Page 68 of Chubs

Chapter 19

Chubs

“Aria called. Said they were pulling out of Denver. Should be at the ranch by now,” Les says when I enter the hotel room.

Setting the bags of food on the small table, I turn to see him meticulously cleaning his handgun. Looking at my brother closely, I note that he’s tense and worried.

“They’ll be fine there, Les. Promise. I know those guys, and they’re not going to turn their backs on any woman asking for help. Even if the club hates me now, they’ll circle around Aria and Mom and keep their location secret.”

“I hope you’re right,” he mutters.

“Did Aria remember to buy a new burner?”

“Yeah, said she bought one in Denver and was going to trash the one you gave her after she was done talking to me. She wouldn’t forget something like that,” Les states.

“Good because Rex would be all over stealing her phone to get what he could find on it. Let’s eat and get going. It’ll be dark by the time we’re ready.”

“We’re going to the Vero lake house in Zion, right? Michael’s weekend house?” Les questions.

“Yeah. Since it’s a weekday, none of them should be there.”

We eat, gather our supplies, and hit the road. An hour later, we’re in a small fishing boat and silently gliding through the water. Using an oar, I guide the boat next to the dock. Les secures the boat, and we sit quietly, watching the lake house and the grounds around it. Seeing no signs of life, we move.

Keeping our heads low to stay unrecognizable if the cameras are active, we split up. Working fast, we lay out the explosives, connecting the wires as we go. It’s not long before we meet at the back of the house. Leaving Les there, I jog up the drive until I reach the garage.

Shining my flashlight through the window, I smile. Inside the large building are a few expensive classic cars, jet skis, ATVs, and all the toys needed to enjoy time at the lake. I carefully set the charge that will cost Michael Vero a shit ton of money and aggravation.

Joining up with Les, we make our way back to the dock. Les climbs in the boat, but before I can do the same, the entire property we just sabotaged lights up like a sunny afternoon. Unceremoniously, I dive headfirst into the boat, nearly dumping both of us into the water.

A loud shout comes from somewhere near, then a siren sounds. Les fires up the boat as I scramble to pull my handgun. Before I’m successful, I hear running feet, more shouts, then gunfire. The water near us explodes in a spray. Les hits the throttle, and we’re flying across the water, bow in the air, when I hear the unmistakable sound of bullets striking metal. Sound carries over water, and now they have an idea of where we’re located.

Standing, I shove Les to the bottom of the boat. Taking over the throttle, I twist it hard. We’re in complete darkness on the water, but those on shore with the guns don’t care. They’re spraying lead everywhere in hopes of hitting something, and I don’t want Les to be that something.

Lifting my handgun, I twist and fire behind me, aiming for the dock. I turn the boat to follow the shoreline, using other docks and boats as cover. Skimming along the water, it’s not long, and I know we’re out of range.

I don’t slow the boat even after the twin explosions rock across the water. Being on one of the Great Lakes in a smaller fishing boat in the dark and at a high rate of speed is dangerous and painful. By the time we make it back to our car, both my brother and I are bruised, battered, wet, and freezing.

Listening to the sirens in the distance, we drive in the opposite direction and take a long circular route back to Chicago. We enter our hotel room just as daylight breaks and collapse in exhaustion.

“The news said it was a gas leak that caused the explosion. No deaths but a few million in damages,” Les says.

“They’re kind of right. I tampered with the gas line leading into the house. Neither Vero nor law enforcement wants the truth known.”

“Look, there it is again. The news report about it is back on TV. Wow. Look at that damage,” Les breathes out.

Glancing at the TV, I’m impressed with our handiwork. There’s no repairing the damage. There’s a burnt-out shell of a Rolls Royce sitting sideways in the drive where it landed, and the house is barely standing. Burnt beyond recognition and needing to be leveled, Vero will have to rebuild from scratch.

Looking at me, Les smirks before asking, “What are we fucking up tonight?”

Making sure each person has food and water, we make the rounds of the warehouse. I ignore the name-calling and taunting I receive, knowing their goal is to anger me enough for me to make a mistake. A mistake that could cost me and Les our lives or give the men their freedom back. I won’t be making mistakes, and I double-check that Les doesn’t either.

“Who the fuck are you?” Leonardo spits as we set his food and water within reach. “Why are we still here?”

Neither of us responds, and that angers Leonardo enough that he then literally spits at me. Dodging it, I move onward, but I hear skin hitting skin and a loud groan before a stream of swearing starts.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Les shaking out his hand and Leonardo swiping at the blood streaming from his nose. I grin behind my mask but am a bit shocked when Les punches Leonardo a second time before stalking away. Guess my little brother has a mean streak when it comes to men who planned on forcing his sister to marry them.

Taking seats in my car, Les turns to face me.

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