Chapter 9

Special thanks to Phil Gorman 2015 for his expertise in editing and proofing.

For the past two weeks, I have been spending time at Leo Haley's office. Now in his new digs, he gives the impression he is granting you an audience rather than an office visit. He now has a permanent secretary plus the two individuals that handle my or, should I say, CBHF Corp. holdings various needs. The financial officer is a young lady, who is very proficient at her job. I found it very difficult to get my mind around the enormous amount of funds generated by the rents from the properties and the fees from the air service. Even after expenses, there is nearly a seven hundred thousand a month surplus. Miss Barnes presents suggestions with each report as to how to utilize the surplus funds. When Grant Myers, my real estate manager spots me, he leaves his cubicle and heads my way.

"Mr. Johnson, can I have a word with you?"

"What's up Grant?"

"You may not believe this but I got an inquiry on the Peal Street property, the one the cops shot up."

"That's odd; I don't think we have it listed anywhere and, as far as I know, we don't have an estimate for repairs."

"We don't, but I have a creditable inquiry via email; thought you should know about it."

"Can you print it off for me? Does it have a contact number?"

"I believe so, give me a moment."

The printer activates, and a sheet slides out.

"Yes, it does have a telephone number."

"I'll call them today. It has me curious as to how they found out who owns the property and how they got your contact info."

"My info is on Mr. Haley's Internet site, as the real estate manager for the CBHF Corp."

"One question answered: I will let you know if there is any follow up."

That address got tons of media attention after the raid and shootout. With four perps dead, Len Porter, of the Abbotsville Times, ran a series of articles about the rise and fall of two notorious local hoods: J. P. Morgan and a Daniel Riggs. At the end of each article, pictures of both men were featured with the caption, 'Do you know where they are?' No one has provided any information; there were many theories submitted, but no facts. No one will solve that mystery! The cleaners didn't take IDs of the corpses from the mountain. Considering that their last resting place was a blast furnace, there would be little or no traceable remains.

The email is from a firm called 'Randi Rabbit Corp.' The name has me curious: who in the hell would call themselves 'Randi Rabbit?' The telephone number is local. Before calling, perhaps Leo Haley can shed some light on the business. He is at his desk, in a heated telephone conversation. When he sees me waiting, he slams the receiver into its cradle. I don't even ask.

"What can I do for you, Don?"

"Do you have a means of researching a local business? What I am looking for is the principles and if the business is worth calling in regards to a possible rental."

"What you want is a credit report. What information do you have?"

"Just the business name and a telephone number, it is a local exchange."

"That should be enough."

He has his hand out waiting for the copy of the email. I watch as he brings up a screen and inputs the info. Seconds later the screen fills with data. Leo scans it and then hits a key. The printer beside his desk clicks and then streams of papers pile in the tray. He gathers them in a neat pile and then slams a staple in the corner.

"Here is the info. By the look of it, that is the type of tenant you want. It is an up and coming Tech Company. Projected income this year is eleven million; it is a start up from 2013."

'Randi Rabbit Corp.' is own by Randi Farris, she is all of twenty-two, and she owns an 85% share of the company with two partners, actually former schoolmates, each with seven and one half percent. Their software app is in 40 % of the smartphones on the market, and it appears that percentage could increase to nearly 90 %. Not bad for a start-up, whose beginnings were in Randi's bedroom!

Their current location is a two-room office in the city core. It is well worth a call to see what has them all fired up about the Peal Street location. I haven't been to see it since the police raid.

"Randi Rabbit, Melissa Speaking."

"Hello Melissa, I am Don Johnson, representing CBHF Corp. Our real estate manager received an email this morning about a property on Peal Street."

"Please hold."

Now I am listening to music that makes my stomach turn. I would rather listen to a weather report than that noise.

"Randi here, may I help you?"

"Hello Randi, I'm Don Johnson, a representative of CBHF Corp. Your firm inquired about a property we own. I just want to confirm what you are actually looking for. The property, mentioned in your email, recently had a bit of adverse publicity."

