Chapter 7

When Rick and Michelle awoke that next morning they were more in love than ever. Rick made a quick pass at her in the shower. She told him, in no uncertain terms, she was way too sore for any hanky panky! They pulled on their robes and headed to the kitchen when they smelled the welcome aroma of fresh coffee perking.

When Rick caught sight of Snowman and Cat, he told them, "You two certainly are looking domestic this morning." They were bundled up together on the couch with their matching plush robes; they had steaming mugs of coffee in their hands.

Cat haughtily spoke up to ask Michelle and Rick, "Does this mean you aren't going to lay up in bed and fuck all day, too?" She and Snowman started giggling; their silly giggling took the sting out of her heavy-duty ribbing.

"You guys are just jealous!" Michelle flippantly fired back. Rick handed her a mug full to the brim of hot and fragrant ambrosia and she briefly kissed his lips in thanks. While she was so conveniently close to him, Rick took the opportunity to reach down and attempt a grab at a handful of her shapely behind, but she deftly managed to dodge away.

Michelle sat her full coffee mug down on a convenient table and backed away as she made a protective cross in front of her with her two crossed index fingers. Michelle laughed delightfully and joked, "Back! Down, Boy! Would somebody please keep this fucking monster away from me?"

"What kind of drugs were you two on last night anyway?" Snowman wanted to know. "I want to score a couple of kilos of that righteous shit for me and Cat."

"Hey, we were just high on love, Bro!" Rick bragged, then he shrugged, and he lowered his voice to a more serious tone as he told them the truth. "I dreamed about the mission we were on when Lieutenant Dennis got hit, Brother. A lot of times those dreams seem to make me have to prove I'm still alive." Rick and Snowman had gotten more and more open with each other about their feelings about the war in the last few years.

Talking about these dreams sometimes helped in easing the pain they caused. When they had their vivid dreams about the past and then talked about it with each other it was almost as if they were partaking of a sort of communion with those of their friends who had lost their lives.

Snowman appeared to be thinking over what he wanted to say for a moment before he replied. He momentarily seemed to lose control over his facial expressions as his face contorted in pain before returning to a more normal expression. "I know exactly what you mean, Bro. Well, I guess I'd better go get dressed." Snowman got up abruptly and left the room. Rick knew only too well about the incident that had hurt Snowman so deeply that he was still grieving over it so many long years later. He sat thinking about the tragedy while Cat warmed up their cups of coffee.

Cat spoke solemnly as she looked up at Rick and nodded toward the door to her bedroom. "Brother, you know I love you and Michelle more than any damned thing or anyone else in my life, except him."

Rick just as solemnly nodded his complete agreement with the truth of her heartfelt statement. He studied her face as tears welled into her big, brown eyes and spilled over her cheeks. "Can't you please tell me what piece of himself he left over there?"

Rick's whole body tensed in reaction to her request. He knew if it were anyone else but Cat or Michelle who asked him such a personal question about his Brother his reaction would be violent. He considered his answer for a moment; he knew Snowman needed help, but how can you help a Brother if he doesn't want it? He reached out and gripped Cat's hand as he answered her the only way he possibly could. "I'm sorry, Cat, but I can't tell you that. Maybe someday he'll be able to tell you about it himself."

Michelle had seen the hurt in Cat's eyes and heard it in her voice. She changed the subject to the modeling job. Before they knew it the excitement started to get to all of them. They quickly dressed in nervous anticipation and headed to the park where they were to meet Mr. Valentine's photographer and his crew.

Despite her being literally worn out sexually, Michelle was a little uptight for the first morning of the shooting. Bill Clark, who was one of New York's top photographers, knew immediately what to do. "Break! Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

Bill emulated the old drill instructor he'd had in the army. There was one notable exception to his behavior. Instead of a cigarette, he pulled a reefer as big as a cigarillo out of his cigarette pack; he lit the dooby and luxuriously inhaled the smoke; then he passed it to Michelle. Bill let out his breath explosively then he told Michelle, "Take a hit off of that! Doctor Clark is prescribing a dose of medicine because you've got what I would professionally diagnose as a major case of the heebie-jeebies. This prescription is guaranteed to mellow you out fast!"

