Authors: Chelle Bliss
Uncover Me Copyright © 2015 Chelle Bliss
Published by Chelle Bliss
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: Chelle Bliss January 12th 2015
First Edition Copyright © 12th January 2015
Mickey Reed & Editing 720
Cover Design © Melissa Gill of MGBookcovers
Cover Photo: Eric Wainwright of Wainwright Images
Cover Model: Shawn Evans
Formatted by: Chelle Bliss
This book is intended for a mature audience only.
This book is dedicated to the bloggers,
readers, and my fellow indie authors.
Your friendship, support, and love will
never be forgotten. It continues to astound
me and drives me forward.
When I’d joined the MC and immersed myself into “the life,” everything started to spin out of control. My world had been controlled. Every decision I used to make was methodical until I entered the lifestyle.
I had a mission, a true course, and a clear goal when I became a prospect. I’d get patched in, learn the ins and outs of the Sun Devil MC, find enough proof of their illegal activity, and then bring them down.
No one thought I’d climb the ranks, becoming sergeant-at-arms and one of the deciding members of the club.
I had my hands in everything.
When did the line blur? Was there a point where I became just as guilty as those I was trying to ruin?
At what point does a good guy become one of the bad?
I felt lost.
The person keeping tabs on me was James, my handler and best friend. We’d joined the DEA years ago and quickly became friends, leaning on each other in times of need and helping each other stay focused on the future—one without the Sun Devils.
He assured me I was the same man he’d met in training, but I feared he was wrong.
Being away from my friends and family for so long had an effect on me. They were my rock, my world, until I left them all behind.
How could I lead a life filled with violence, crime, and deceit, and still be the same man?
I hadn’t realized how far I’d fallen down the rabbit hole until Bike Week. Sitting around the table with the guys, drinking our beer, watching the ladies, and shootin’ the shit—and then she walked in the door.
When I heard her voice, my heart skipped a beat. Looking into her eyes, I felt the weight of my actions hit me square in the chest. Seeing Izzy was like being hit by a semi at sixty miles an hour and watching it happen in slow motion.
Unable to stop the collision, I tried to contain the damage the best I could. A sledgehammer to the head would have hurt less than seeing my sister, and knowing the danger she was in.
Everything could come tumbling down like a house of cards.
She played along, pretending she didn’t know who I was, and it seemed to work. No one thought anything of it. Rebel was a little too interested in her, eye-fucking her at the table, but I kept my cool and waited for the right time to get her alone.
I’d spent my teen years trying to protect my sister. Seeing men looking at her like she was a piece of ass drove me fucking insane. The jealousy and protective nature were ingrained in me—all Gallo men were born with it. From the time we were little, we protected each other and would give our lives for one another, if necessary.
My only goal when I saw her was getting her the fuck away from the MC and Rebel. Having her near fucked with my head.
It’s hard to describe through words, but she made me ache for something I didn’t have.
I called the one man I knew would keep my sister safe—James Caldo. He had my back, and I knew he would protect my sister with his life. When she was safely whisked away, I decided I had enough.
It was time.
No more waiting for the perfect moment.
is one of those bullshit words people use.
There would be no right time to do it.
Only the now.
The motherfuckers were going down.
After I pulled into the parking lot, Izzy still on my mind, I turned off the bike and sat there for a moment.
“Yo!” Rebel yelled, pulling me from my thoughts and slamming me back into reality. “Where the fuck’s the girl?”
I shook my head, clenching my fists to control my anxiety. “We were stopped and she had blow on her,” I said, climbing off my bike and cracking my neck.
“What the fuck?” he asked with a clipped tone as he stood outside the clubhouse of the Vipers.
The Vipers weren’t a rival, but shit had been tense for months. Rebel had been working to secure a business arrangement with them, a deal that would bring a lot of money to the club and dig his grave deeper. With the new venture, his time in the federal penitentiary would exceed more years than he had left on this Earth.
