UNCHAINED
Raina Chaplin could hear the roar of the motorcycles through the window of her upstairs bedroom. They’re back in town , she thought to herself, Daddy’s going to be upset.
She glanced at the clock at her bedside. It was past seven. Time she should be up anyway, since she was supposed to be in the office by eight-thirty. As she got out of bed, she glanced at herself in the mirror above her dresser. Her dark auburn hair was sleep-tousled, but still hung to her shoulders in deep waves. Even without lipstick, her red lips stood out against her pale skin.
Red was her color, even if she rarely had the opportunity to wear it. This morning, as she examined herself in the mirror, she was wearing the red satin baby-doll nightie she’d purchased last summer while on a trip to Dallas with her father. He’d thought she was waiting patiently for him to get out of his meeting, but in fact she had hurried to a local boutique for her illicit purchase.
Raina was her father’s “personal assistant.” Her job description was very vague. Primarily she was to take notes of important things during meetings and remind him of his appointments, but there were other secretaries who already did most of that. Besides, there were many meetings where Daddy would say, “This one’s a little sensitive, Princess,” and then ask her to wait in her office or back at the hotel if they were out of town. Raina suspected that the real purpose of her job was to keep her close so that her father could maintain total control over her life.
She smoothed the red satin against her body so that her breasts were clearly outlined and the curve of her waist was more clearly defined.
“All dressed up and no place to go,” she said sadly to her reflection.
She contemplated going downstairs for breakfast in just the nightie and the almost-transparent wrap that matched its color and shine, but instead she reached for the blue housecoat that hung on her closet door.
Mustn’t upset Daddy, she thought to herself as she wrapped the heavy covering around her body. Then she said aloud to herself, “Daddy’s always upset!”
Daddy was Miles Chaplin, CEO of Consolidated Power Enterprises, one of the largest power companies in Texas. CPE didn’t actually produce any electricity, but when power went from here to there, it probably traveled over CPE’s lines and towers. And the great state of Texas had thousands of miles of here to there, on which Miles had grown rich.
In Texas, like anywhere else, money is power and power means control. Miles had—and freely used—all three. Many years ago, he had moved his company headquarters, along with his ever- increasing money, power, and control, to the small town of Porter, supposedly because Porter was more central to his operations, but in fact it was so that he’d be an even bigger fish in that smaller pond. CPE was the primary—almost only—employer in the entire county. That meant that Miles Chaplin effectively owned Porter and viewed it as his feudal domain. Miles controlled everything in Porter. Nothing happened there without his knowledge and approval. Everything was under this thumb... everything except The Crossed Reapers.
The Crossed Reapers were a motorcycle club out of Dallas. Their President, Neil Gunn, recently purchased a ranch on the outskirts of town with plans to possibly move the center of their operations to Porter. Most of the club would remain in Dallas, as would a club house, but the officers and a small core of members would make the ranch their home base. Because CPE was headquartered in Porter, there were excellent internet and cellular services, so communications would not be a problem.
An isolated location near a small town had its advantages for the officers of The Crossed Reapers. In a place like Porter, it would be much more difficult for rival clubs or law enforcement to keep tabs on the club officers. Strangers in town
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