Uncover Me (10 page)

I walked toward the door, a feeling of dread filling my belly. I didn’t want to go back, but I knew there wasn’t another option.

“Want to hit me? Maybe you’ll feel better,” he said behind me as he followed me to the door.

I turned, a smile on my face at the thought, but I just couldn’t. “Nah. I don’t want to hurt you, man.”

He pointed to his chin. “Free shot. Sure you don’t want it?”

I held out my hand to him, sick of fighting in general. “I’m good. All I ask is that you say hello to everyone for me.”

He placed his hand in mine, squeezing hard and shaking it. “Will do, Thomas. Call me if anything goes down. I’ll have my phone by my side all weekend.” He released me, holding the door open for me to go.

“Yeah. Always.” I pulled down my shades, placed them over my eyes, and descended the steps to my bike.

Climbing on, I cursed myself for the time wasted. Don’t get me fucking wrong. I knew I was doing good work, but the time lost with my family could never be recovered. The end was near.

Chapter 8

Forty-eight hours after talking with James, word came down through the channels that the bust was about to go down. My world, along with all the members of the club, would forever be changed. Everything I’d worked so hard for was finally coming to fruition.

Flash texted me as I walked around the club, taking in the people who were sitting around. It would be the last time they’d be together without being behind bars.

Flash: Three hours and it’s happening.

Walking into my room, I typed a reply to him.

Me: Gotcha. I’ll be ready. Get your shit together.

I dialed Bobby immediately. He was the king shit in the operation. James and I both reported to him, and he called the shots. Often, we left him out of some decisions, but in general, we followed his direction and kept him in the loop.

The call connected as I heard static coming through the earpiece. “Talk to me.” Bobby wasn’t into small talk and he never said hello.

“I just got word that shit’s going down tonight. Is it true?” Silently, I was praying to God that it wasn’t a cruel joke.

“Yeah. Be ready. James is on his way back and will be with the group during the raid.”

“What’s my exit strategy?” I asked, pushing the thought of James being with my family when word came down out of my mind.

How would we explain away that I wasn’t going to be in the clink with the rest of the guys? It wouldn’t be hard for them to figure out that I was either a rat or an undercover cop. The worry and frustration I had put out of my mind came flooding back. Fuck. This could be only the beginning of watching over my fucking shoulder.

“I worked that shit out with the FBI.”

The man didn’t have many words. Great. We were finally communicating, but a little information would be nice. It was like pulling fucking teeth when it was my goddamn ass on the line.

“And?”

“Since it’s a federal case, everyone will be split up while awaiting trial. We have men being shipped all around the country. They won’t be able to track who is where, and that should ensure your safety—and Samuel’s too, of course.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe their plan could work. I didn’t see any other option but to pray to Christ that splitting up the group would make it almost impossible to track each member’s whereabouts.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it. You’ll be booked to keep your cover, but once everyone is split up, you’ll be released.”

Thank fuck for small miracles. I’d have to spend some time in the very place I’d been working to send every member of the MC. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be for long.

“How long?” I asked, checking the clock on the wall. This shit would be like watching water boil. Time would tick by slower than ever.

“Three hours maximum. Be on your toes. Are all the members there?” The sound of paperwork being shuffled around on the other end of the line broke my trance with the clock.

“Yeah, they’re here. We’re having a party tonight.”

“Good. Talk to you soon.”

When the call disconnected, I turned the phone over in my hand, trying to decide what to do next. As I looked around the room, taking in the place I’d called home for more months than I cared to remember, it hit me. I’d never see Roxy again. I couldn’t touch her again and say goodbye. I’d vanish like the rest of the guys. She’d assume I was in jail, hopefully forget about me, and move on.

As soon as I thought the words, I knew it was bullshit. I didn’t want her to move on. I didn’t want to be forgotten. I was a selfish prick, because I hadn’t put much thought into how my presence in her life would impact her when I left.

When I should have felt a sense of joy and total relief, the only thing I felt was crushing sadness. I’d lied to myself. One lie had led to another and then snowballed. I loved Roxanne. I don’t mean I just loved fucking her or I liked her. Fuck no. I loved her with my entire being. Her sweetness and kind nature had captured my attention and eventually my heart. My head said,
No…just use her
, but my heart was a complete asshole.

Resting my chin against my shoulder, I inhaled deeply, the smell of her perfume still lingering on my shirt. As I closed my eyes, I thought of her face filled with laughter and the feel of her skin against mine. Falling backward, I let my body bounce on the edge of the bed before placing my elbows on my knees. Then I sat there like a dumbass and stared at the wall.

A loud pounding at the door drew me out of my self-imposed Roxy funk. “What?” I yelled, pushing myself off the bed and moving toward the door.

“Are you coming out for a drink?” the prospect asked me. I couldn’t remember his name, and I didn’t try.

“Move,” I growled as I pushed past him, stalking toward the common area.

Glancing at the clock as I leaned against the bar, I realized I had sat in my room in a total haze for an hour. Two hours or less and this shit would be over.

“Tequila.” I held up two fingers, needing the one-two punch that could only be delivered by such quantities of Patrón.

The prospect placed two glasses on the bar and quickly filled them. Before he could walk away, I slammed one back and said, “Another.”

