Page 36 of Babe's Bounty
“Your guess paid off. The old community center. Recently purchased by a church group. God’s Chosen Patriots.”
“Jeez, what an idiot.”
Mode nods. “Had two prospects drive over there in a cage to get a feel for the place. They took a drone with them and got some images. I think you’ll recognize at least one person.”
Min and I share a glance before I close the door so we can get dressed. A few minutes later, we’re in Mode’s office watching the monitor. The drone provides a clear image of the outside of the community center as it circles around the building before going in for a closer look.
“Did they just purchase this building?” Min asks.
“No, they bought it at the same time as the church. Made me wonder if they made other purchases. I’ve reached out to Maestro. He has a program that scours through public records.”
“Yeah, I heard that. He built it for his dad, stepdad, Alexander Marquette. He’s big in San Diego Real Estate,” I tell him.
“Look,” Min says, pointing to the image of four men standing inside the building. The one with his back to us has black hair. We can identify the other three. Billings stands to the left of Theodore Jordan, while Dr. Blankenship stands to his right. The two remaining men we need to capture and return to San Diego.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“Hold up, you haven’t seen everything,” Mode says.
The drone shits to the adjoining room. There, we can see cots with four young girls laying naked on top of them. Each girl has her hands bound above her head, with her legs hanging over the edge. Their pussies are on display to whoever enters. Since each is in a similar position, I have to guess that someone fastened their legs to force them to remain in position. Fuckers.
“All the more reason to go,” I insist.
“Just wait,” Mode argues as the drone brings into focus what has him so concerned. A third room filled with boxes and tables. I spot handguns and drugs laying on the tables. On the wall hang a variety of shotguns and automatic weapons. Jordan has a fucking arsenal. When the drone moves again, I see the real reason Mode is reluctant for us to attack the community center. In a room larger than the previous three are dozens of men dressed for battle. They’re wearing black cargo pants, black t-shirts, and each of them is armed with guns and knives. I count at least two dozen men.
“Well fuck, they look like they’re getting ready for a battle,” I mutter.
“I think they are. Not sure what’s happening, but if we try to rescue those girls or capture those men, we’ll likely fail. We need to talk it over with Chrome, because we don’t have the manpower to take them down. “
We find Chrome in the common room, sitting with Cicely and Scorch. Both men have a beer in front of them, while she’s sipping on a glass of wine.
“Hey Prez, we have a problem,” Mode says.
“Church!” Chrome calls out. Scorch takes off to round everyone up while Chrome turns to Min. “I know this concerns you, too, but I can’t let you attend. Will you trust Babe to speak for your partnership?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise at Chrome’s attempt at diplomacy. As the President, he doesn’t need her permission. But the respect he’s showing her says she’s earned it.
“Of course,” Min says. “I’ll stay with Cicely.”
“Thanks,” I say to Chrome as we drop our phones in the box outside our meeting room. Scorch is the last one in.
Mode gives them the rundown of what he’s discovered, before showing them the video.
“I contacted the prospects to tell them to come back. We got the information we needed. Better to get them away from the action if we decide to call in the cops.”
“Call in the cops?” Scorch bellows. “What the fuck? Since when do we work with the fucking pigs?”
CHAPTER TWENTY: MIN
“How are you doing?” I ask Cicely as I sit across from her and take a sip of the wine Sammy hands me.
“I’ll tell you once I’ve acclimated. I’ve never been in a biker’s bar before. It takes a little getting used to.” I smirk when her eyes linger on two Kutte Bunnies walking by wearing jean shorts and tank tops that barely cover their enhanced assets.
“It does,” I agree. “The San Diego Chapter is a little more tame, but that’s only because they have a growing population of Old Ladies.”
Cicely frowns. “Old ladies? Like senior citizens?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “The term ‘Old Ladies’ is biker-speak for their significant other. Sort of like calling them their wives, but not all bikers marry their Old Ladies. An Old Lady is a biker’s ride-or-die. Someone they’ve committed to forever.”