"Adverse? That is putting mildly! I read the features in the Abbotsville Times, I would say notorious is a better word."

"Well, now I know it was an informed inquiry! May I ask why you are interested in that particular property?"

"I assume you checked on my company, since you answered my inquiry. We are a start-up, as you know. I need more room, preferably a secure building where my people can work safely. Once the damage is repaired on your building, it will be more than sufficient for our needs, right down to that tire shredder."

"You have done your research. Are you looking to lease?"

"Yes, long term; I would very much like to see the property."

"I don't have any idea what it looks like; considering the gun battle, it is likely a bit on the rough side. Our corporation only took title to the property a couple of months prior to the disturbance."

"You should have been an auto salesman, what with all of the bullshit you are giving me."

"Madam, you are the one who inquired. If you are no longer interested, I wish you a wonderful day."

I was just about to slam the receiver down when I heard her shout, 'Wait!'

"I'm listening."

"First, let me apologize for my manners. I tend to run off at the mouth. I do want to see the property, as it stands. It will give me something to compare to after the renovations are complete. I do want to lease."

"It will be a learning adventure for both of us. Since you know the property, I can meet you there at two. I have to call the police department to make sure they are done with their investigation. If there are problems, I will call."

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson; I'll see you at two."

I enjoy calling Detective Ray Twayne; he is a very excitable person.

"Twayne here."

"Hello Detective, how is the detecting business?"

"Don, please don't tell me I need to see something or visit a mall or a skyscraper. I am having a relatively good day. What do you want?"

"Such an attitude! It is a wonder anyone wanted you to be top cop in Abbotsville. I hear you made a few arrests recently."

"And you were behind each one of them; right ... anonymous tips my ass."

"It just proves you have been doing a marvelous job and some civic minded citizen wanted to help."

"Bullshit! What can I do to help you?"

"Are your men finished with 314 Peal Street?"

"What is you interest in that property?"

"I represent CBHF Corp. who owns it and we would like to have access to assess the damages your raid inflicted on the property. We have a potential tenant."

"How in the hell did you manage that, Don? That property was owned by one of Riggs's front corporations."

"It is such a small world. CBHF Corp. now has the title. The question is: are your men finished tromping through it?"

"Don, one of these days I am going to get you as drunk as a skunk and question you about J. P. Morgan and, now, Daniel Riggs. Yes, we are done with it."

"Thank you. I read about those thugs in the paper and saw the stories on TV. Why would you think I have had anything to do with thugs?"

"If you don't have anything else for me, I have better things to do with my time."

"It is always a pleasure to talk to you, Detective."

Now in the Suburban, I give Randi Farris a call and confirm the appointment at two at what is left of 314 Peal Street. We, CBHF Corp., are going to send crews to inspect all of the buildings the police raided. I believe 314 Peal took the most damage; we will find out shortly. I have time for a coffee before meeting Randi at the property. As the coffee is being poured, my cell rings. It is Jake Chambers.

"Hello Jake, what are you up?"

"That is the problem, Don: we are up to nothing and it is boring. The guys and I would like a meeting with you, at your convenience."

"What is this about Jake? Are there problems? Do the guys need funds?"

"No, nothing like that, we would just like to have a roundtable to express our feelings."

"Okay, I will give you a call later this afternoon. I have an appointment at two."

"Great! I'll be looking forward to your call."

The drive to the Peal Street location is uneventful. The property is littered with yellow tape, similar to the compound after the authorities did their thing at that location. Even from the roadway, the bullet entry points are obvious. Parked next to the driveway is a new cherry red Dodge Charger, complete with racing strips. It has to be Randi Farris. She departs the car giving me a chance to see her. She's tall, slim, has light red hair, tons of freckles and is made-up to use them to her advantage. She is a very attractive woman. I walk towards her, with my hand extended.

"Hi, I am Don Johnson, you must be Randi Ferris."

She looks at me and smiles.

"Sorry, I had to bite my tongue; I was going to say something that would likely give you another bad impression of me."

