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Deb was so lucky to have so many highly skilled and brave friends. And she’d get to be back in her bakery. She couldn’t wait, even if it meant sliding down an emergency escape cable again.
“I’ll ask a few of my friends to help, too,” Pete added. “The ones who are still able to climb ladders.”
Michael was shaking his head violently. “But we’ve agreed that the foot soldiers are unending. So why bother? It puts Deb at risk for little.”
She glared at him. They were risking everything for her, she had to do her part.
Sam smiled and flipped her long auburn hair. She must be recovering from her escape. “Ah, but it doesn’t. Deb, you’re going to narrate Wiz’s video on Koslov.”
Deb pointed at her chest. “Me? The Cupcake Woman who never does anything serious?”
Sam nodded sharply. “Yes, you. You’re already the focal point of the campaign, so we’re widening your role. And your previous levity will work in your favor. People will believe the change in tone.” She pointed at Michael, rising from his chair with his fists clenched. “Let me finish. Koslov would love to target Wiz, but you heard that one—” she moved her accusing finger to Trevor “—it would take a military operation to penetrate Wiz’s security. So we make Deb the face of the larger campaign and we push Koslov hard enough that he’s as furious as you are right now.” She quirked a brow at him.
Wiz broke in before anyone could respond. “In the past, Koslov has let his temper get the better of him. He’s taken on enemies personally. That’s what we’re trying for here. If we can take out the man himself, his organization will be crippled, at least temporarily. They might target us for revenge later, but if the rest of my plan works, the feds should solve that problem.”
Deb wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. Michael was right about her defenselessness.
Michael clenched his fists. “You’re making Deb into a target. A soft target. She can’t hurt a mouse, let alone defend herself against a cruel man like Koslov. And even if he comes himself, he won’t be alone. She’ll die.”
“I will not!” Deb jumped to her feet. She could admit her failings to herself but she couldn’t let her friends down. Friends who were putting everything, including their lives, on the line for her. “I’m not an idiot.”
Sam put both hands up, pushing toward the table top. “Calm down. Of course we’re not risking Deb. Because it won’t be Deb staying in the bakery.”
Michael relaxed into his chair. “Well, that makes more sense.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Deb pointed at Sam. “You’ve all done enough. I can do this.”
Wiz leaned over Tom and put a hand on Deb’s arm. “Hey, we all have strengths. Baking is your superpower; ours is military-style operations. We all have a role to play. Trust me, we’ve got a great plan.”
Deb sat, unable to withstand Wiz’s logic. She had to believe in them as a team. Besides, she could admit, deep in her heart, that Michael was right. She used live traps even on rats; defending herself like a superheroine wasn’t going to happen. But if someone else got hurt or killed on her behalf, it would be devastating.
Chapter 19
Michael, literally sitting shotgun in Deb’s delivery van, sent Erin the “we’re here” text and regripped his weapon, ready to fire if necessary. The Coffee & Cars garage door rolled up, Tom drove in, and the door rolled down again. Wiz, wearing a blonde wig, pink shirt and yellow apron, darted to the back of the van and the doors opened. Erin pulled the last two bakery boxes out and Wiz climbed in, closing the doors behind her. Erin checked her phone—looking through her garage’s cameras—then raised the garage door.
Wiz buckled into the jump seat Erin had installed in the back of the van and put her tablet on her lap. “Go.” Erin had also installed bullet-resistant panels around the jump seat, and they had panels they could pull into place and protect the cab as well. It wasn’t an up-armored HUMVEE, but it was pretty good for a low-budget civilian vehicle.
Tom reversed and drove back to the highway, through Marcus, and to the bakery’s back door. They were silent. Wiz concentrated on flying the drone and watching the surveillance, Michael looked for out-of-place vehicles, flashing lights, strangers with weapons or other oddities on the streets surrounding them and Tom drove, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
After making the run for two weeks, it’d be easy to slack off and assume everything was fine. But they all knew better.
They turned off before the bakery, and drove the dirt roads of the older residential area east of her business, then bumped across the railroad tracks, and entered the narrow space between Deb’s and the abandoned lumberyard. On the roof, Pete’s sniper shelter was visible, but he wasn’t. After taking too many drive-by potshots, they’d built sandbag and plywood bunkers with slit windows on both ends of the lumberyard roof, and added tons of surveillance cameras.
Tom backed the van to the metal double doors, and they opened outward, creating a shield for the rear of the van. Michael slid out, holding the shotgun ready and scanning the small parking lot and both sides for threats. Deb would enter shortly, Wiz taking her place in the bakery for the night. Deb wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but the rest of them were. Even Tom believed Wiz was better suited for the dangerous night shift than Deb, but insisted on staying with her at the bakery.
Tom got out of the van and entered the bakery. Pete walked toward them, holding out his hand. “Hey, Michael.”
Michael handed Pete the shotgun, then rounded the van to take the driver’s seat. The van rocked slightly and the doors thudded shut. “I’m in.” Deb’s volume was low, but Michael heard her. Pete climbed in, putting the shotgun across his lap and belting in. “Secure.”
Michael pulled away, the bakery doors closing behind them. He drove south, through the alley, and turned on to the highway, rolling in front of the bakery. Three hulking men stood on the sidewalk, spitting chewing tobacco on Deb’s property. Shortly after Deb returned, he and Nic removed her chairs and tables and installed tall, skinny concrete pillars, stringing chains between them, so the jerks couldn’t lounge around uninvited and the trespassing line was crystal clear. When normality returned, the pillars could hold a sunshade and lights, creating an inviting space.
Michael glared, but didn’t bother calling and reporting. The Sheriff wouldn’t do anything about littering or loitering, even if the men stood on the bakery’s property. Shortly after Deb opened her new drive-up window, Koslov had organized a “denial of service” attack. He sent a dozen vehicles, with two men each, to drive around and around Deb’s. Each time a new vehicle pulled up to the window, they ordered something Deb didn’t have, then yelled about it. It was harassment, but there was little law enforcement could do except ticket minor traffic violations. After three days, the State police showed up. They pulled man after man out of the convoy for outstanding warrants and parole violations, based on the surveillance shots Wiz sent them.
The vehicle harassment stopped after that, but the next day, groups of openly armed men lurked on the sidewalk near the entrance. Anyone who attempted to turn into Deb’s was blocked. Customers called the police, and they shooed the men away, reminding them that blocking access wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t long before Deb closed the window due to lack of use. Most of the people who frequented her shop weren’t willing to confront the men, and those who were took it too far, either brandishing their own weapons, or bumping the men out of the way with their vehicles. Two customers were arrested, but not charged, and Deb decided to close the window before someone got killed.
Koslov’s men lingered, reminding the town they weren’t giving up. If they dared to encroach on Deb’s property, one of Deb’s guards would “test fire” bear spray, or paintballs filled with the same capsaicin mixture, driving them back. They carefully didn’t aim for the men or off the property, but used the wind to their advantage when possible, drifting the peppery cloud into the men who started carrying gas masks.
The enemy attempted to stand in the way of the delivery van between the bakery and the neighbor’s properties, too, but after a verbal warning, Pete, Tom, Michael and the others shot directly at them with the paintball guns, driving them off. After three days of that, the trespassing stopped, but the “legal” sidewalk harassment continued.
