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They fucked around on the bed for a while and then went about the chores that Harlan had left for them to do. Pete went out to the workshop out back and checked on Harlan's bike. Harlan loved that bike and didn't want to leave it behind and had bought dual-axle enclosed trailer so he could tow it behind the Raptor. The trailer had a false bottom where they could hide the money.
Pete had been a mechanic before he went into Huntsville and his task was to service the trailer and Harlan's bike so that they were both in peak running condition and ready to roll. He got to work, first checking the suspension on the trailer; they would likely be going over some rough roads.
Alina's task was to go up to the attic and take all the cash from the suitcases and go through it and make sure that's all that was in there and then to inspect the lining and side pockets. They had all seen 'No Country For Old Men' and knew about radio beacon and GPS trackers. She was to repack the money back in the suitcases once she had determined that there was no tracking devices hidden amongst the cash or in the lining of the suitcases.
The attic was hot and dusty with just a small window overlooking the front of the farm but Alina liked working with the money. They knew that there was close to twelve million dollars in the suitcases because the Russians had finished counting the money when Harlan and Pete hit Supergirls. But with the Russians now dead nobody knew the exact amount. Alina couldn't help herself and she put aside a bundle of one hundred dollar bills amounting to one million dollars and looked at it. It wasn't that big. Just like in the movies it would fit in a large briefcase.
Alina sat on a dusty crate and considered her options. Pete Decker was a good thing and if she had to she would be happy to stay with him for a while. If they didn't cut her in, which was more than likely, he would be generous with his money. While she kept Pete beguiled she was probably safe; Harlan and Olena were unlikely to kill her and Pete's cut would be over three million dollars.
Once they got to Mexico Pete might figure that with all that money he could get all the pussy he wanted and once the women down there found out he was loaded he was likely to get hit on by women resembling supermodels. As Alina knew herself, some women would fuck any guy if he had enough money and while Pete might be a little rough around the edges, money had a way of sharpening a man up.
"Fuck it!" she said to herself.
She would be stupid not to plan for a contingency. She dug around the detritus of busted up old furniture, rotting steamer trunks and boxes of decaying books and magazines and found an old bowling ball bag. The zipper was corroded but she worked it for a while and freed it up. She tossed the old bowling ball into a half-full carton of newspapers and stuffed the one million dollars into the bag, zipped it up, and crawled all the way into the back corner of the roof space and pushed the bowling ball bag up against the roof trusses and then dragged a few old cartons around it to hide it.
She did the best she could to hide the drag marks, redistributing the dust and crud around the floor of the attic then she repacked the suitcases and locked them. She dragged the canvass carryall with the weapons cache that Harlan had stolen from the Beast of Burden motorcycle club armoury and looked inside. There were some sawn-off shotguns and few handguns but what caught her attention was the two nine millimetre Parabellum Heckler & Koch MP5s. The MP5s had been fitted with SAI quick fit silencers which added only one hundred and forty millimetres to the short barrel of the weapons.
She'd seen similar guns in the movies. The bad guys waved them around spraying bullets all over the place. They looked badass and she took one out of the bag and examined it. If Pete changed his mind and sided with Harlan and Olena something like this might come in handy. She doubted she'd need it but it was good to have insurance.
Pete's second task was to check on their weapons cache and clean the guns. Alina was told to bring the canvass carryall down to the kitchen after she had finished with the money. She grabbed the carryall and climbed down the rickety ladder from the attic, lowering the carryall ahead of her. She stopped at the bedroom that she shared with Pete and put one of the MP5s under her side of the mattress.
She arrived in the kitchen just as Pete came through the door having completed his tasks in the workshop, his hands were covered in grease up to his elbows and he had a dirty streak on his left cheek. She dropped the canvass carryall on the kitchen table with a thunk.
"You're very dirty Pete Decker," Alina stood on her toes and kissed him quickly.
"You ain't no oil painting yourself," Pete chuckled.
Alina checked herself out in a flyspecked mirror on the back of the door and saw that her hair was filled with cobwebs, her face was dirty and her clothes were covered with dust.
"I'll go and clean myself up," Alina kissed him again.
"I'll come up and scrub your back," Pete grinned.
"No time for fucking around. Anyway you get dirty again when you clean guns. Finish your chores and we can fuck later," she kissed his cheek, squeezed his cock and quickly skipped out of his reach.