"Now that I know you have, how would we say, a quick wit, I will just ignore your outbursts. We have clearance from the police to examine the building."

Rather than drive to the house, we walk. I am not sure just how that tire shredder works and, until I do, I will avoid it. It ends up that we could have driven for the shredder is covered with a metal arc making it harmless.

At the house, damage is extensive. Looks like a shootout at the O.K. Corral, we are fortunate the windows have been shot out as there are bloodstains everywhere and there is still an odor from dried flesh. Some of the perps must have bled out before buying the farm. All of the floor coverings need to be replaced. I will have to get a quote. Randi, I have to admit, surprises me with her reaction concerning all of the bloodstains; she is happily snapping pictures of the damage. Hell, if I didn't know better, I would think she is an insurance adjuster. Speaking of insurance, I need to ask Leo what kind of coverage we are carrying on the rentals.

"Have you seen enough? Do you still want to lease this structure?"

"Yes, once it is remodeled. It has the security we require."

"In that case, I will get the ball rolling for the repairs. I have your number and will call you when I have a definite time. The powers that be will have to come up with a lease payment. How long of lease were you considering?"

"At least five years, maybe more. It has the space we need for expansion, and a large yard where the developers can think or just relax. It has everything we need."

We both walk back to our vehicles and, as we do, I watch her swing her derriere; Randi has one helluva body, and lots of freckles. John Thomas likes the combination. Randi toots her horn and drives off towards Abbotsville. For me, first a chat with Leo about the insurance coverage, and then a search for a contractor. I wonder if Jack Cree would be interested. I will call him after I talk to Leo Haley. Fortunately, traffic is light when I arrive at 1167 Prestige Place; I park and take the elevator to the eleventh floor. In the office, Leo has a phone stuck to his ear, in another heated discussion. I sit in front of his desk and wait.

"Sorry Don, what can I do for you?"

"What sort of insurance do we have on the rentals? We need a helluva pile of renovations on Peal Street before it is rentable."

"CBHF Corp. has a standard type of policy; each claim has a five thousand dollar deductible."

"Can you give them a call and file a claim for Peal Street. There is a hellva lot more than five thousand dollars worth of damage. I just came from there."

Next, I call Jack Cree. He is interested. I will call him tomorrow to have him visit Peal and provide me a quote. Next is the call to Jake.

"Jake, it is Don. If you still are interested in a meeting, I am heading to the cottage now. We can meet at six."

"We will be there."

He hangs up. It has me wondering who the 'we' are.

It feels good slowly crawling up the incline to the cabin that is waiting for me with my spiffy coffee maker. The tranquility is good for my bunnies and me.

Yes, my bunnies are enjoying the peace and tranquility of the mountain!

After ten minutes of the TV news, and the second coffee, the sound of Mark's engine brings me back to the land of the living. There are three other engine sounds as well; shit, Mark is leading a parade! I am too comfortable to move as the cabin fills up with the familiar faces of Vets that defended the mountain. Every chair has a body in it and the sofas are loaded; there are two still standing. What is going on?

"Jake, you've brought quite a group. What's on your mind?"

"That is the problem: nothing is on our minds! We are bored silly; we, meaning everybody that is here, and a many that couldn't make it, want to be back in action."

"And you are telling me this why?"

"We want you to do something to keep us feeling useful."

Now I am confused. The last time they were feeling useful was when bullets were flying; we were fortunate to have survived with only flesh wounds and no casualties. This has me a bit confused. What do they expect from me?

"We want you to create a security service employing Vets from all services and of both genders. Mckenzi is all for it. Even her peers at the safe house are interested; hell, the disabled Vets are interested! We all want a purpose."

Again, my damn mind starts calculating the possibilities. What I don't need is more problems; hell, the logistics alone will be mine boggling! But, then again, there are likely logistical Vets looking for something to do. Money is certainly not a concern, as there are millions and millions lying around.

"And where are we going to get clients? What services will be offered?"

