Iron Disciples MC 2 Giving It All To The 1% (3 page)

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry about flying
off the handle the last time you were here.”

“It was understandable, I
guess.”

“We did some more digging with our
people in the police department. Your old man didn’t even have
anything to do with that raid.”

“Okay.”

“It’s still a big goddamn deal and you
should have told me about him, but we can worry about that some
other time.”

He glanced around at the rest of the
Iron Disciples – all of them were there, Skids, Terry, both Sams,
Bug Brain, and a couple of the prospects. Elliot, the president of
the club was also there. I had only met him once, and he had been
on the east coast visiting their New York charter for most of the
time that I had been with Johnny. He was a big man, with cold
intimidating eyes and hands large enough to palm a basketball – and
probably deflate it with his grip too. Those intimidating eyes were
on me now, studying me, gauging my reactions I guess. I couldn’t
blame them for harboring suspicions. Especially in their particular
line of business.

“So, we have a way that you might be
able to… redeem yourself to us.”

“Which is?”

“Well, maybe I should talk to you
about it privately. You mind, guys?”

Elliot waved his big hand in the air.
“Have at it.”

Johnny nodded and then took me by the
hand and led me into their private meeting room. It was where all
of the club business was taken care of, a council in some ways, a
war room in others. I had never been inside of it before. At the
center of the room was a large mahogany table with the Iron
Disciples logo painted with artisan perfection in the middle, and
chairs lining the table for the patched members of the club to hold
their meetings.

Johnny pulled out one of the chairs
and offered for me to sit. After I had done so, he sat in the one
adjacent and laced his hands together in a ball on the
table.

“Alright, so look. That shit that
happened last time. Me kicking you out and saying all that stuff. I
didn’t want to have to do that. This thing we’ve got going on…
whatever it is… I like it. And I don’t want to have to break it
off.”

“I don’t either, Johnny.”

“But you need to understand, I’m the
VP of this club. I’ve got serious responsibilities towards these
guys. Your dad being who he is… well, that makes the whole club
nervous. Now, I trust you. I know there’s nothing there if you say
there isn’t. But still… it is what it is. Normally, I’d say to hell
with the guys, but like I said, there are certain responsibilities
that come with this patch.”

He brushed his hand over the VICE
PRESIDENT patch sewn onto his leather kutte and I nodded
understandingly.

“And that’s not all of it, either.
Elliot’s on his way out and everybody knows it. He’s had a good run
and for the time being he’s our leader. But there’s no telling how
much longer that’s going to be. Obviously, I would be the first
choice to replace him but if my girl is in question like you are…
well, it’s just not a good situation. It could cost me the
gavel.”

“And you want the gavel?” I asked
him.

“More than you know.”

“So, why am I here then?”

“That goes back to the
raid.”

“How so?”

“In light of what we found out from
our guys in the police department, I’m willing to give you another
chance. The guys are going to need a little bit more convincing
that you’re with us, though. It might require you to do something
that you’re not very comfortable with.”

“Like what… kill someone?”

“Jesus, no. Nothing like that. We
don’t do that kind of stuff... remember?”

I rolled my eyes. “Right, right. So
what is it then?”

“So, the police have a mole inside a
rival MC, the Bloody Bastards.”

“I thought you guys were good with
them?”

“We are. Sort of. We’ve come to an
agreement of sorts. But it’s all just business. There’s still a lot
of bad blood there. Which is why they wouldn’t take kindly to one
of us accusing one of their own of being an undercover and why we
can’t just walk in there and start snooping around.”

“I see.”

“Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal.
If those idiots are dumb enough to let an undercover infiltrate
their ranks, then let them burn, I say. The problem is our recent
business agreement with them. Whoever the rat is, he’s been feeding
the police info not just on the Bastards, but on us as
well.”

“So, what do I have to do with all of
this?”

“We have to find out who the rat is so
that we can take care of the situation.”

“What? You’re not going to hurt him
are you?”

“No. We just need proof. The Bastards
can take care of their own business. There’s just no way they’re
going to take kindly to accusations flying from our side against
one of their own without hard evidence. Obviously, none of us are
going to be able to go anywhere near their clubhouse. A pretty face
and a feminine figure though… yeah, that might work.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Look, I told you that you might not
be comfortable with it. Hell, I’m pretty sure I know what it’s
going to require, and I don’t even think I’m comfortable with that.
But this is for the club. And if this thing that we’ve got going
on… you and me… if it’s going to work out, this will go a long way
towards making that happen.”

“I have to think about it.”

“That’s fair.”

He kissed me on the forehead and stood
up.

“You give me a call when you’ve
decided, okay?”

“Okay.”

*

When I got back to my apartment, I
steeped a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table. This was a
big decision, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. This level of
involvement in the world of outlaw motorcycle clubs was not what I
ever intended to get myself into. I thought I would be with Johnny
and the most I would ever do was hang around the Iron Disciples’
clubhouse, get to know the rest of the patched members and their
old ladies better, and attend club functions and parties. The other
stuff… the seedier stuff… I figured Johnny would keep that
separate. I thought I would be insulated from it. I should have
known better. That world was bound to bleed through eventually. And
this, what he was asking me to do, he didn’t outright say it, but I
knew he what he was getting at. In order for me to get close enough
to the Bloody Bastards MC, I was going to have to lower myself to
the level of one of those cheap hang-around bimbos trying to get
someone to make them an old lady. And that meant giving the bikers
more than just a coy smile and a bat of the eyelashes.

On the other hand, Johnny was right.
If I really wanted to make things work with him – and I did – this
might be my best shot at making that happen. There’s no way the
club would ever let Johnny live down keeping me around unless I did
something to prove without a shadow of a doubt that I had the
club’s best interests at heart.