Alina heard the rumble of the crash truck approaching the farmhouse while she was in the shower but mistook the sound for Harlan's Raptor. She fixed her makeup and stepped into the nylons and panties that Olena had given her yesterday. Olena should have some new underwear and clothing for her but for now she put on her micro miniskirt, tube-top and black high heels.
Alina heard the growl of men's voices as she approached the kitchen and had she had her wits about her she would not have entered the room but she had a lot on her mind.
Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone sat on two chairs turned backwards at the kitchen table and Pete Decker sat opposite them looking scared. An array of weaponry lay on the table in various states of disassembly. The components of a Hoppe's gun cleaning kit were arranged on the table next to the gun parts and the kitchen smelled of solvent and gun oil.
Benny Hopkiss nervously prowled the wooden floor behind Pete Decker.
Pete Decker wasn't the brightest tool in the chest and to call Pete Decker stupid was an insult to stupid people.
Even a novice criminal like Alina knew that you didn't clean all of your weapons at the same time. You kept at least one weapon fully-functional and loaded in case the bad guys turned up. All of their weapons lay disassembled on the table.
Duane, Bob and Benny however were armed to the teeth.
"Well look at what we have here. Come over here and join us you sweet thing," Duane McAllister gave Alina a crocodile smile and kicked back a chair away from the table and waved for Alina to sit in it.
"We were just explaining to Petey here that even though his asshole brother has broken every rule in the biker code and stolen from his brothers we don't hold Pete accountable for that," Duane grinned as Alina sat down and smoothed out her skirt as best she could.
"All Petey here has to do his hand over the money that he and Harlan took from Supergirls and we will let bygones be bygones," Duane reached across and tapped Pete on the forehead with the muzzle of his pistol.
"And I just finished explaining to these gentlemen that Harlan and Olena took the money with them to another hideout and that they didn't tell us where that hideout was," Pete was a lousy liar.
"I don't believe that for minute. That money is here somewhere but this farm is too big and fucked if we want to spend all week searching for it so you're going to get the money for us and we'll leave. Fuck we'll even share it with you... we aint greedy," Duane's grin through dirty crooked teeth was fooling no one.
"I was thinking that we could reign down some hurt on you Petey until you begged us to stop and gave up the money but now we have this pretty little thing here I have a better idea," Duane's grin became maniacal and Bob and Benny began to yuck it up too.
"You know us bikers sometimes share our mommas. Harlan has spread Olena around the club plenty and this girly looks like she could be Olena's sister. What's your name sugar?" Duane lifted Alina's chin using the barrel of his pistol.
"Don't tell them anything..." Pete managed to blurt out before Benny hit him with a roundhouse punch that knocked him to the floor.
"My name is Alina and Pete is telling the truth. The money isn't here, please don't hurt him," Alina went down on her hands and knees to help Pete.
"Alina. That's very close to Olena. Maybe they're sisters. Let's fuck her and see if she fucks as good as her sister," Benny Hopkiss roughly lifted Alina to her feet.
Bob Livingstone dragged Pete to his feet and threw him back in his chair.
"I tell you what we're going to do here Petey. We're going to take your little Russian girlfriend upstairs and take turns riding her until you give us the money. After we're all had a go, if you haven't given up the money we're going to start cutting bits off her right here in the kitchen so you can watch. What do you say to that?" Duane lifted Pete's head up by the scruff of his hair and screwed his face sideways.
"She doesn't know nuthin'," Pete glared at Alina and she nodded subtly to let him know that she understood.
"I'll be honest with you Petey. We are all going to fuck her anyway but at least now we have an excuse," Duane chuckled and grabbed Alina by the hair dragged her towards the stairs.
"I love you Alina. Don't tell then nuthin'!" Pete called after her and Benny hit him again.
Duane half-dragged Alina up the stairs to the second floor landing.
"No need to be rough with me. I fuck men for living. Come, I show you good time," Alina surprised Duane McAllister by taking his hand and leading him to her bedroom.
"Well ok missy, but I was kinda looking forward to knocking you around a little," Duane squeezed Alina's ass hard.
