Troubled Son: Savage Sons MC Romance (10 page)

"You did fine."

"Thanks." I peeled a clove of garlic and minced it while we talked. "It'll take me a while to settle in, but I think I can do it." I squeezed the juice of half a lemon into a little bowl and sliced the other half into wedges. "Can I ask you a weird question?"

Moses just nodded again, fixing me with those blue eyes that didn't do a very good job of concealing the sensuality that simmered just below the surface.

"The scene in the clubhouse. Was that typical?"

Moses drag some more of his beer before he answered. "Yes and no." He thought for a second before he continued. "You know that the Sons run hookers out of the clubhouse."

I drizzled some olive oil in a skillet and dumped the garlic in to soften it up. "Yes."

"Max, there's sex everywhere in the club. I didn't actually realize how much until I thought about bringing you in there. I'm gonna be frank with you. The Sons fuck who, when, and where they want. They don't care who knows or who sees. Can you handle that?"

I checked to see if the water I'd put on was boiling yet, and I got some angel hair pasta ready to go into the pot. "I guess. I mean, I don't have any hangups about sex, but I'm not used to seeing it in a bar. On a pool table. As entertainment."

"Well, that was a little unusual. Bug won't be pulling that again if I have anything to say about it. But there's an awful lot that goes on in plain view at the club. Now I can do my best to keep you out of the worst of it, but if you want to get in with the Sons and their old ladies quick, you're gonna have to show that you can handle it."

I put the pasta in the water and added the thawed shrimp to the olive oil and garlic, poured in the lemon juice and grated some fresh lemon zest into the skillet as I seared the shrimp. "I'll handle it. Were the girls on the table hookers?"

"Yeah. Bug made some extra money for the club, and he also made damn sure that not a one of the girls was gonna have a slow night. There were probably guys lined up in the hallway waiting for their turn."

I wasn't sure what to say. The thought of women who'd have sex for money turned my stomach, and the thought of man after man in a row really bothered me. "Good business, I guess," I said as I got plates, forks, and pasta spoons ready. "I think I can hide it, but I have to tell you that I find it disturbing."

Moses reached out to take the silverware from me and he turned to set the table in the dining room just behind him. "It should bother you, Max. I grew up with this shit. You didn't."

I finished up the dish and plated two servings of pasta. I poured a little cream into the sauce with the shrimp and topped the pasta with the shrimp, sauce, and a little fresh grated pecorino romano cheese. My stomach growled as I carried the plates to the table and returned to the kitchen for the rest of the bottle of wine and a clean glass for Moses. I put the glass in front of him and poured half a glass.

"This is an Albarino. It's from Spain, and it will be delicious with the shrimp." I sat down and prepared to dig in.

Moses smiled, like there was some inside joke I didn't get, before he wound some angel hair around his fork, speared a shrimp and took his first bite. I took great pleasure in watching his eyes widen and a smile of satisfaction appear on his face. He took a sip of the wine and returned the glass to the table.

"My brothers would tease the ever-lovin' shit outta me for sipping wine and eating fancy, but that's delicious, Max."

I grinned and took my first bite. "Not too shabby, if I do say so myself."

We ate for a few minutes in silence, both of us ravenous.

Finally feeling as though I wasn't going to die of starvation, I returned to the topic we'd left just before we started eating. "I can't imagine growing up with stuff like that going on."

"It wasn't always pretty, but I gotta tell you, Max, it was a lot of fun sometimes."

I laughed and shook my head. "Yeah, I guess it must have been." I took another sip of my wine. "That was quite a show those girls put on tonight."

Moses looked at me as if he was surprised that I'd brought it up. "You didn't exactly look like you hated the show."

I felt my cheeks flood with color and I cleared my throat and abruptly changed the subject. "So are you going to tear Bug up at the next meeting?"

Moses finally put down his fork, plate completely clean. "First of all, in the future, don't ever ask me about club business unless you're absolutely sure no one can overhear us. Old ladies get backhanded for asking about club business that don't concern them. And second, yeah. Bug is so fuckin' blind to the risks that he brings around the club that we're liable to have the clubhouse shut down before you and I can even get shit done. I'll get some of the guys on my side and we'll take care of him. I think I can talk Joker into taking him down a peg."

