you'll understand when I tell you: very serious trouble."
"Ah, alright. I'll get my gun then. What color is this Dave fella's bike, again?"
"Red; it's a Heritage Harley. Do you know what that is?"
"Yes ma'am I do," Fred assured her. "Is he licensed to carry? Is he legal?"
"Yes he is," Doc told him. "I'll be trying to get a hold of him, and give him your number."
"That's a good idea. Why don't you give me his as well?"
"Why?" she asked.
"So I can call him when he's in front of me and see if he picks up before I shoot him."
Doc gave her Dave's phone number. "I like your kind of caution Fred," she told him. "I'll be seeing you soon."
It was less than two hours later when a large Harley pulled into the lot right up to Chelsea's Sporty. The man that got off Fred would describe as professional, and serious. Fred leveled his gun on the man, and dialed the number Doc gave him from his cell phone.
Dave noticed the gun just as his phone rang loudly in his jacket pocket.
"You must be Fred," Dave said.
"You are more than likely known as Dave," Fred answered.
"She inside?"
"Yep, but we're on the move. I'll call an ambulance."
"I'll keep an eye out, then. Make your call. Let's take care of that girl. She's got a lot of people back home missing her," Dave told him.
"A lot, huh?" Fred asked.
"Over fifty that know her, some eighty more that don't, but still care about her," Dave said, then added, "The kind of care that your little gun isn't going to keep back for very long. So let's put that away, alright?"
Fred looked at his .45 and shrugged, then put it in his holster. Then he called the emergency line and asked for an ambulance.
CHAPTER FIVE
"The five of them just left, and they're in a hurry," Juan told Tomas on the phone.
"Are you following?" Tomas asked.
"I'm about to, but they are moving too fast not to notice me for very long. I think they are heading for the 10 west."
Tomas then heard a smacking sound on the line.
"Hello?" Tomas asked.
"Hello," a gravelly voice said. "We're coming for you, asshole." This was then followed by what could only be gun shots, two of them. Followed by the line going dead.
"Weekend warriors, my ass," Tomas said grimly.
Obviously that was the end of Juan. They caught him. But Tomas believed the information was good, and he was going to act on it as if it was.
Tomas thumbed through his phone as he was running for his car. He would gamble on Juan's 10 west as well. He called El Paso. After talking for a while, he arranged the resources for an ambush of the White Wolves, stressing that he needed at least one alive—two would be better—so that one could watch the other tortured and killed.
There was only one destination they could possibly be heading for, and that was whereever Chelsea had hidden herself. Five men was nothing. They should have brought a lot more than that. Obviously they had no idea who they were fucking with.
Since she had her Shelby back, Tomas figured she was driving that, and if that was the case, she could be near or in California by now. He doubted she would stop once she started. No distance was far enough, and she was a mouse, so she would feel that fear.
His instincts, and what he knew about Chelsea, told him that Los Angeles wouldn't be the place. Too many stories about the dangers of L.A. in this part of the country. L.A. had a mythos surrounding it, like New York. She wouldn't head for San Francisco either, he decided, but had nothing more than a gut feeling about that. No, San Diego would be where she would run for a new life. She wouldn't be there long, however. Her fears would chase her out of there. She would feel trapped against the ocean.
Tomas drove fast, putting his emergency lights on so he could cut through the Houston traffic. His speeds were dangerous the entire way to I-10 West. Once on the
"Ah, alright. I'll get my gun then. What color is this Dave fella's bike, again?"
"Red; it's a Heritage Harley. Do you know what that is?"
"Yes ma'am I do," Fred assured her. "Is he licensed to carry? Is he legal?"
"Yes he is," Doc told him. "I'll be trying to get a hold of him, and give him your number."
"That's a good idea. Why don't you give me his as well?"
"Why?" she asked.
"So I can call him when he's in front of me and see if he picks up before I shoot him."
Doc gave her Dave's phone number. "I like your kind of caution Fred," she told him. "I'll be seeing you soon."
It was less than two hours later when a large Harley pulled into the lot right up to Chelsea's Sporty. The man that got off Fred would describe as professional, and serious. Fred leveled his gun on the man, and dialed the number Doc gave him from his cell phone.
Dave noticed the gun just as his phone rang loudly in his jacket pocket.
"You must be Fred," Dave said.
"You are more than likely known as Dave," Fred answered.
"She inside?"
"Yep, but we're on the move. I'll call an ambulance."
"I'll keep an eye out, then. Make your call. Let's take care of that girl. She's got a lot of people back home missing her," Dave told him.
"A lot, huh?" Fred asked.
"Over fifty that know her, some eighty more that don't, but still care about her," Dave said, then added, "The kind of care that your little gun isn't going to keep back for very long. So let's put that away, alright?"
Fred looked at his .45 and shrugged, then put it in his holster. Then he called the emergency line and asked for an ambulance.
CHAPTER FIVE
"The five of them just left, and they're in a hurry," Juan told Tomas on the phone.
"Are you following?" Tomas asked.
"I'm about to, but they are moving too fast not to notice me for very long. I think they are heading for the 10 west."
Tomas then heard a smacking sound on the line.
"Hello?" Tomas asked.
"Hello," a gravelly voice said. "We're coming for you, asshole." This was then followed by what could only be gun shots, two of them. Followed by the line going dead.
"Weekend warriors, my ass," Tomas said grimly.
Obviously that was the end of Juan. They caught him. But Tomas believed the information was good, and he was going to act on it as if it was.
Tomas thumbed through his phone as he was running for his car. He would gamble on Juan's 10 west as well. He called El Paso. After talking for a while, he arranged the resources for an ambush of the White Wolves, stressing that he needed at least one alive—two would be better—so that one could watch the other tortured and killed.
There was only one destination they could possibly be heading for, and that was whereever Chelsea had hidden herself. Five men was nothing. They should have brought a lot more than that. Obviously they had no idea who they were fucking with.
Since she had her Shelby back, Tomas figured she was driving that, and if that was the case, she could be near or in California by now. He doubted she would stop once she started. No distance was far enough, and she was a mouse, so she would feel that fear.
His instincts, and what he knew about Chelsea, told him that Los Angeles wouldn't be the place. Too many stories about the dangers of L.A. in this part of the country. L.A. had a mythos surrounding it, like New York. She wouldn't head for San Francisco either, he decided, but had nothing more than a gut feeling about that. No, San Diego would be where she would run for a new life. She wouldn't be there long, however. Her fears would chase her out of there. She would feel trapped against the ocean.
Tomas drove fast, putting his emergency lights on so he could cut through the Houston traffic. His speeds were dangerous the entire way to I-10 West. Once on the
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