Hawk’s POV (SoT Patched Member)
There were only two ATV’s and no snowmobiles, so Loco told us we’d have to walk. “We’ll lead you there, just follow the engines,” he said.
We left a Prospect in charge of watching the old couple, and the rest of us armed up and headed out. It was colder than a brass toilet seat in an outhouse; it hurt to breathe. The snowmobile suits and boots we had on were warm enough, but they didn’t cover everything. My eyeballs hurt, my nose started running, and the tears and snot were freezing in my beard before we even got to the damn water. It was so cold you could spit, and it would freeze before it hit the ground. We reached the lake, went maybe a hundred steps out onto the ice, and we couldn’t hear the engines anymore. “Fuck, anyone hear them,” I asked. Fucking Loco was so eager to kill people he couldn’t even stay with us.
We couldn’t hear anything but the wind. Our group was huddled together in the dark, where you couldn’t see five feet in front of you. I had my left hand in my pocket as my right shined the flashlight back and forth, the wind gusting in our faces. It was too dark for sunglasses, and the snow and wind made it impossible to look up. I got lucky; the beam of my flashlight showed a tire track from the ATV’s. I yelled for everyone to follow.
It was tough going; the lake would have patches of slippery clear ice, then a snowdrift three feet high. We were going at the speed of smell, and the wind soon erased any evidence of ATV’s ahead of us. Fucking Loco had told us not to bring phones on this trip, so I couldn’t call him, and I didn’t even have a compass. I promised I would beat his ass when my flashlight died too.
Everyone gathered close, huddling behind me to let me block the wind. “Where the fuck are those guys,” one man asked.
“Keep the wind at our two o’clock, and we’ll make it to the Point,” I said. “We’ve got to keep moving. Grab on to the guy in front of you and don’t let go. You’ll fucking die out here if you get lost.”
I kept walking the way I had been going; my feet were freezing, I couldn’t feel my face, and I couldn’t see five feet ahead of me. We kept going, a frozen chain gang on a godforsaken Minnesota lake. The Prospect was crying, Reaper was praying out loud to Mary for deliverance, and the last was just quiet.
Gunshots rang out, somewhere off to our left. “Motherfucker couldn’t wait for us,” I cursed. “Come on.” We took our rifles off and ran towards the noise. The battle was brief; a few explosions, screams of pain, and a lot of growling and howling, all before we could get close enough to do anything.
“They’ve got fucking dogs,” Reaper said.
“They also won,” I said as we huddled together. “Hear that? They’re organizing patrols.”
“Do we attack now?” The Prospect was so cold, he would probably give himself up just to get in the house.
“Look, we have no vehicles, no surprise, and we’re heavily outnumbered. We need to go back to the cars and get the fuck out of here,” I said. “Follow me.”
The sound of dogs and people died away quickly in the howling wind, as our group death-marched back in the direction I hoped the house was in. “We have to stop,” Reaper said. “I can’t feel my feet.”
I looked at my watch, it was seven thirty. “Sunrise will be soon, we have to keep moving.”
By eight, the sun was up. It didn’t help; instead of a black snowstorm, it was a dark grey snowstorm. We couldn’t see, and we couldn’t keep walking. “Sit down, boys. Nuts to butts, back to the wind, hold on to each other and we’ll get through this.”
The storm won, I thought an hour later before I fell asleep.
Heather Rhodes (Harleigh Ryder’s) POV
Alexandria Safe House
For almost two days, nothing moved outside the house as the winter storm tore through. As I woke up in Greg’s arms, I didn’t hear the wind howling, and the sun was out.
I moved his arm off my left breast, giggling a bit at how obsessed he was with them even in his sleep. No matter where his hands started, one or both always ended up cupped around one of the girls. It was like a magnet, one that I didn’t mind. He’d paid a lot of attention to them in the last few days, and I’d enjoyed every minute. Once we finally went all the way, there was no going back for either of us.