I finished the last of my glass of wine and promised myself that I wasn't going to have another. Thinking about the leather pants I'd bought at the Harley store and how tight they were, I knew I'd have to be careful about what I ate and drank if I wanted them to fit. Mentally resolving to hit the gym in the morning, I stood up to start clearing the table.

"Need a hand?"

Wow. The vision of Moses, tough guy with stubble on his perfect jaw, sitting at my table holding a glass of wine was nearly more than I could stand. I'd been more than a little turned on by shopping for underwear and by the girls at the club, and I honestly wasn't sure how much more I'd be able to stand. I knew I couldn't, but part of me wanted to drag Moses to my bed and not come up for air for days. Bad girl thoughts, and I had to get rid of them.

"No thanks," I answered, hoping that I sounded as calm as I should. "Hey, I just remembered all of my new clothes. Mind running back out for them while I clean up?"

Moses agreed and I rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, telling myself in no uncertain terms that I needed to quit acting like a lovesick teenager. So he was gorgeous, and so I got to ride on the back of his bike. I was a professional with a big, dangerous job ahead of me, and I was going to act like a grownup if it killed me. I had just finished cleaning up when I heard my front door open. I dried my hands and joined Moses in the living room.

He held up the shopping bags. "So when do I get my fashion show?" he asked with the sexiest half smile I'd ever seen.

"Oh, good grief," I laughed. "I'm not about to put on my new finery until I've taken a shower to get rid of that cigarette smoke from the clubhouse. And I'm not ever parading around in that trashy underwear. Sorry."

"I was just kidding," Moses said. "Mostly. I wouldn't mind seeing those shoes, at least."

"We'll see. Maybe I can find a time to wear them during the case. No promises, though."

"Fair enough." Moses took a step backwards toward the door. "I should go. What's the plan for tomorrow?"

"I'm scheduled with a couple of the guys for training on the wires and recording gear we'll be using. I don't think I'll see you again until Thursday, and I'm not sure what Tombley has planned."

Moses paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I guess at some point, we have to get you moved into my place, huh?"

I hoped that my cheeks weren't as flushed as I thought they were. "Uh, yeah. I guess so. I'll find out when he wants that to happen."

"And you may want to hit the Goodwill store for some broken-in clothes. Think short, tight, low-cut, and you'll fit right in."

"I think I have a sense of what the norm is after today."

"Well if you have any questions, I'm happy to let you model for me."

Without another word, Moses walked out the door, leaving me to my mixed up thoughts about dangerous bikers, sexy underwear, and sex everywhere I turned. I was afraid I'd have trouble getting to sleep that night.

April 3, 2013

When my alarm went off, I was surprised to awake refreshed and ready for the day. I'd expected to spend the night tossing and turning, plagued by sexy dreams about bad boys on motorcycles. After coffee, breakfast, and gym, I showered and decided to get ready for the day. It was time to start getting used to my undercover persona. I put on makeup and used a much heavier hand than I ever had with my new black eyeliner. I didn't bother with foundation or concealer. I teased and sprayed my bangs and let the rest of my hair dry naturally while I figured out what to wear.

I decided to leave the trashy underwear for another day, and I pulled out the jeans I'd gotten at the Harley store. I wasn't sure how comfortable they'd be, but Moses had assured me that girls who hung out with bikers wore their jeans tight. I paired it with a low-cut black t-shirt that exposed a jaw-dropping amount of cleavage. I looked in the mirror and thought that I would have fit in perfectly at the Savage Sons' clubhouse the night before.

I drove to the first of the addresses Jeff had given me. It was in a run down residential neighborhood on the east side of Denver -- the kind of neighborhood that has pawn shops and check cashing stores in the nearest strip malls. I pulled into the drive -- already occupied by a couple of nondescript cars -- and I realized that my cute little red convertible Mini Cooper that I'd bought when I arrived in Denver wasn't going to work as part of my cover.

"Max," Jeff called from the open front door. "Glad you made it."

He didn't have on a custom suit like he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked like he belonged in the neighborhood with his ratty work shirt and broken-in camouflage fatigue pants. I locked my car and headed inside.