"Can still knock me around a little. Just not too much. I fuck all you guys then we go to work on Pete. I don't know where money is but Pete does. You give me some money for being a good girl," Alina dropped her skirt to the floor and ripped off her tube-top and stepped into Duane and kissed him, rubbing her body against his denim, leather and chains.
She stepped back when he reached for her.
"Get undressed. We have plenty time," Alina tugged at Duane's belt buckle.
Duane put his pistol down on the nightstand, shucked out of his colours and unbuckled his jeans and unzipped his flies.
"I ain't getting' undressed but I'll pull down my pants. I want to feel those lips on my wang before I fuck you," Duane growled.
Alina waited until Duane's jeans were tangled around his calves and dropped to her knees beside the bed. Just as Duane put both his hands on her head and directed it towards his filthy crotch Alina reached out and put her hand under the mattress.
Duane closed his eyes as his long thick cock slid into Alina's mouth and she began to suckle it.
Alina found the MP5 with her fingertips and struggled a little to find the trigger guard and safety catch but once she had the weapon firmly in her grip she flipped the safety and ripped it out from under the mattress.
She spat out Duane's cock and fell on her back aiming the MP5 right up at Duane who never had time to even register what was happening before the eternal blackness swallowed him up.
The silencer wasn't really a silencer as such. The gunfire sounded like a prolonged metallic burp.
"What was that?" Benny's head came out of the fridge where he was getting himself and Bob Livingstone a beer.
"Just Duane pounding the mattress with that Russian bitch beneath him. She a good fuck Petey? No need to answer 'cause I'm goin' next so I'll find out myself," Bob Livingstone grinned at Pete Decker who was sporting a spilt lip and a mouse on his left eye.
None of the men heard Alina tiptoeing down the stairs on stockinged feet. The first one to see her was Benny Hopkiss who was closing the refrigerator door with his hip, holding a beer in each hand. The nine millimetre Parabellum rounds cut across his chest leaving a zigzag line of blossoming crimson flowerets on his shirt. He was dead before the beers hit the floor.
Bob Livingstone snatched up his pistol but never got time to aim it before Alina blew most of his face away. Pete Decker had dived to the floor, unsure who was shooting and wondering if he was next.
"Get up Pete. We need to clean up the mess before Harlan comes back otherwise he will be very angry," Alina gently placed the smoking MP5 on the kitchen table.
"Who the fuck are you?" Pete looked at Alina with amazement.
"I'm Alina Kunis and I'm not Russian I'm Ukrainian and I don't take shit from greasy, smelly biker men!" Alina barked.
Pete burst out laughing and got to his feet.
When Harlan Decker and Olena Svetlana returned from Menard they found Pete and Alina waiting for them in the yard out front of the house leaning on the Beasts of Burden crash truck. They were both covered with crud and blood having dragged the three biker's bodies out back of the farmhouse and cleaned up as much of the blood and gore as they could in the kitchen and bedroom.
"What the fuck happened?" Harlan leapt from the Raptor holding his pistol by his side.
*****
Penelope, Steve and Silvia gathered in the Task Force briefing room and Alice Leasingham brought them up to date. She confirmed that she had matched the bloodstain in the counting room to Pete Decker and had done some research on him.
Pete had checked in regularly with his parole officer and had a job at a local garage changing tires for minimum wage. He hadn't been to work for the last three days and garage owner was pissed and was seriously thinking of contacting Pete's PO but as he had been holding back a considerable percentage of Pete's wages he was a little reluctant to deal with the justice system. He made good money employing ex-cons whose wages he milked.
"Pete's address is a halfway house for ex-cons and druggies right out of rehab. I called the supervisor who advised me that Pete's room has been cleaned out and he hasn't been seen for three days. I sent a couple of uniforms over to look around but they found nothing," Alice filled in the blanks.
Penelope pinned Pete Decker's mug shot to her crime wall along with the picture of Harlan Decker they had taken from the clubhouse.
"What else you got for us Alice?" Penelope asked.
"Harlan Decker is unemployed and his address is listed as his mother's house in Austin. I called his mother and after five minutes of language that would embarrass a sailor she told me she hasn't seen either of her sons for over three years and has no interest in ever seeing them again," Alice read from a report she had printed out.