I slowly swung my legs down to the floor and sat up. My gunshot wound still hurt, but it was improving daily. I put on my fuzzy slippers, then stood and grabbed my soft bathrobe on the way to the bathroom. The room was cold, and the window was frosted over. I pulled my robe tight around me after I finished my business and brushed my teeth. I was a Florida girl. I hated the cold, and couldn’t understand how people could live in this crap.
Greg was still sleeping as I came out, and since it was almost eight-thirty, I figured I’d work on breakfast. I moved into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Looking in the fridge, I found some blueberries and a can of whipped cream. An idea came to mind; I grabbed those plus the bacon, milk, and eggs and put them on the counter, then found the pancake mix in the cupboard. I pulled out a bowl and made up a large batch, knowing just how much Greg could eat in the morning. I didn’t put the blueberries in; my Mom had taught me that if you do, it just smushes them up.
I got the bacon going in one of the pans and checked the other skillet was at the right temperature. I poured out three pancakes using a small measuring cup. Before they hardened, I dribbled a half-dozen blueberries into each pancake. I smiled as I cooked; I realized I was happy again after all that had happened to me. I went through a lot, but I found Greg because of it. His love pulled me out of the pit, and I loved being his.
I pulled out a plate, stacking up the finished ones as I worked, and another for the bacon. I was finishing up the last two pancakes, both of which had smiley faces made from carefully-placed blueberries when he came into the room. “That looks amazing, baby.”
He moved in and wrapped his arms around me, one of his hands moving inside my robe and cupping a breast. Of course. I leaned back into him, and he gave me a deep kiss. When his hand started drifting down towards the tie for my robe, I smacked it. “Breakfast is ready. Set the table, Greg. We’ve got all day for that.”
“Still not enough time,” he said with a grin. He put out plates and silverware and poured us coffee and orange juice just as I brought the plates of food over. I went back to get the butter and syrup, then took my three pancakes while I stared at his pile of six pancakes and a handful of bacon. “What?”
“That doesn’t look very efficient,” I said. “If you put enough syrup on for six pancakes, how does it reach the ones near the bottom?”
“I cut them up, and dip them in my syrup,” he said as he buttered pancakes inside his stack so it would melt.
“Yeah, but then you drown your bacon. Three pancakes max, and bacon draped over the edges to keep out of the way. Learn from the Master.”
“Maybe I like things dipped and sticky,” he said as he sprayed some whipped cream over the top of his stack. “Mmmm… so good. What a great morning wakeup.”
“Not as good as a few days ago,” I said with a grin. “Hard to top that.”
“Me hard, you top,” he replied, nearly causing me to spit my juice out.
“Behave! I’m trying to eat!”
“So am I, but you are VERY distracting when I know you’re naked under that robe.” I pulled the top of the robe together and tightened the belt so I wasn’t showing so much cleavage. He looked out the window. “Clear skies means cold weather,” he said. “Things will be moving again.”
“Do you think I can go outside?” I’d been cooped up for days.
“I think when I open the door, you’ll squeal and run back to the fireplace. It’s got to be ten below out there.” We talked about our plans; it was time for me to get serious about an exercise routine. “I’ll get the exercise bike put together today, and we can do a light workout together. Stretching, jump rope, basic calisthenics. We’ll do exercises that don’t twist or bend your torso while you heal.”
I nodded as I finished my bacon. “It’s feeling better every day.”
“We don’t want to push it; there’s no doctor around and no need to rush your recovery. Listen to your body, it will tell you what it needs.” He finished as I did, and he packed the leftovers into baggies as I took the dishes into the sink. The rental place didn’t have a dishwasher, so I filled up one side with soapy hot water and started putting all the stuff in there. He wiped off the table as I was cleaning the plates and setting them into the drying rack by the sink.
I was starting the pans when I felt a rush of cold air on my bare butt, then a pair of hands grabbed my thighs. I squealed “GREG!” as his tongue flicked across my core. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t say anything. He just kept licking me as one of his fingers moved over my clit. I bit my tongue, not wanting him to stop. “Finish the job,” he said as he lightly smacked my butt. I groaned and went back to scrubbing the pan as he pressed his face to me again. I put the last fry pan in the rack and turned around.