Shit, my mind has already accepted the premise! I want to think about the girls, and of the wonders between their legs; I want to think of Brair waiting to lose her cherry. Ya, that worked for all of thirty seconds; then, it is back to the planning stage. Jake, the instigator, speaks up.

"Don, I am positive that, once it is known that a security firm is available, the inquiries will come. It is not like we are depending on the fees; but, the thought of doing something useful, and maybe a bit dangerous, will do a lot for us. What do you say? Will you head it up? All the guys voted for you!"

Somehow that didn't make me feel all that confident. My assumption is that I was the only candidate; so, if only one vote was cast, I would have won.

"Give me a couple of days to think it over. I will call Jake and we can have another roundtable."

The surprise was that everybody in the cabin cheered when I said I would think about it. There is a ground swell of support! Ya, sure, I also have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell. The group dispersed, the vehicle engines roared to life, and the armada backed down the incline. I am, again, alone with my bunnies.

Yes, you nasty bunny haters, the bunnies are still an integral part of Everett Mountain.

What did I just get myself into? We can use the old funeral home as an office; it has three floors and a basement. Shit, my mind just leads me astray again! I shouldn't be left alone without a keeper.

The meeting with Jack Cree goes better than the prior meetings, in regards to the cottage. All the items are available at any building supply warehouse. He will call me with a quote.

Next is a visit to 12 Moore Road, 'Barnes Funeral Home.' The doors are not locked; it is just as we left it. Two offices on the main floor have been trashed. The rest of the building seems unscathed. I gave a silent prayer, thanking the powers that be, that the elevator still worked. With a little TLC, this place can be made into the headquarters of CBHF Corp. Security Division. The elevator will allow our disabled workers access to all of the floors with no discomfort. If needed, we can use the firing range at the 'farm' to upgrade the skills of the men and women that will be joining the wonderful world of private security. How I wish there was some way to turn off my mind when these haywire schemes come a calling. But first, we need a locksmith to secure this building.

The building next door is a hardware store, a good place to ask for advice. It is not a franchise but a proprietorship. An elderly man behind the counter notices me.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so; would you happen to know a locksmith in the area? I need to secure the building next door."

"The 'Barnes' building?"

"Yes, CBHF Corp. recently took possession of the building, and this was the first opportunity for me to see it. Someone has trashed some of the offices on the first floor. I need to secure it."

"I was relieved to see the prior owners gone. They were a nasty bunch."

"The new tenants will be much more amiable; a group of Vets will be using it as a training center, helping other Vets with difficulties adjusting to civilian life."

"Thank goodness! Now, for your locksmith problem, I can help you. What do you require?"

Mr. Gordon is a jack-of-all-trades; not only did he solve my security problem, but he sold me a security system too, which I will have Peanut check the next time he is in Abbotsville. Mr. Gordon also contracted to paint the rooms on all three floors; all he requires are the paint colors. He has a daughter who, for a fee, will clean all the windows and measure all for window dressings, which he will sell me and she will install. This is something Jake can take care of; he started this. I leave with Mr. Gordon's business card and with a promise that the locks will be replaced before the day ends. The security system will be installed within the next week. Giving him Jake Chambers' name and cell number, Mr. Gordon will call Jake with all of the arrangements.

In the Suburban, I call Jake.

"Jake here."

"Jake, remember Barnes Funeral Home on Moore Road?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"You are the new building manager; a Mr. Gordon will be calling you, likely tomorrow. You can follow up on all the work he will be doing."

"Don, what the hell are you talking about?"

"It is now the headquarters of CBHF Corp. Security Division. You will be the one responsible for having it furnished, as well as providing for the comfort for the guys, with coffee machines, soft drink cooler, etc. It will keep your mind busy and, hopefully, not thinking of ways to make my life miserable."

"Oh yes, commander Don, your wishes are my command!"

"You can bring your co-conspirator Sil with you, because I know both of you thought this up."

All I hear is a chuckle.

"Mr. Gordon will have the keys for you. He is installing new locks this afternoon. Let me know when all of the work is done."

"Yes, boss!"