They passed the enormous joint around until they'd smoked it up, then one of the Bros broke out some of his own righteous stash. Bill spoke up to address the crowd. "Can I have everyone's attention for a moment, please? I want you all to sit down and relax and we'll have a rap session." "With most green models," Bill confided candidly to them after they'd made themselves comfortable. "I normally don't bother to load the cameras for the first day or two of shooting. I do that to give the beginners a chance to loosen up; but I sensed Michelle was a natural when I first saw her."

Michelle sent a look of pure gratitude to Bill. His laid back display of confidence helped them all in developing their own self-assurance. When the shooting resumed, everyone on the set was considerably looser. That evening, just before quitting time, Bill sent one of his grips on a vitally important top-secret mission.

The man returned with a couple of iced down kegs in the back of his truck. The film crew and the bikers sat around and rapped for a couple of hours as they diligently worked on floating the kegs. Bill revealed to them that, not only was he a Vietnam vet himself, he rode a Harley, too.

Along with him generously providing far more than his own share of the grass and beer, this was a man they could really learn to like. They'd all begun to relax by the third day of shooting. They were developing a great rapport with the crew, and Bill had told them he was getting some shots he was extremely proud of as an artist. Michelle's grace and dance training helped tremendously.

Bill had Michelle redoing some of the poses he hadn't quite been totally satisfied with the two days before. He was praising her genuinely and Michelle had responded positively to this by posing much more naturally. They were shooting on a set in a park just outside of the downtown area. Michelle's elegant body was draped helplessly in a feminine swoon across the steps of a stylish gazebo while Slick stood over her in a masterful pose.

Colt West started something of a stir when he arrived; his luxurious diesel bus caused everyone's heads to turn! After a momentary wait that effectively served to build up the suspense, Colt West himself stepped off of the bus. The entrance General MacArthur had made when he waded ashore in the Philippines had nothing on this character, except Colt West didn't have ivory handled six-guns.

Colt was dressed in a gaudy embroidered western suit that must have set him back at least five grand. Two burly men who were obviously his bodyguards flanked him; they looked like they were tough enough to eat nails marinated in battery acid for a breakfast cereal. These two moving mountains were followed by a couple of effeminate looking flunkies; these men were also dressed in expensive western cut suits but their only apparent function was to look important.

Colt led his entire impressive entourage directly to Michelle as if a homing device had controlled him. He was at least as handsome in person as he was on television, but up close and personal, he exuded an air of selfish arrogance that Michelle later told her friends had raised her defenses immediately!

Colt crooned musically, "So this is the beautiful Michelle Devereux I've been hearing so much about. Malone, cancel all of my dates for the next week; Michelle and I are going to get to know each other a whole lot better. We're about to become a big item in the headlines." He grasped and held her hand possessively as he put an arm around her shoulders and began to pull her to him.

"Take your hands off me, you egotistical ass!" Michelle shrilly blasted Colt as she snatched her hand away from his grasp and stepped away from him.

Colt's expensively costumed body levitated into the air and slammed back hard against one of the gazebo's posts! The whole structure shook as Rick realized he held West by the throat with the iron grip of his left hand. His right fist was cocked back ready to strike. Rick didn't remember having moved; he'd only acted instinctively when Michelle cried out.

Snowman had seemed to mysteriously vanish from among the other bikers; he'd reappeared between Rick and the two monstrous bodyguards. He was crouched low in a menacing martial arts stance. Bill Clark defused the imminent violence by shouting loudly, "Colt, perhaps you'd like to apologize to Miss Devereux and start over by introducing yourself properly!"

"Yes. Yes. I would!" Colt croaked. His million-dollar voice was restricted to a weak, croaking noise by Rick's hand around his throat, which also happened to be keeping him on his tiptoes. "I apologize for my impertinence, Miss Devereux!"

"That's much better, Mr. West." Rick told him icily, he'd collected his senses and controlled most of his rage by now. "Michelle, are you going to accept his apology, or do you think the Little Prince needs his royal ass spanked?"

