Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 306

Doom POV

The workout was great; it was easy to sync with Tracey. She wasn’t as slow as I had expected, but she put a lot of effort into it. When we reached the end of our workout, Storm and Tempest arrived, and I worked with Storm looking after the weights, while Tracey weaved her magic with Tempest. I watched them when I could; they worked well together. I can see why Tempest was improving so much. Tracey was full of praise when Tempest achieved even a small milestone.

We were done, and Tempest was sleeping like she always does.

Storm made the sign to follow him, so a quick goodbye to Tracey, and I walked stride by stride with Storm to his office. He sits at his desk and calls me over to sit beside him. Turns on his computer, opens some files, and watches a few videos. It was one of each shooting, and we thought it might be related to Dawson. It appears all of the shootings were, or were his lackies, as the guy that Tempest knew was shot by the right–hand man, or one of Dawson’s men, you often had seen with him acting like bodyguards. By association, it was enough to link it, Dawson.

“Dad thinks Tracey was right. He believes that Mr Dawson has formed three or four groups of mercenaries out for blood, and that too many shooters are linked back to him; all the shooters that they have identified so far have worked or are working for Dawson. The police are still looking for his business associates and Mia, but we both know they won’t find them. They will eventually stop looking and make it a cold case. Aunt Mabel was found dead, overdosed according to the coroner, not sure how that will hit Tempest, it will be on the news today, so unless we do a complete news blackout, we can’t hide that.”

“Tell her, don’t hide it, or she will lose trust. We don’t need that added to her other problems.” I jumped in quickly, no need to hide things like that, get it done, and let the healing start.

“Okay, will talk to her soon. Tracey has been a godsend, keeping Tempest from completely losing it. She has not been herself lately, but as of today, she promises to be more involved and less tearful. Tempest was concerned about how it would reflect on us, our businesses.

But even if our businesses all suddenly stopped, we still have more money than we can spend in our lifetime, so if one or two have a major downfall, we can work it out. Tempest will start communicating with her online friends again, even though our lockdown hasn’t been long, the claustrophobia starts almost immediately; some handle it, others fall to pieces. In the past, Tempest has been locked in a room, no food or water for days, and being told she was in lockdown triggered some bad memories. Still, we have worked through them, and I feel we are making headway. Tempest and I want to let you know that, if we have been rude, we are both sorry. Tempest will be saying the same to Tracey today.

Storm looked a lot better than when they left for their room yesterday. A lot must have been cried out, and sorted, or come to some acceptance. Hopefully, that means the lively, happy Tempest was back.

We talked more about Dawson, suggested places he might venture next personally, and where his goons might go. It’s rather obvious to us who he might target; our men have been put in place, and although we would like to kill him, if our men capture Dawson, they have been instructed to wound, not kill, and let the police handle it. It might sound odd. Still, after some deliberation, the best course would be the legal system, to get him back in jail and in isolation. If the police or some other gun–happy chappy kills him, then we will cheer, but our hands will be clean of any wrongdoing in the eyes of the law. That’s a must, according to Tank, Uncle Simon and Tandy.

Squeaky clean.

That sounds funny to me, because to me, if you are too squeaky clean, someone’s good at hiding the dirt. Being that clean was rare.

Tempest and Tracey entered the room. Tempest looks refreshed and smiling. I stared in disbelief to see a smile on her face.

“We would like to go to the shooting range, please.” Tracey politely asks, looking at me, Tempest beside her, nodding.

“Let’s go.” It was late morning, and plenty of time to get a few rounds in.

Storm pushes the wheelchair, while I walk beside Tracey.

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