Instead of getting more time for me and the girls, more work is piling up instead. Poor John Thomas has been lonely. I really need to call Teagan.

It could be a couple of weeks before the building's cosmetic renovations are complete. I will have Jake call a contractor and get a quote to clean the exterior bricks, and to get some ideas on how to cover the inscription 'Barnes Funeral Home.' The building is likely a historical relic. Shit, I should have arranged a roundtable with Jake and the guys. I need to know the skill sets of all of the men and women wanting to participate in this scheme. The more I can delegate, the better it will be for me. But first, I will call Teagan.

"Hello Daddy, I miss you! Why haven't you come to visit? I know Jayden and Charlize want to see you as well. And Brair has been on our case. She even bought a new negligee for her special night."

John Thomas is all ears, as he is poking upwards in my slacks, he is an equal opportunist, he is willing to take on all moist soft openings; he will show no favoritism. Right now, Teagan will do fine.

"Are you doing anything now?"

Now John Thomas really perks up!

"Are you coming over, daddy?"

"Yes, if it is okay with you?"

"Daddy, you can come over anytime you want to, you don't need an invitation."

"I will see you in about twenty minutes!"

It has been far too long between visits to my girls. After the confrontations with Riggs's crew, my mind and body took a sabbatical; well, I will correct that, John Thomas wanted no part of a sabbatical; his ideal resting place is in a warm, moist, hidey-hole between anyone of the girl's legs or spread cheeks. Thinking about it now, I agree. I should have had one of the girls every day. Nevertheless, I can't go back.

Now parked in Teagan's driveway, I give Mark a call; he, Sil and Jake were likely thicker than thieves thinking up the security caper.

"Is Mark Cree around?"

"If he is, he's likely playing poker. Hang on."

The thump of the receiver hitting the wall echoes in my ear.

"Mark here; make it quick."

"I assume you, Sil and Jake thought up the security scenario."

All I hear is the sound of silence and a chuckle.

"Well, chuckles, I have a job for you."

"And what would that be? Jake called me already, you know."

Again, another chuckle.

"Well, your part will be to get a list of all of the Vets who are interested and what their specialty was while working for Uncle Sam."

"All of them?"

"Of course, all of them, including the Vets with Mckenzi and the disabled Vets that Jake mentioned were interested. There is a lot of ground work to be done, and you volunteered."

"I did?"

"Yes, when you hatched this scheme with Jake and Sil. Now it is time to pay the piper. I would like most of that info before the next roundtable. You can call Jake to co-ordinate it."

"Thanks for nothing."

"You're welcome."

Teagan was waiting for me. I saw her frustration as I talked to Mark.

"Who were you talking to? I have been waiting."

Teagan is wearing a flowing chemise: the way her nipples are penetrating the material suggests that is all she is wearing. Her lovely scent seems to flow to John Thomas's head, which really wants to be part of the conversation. Teagan grabs my hand and leads me to the shower and points.

"Hurry daddy, you know where I will be."

In her warm, soft bed, Teagan is waiting for her daddy to do an oral examination of her various openings and then grasp her elongated clitoris and suck it until she cums, numerous times. She is still an anal virgin. Maybe today?

The warm water felt good, but the solitude of the shower gave my mind time to mull over what has happened. Mark's list will give me an idea of what human resources we have among the Vets. One of the major obstacles will be a source of assignments. There is no point of going through all of this work with no one to benefit from it.

Now squeaky clean, I towel dry and head for the adventure in Teagan's bedroom. She is lying on her back, legs spread, with her moist, tasty pussy on display. Why haven't I enjoyed her offerings more often? Because, asshole, you let your mind control John Thomas without considering his feelings. Right now, John Thomas is in awe of the view. Teagan's scent; a mixture of an enticing perfume and her natural scent, emanates from her open blossom. Now on my knees, I move towards her man in a boat. All of this before me I could have been enjoying, not only with Teagan but with Jayden, Charlize and Brair as well. Don is dumb!