To her credit, Michelle succeeded in speaking quite calmly. "I suppose we ought to accept his apology this time, Slick. After all, he's gotten what he said he wanted. He knows us a whole lot better!" Rick released his grip and stepped back abruptly. Colt swayed and nearly fell before he grasped a nearby rail and managed to regain his balance. Rick stayed close enough to him to quickly take him out and then help Snowman if the need arose.

Michelle spoke to him again. "You obviously know my name, Mr. West. The man who just took exception to your over-familiarity is my old man, Slick Rick. That man over there who was close to hurting your bodyguards is Snowman, and this is his old lady, Cat Woman. If you'll make some effort not to be too much of an ass, I think everyone else can probably introduce themselves."

Colt answered her very graciously for a celebrity who'd just been soundly humiliated in front of a large crowd of complete strangers. "It's a real pleasure to meet you. If you good people would excuse me, I've got some pressing business I forgot to take care of in my office in the bus. I'll be back in a few minutes." Colt and his entourage beat a hasty retreat!

Bill Clark grinned slyly and spoke up with dead certainty in his voice. "I'll bet you my life savings against any little thing you'd care to bet that arrogant son of a bitch had to go change his underwear!" No one in the crew was willing to cover his righteous bet.

Crazy Larry and Mad Mike had both been close at hand during the confrontation. "You showed them assholes, Bros." Larry complimented Rick and Snowman.

"It wouldn't have been much of a fight, anyway." Mike commiserated with them for them having missed getting into a scrap.

Bill resignedly told them, "I guess we'd just as well take a thirty minute smoke break. We'll see what that silly prick wants, then maybe we can get back to work."

Rick took this time to tell Michelle he was sorry if she thought he'd acted rashly in flashing on West, but she thanked him and assured him she felt his actions had been entirely appropriate at the time.

When Colt came back, he'd changed into another flashy outfit; which further supported Bill's theory. The Nashville star was very careful to stay a respectful distance from Michelle this time. "I remembered an important phone call I had to make." Colt alibied himself. "I'm very sorry for that unfortunate misunderstanding, Miss Devereux. My intentions were to put in an appearance here for a few days to get a feel for the theme of the shooting."

Michelle had her own ideas about what this arrogant asshole had expected to get a feel for, but she'd also begun to see the humor in the situation. West had probably expected an unknown model like herself to jump at the chance to get into bed with Mr. Big Nashville Star, but he'd been shown he didn't own little Michelle Devereux! She gathered all her spirit and addressed West; she purposely attempted to put an air of aloofness in her voice. "I'm sure we can all get over this incident, Mr. West. It's just that last week some young jocks talked out of turn to me, and the three of them took an ambulance ride to the hospital."

She noticed Colt's two bodyguards looking at Snowman and Rick with appraising eyes. Michelle had a thought that she had just shown Colt West who was the star hand around this part of Texas!

Bill put all his cards on the table immediately. "Colt, we were making some real progress on this shoot until you provoked this confrontation. The only way I'll allow you to stay on my location now is if you promise me there will be no more disruptions. If you cause any more trouble I'll stop the shooting until you leave and you'll be in default on your contract."

"That's reasonable, Bill, I agree to those terms." Colt extended his hand to Bill and they shook hands on the agreement. The bodyguards not only looked the part; one of the Bros who was a gridiron fan had already recognized them. They were both former N. F. L. linebackers. Professionally, the hulks went by their last names, which were Trask and Elliot. The two "gofers" introduced themselves as Chad Malone and Eric Pace.

Trask made the bad mistake of using too firm a grip when he shook hands with Snowman; Snowman returned the favor using a sensitive pressure point that would hurt him for days. Rick was gratified to see Trask was left with a pained look on his face after the introductions. Snowman was smiling innocently at everyone.

Bill wisely decided they might loosen up from the near altercation sooner if they did some of the filming for the riding segment of the video; the Desperados readily agreed. A route had been agreed on and cleared with the local police. One of Bill's flunkies contacted the Houston Police Department Media Liason Officers and notified them they needed an escort dispatched and the run was set for that afternoon.