"He holds a valid Class B licence with a motorcycle endorsement. He paid cash for a 2018 Ford F-150 Raptor a year ago. It's black and has a towing hitch for a custom-built dual-axle enclosed motorcycle trailer also registered in his name. He also has a 2015 Harley-Davidson Softail Fat Boy Special registered in his name but there are no purchase details. I presume he purchased the bike through the MC," Alice was proud of the work she had done while the others were out of the office.
Today she was wearing a short-skirted navy blue business suit and could have passed as a business professional or a lawyer.
"I've sent out the details and tags for the Raptor, the Harley and the trailer to all units. The Chief has pulled down the roadblocks because they were too manpower intensive but all units have been advised to keep a keen eye out for our guys. I've also passed a BOLO to Border Patrol and they gave me access to their database. There is no record of those vehicles crossing into Mexico," Alice said.
What she didn't say was that before briefing the team she had sent everything she had to Katya Kuznetsova who had passed it on to Jennifer Jones.
Penelope went to the coffee station and poured herself a cup of coffee from the Bun and thought about things while she added non-diary whitener.
"As far as we know they haven't crossed into Mexico, at least not at any of the legitimate border crossings. But maybe we got that wrong. These guys are going to be worried about law enforcement coming after them but also they must be shit scared that the Russian's or Odessa mafia are coming for them too," Penelope stirred her coffee with a little red plastic coffee stirrer.
"Maybe they holed up? The easiest way not to get caught out on the highway is not to go out there. Or maybe they split up?" Penelope pondered.
"Hey Alice. Can you do a search of property rentals to see if any of the four have rented a domicile in either of their names? I doubt the girls would be able to rent without proper credentials but you never know. Anyway, first check out Harlan and Peter Decker," Steve Edwards called out from his desk.
Alice rolled her eyes. She was already on it. After this case was closed she was taking some vacation time and was already dreaming of lying next to Katya on her big bed. Alice knew that she wasn't Katya's only lover but she didn't mind. She idolised and adored Katya Kuznetsova and cherished every second they spent together.
"Anything else boss? I promised I'd meet up with Felicity for lunch if possible. She's flying out tonight for a tour with a bunch of other Ru girls," Steve called across the office.
Penelope was well aware that Felicity Goodnite was about to tour because Jaylene had been busy putting together a wardrobe for Felicity and hadn't had as much time to spend with her as she wanted. She would be glad when Felicity left town and her and Jaylene would have more time to spend together.
"Sure Steve, take a long lunch. Give my best to Felicity," Penelope sat at her desk and sipped coffee wishing she could dunk a donut in it but knowing it would go straight to her hips or her ass if she did.
It was then she noticed a small package tied with pink ribbon on her desk and she pulled the ribbon and opened the box.
Inside was a pair of Lorna Jane convex compact full length leggings in soft violet. There was a note.
Don't fuck in these tights, they are very expensive xxx Jennifer
Penelope blushed and dropped the leggings and the note into her desk drawer and looked around guiltily. Had anyone noticed? Then she smiled and got a little thick when she remembered Jennifer lying on top of her, rubbing her cock on her ass over her tights.
*****
Steve parked next to Felicity's BMW at Ride 'em Cowgirl and went inside. The club had the familiar smell of stale liquor, floor cleaner and cigarette smoke overlaid with a pungent odour of perfume. Most of the drag queens were not trans and presented as men when not working but when they were in drag their femme personas enveloped them completely and they presented as feminine as possible right down to wearing expensive perfume.
With the overhead lights on Ride em' Cowgirl didn't look quite as glitzy and glamorous as it did under the mood lighting. Jill Graham had spent some money sprucing the place up. The furniture was new and the place had been given a new coat of paint but the fresco on the wall remained. An artist had painted a mural depicting a gaggle of drag queens with panicked looks on their faces scampering ahead of a cowboy on a horse swinging a lariat over his head. The caption read 'herd em up -- move em out'.
Felicity was on stage in drag with Panti Down and two other queens performing a rendition of I Do It So Much Better Than You; the queens singing their parts in pairs.
Jaylene Foster was taking notes on how the girl's gowns looked under the stage lights and how the gowns moved when the girls danced. She didn't have much time left to make last minute adjustments. Jill Graham, once the head bartender, was now the manager of the club. Mitch Freeman the previous manager had turned out to be a psychotic serial killer known as the Honey-Trap Killer, taken down by Penelope Bishop and Steve Edwards.