Kissing both inner thighs, before enjoying Teagan, pays homage to the beauty they guard. Now mouthing her man in a boat, Teagan sighs and starts to move, lifting her hips into my face to get a firmer contact. I don't let her down, as I slip a finger two knuckles deep, into her rosebud; I can feel her rim contract every time she enjoys the wonders of her climax. I quit counting after seven. Then her hands are on the back of my head, pushing downwards.

"Daddy, now it is your turn."

And I did enjoy it. Now cuddling, letting the troubles of the world being addressed by someone else, I enjoy this quiet time. Then Teagan shifts her body so her big blues are looking into my eyes.

"Daddy, we have to talk."

So much for my quiet time with nothing on my mind but Teagan; what is she going to lay on me? I watch her and wait.

"Jayden, Charlize and I want to arrange a party for Brair, to give her an exact date you will take her cherry. She has been on the pill and has been on our case for nearly a month. And you did promise!"

The conversation, regarding Brair losing her cherry, I remember; however, me promising to do it was implied, more than me stating it. However, as a team player, John Thomas is more than willing to do the deed.

"And just when is this event to take place?"

"This Saturday. I wanted to make sure you are available. The foreplay is to start at five, the taking of her cherry by seven and the confirmation that her cherry is history at nine."

"Confirmation?"

"Yes, that is when you fuck her for the second time, to ensure there is no blockage. You can't touch Jayden, Charlize or me until you have taken Brair the second time. We will make sure Brair has been satisfied."

John Thomas is ready now! It is surprising that just the mention of Brair's cherry has such an effect on him, considering what had just happened with Teagan. What can I say? I just nod my head in agreement. That takes care of Saturday.

Before leaving Teagan, she ensures I have the date correct and mentions she will call me early Saturday to make sure there is nothing deterring the event. She is waving to me, as the Suburban backs out of her driveway. My cell beeps.

"Don, Jake here; I just talked to Mark and he thinks we should meet. He has been busy gathering information. What the hell did you ask him to do?"

"How's the funeral home coming along?"

"Great, but you didn't answer my question."

"How many of you hatched the idea of a security firm?"

Now Jake takes a pregnant pause. The answer should be interesting."

"Me, Sil, Mark, Lex and his crew and four other that were involved with the fun at Everett Mountain. Just the taste of being useful and part of a group has them wanting more. The security idea came up and, after talking about it, most jobs we could imagine would be safe, just security details."

"When do you figure the main floor of the office will be completed? What we will need is a long table or maybe two or three tables; we can use some for a roundtable, and I am sure Mark will use one for poker."

"I think three tables would be best; gives the guys a choice. Mr. Gordon has patched all the blemishes on the walls and is now priming. The main coat should be applied tonight or tomorrow, assuming it only needs one coat. I will try to have the fixtures and some furniture delivered shortly after that. I am going to need some money."

"I will call Mckenzi after hanging up with you. She will have funds for you."

"Okay, talk to you later."

Mckenzi answers on the second ring.

"Hello Don, what's up?"

"I suppose Jake ran down his latest idea with you?"

There is a pause as Mckenzi tries to form her response, as she has no idea how receptive I have been.

"Jake did call."

"And."

"He ran the security idea by me, I agreed with him. Four of the Vets, now in residence here, feel it would be great, as part of their difficulties has been a lack of the comradeship they enjoyed while in the service; the cut off was just too much for them."

"Jake will be calling. Would you please retrieve fifty thousand from the vault and give it to him? He will need it for furniture for CBHF Corp. Security Division."

"What is 'CBHF Corp. Security Division'?"

"The security service that Jake and his co-conspirators dreamt up."

That gets a giggle from Mckenzi.

As soon as I hang up with Mckenzi, my cell rings, it is Jack Cree; he has my estimate for the Peal Street repairs, seventy eight thousand, which is reasonable considering the damages. Same arrangement as the cabin, he will accept cash. The insurance check will go to CBHF general funds. He estimates three weeks, with a cravat that it may take a bit longer; he has to locate a tradesman to repair the bullet holes in the bricks in such away the repairs don't stand out. I can appreciate it has to be an art form.