Rick readily agreed in theory on the aesthetic value of having Michelle's clothing streaming behind them in the wind. What he did not like were the inherent unsafe aspects of this. Their normal riding gear was tailored closely to the body to prevent it from becoming entangled in the powerful moving machinery.

Rick had personally seen the tattered remains of more than one item of clothing that had been loosely tied to a bike seat; then gotten sucked into a drive chain and come out shredded. He was going to personally be fuckin' well certain this wasn't going to happen to anything his Michelle was wearing! He ticked off the items on his fingers as he laid down the law to the crew. "I'm going to hold you people responsible to make damn sure any loose garments she's required to wear can't reach the hot exhaust, the drive chain, or the rear wheel, spokes, and sprocket."

He was assured that Michelle's safety was the number one priority with these professionals also. One of the crew dragged a big wooden crate from a prop truck and opened it. He called to Rick to come and look, the box contained custom engineered clear Plexiglas guards that would bolt over the moving parts at the rear of the bike.

"When Bill told me last week we'd be doing a fashion shoot on bikes, I started making these up using his bike as a model. We won't crank your bike with Miss Devereaux on it in loose clothing until you and I have signed a check sheet in triplicate on the proper installation of these guards. We'll put them on now." Rick was favorably impressed with the safety guidelines they'd set up.

At one point in the video script, the Desperados were required to simulate evading several police cycles and cruisers running hot. The bikers got off to doing this without the hazard of jail terms being involved. Most of the members had a certain level of expertise at escaping the police from certain unsavory incidents in their pasts. One of the motorcycle policemen assigned to the elite media escort admired their hard-earned ability so much he congratulated them on their expert bike riding.

The Desperados usually steered clear of any sort of relationship with the law dogs. About a year later one of these officers was in a serious accident; a drunk driver hit him while he was on his bike. The Desperados sponsored a run to the blood bank and hundreds of them and their friends showed up.

Later in the day the bikers improvised an intricate figure eight pattern around the -film crew's flat bed truck. Bill made their day by telling them he would see to it that the footage made the cut into the video.

Colt West rode in his bus in the rear of the procession. Bill had graciously assigned Colt's crew a radio on the same frequency as the one he was using to give orders to the rest of the crew so Colt could stay in touch. Elliot watched in disgust as Colt casually stuck a silver coke spoon into a large silver sugar bowl. He sniffed some of the drug into one nostril and put the spoon back in for more, he wiped the excess powder off of his nose with the back of his hand and spoke curtly. "Trask, have you learned anything about those two bastards?"

Colt had assigned his security men the job of finding out exactly who Rick and Snowman were. Trask was watching Colt with as much disapproval as Elliot; they were unhappy with West's flagrant cocaine use. While a number of big stars used the damned stuff, and most law enforcement officials turned a blind eye on their indiscretions, Trask and Elliot personally viewed it as an unnecessary complication of their already difficult job.

"I got their names and social security numbers from one of Mr. Valentine's people, Colt." Trask responded. "My contacts in the capitol are running checks. I should be getting a return phone call any minute now about them." His words were prophetic. The phone rang and one of the secretaries answered it, he immediately handed it to Trask. "Hello." Trask spoke into the phone. "Yes, this is Trask. What did you find out? What do you mean by that? You got no information at all?" He paused for a moment and rubbed his chin with a big hand. "Just drop the inquiry, leave it alone, don't attempt any more contacts. Thanks for the effort, goodbye."

The agitated security man sat there with a perplexed look of concern written across his face, West asked him pointedly, "Well, what did you find out about those scumbags?"

Trask thought about what he was going to say for another moment before he spoke up. "This is really strange, Colt. Their local records at the state capitol contained absolutely nothing but a reference to their federal records, and their federal records are sealed. There's a State Department blanket over both of them."

"Run that down for me again. What the fuck does that mean in plain English?" Colt asked. His handsome face had an expression of pained impatience.

Trask reached into his shirt pocket and drew a smoke from his pack with a trembling hand. He lit the cigarette and inhaled gratefully before he answered West. "It means these two guys are heavy hitters, Boss. That's the only explanation I can figure."