I picked up my phone and reached into
my pocket for the piece of paper that Johnny had written the number
to his latest burner phone on, hesitated for a moment, and then
dialed the number.

“Yeah,” he said, upon
answering.

“Johnny.”

“Hey, babe. What’s up? Did you think
about what we talked about?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Alright. I’m glad.”

“So… how exactly should I go about
this?”

“The Bloody Bastards
frequent a bar on 5
^th
street called Shifty Rick’s Tavern. It’s a pretty
well known hangout of theirs. Your best bet would be to just hang
around there and try to find an in.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Look… be careful, now. There’s no
reason this has to be dangerous.”

“Of course.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later. Good
luck.”

“Bye.”

I set the phone down and glanced at
the clock on the wall. It was only 7:30. I had plenty of time to
get ready before the evening bar crowd rolled in. I spent the next
thirty minutes elbow deep in my closet, digging through old clothes
and trying to find something convincing to wear. When all was said
and done, I had come out with a pair of exceedingly short cut off
jean shorts and a ratty old Harley Davidson t-shirt that I was
going to tie up in the back and expose some of my midriff. Then it
was on to the bathroom, where I caked on the makeup more than I
ever would have normally, and took my hair out of the simple pony
tail I usually kept it in, opting to let it flow wild and free for
the night.

I arrived at Shifty Rick’s Tavern
later that night, unsure exactly how I was going to play the
situation. I smiled at the door guy and he just kind of nodded
gruffly and opened the door for me. The place was your typical
biker bar. Everything was old looking, the walls & floor were
dirty, and a thick haze of cigarette smoke seemed to have
permanently set in. And I’m sure that’s just the way they liked it
to be. I could see them as soon as I entered - a handful of tough
hardened men sporting Bloody Bastards kuttes, sipping at cheap
beers and playing a game of pool. They looked up as I entered. I
tried to stay casual, pretending not to notice them as I made my
way towards the bar, but I could feel their eyes lingering on me
longer after I entered. Maybe this was going to be easier than I
thought it would be.

The bartender came up to me, a wet
glass and a wash rag in hand, and asked me if he could get me
anything.

“Um, yeah, I’ll have a Fuzzy
Navel.”

“…
a what?”

I thought maybe he just didn’t hear me
over the rock music that was playing loudly.

“A Fuzzy Navel.”

“What the hell is that? Sounds like
something you should see a doctor about.”

“I’ll just have a beer.”

He nodded and cranked the top off of a
bargain beer, placing it in front of me.

“You openin’ a tab?”

“Put her on mine.” I heard a surly
voice from behind. One of the Bloody Bastards slid smoothly into
the bar stool next to me. “What are you doin’ here all by yourself,
baby?”

I mouthed the rim of the beer bottle
playfully with my lips as I examined him. He had a face that was
handsome yet weathered by years of hard living, medium length hair
that fell where it wanted to, save for the bit he brushed out of
his eyes, and a goatee that sort of grew down from his chin. He was
layers of leather – a long sleeve black leather jacket underneath
the sleeveless leather kutte of his club, and a pair of shades
tucked into his collar.

“Just bored. Having a
drink.”

“Bored? A pretty thing like you? Well,
that just won’t do. How about some company?”

Another Bloody Bastard slid into the
barstool on my other side and leaned in against the bar eagerly. I
eyed him with a playful demure for a lingering second and then
returned my gaze to the first Bastard.

“I don’t know. That
depends.”

“On what?”

“I don’t waste my time on men that
don’t ride Harleys.”

“Hoho, baby!” He looked past me at his
comrade for a moment. “Hector, I like this one.”

I narrowed my eyes mischievously.
“Well?”

“Sweetie, those weren’t exactly rice
burners you saw parked out front.”

“Good. I’m Hannah.”

“I’m Locke. That’s Hector.”

“Nice to meet you.”

I toyed around with the two of them
there for a little while, letting them buy me drinks and casually
deflecting their increasingly over the top come-ons, but still
leaving the door wide open for them until I knew they had to have
been going nearly mad. Finally, Locke started steering the
conversation exactly where I wanted him to.

“Hey, we got plenty of beer back at
our clubhouse. Other stuff too, if you like. You feel like ditching
this place?”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Locke motioned for Hector to come
along with a movement of his head, and then we all went outside
where the motorcycles were lined up and waiting. Locke climbed onto
his Harley and I climbed on behind him, wrapping my hands around
his waist. The engines roared to life and before long we were
racing down the city streets towards the Bloody Bastards MC
clubhouse. I had to admit, I was actually having a little bit of
fun doing this.

As we thundered down the road, it
occurred to me that I should go ahead and get him going now. I was
already having fun anyway, so why not? Where my hands were wrapped
around his torso and met together with laced fingers, I slowly
pulled them apart and let my right hand slyly drift down towards
his crotch. I saw his head glance down for a second to see what was
going on, and then it raised back up level to watch the road. I
could only imagine he was smiling. My fingers searched down his
thigh for a second until they grazed across the bulge where his
manhood lay dormant underneath. I traced my finger tips over it
lightly, like one would absent-mindedly drag their fingers across
the back of a sleepy cat in their lap, and eventually it began to
come to life. I could feel it growing beneath my finger tips,
beginning to harden as the motorcycles boomed through the streets.
The remainder of the ride was spent with his cock pressing tightly
against the fabric of his jeans, just begging to be let loose, and
with my slender fingers grasping it tightly, rolling and massaging
it as he navigated his bike across the city.