Page 29 of Chubs

“You don’t believe he was kidnapped or taken?” I ask.

“No way. I know some club members are thinking that’s a possibility with the Feds sniffing around, but no. Chubs left on his own, and the Feds are chasing their own tails.”

Without another word, I pull out my phone and exchange numbers with Candy, the woman that kicked Axel’s ass.

“Where do you live?” I ask, already having an idea of the answer.

“I’m between homes right now,” Candy mutters evasively.

“Not anymore. Let me get a shower, and then you’re coming with me, Candy,” I order. “You’re staying with me and my sister for now, but I think I know of a perfect apartment for you that’s recently became available.”

Chapter 11

Chubs

For the next few weeks, I drive from town to town, state to state, in a crisscross pattern. I stay to myself, watch my tail, and make sure I don’t leave a trail for Rex to find. Speaking with my brother each day, I gather the rest of the intel I need. I’ve formulated my plan, and while I know it’s crazy to think I can pull it off, I’ve resigned myself to trying.

I intentionally wait until it’s dark to enter the city limits of Rockford, Illinois. I’m extra meticulous in finding a hotel because I’ll be staying for more than a night this time. The time has come to finish what should have ended years earlier.

Before the sun comes up, I’ve left the hotel and am sitting in my car, watching a residence in a suburb of Chicago. Glancing again at the current picture my brother sent to my phone, I realize my first target just walked out the front door. Climbing into a low-slung sports car, Leonardo Romano backs out of his drive.

Leonardo was not even on my list of targets until Les told me about how Leonardo was planning on marrying our sister, whether she wants that or not. That information moved him into spot number one and saved his dad for another day.

Reaching down to start my car, I hesitate when another car, a few houses down from mine, starts then slowly pulls away in the direction of Leonardo’s. I wait until that car turns at the first intersection before I tail them.

Unsure if the car following my target is Feds, a rival, or a possible security team, I carefully keep both cars in view but at a distance. From my research, I know where Leonardo is most likely going this time of day, so I decided to take a different route. I arrive at the office building and park one block away. Pulling my hoodie up over my head, I find a bus stop that has a perfect view. Taking a seat on the bench, I wait.

Within a minute, Leonardo’s car pulls to a stop in front of the office building, and he steps out. Glancing around first, he then enters the building. Within seconds of the door closing behind him, the other car parks only a few spaces from where I’m sitting. Keeping my hoodie up and shielding my face, I pretend to be engrossed with my phone.

Observation was always a skill that came easy to me. People give away things about themselves unintentionally, and I’m good at picking up on those things. Little details matter, and I watch for them. When the guy sitting in the passenger seat opens his window to drop his cigarette out, I notice his watch. It’s flashy and expensive. Not the kind of watch a federal agent could afford, so I’m confident in ruling them out. I also know these two men aren’t Leonardo’s security because they tried to stay hidden from him. That leaves a rival, and that gives me an idea.

I casually stand, walking past the car while keeping my head down, focused on my phone. With the camera set to video, I carefully aim it at the passenger. Circling the block, I return to my car. Happy to see the video captured his face, I shoot it off to Les. I don’t wait for his response before driving away. I have more people to locate and to start getting a feel for their routines.

Sitting on the flat rooftop, I carefully assemble my rifle. Once that’s done, and it’s loaded, I drop down to my stomach and brace the barrel against the bricks that line the roof. I wait patiently, watching the lit window through the scope for the opportune time. When my target takes a seat at his desk, phone to his ear, I squeeze the trigger. I feel the recoil but ignore it as I pull the trigger three more times.

Sitting up again, I quickly break the rifle down and sling the case over my shoulder. Zipping my hoodie up, covering the case completely, I make my way to the opposite side of the building. Climbing down the way I came up, I walk through the empty alley to my car. I drive away, hearing sirens behind me. My work for tonight is not done, though.

Within the hour, I’m on my back, under a car. After placing the explosives on the rear axle, I carefully push away until I can stand. Keeping an eye on my surroundings, I use the shadows to make my exit, then I wait. As predicted, it’s not long before my next target leaves the club he’s been drinking at. When the time is right, I dial the number to the cell phone I’d bought weeks ago. The explosion is deafening, and that $20 phone was well worth each cent I paid.

My next stop isn’t much of a stop at all. I go old school with Molotov cocktails tossed through a few businesses’ back windows before I leave the area on foot. These businesses aren’t real businesses anyway. They’re just fronts for money laundering, so I feel no guilt at seeing the flames.

I slide into the driver’s seat of my car and take a deep breath. I’ve caused chaos tonight, and it feels damn fucking good.

“Your room is ready, Mr. Johnson. Second floor, turn right at the top of the stairs,” the clerk says while handing me a set of door keys.

“Thank you.”

Taking the keys, I make my way up the outside stairs to another non-descript motel room on the outskirts of the city. Rundown, depressed area, I won’t be noticed because nothing about my clothes or car stands out. I’ve become adept at fitting in wherever I am, chameleon-like. If you look like the others around you, it’s easy to blend in.

Setting my duffle bag on the floor and food bags on the foot of the bed, I strip down to my boxers before I look out the window to study the parking lot. I always memorize the lay of the land wherever I’m staying. Taking a moment to check all avenues for an escape or attack, I move to take a seat on the bed. Leaning my back against the headboard, I flip on the TV and listen idly as I open the take-out food bags. It’s been hours since I ate anything substantial, and I’m starving.

After eating and licking my fingers clean, I take a shower and pull on clean boxers. Returning to the bed, my interest is peaked at the news story coming from the TV.

“Seven men were found dead today. The bodies were badly beaten and mutilated, and identification hasn’t been made as of yet. According to a source from the police department, the men were not killed at this location but were dumped there. Identifying them may be difficult since fingers, teeth, and other parts of the bodies are missing. The police are not, at this time, looking at this as the work of a serial killer but rather a deal gone bad type situation,” the news anchor says.

“Sounds gruesome,”states the other news anchor while giving a fake shudder.

“Genitals were all missing too, so yes, very gruesome,”responds the first news anchor.“We’ll keep following this story and will report any new updates as soon as we have them.”

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