"Does that mean they're connected with the F. B. I.?" Colt asked incredibly.

"More than likely it's the C. I. A.; you saw the Green Berets on these guys; this Slick and Snowman? They're the real things. The very best ones of those guys had connections with the Agency; a very, very, elite few of them are sometimes still given contracts. My best advice to you as my employer is to drop any ideas of a vendetta against them immediately."

"No biker trash gets away with hassling Colt West! I'll get them with you or without you." Colt shouted angrily; he'd gone virtually livid with rage.

Elliot spoke urgently and distinctly, "Colt, it's a common practice for the Feds to attach an automatic trace command to any inquiry about their people. Right now, somewhere in Arlington, Virginia, a memo is being placed on the desk of a very competent individual about us trying to trace these guys. Trask, you know yourself what happened when you tried to outmuscle that little guy when we were introduced. That little bastard is awesome."

"Yeah, you're right." Trask spoke up. "I saw the little guy's face when his friend grabbed Colt and he squared off against us. Hell, crouched in that combat stance he didn't come up to my belt buckle, but he knew he could take out the two of us. The crazy thing about it is I knew it, too."

"They're not going to get away with hassling me. I don't care who the fuck they are." Colt screamed at his employees.

Trask looked to Elliot for support. Elliot appeared to be searching for something through the opaque windows of the bus. He saw they had arrived back at the shooting location as the bus came to a stop with a loud hiss of the air brakes. "We should be able to call for a cab to the airport somewhere around here." Elliot told Trask as he made up his mind. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

The two of them stood up and walked to the rear of the bus to get their bags as Colt went into a vicious tirade at them. "If you two bastards walk off this bus you'll never work security details again. I'll black ball your asses in Nashville and every other damned state in this nation!"

As they climbed off of the bus, Trask turned and gave his ex-employer a brisk, one fingered salute. When Elliot saw what his partner was doing, he joined in defiantly. Rick and Snowman were with the rest of the club; they'd been listening attentively to Bill, who'd been explaining the next take to them.

They'd both been keeping a close watch on Colt's bus. When they saw the two bodyguard's defiant exit, Rick asked Bill to please excuse them and told him they'd be back in a moment. They went after Trask and Elliot. They were out of the line of sight of the bus when they drew close enough to the two security men to be heard by them. Rick called out, "Hey, wait up a minute, Trask."

Trask nervously turned and saw who was following them. He extended his hands defensively, "Hey Man, I don't know who the two of you are and I don't want to know. That cocky little coke head had us call to check on you and the Feds gave us the brush off. We advised him to leave you alone and when he refused to, we quit!"

"We appreciate your being honest with us about this." Rick nodded as he spoke sincerely to Trask.

"It isn't like we owe that little queer coke head anything." Trask said viciously; his voice sounded very agitated.

Elliot insisted, "Don't say anything else about that, Trask. Giving out sensitive private information about an ex-employer is unethical for a bodyguard."

"Ethics be damned. That crazy bastard threatened to black ball us just for doing our jobs and advising him to back off of these guys. To hell with him, Elliot!" Trask was really pissed off now; he turned back to Rick and Snowman. "That Colt's a closet queen. He puts on a wild front with the women like he did with your old lady, but that's just to keep up his playboy reputation. What gets him off is making daisy chains every night with his pretty boys, Malone and Pace."

Rick was extremely impressed and pleased with the free incriminating information. "Thanks a lot for the info, Trask. If the Feds do get into this, I'll try to see you two are left out of it."

"Don't tell me anything else." Trask was really upset now. "I don't want to know anything. All I want is to get on a fast plane and get my ass out of Texas." Trask and Elliot turned and walked away as fast as their very large feet could carry them as Rick and Snowman headed back to the set.

Snowman asked Rick, "What do we do now? Do we wait for him to try something, or do you think we should nail his feet to the floor first?" The two of them were both very capable, but when they worked together, Snowman tended to let Rick do most of the planning. When it came to the actual execution of his plan, Rick was usually prone to follow Snowman's lead.

