Undercover MC (5 page)

I saw an opportunity to grab for some real intel. “Like today at the bar? Was he planning something big and dangerous for tonight, and you disagreed with it?”

Jed hesitated, and I saw the moment that his eyes snapped back into focus and he realized what he was talking about, and to whom. “Oh, that was just a random argument, I wouldn’t worry your pretty head about it,” he said.

Fuck. He was coming along so nicely, too.
I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was surprised at how much he had let slip and was wary about how it happened. And why.

I couldn’t let my one shot at cracking this mission become too suspicious. There was no choice but to drop it and laugh it off. “Well, arguments happen!” The forceful bubbliness after the questioning felt forced, but it looked like Jed bought it.

“I have to head out now, Leslie. I’ll see you tomorrow at the bar. Noon, ok?” He rolled out of bed and started putting clothes back on. Once his colors were back on we exchanged one last look, and then he was back out into the daylight.

~~~

T
he mood in the bar was exuberant. It felt odd to put that label on a pub full of bikers, but it was the truth. Whatever illicit doings the Winged Enemy MC had been up to in the middle of the night, it had paid off big time.

I’d let my superiors know that there was some sort of event happening last night, but with no more details than that it was a fool’s errand trying to catch them in the act. Even with several patrols and a helicopter with advanced sensors, anyone operating this close to the border with Mexico was an expert at scrambling any pursuit that may or may not be there. The DEA couldn’t afford to up the visible law enforcement presence in case it tipped our hand to a spy within the club.

I found myself again on the other side of the bar from Gus, although this time I was a lot busier pouring drinks around him to his friends. The big older man seemed perfectly content to sit there and chat with me, ignoring everyone else as though the bar wasn’t livelier than it had been in years.

This may mean that Jed’s authority within the club takes a blow. Everyone knows that he has been opposing Frank’s plans, but they seem to have gone off without a hitch last night.
I had made more in tips just in the first couple hours of my shift than I made over two days with the DEA. It was mind-boggling, but bartending was a study in rollercoasters. Some days you made out like a bandit - or outlaw motorcycle club - and some days you couldn’t buy a tip.

“So where are Jed and Frank at?” I asked Gus.

He waved his hand off towards the distance, as though that was supposed to mean something. “Oh, they have some stuff to wrap up. I’m sure Jed will be here to see his sweetheart soon.”

Is he talking about me?
It was weird to hear anyone refer to a couple that had sex twice as sweethearts, let alone a hardened biker.
Not that Gus is the most hardened biker I’ve ever seen.

Loud shouts from outside the bar drew my attention, although few of the men around me seemed to hear it. The flash of guns through the window triggered my training, and I hit the deck behind the bar just as the windows facing the street shattered and the sound of countless rounds of ammunition being fired roared into the building.

The sound was more intense than anything I had ever heard. I had been through a huge amount of arms training, but nothing short of going to war could have prepared me for being on the wrong end of what sounded like dozens of guns firing.

Luckily the bar afforded me some protection, and I huddled as close to the ground as I could, hands over my ears, as the back of the bar was riddled with holes. Liquor bottles shattered and poured their multi-colored blood all over the old wood finish. It was impossible to tell whether any of the bikers were even still alive, but it sounded like several shots were being fired from within the building out onto the street.

Movement at the edge of the bar made me jump and raise my fists ready to defend myself until I saw that it was Gus dragging himself around the corner. I reached out and did what little I could to help pull him to more safety, but there was only so much I could do against how heavy he was.

He had multiple bullet wounds across his back, which had been facing the windows. From my first aid courses I knew already that he was a goner. I spared a brief moment of pity for this old bear of a man who had only shown me kindness, but then a lull in the firing gave me no more time to mourn.

I leaned over and took the gun out of Gus’ holster. He wouldn’t need it anymore. His back had already stopped moving. He would breathe no more.

The silence after so much painfully loud noise was deafening. It was impossible to know if I couldn’t hear anything because there was nothing to be heard, or because I had suffered some hearing damage and just couldn’t tell. I decided to risk a quick look around the corner, but I had to crawl over top of Gus’s body to do so.

Movement outside of the window, no motion inside.

It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Anyone who was still alive would be doing the same thing I did, hiding and not presenting a target.

I risked another peek. A whole contingent of cars peeled out from where they had been parked alongside the bar, fleeing the scene. One car with four men standing outside of it was all that was left.

Ok four men, that’s not too bad. If there is anyone else alive who can help then we can easily take them out together. If not... well, I had always been a great shot in training, we’ll see how I do in my first real fire fight.

It was amazing how calm I felt after I just narrowly missed having my brains blown out and with it still a very real possibility. I had been more nervous just walking over to Jed for the first time than I was about to face down four unknown men with unknown capabilities who had just shot up a good portion of the dangerous biker gang I had come here to infiltrate.

It must be the adrenaline. My thoughts are running a mile a minute. I bet after this is over I’m going to cry my ass off like a little baby and puke my guts out.

The front door opened, and I heard the men enter. A couple shots rang out, and I didn’t know what was going on until Gus’s body jerked beside me and I saw a bullet hit his leg.
They must be shooting everybody they see, double checking to make sure everyone’s dead.
With a job that thorough, there’s no way I would survive just by hiding behind the bar.

The men were conversing, and I could make out the Spanish and Mexican accents. I didn’t understand what they were saying, but it wasn’t a stretch to figure out.

I tightened my grip on the gun and took a few deep, steady breaths.
This is it. Who would have thought that the most dangerous part of the mission wasn’t the bikers themselves, but their enemies?

A flurry of shots and shouts erupted in the bar. It caught me by surprise just before I leapt out to make a last stand.
Some of the men must still be alive, then!