"Oh my goodness, you look amazing," he said as I came through the door. "And by amazing, I mean awful! The hair and the makeup are perfect."

"Thanks, I think," I answered.

"How did yesterday go?" he asked. "I assume these are some of your new clothes?"

I nodded and turned around. "Direct from the Harley Davidson store." I blushed as I thought about the other shop Moses and I had visited, and I decided that Jeff Tombley most definitely did not need to know that Moses had bought stilettos and bras for me as well. "Hey, I just realized that I'm gonna need a car. My Mini isn't going to cut it."

"Way ahead of you, darlin'" drawled a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He shook my hand as he introduced himself. "Mike Fuller, resident geek. Take a look out at the curb."

I walked over to the window and pulled aside the faded blue curtains.

"Your chariot, milady," Mike said over my shoulder.

"Ugh," I said without thinking. "Really? It's hideous."

"Recovering crank addicts don't drive shiny new cars, sweetheart," Tombley reminded me. "It'll probably get you from point A to point B without attracting undue attention."

I honestly couldn't even tell what the make and model of the rust bucket that sat in the street in front of the house, and I guess it really didn't matter. "It runs?" I asked.

"Perfectly," Mike answered. "We had our guys overhaul the engine, so it runs much better than it looks like it would. Consider the rust a disguise."

I shook my head and laughed, thinking about how much I'd miss my new car. "You have a safe place for me to keep my new baby?"

"Lady, we're the FBI. We can keep an eye on your car for you," Mike answered with a grin.

The day was interesting and exhausting. We spent hours working with the equipment Moses and I would use to record our conversations with the Sons. I was fascinated by the technology -- transmitters and storage devices that could be concealed anywhere and could hold much more information than I'd have guessed. Jeff ran through the procedures for capturing, storing, and transmitting the data we'd be collecting so that all of the evidence would be useful for trial. The last thing we wanted was to have key pieces of evidence excluded from the trials we hoped were in the future because we hadn't followed the rules.

By the time the workday was over, I felt comfortable working with all of the equipment and was confident that I would be able to successfully transmit information to Tombley without actually having to physically report to him. Technological advances had made undercover work much simpler and much safer. It gave me some peace of mind knowing that I wouldn't have to risk being tailed to meet with Tombley and hand over tapes of conversations. Since Moses had reliable high speed internet at his house, I would transmit everything from there without the need to break cover.

As we were wrapping up, I remembered that I'd wanted to ask Tombley about my living arrangements.

"So what's the plan in terms of my shacking up with Moses?" I asked as I carefully stored all of my equipment in their nondescript zippered cases.

"We probably need to get that done before you go meet any of the other members of the MC."

I realized that I hadn't told him that I'd already been at the club the night before. "Um, Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"Moses took me to the clubhouse last night, just for a few minutes. He had something he had to sort out with Bug."

Jeff just stood and looked at me. "What the hell were the two of you thinking?"

"It was my decision. Moses wanted to take me home first, but I thought I could handle it. There were zero problems. It went fine, and we were only there for fifteen minutes or so."

Tombley looked pissed. "Shit, Max. You took a big chance going in there after just a few hours undercover. I'm glad nothing bad happened, but that was pretty stupid."

I shrugged at him. "I knew it was a risk, but I calculated that the risk was very slight. Everything's fine."

"I get it. We're a team, though, and we depend on one another for the success of this operation. Don't go taking unnecessary risks again, Max."

I thought he was overreacting, but I sure wasn't about to argue. "You got it."

Mike handed me a beat-up cell phone. "I know this thing looks like it's seen better days, but -- like the car -- it ain't exactly what it appears to be. It's equipped with a very sensitive GPS locator, and it'll also record all of your calls. The digital records will be transmitted and stored automatically. There's no need for you to do anything. You just need to know that every word you say on this phone will be recorded and analyzed within a day or two. If you need us to hear something that you don't feel safe transmitting another way, as long as it's not time-sensitive, just say it while you're on the phone. We'll get it eventually. Also, if the GPS transmitter stops working, we'll be at the last location within minutes. If you get into trouble, drop the phone in the toilet or drive over it, whatever you need to do to disable the phone and get us headed your way."