"I think a simple variation of a blackmail scheme would probably take care of our good friend Colt. We'll have to find out where they're staying and then we'll set something up." Finding out where Colt would stay proved to be much easier than Rick and Snowman had ever hoped. After lunch, Colt invited the four of them and Bill Clark to dine with him at eight o'clock that evening in the dining room of the Heritage Arms Hotel.

They all accepted; while they had no inclination to want to know Colt West any better, they damned sure couldn't pass up the chance to gain more information about him. The two troubled Bros didn't discuss their concerns with Michelle and Cat until they'd arrived back at their home.

Rick asked the women to join them at their dining room table for a council of war. He fixed them all a drink and then he began explaining their precarious position to the women. The girls weren't at all surprised to find that Colt had been checking up on Rick and Snowman.

It surprised Rick to hear Michelle ask them, "Did Trask or Elliot mention specifically whether they'd run a check on me?"

"No, if they did, they didn't mention it." Rick assured her. There was something about her relieved look that tickled his curiosity, but he didn't want to press it at the moment. He had plenty of secrets himself he wouldn't want her to take too close a look at. He figured if she needed his help in straightening out something from her past, she would confide in him.

"At least there's one nice consolation; Bill will be there." Cat said as they discussed the dinner. They all knew what she meant, they agreed Bill Clark was a genuinely cool dude.

"Yes, but that means we'll have to watch what we say and do around him, too." Michelle told her.

"Brother." Rick spoke urgently to Snowman, "How does this whole fuckin' thing smell to you? We brace this asshole for being stupid. He gets his security people to check on us; then he fires them for objecting after they find out the Feds are covering for us. The very next thing, he invites us all to dinner. I smell a big fat rat; I think he's already got something sneaky arranged."

Snowman kicked that interesting thought around in his devious little skull for just a moment, then he told Rick, "Brother warrior, if you smell a rat, I think we ought to dress formal. Girls, dressing formal means we pack weapons in all our pockets instead of just the normal two." He turned to speak directly to Rick. "I think Cat and Michelle ought to sit this one out here at the house."

"Then Colt will smell a big rat!" Michelle addressed them emphatically. "Who's going to watch us here at home, Mad Mike? If you're both so certain this is a setup, I'd much rather you called in all of your Bros to blanket the hotel and cover the tops of the surrounding buildings. Then you arm yourselves to the teeth and Cat and I walk prissily in, hanging on to your big strong arms like a couple of tasty bites of cheese in a trap." She looked up at the two of them innocently as she flashed her long eyelashes in her 1920's flapper imitation.

Snowman and Rick looked at each other in astonishment. Rick exclaimed, "Bro, do you believe this brilliant chick is a real blonde? I haven't gotten used to all that body yet, and she's showing us she's got one hell of a brain for strategy."

"She's right." Snowman agreed. "Let's call Larry."

Larry agreed with them that Michelle's plan was probably the safest and surest way to handle the present difficult situation. He discussed plans with Rick, both for backing them up and for blackmailing Colt. He also confided something to Rick that surprised him. "Hey Bro, I want you to know I had a talk with Mike about you and your old lady. I told him to lay off Michelle. Being around that chick for the last couple of weeks has convinced me she's for real."

Rick got over his shock just in time to thank him, "Hey, Larry, I appreciate that, Bro. The days when anyone could treat an old lady like Scooter did are over."

Rick could tell Larry wasn't at all comfortable with this topic of discussion. "We'll be at the hotel, Bro." Larry quickly ended the ticklish conversation.

"We got backup." Rick told the other three as he hung up the phone. "Larry said he'd have Dana and some of the old ladies scope out the hotel and report back to him. The first of the guys who'll cover us will be moving in within thirty minutes. He's sending someone over here with some hand-held F. M. radios. One of the Bros liberated a big crate of them off a loading dock a while back, so most of our key people will have one."

Snowman said derisively, "It's those damned spy shows Larry watches on television that does it, Slick. The next thing you know, we'll all have to carry some kind of secret decoder ring. Hell, even in Nam, our radios hardly ever worked."