He stood and picked me up, setting me on the kitchen counter before pulling the tie from my apron. He pushed it off my shoulders, spreading it behind me before he laid me back onto the hard surface. “I’m not done eating yet,” he said with a grin as he grabbed the can of whipped cream he’d left by the stove.
“What are you doing with that?”
He sprayed some of the whipped cream on my exposed boobs, making the nipples harden with the cold. Then he sprayed more between my legs. “I told you, I like things dipped and sticky.” He moved over me, opening his mouth wide to suck the cream off my left nipple.
I moaned in pleasure as he sucked and licked to get it all before moving to the other. “What if I don’t like it?”
He looked up at me and laughed. “Listen to your body. What is it telling you?”
I could feel my pussy was wet and ready for him. He grinned, knowing my answer, and moved down to start licking up the rest. He held my legs up and apart as he attacked my core, and didn’t stop until the whipped cream was gone and I’d cum hard twice. After the second, while I was looking at the ceiling and catching my breath, I felt his cock rub between my lips and push inside. “GREG!” I said as he sheathed himself in one long push.
“You’re so hot, baby,” he said as he started to fuck me. He put my legs over his shoulders as his hands squeezed my tits, and his thumbs flicked over the nipples. It felt amazing, and my body loved it. I came on his cock, squeezing it hard, but he wasn’t ready to cum just yet. He moved one hand down to play with my clit as he started pounding into me harder and harder. The combination pushed me to a higher peak, and I screamed his name again as a stronger orgasm hit me like a freight train.
He pulled out just in time, fisting his big cock until he sprayed his seed over my body. The first shot reached my neck, and the next ones left lines of white down my breasts and stomach. We both caught our breath, just getting our minds back again after a mind-blowing session. “You know,” I said with a grin, “You might be right about this dipped and sticky thing.”
“You look great like that, but we should clean up and get going,” he said. He helped me to my feet, and we walked naked to the shower together. Well, naked except my fuzzy slippers. The floor was COLD, you know.
Duluth Dew Drop Inn Motel
I was hungry, and none of the delivery places were open this early. The storm was winding down, but the city of Duluth wasn’t moving yet at eight AM. Almost all businesses and government buildings were closed again today. The news lady said it would be early afternoon before the winds would die down enough to clear all the streets.
The others started to filter in, closing the doors quickly behind them to keep out the wind. I had men from four other Chapters who had arrived up here after receiving the message from the Oracle. I was the only Vice President, and the only one who the Oracle had told why we were here. “We’re staying put and out of sight for another day,” I told them. “Call down and extend your stay another two days. The Oracle said that more Chapters are coming, they got stuck in the storm along the way. When everyone is here, we’ll move.”
“Move where,” one of the guys asked.
“You don’t need to know yet. Just keep out of sight and wait until I tell you it’s time to move. Trust me; this is going to be fun. We get to take out people who have hurt and betrayed our Club.” That seemed to satisfy them for now.
Captain Mark McCluskey’s POV
Duluth Police HQ
I’d only gotten an hour of sleep last night, and I was exhausted. I’d been on the phone all morning with the Task Force, the FBI in Minneapolis, and my boss. We’d managed to keep the attacks up in Arrowhead Lake off the news, and investigators from the Sheriff’s Department had finally made it to the crime scenes. We still had units surrounding the Dew Drop Inn, and the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team was expected to arrive at the airport at noon.
We hadn’t done anything but watch the hotel for a few good reasons. One was the difficulty in getting enough men; with multiple hotel rooms to take down at the same time, we didn’t have enough SWAT to do it right.
The second was the fact that the motel was full of guests. We were working with the dayshift manager to move people out of the way. I’d authorized moving people to a hotel downtown that still had room. One of our undercover men was calling the guests next to those the Sons were in, asking them to be ready to check out quickly and quietly when we had transportation arranged.
The last reason was they showed no signs of leaving. Our man reported that two of the rooms had already called down and extended their stays. We all agreed that it would be better to arrest them while they were on the move, on a deserted stretch of road, instead of in a city. We knew what their target would be, and we could plan accordingly.
Watch and wait.