I stuck my head out around the bar just far enough that I could see the Mexicans hiding behind a couple of booths. I couldn’t see who they were exchanging fire with, but neither side appeared to be making any progress. One of the new men gestured to his mates and began to crawl in my direction to the end of the row.

I constructed a mental map and used the gunshots to try and place all of the combatants. The Mexicans were between the bar and the door, and hid behind a wall that separated the booths there. The Winged Enemy members, or at least those that remained alive in the building, must be holed up in the far corner, where Frank and Jed had conducted their business the other day.

Of course, there’s that door back there.
I didn’t know if it led directly outside or if there was some sort of office there.
I don’t know why they don’t just run and get out of here or at least get help.
The important part was that they were far enough away and attracting all of the Mexicans’ attention.

The man on his hands and knees crawled around the row of booths. He wasn’t heading for the bar, after all, but instead trying to flank the bikers. There was a chance that if the bikers were forced to retreat out of the Roost then the Mexicans would follow without looking around, but if they didn’t then I was dead meat. This was my chance.

I looked around the corner again. The three Mexicans closer to the door were involved with trying to pop around and shoot the bikers, while the one crawling away was almost to the point that he would be able to fire from a new vantage point.
I will only have the element of surprise once.

As tempting as it was to shoot the man closest to me, that would alert the others and then I would only have a couple seconds before three guns were pointed my way. Maybe two if I could get off another shot.

My focus was still extraordinarily clear, and I double checked the gun to make sure it was ready. I took a deep breath and held it, slowing down the exhale as I stood up and set my stance.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Three shots, and the three Mexicans across the way were taken care of. My first shot hit the intended target in the back of the head, exploding his face out to cover the booth in front of him. The others flinched away in shock and fear, and my second two bullets took them in the back. My shooting instructor would be pleased.

A bullet whizzed past my face and buried in the wall behind me.

I dropped down behind the bar and set my back against it.
Was that the last Mexican or one of the bikers, not knowing that I was here helping them?
Whichever it was, the Mexican would soon be on me.

Waiting for any sign of him was eroding the confidence and calm that I had been under up until that point. I didn’t dare pop my head out first; that would almost certainly guarantee that I wouldn’t have a head for much longer.

A loud shot rang out, and I thought I was dead. Instead, I heard a gurgle of blood on the other side of the bar.

“That got ‘im dead! The others are goners, too!”

I had almost forgotten about the bikers in the back corner. They had noticed the lack of fire from the three Mexicans, and had come out to investigate. And had probably saved my life. I carefully slipped the gun back into Gus’s holster.

“I’m back here!” I shouted. Startling the bikers after what they had just been through would likely be the death of me if I just popped up without saying anything.

“Shit, the bar girl’s still alive?” The voice of the man who announced the end of the Mexicans followed. I stood up slowly.

There were five men in colors throughout the room. Two of them were checking the three men I had shot, one stood over the last Mexican, and the other two were going around looking at their fallen comrades in case any were still alive. The one closest to me who had shot the final Mexican looked like the one who had spoken.

“I’m here. I’m so glad you saved me!” If I could play down the fact that I killed three of the men, it would be a lot better for me.
No normal girl would have been able to do what I did. I hope they didn’t realize the three shots I had fired had come from me.

“Hold up,” said one of the men over by the three dead Mexicans. “Something isn’t right, here.” He looked over at me, and then back to the bodies. “We didn’t take out these boys. They were shot from behind. Look at how this sucker’s brains are splattered all over the wall here.”

Well, fuck.
I had to think fast. Continuing on with the damsel in distress act would only work me in deeper if they cottoned on to the truth.

The adrenaline was fading fast, and my hands started to shake, tears welled up in my eyes, and I let them. “I shot them.” I was proud of the way my voice wavered. “I thought I was going to die anyway, so I took Gus’s gun and I shot them. I’ve shot before with my dad, and I... I guess I just got lucky.”

It was hard to tell if the biker bought it. It was a bit of a stretch. Unless someone was a total gun nut and practiced all the time, the odds of taking out three men with three shots were next to impossible. Hell, even for a federal agent it was beyond impressive. My success at staying alive could very well be what got me killed.

The men stood around the bodies, looking at them. Finally the skeptical one walked over to the bar. “Where’s the gun?”

I swallowed nervously. Putting it back in Gus’s holster was a huge mistake. There was no chance that a normal girl would have done that. There was no way to explain it, really.

I just pointed, not trusting myself to speak.

The man knelt down to take the gun out, pausing to give Gus a couple pats on his still back. This biker had a brass patch on his jacket, and with the high of the fight coming down, I finally recognized him. The man I was talking to was Nathan, the road-chief of the Winged Enemy MC.
No wonder he didn’t want to back out of the fight and leave the Devil’s Roost to... whoever these men were.

“So let me get this straight,” Nathan drawled. “A pretty bimbo of a girl shows up, seduces our vice president, and starts working at the bar. Two days later, in a massive shootout, she kills three Mexican mobsters with three shots. And then she slides the gun back where she found it and pretends like we saved her, when in reality it looks like it was the other way around.”

Well when you put it that way, it seems kind of obvious. This isn’t good.

From a mixture of fright and not knowing what to say, I stayed quiet. I hoped it came off like I was too shell-shocked to speak, and it was mostly the truth. The biker’s eyes bored into mine, seeking the truth.

“Alright men, we’re going to the headquarters. And you,” Nathan pointed at me, “are coming with us.”

It was impossible to think of a way to get out of it without damning myself, so I let the road chief lead me along to his bike, where he made me get on behind him. We left behind a building that looked even worse than usual, windows shattered and bullet holes in the wall, but from the outside you couldn’t see the dead bodies and blood that covered the inside.