Why do this shit sober?
I could have a nice buzz by the time everything went down. Since they were sending me to jail with everyone else, I wouldn’t have to handle a gun or read anyone their Miranda rights. The members of the club had been partying for hours, so I didn’t see any reason why I should be the only sober one.

The minutes slowly ticked by as I thought about Roxanne and how my life was about to change. Sitting with the boys, drinking, and laughing were just a façade for the violent storm of emotions that were battling inside me.

I downed another shot of tequila before sipping a beer, feeling a sense of guilt for the children who would become fatherless. It wasn’t my actions but theirs that would cause the eventual separation. When someone leads a life of crime, they take that risk. The women who loved them and had borne their children had known the eventuality of their incarceration when they had become their old ladies. The only people who didn’t have a choice in the situation were the kids. They hadn’t asked to be born into this life—they were the innocent victims.

I drank shot after shot, chasing each with the beer I nursed as I tried not to watch the clock. Time escaped me as my mind became fuzzy, my thoughts scattering as the liquor coursed through my veins.

I jumped from my chair as the doors slammed open. Screams erupted, women went scrambling, and chairs fell over as men stood and reached for their guns. Following their actions, I went through the motions to keep my cover.

James burst through the door, holding up his badge and a search warrant. “Put your weapons down and get on your knees.”

The men stilled, looking to each other to decide what to do next. I could see it in their eyes. They wanted to fight back, make this shit a blaze of glory, but we were outnumbered. Slowly lowering my gun, deciding to be the leader, I kneeled on the floor and tossed my weapon.

The law enforcement agents, which included DEA, FBI, US Marshals, and local law enforcement, waited with their weapons drawn, pointing at every member of the club.

“Give it up, gentlemen. We have an arrest warrant for each of you and a search warrant for the property,” James declared, shaking a piece of paper in his hand.

“Fuck,” Cowboy hissed as he followed my lead.

Murmurs and growls filled the space as each member laid down their guns as they dropped to their knees.

“Don’t worry, brothers.” Cowboy looked cocky and calm, not realizing the severity of the situation.

Even the best lawyer in the world wouldn’t be able to get the guys out on bail. Federal courts and crimes weren’t easy to deal with, and it was harder to buy off the judges. The case would be too big—on every major news channel—for it to be swept under the rug. People would scream foul if judges sided with the MC, with all the evidence we had been able to accumulate over the months.

James stalked toward me, placing his gun in his holster and grabbing his handcuffs. “John Lansing,” he stated, opening the handcuffs and attaching the first to my left wrist, “you have the right to remain silent…”

I blanched, always having hated that name. It wasn’t me and never would be.

He gripped my hands, sticking them behind my back. As he attached the second one to my right wrist, he finished reading my rights.

When I climbed to my feet, James marched me out past the other members. As I walked by, I found that each man was going through the process. I nodded to them, pretending it was going to be okay.

James stopped close to his car, far enough away from the building, and turned me to face him. “Shit is finally over.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I thought there were be some gunshots. Thank fuck for that.”

“If Rebel had been the head, there may have been. I’m just happy I’m one step closer to home.”

“They can’t wait to see you, Thomas.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, turning my back to him as I saw the door open.

“Get your ass moving,” he barked, pushing me toward one of the vans to carry us to the station.

Smiling, I dragged my feet, being a total asshole and making him push me in the direction.

“Move your feet!” he yelled, shoving me harder.

“Fuck off,” I replied, coming to a complete stop.

“You’re a dick,” he whispered before nudging me again.

Slowly moving my feet, I took step after step toward my ride to freedom. After climbing in, I sat in the back and watched as they loaded the rest of the guys in the three vans parked on the property. As soon as the doors slammed, they started to bitch and question each other.

“What the fuck?” Rooster adjusted his body, trying to find a comfortable position.

We all felt the same way, but some of us dealt with it better than others. Rooster was still nursing a shoulder wound he’d received during the shootout with the rival group that had
killed
Rebel.

“We’ll be out in no time,” I lied, and I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“We fuckin’ better. Cowboy better have some shit lined up.”

“I’m sure he does.” I smiled, knowing that the fucker hadn’t even thought about something as big as this.

With the issues with Rebel’s disappearance and getting the club in order, it hadn’t even entered his mind.

The guys joked on the way to our final destination without a care in the world. It was a pervasive issue in the MC—smugness. They thought they were invincible, that everyone could be bought. On the local level, I would have to agree, but on the federal level it wasn’t that simple. They’d find that out soon enough.

Once unloaded, we were each booked and placed in separate parts of the jail. No more than two club members were allowed in the same area. Splitting us up was smart, especially to keep my cover.

Staring at the ceiling as I waited, I listened to the prospect complain about being in jail. At my breaking point, I yelled, “Dude, shut the fuck up already!”

His face drained of all blood. “I’m sorry,” he said as he sat on the edge of his cot and stared at me. “I’ve never been in jail.”

“Get used to it. It’s part of this life. If you can’t handle the shit, you better get the fuck out now.”

“Yeah.” He adjusted himself, lying back and remaining silent.

As I drifted to sleep, I thought of Roxy, allowing myself to linger on the memory of her touch and smell while I waited for my freedom.