’m not sure,” Arsen admitted. “She’s still pretty fragile, but she’s improving every day. She may prove useful if the shit hits the fan, so if she’s willing to stick around, I think we should let her. We’ll keep her out of the loop, like the club girls, so she can’t tell anyone anything. I told her last night about the legitimate side and she seemed fine with it. Anyone have a problem with that?” Nobody did, so he rapped the table with the gavel.
“Let’s get it done. Phil, once this run is complete, we’ll start the cleaning cycles. As I free up men, I’ll move them to packaging to wrap that up, then you can have them. I should be able to turn everyone but customer orders and shipping loose by,” he paused as he did some quick mental calculations, “ten tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“That works for me. That’ll give me fifteen men to work with. I can cover a lot of ground with that many boots on the ground.”
As the meeting broke up, Arsen found Quinn sitting in front of a computer. He thought it was a major breakthrough she trusted him to be out of sight every now and then. He chuckled as he stepped up behind her and noticed the site she was looking at.
“You don’t like the soap I have at home?”
“This is your site, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Not very pretty, is it?”
“It works though.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You have descriptions, but no pictures. And to be honest, your descriptions are kind of boring. You might make good stuff, but you wouldn’t know it by reading it. It tells me what each product does, but it’s kind of…clinical.”
He chuckled again. “I’m sorry if bath salts aren’t sexy.”
She smiled and looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be critical.”
She looked so much better today. She’d covered much of the bruising with makeup, even on her arms and legs, and she had a spark of life in her eyes that had been missing. It was almost as if telling her story last night had started the healing process.
“Don’t worry about it. What do you expect when a bunch of guys are writing about bath beads? Listen, there is nothing for me to do around here today. Let’s go shopping. You need more than those few clothes.”
She looked down. “I don’t have any money.”
“I know. It’s my treat.”
“I don’t want you to do that!” she cried, looking back up and meeting his eyes.
“Too bad. I don’t want to see you in those same four shirts and pants all the time.”
“But—”
“Look, do you have any clothes?”
“In Flagstaff.”
“But none here. Do you want to go back there and risk something happening or being recognized? There are going to be a million questions and the police are certainly going to be involved. Do you want to face that? Nobody knows where you are at the moment, and in Tucson, nobody knows you. Let’s keep it that way in case the Horsemen want a little revenge for you killing one of them.” Her face crinkled then looked down again. “Okay, now that we have that straightened out, let’s go shopping.”
“I’ll pay you back, somehow,” she whispered, not looking up.
He held his hand out to her. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”
They rode back to his house and left the Indian, changing over to the Caddy. She squirmed down in the leather seats, the air conditioning blasting along with some Creedence Clearwater Revival on the stereo. She’d heard of the band, but this was the first time she’d ever really listened to their music, and pretty soon she was toe tapping and grooving with the music, surprised at the number of songs she recognized from movies and television, but hadn’t known the band.
She grinned as he cranked the volume up and lip synced along with John Fogerty about being down on the corner and out in the street, the seventies vibe of the music somehow fitting him.
They made several stops a bunch of different boutiques. She was aghast at how much money he was spending, but he never even blinked. If she liked it, and he liked it on her, it went into the bag.
By the time they left Dillards, their last stop, she was certain he’d spent well over two thousand dollars on her wardrobe. She felt guilty at having to depend on his charity, and concerned that he was outfitting her so lavishly. If she were fucking him, it would make it a little easier, but he’d asked nothing from her, and she wondered, if at some point, he would make demands on her.
He could tell she was feeling low. It didn’t take a genius to guess that she was worrying over the money she probably felt like she owed him. He’d tried, repeatedly, to assure her he wouldn’t demand payment and had actually enjoyed the experience. He used to go shopping with Holly, enjoying watching her face light up when she found something she liked, and he had gotten the same sense of satisfaction with Quinn. With her bruises hidden by makeup and dressed in properly fitting clothing, she was stunningly beautiful.
They had dinner, a meal she’d insisted on preparing alone. Arsen assisted only in pointing out where various pots and pans were, and though she would talk to him, what little vibrancy she’d developed was gone. During the meal she’d kept her eyes low, and though they watched the second Jurassic Park, she’d kept her distance. He made no comment, giving her the space she needed.
She lay in her bed, the demons whispering in her mind. He’s going to demand your body in exchange for the clothes. Maybe not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Nobody has ever been that kind to you and not expected something, and he’s no different. She held her fists over her ears, crushing her eyes closed as she tried to blot out the whispers, but they wouldn’t be silenced.
She was afraid to go to him. She’d felt his hard cock against her ass last night, and she was afraid eventually he would use it on her. She didn’t think she could ever face having a man touch her that way again and she worried the whispering fear was right. He’d only known her a few days. Why would he spend so much money on her? He was obviously wealthy, but you don’t become wealthy by giving your money away for nothing.
She lay for hours, tossing and turning, but she couldn’t silence the voices and couldn’t sleep. She finally rose and tiptoed to his room. If he forced himself on her, then she would know, but he hadn’t hurt her yet. Swallowing hard, she eased the linens open and slid into the bed.
The bed moved as Quinn joined him, the shifting of the mattress pulling him from sleep. She was turned on her side, presenting her back to him, and he snuggled in. She was shaking but he made no comment, heaving a deep sigh as he wrapped her up and tugged her in close. It took her several long moments, but eventually he felt the tension slowly draining out of her. He smiled and allowed sleep to take him again.