“Fuck if I know, man. Dickhead cop searched her and found it in her pocket. Carted her ass off to jail.” I shrugged, praying that he would buy the line of shit.
I never thought of myself as a liar or an amazing actor. But my time with the Sun Devils had taught me that I had that ability. People bought my lies, ate it with a spoon, and didn’t question me. Maybe it was my demeanor or my “who the fuck cares” attitude, but they believed the horseshit I shoveled.
“Better her than you, brother,” Rebel said, slapping me on the back as I walked by him.
I wanted to punch him in the face. Tamping down my anger, I closed and opened my fists at my sides before reaching for the door.
“Was she worth it?” he asked before I could walk inside.
“Was her pussy as good as I imagined?” He licked his lips and stared me in the eye.
I didn’t flinch, a snarl barely hidden by my words. “Shit wasn’t as fuckin’ great as you’d think. She’s used. Worn out from too much cock. Not worth the trouble with the cops, either. That shit is for sure.”
“Hmm,” he said as he rubbed his chin. “Such a shame. Maybe we’ll find you a little something to make up for tonight’s disappointment.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, opening the door and leaving Rebel behind.
The party was in full swing. The people inside were from different MCs from around the country with Bike Week festivities only a few miles away. Deals were to be discussed after a couple of drinks and greetings. Business took precedence. Money was the driving force and the great equalizer, removing hatred—if only for the short term.
I stood there for a minute, taking in the scene. Club whores were everywhere. On their knees, sitting in laps, and serving drinks. Men with various patches were scattered around the clubhouse, drinking and talking. Drugs, booze, and women were the norm.
I was over it.
The life was wearing on me. I’d had enough, but this wasn’t something I could just walk away from without a thought. I had put years into taking the Sun Devils down. I had to find a way to stick it out just a bit longer.
Failure was not an option.
“Hey,” a voice called from across the room. The man was waving his hands, motioning for us to approach.
“Who the fuck is that?” I asked Rebel, keeping my eyes trained on the stranger.
“Vipers VP, Greaser. He’s a total asshole. Don’t trust a fucking thing he says,” Rebel muttered quietly behind me as we walked toward Greaser.
That shit was the pot calling the kettle black. I had witnessed Rebel backstabbing more people than I could count. He was a double-talker who could look you dead in the eye, swear on the life of his kids, and break his word without giving it another thought.
Where I came from, your word meant everything. A man was only as good as it, but in this world, it didn’t mean a goddamn thing.
“Hey, man,” Greaser drawled as we approached. “Good to see your ugly mug again.” He held out his hand, waiting for Rebel to shake it. Then Greaser turned to me, eyeing me with suspicion as he shook Rebel’s hand. “Who’s this?” he asked as he ended the handshake.
“This is Blue, my sergeant-at-arms.”
I didn’t speak as I waited for Greaser to look me up and down and form a judgment. Not being an in-your-face type of guy, I let him have his fill. I didn’t give a fuck if people liked me or not. I wasn’t here to make friends.
“What happened to Rabbit?” Greaser asked as he leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes glued to me.
I didn’t back down from his stare. He didn’t scare me. The corner of my lip ticked, though. The look he was giving me had started to piss me off. I could only assume he’d received his nickname from his hairstyle. His hair was slicked back like a classic fifties greaser from the movies. He had become lost in the time of James Dean. In his day, he probably was handsome, but the road, as it often did, had worn on him and aged him substantially.
“Fucker got popped a while back.”
“Too bad. I liked him,” Greaser replied.
Rebel slapped me on the back, jarring me. “Blue here has been a major asset to the club. I trust no one more than him.”
Greaser’s glare didn’t disappear as a small smile crept across his lips. “If Rebel vouches for you, then I know you’re trustworthy.”
“If you base your judgment on anything that comes out of Rebel’s mouth, then clearly, your thinking isn’t fucking right,” I said as I slipped my hand into his and squeezed.