GAUGE
Casa came running from the church, causing the noisy clubhouse to fall silent. The garage had been closed for the day, the Pit too, so most of the MC was sitting around waiting for news on Jolie. It wasn’tthat many of us even really knew her, but we were abrotherhood, and this was Dom’ssister; therefore she was important to each and every one of us.
She wasn’tjust Dom’ssister anymore. She was everyone’s.
Brothers had been called in from nearby and everyone was sitting around waiting for orders of who to kill quickly and who to kill slowly.
Beast sat with Battle and Fighter, two nomads that were notorious for bloodshed, and the three of them were something to be feared. At least for whoever was on the receiving end of their fists.
Dom, Shooter, and Istood up in unison and Casa gave us asmall curtsy and let out achuckle. Four mochaccinos, three espressos, and two large sharing bags of Skittles later and it seemed like the jittery caffeine addict had finally gotten somewhere with his search.
“Igot the good shit.” He jerked his head back to church. “Come look.” He practically skipped back inside as we trailed after him with confused looks. “I’mpractically fucking trippin’, brothers,” he laughed as he cracked his knuckles and sat back down. “Iswear to God Ican hear colors, I'mbuzzing from so many E-numbers!”
“Jesus, lay off that shit then,” Shooter said as Casa threw another handful of Skittles into his mouth, but he only laughed and continued to chew like he thought Shooter had been joking.
Beast, Battle, and Fighter had followed us in, and all three of them looked around the room in confusion. Ilooked at the wall where Casa had torn down some Iron Maiden posters and pinned up along white sheet.
“What the fuck is that?” Dom asked.
Casa jumped up from his computer and ran to the far wall, clicking on amachine before running back to the computer. He was like Sonic the Hedgehog on coke, running back and forth and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Rigged this up so Icould see stuff better, and look, Ifound her!” He pressed abutton and footage began playing of Jolie in an alleyway. She was staring down at her phone as aman came up behind her. Acar pulled up to the sidewalk as she turned to face him and, unaware to her, another man climbed out of the car. He looked like the goddamn Terminator, but Jolie didn’tlook scared when she finally turned and saw him—she just looked pissed off.
“Who is that?” Dom barked. “Who the fuck is that?”
“Track that plate,” Shooter said, pointing to the car.
Casa pulled out along stick and pointed to the video that was still playing. “This is Ronny and Michael—private-hire foot soldiers, from what Ican tell. And that car, which Ihave already tracked, motherfuckers, is registered to an LLC called Black Viper Limo Hire.”
“The Vipers,” Shooter said, his face twisting in anger.
“Prez,” Dom said, his tone panicked, “that’smy little sister. We can’twait for shit to happen. We need to take the fight to them, and now!”
“Iagree.” Inodded.
Shooter turned back to Casa. “You said you’ve tracked it?”
“Yeah. Wasn’ttoo hard either. They didn’ttry to avoid street cameras or anything.” Casa shrugged. “They’re at Savannah Bend Marina. Ichecked CCTV of the area and no one has left since they arrived.”
“They want us to find them,” Isaid, and Shooter grunted in agreement. Looking at Casa, Isaid, “And you’re sure Jolie is there?”
“Sure as my shit will be afucking rainbow in the bowl later, brother,” he replied with agrin.
“What are they doing there?” Rider asked, and Iglanced over. None of us had noticed him come in. Truth was, none of us had bothered asking him in. He was in no fit state to help anyway; that much was obvious.
“Who cares?” Isnapped. “Shooter, we need to get acrew together and get over there now before they leave!”
“It’satrap,” Shooter said.
“Doesn’tmean we shouldn’tgo,” Dom replied. “We need to go get her, Prez.”
“Iknow that, but we also need to be smart about this.” Shooter was pacing the room, his forehead creased in thought.
“Do we have avisual on the boat? Any clue on numbers?” Beast asked, his scarred face making him look even more sinister.
“Yeah, it’sstill there. No idea on numbers, though Idid see at least ten men on the top deck earlier, but below deck? That’sanyone’sguess, brother,” Casa replied.
We stood in silence for amoment, our collective gazes on the different images on the screen. On one, Jolie was being carried unconscious to aboat, her hair swinging as she dangled over the Terminator’sshoulder. On another, Casa had paused the footage on one of the men covering her mouth with awhite cloth. The footage for both was grainy, but her fear and anger were still clear.
