Last Mile Page 8

  “I’m glad you figured that one out.”

  “But I’m not. You know it just makes the case harder if he’s really a decent guy,” I argued.

  “That’s true. But at the end of the day, what we’re doing doesn’t mean sending Bishop to prison and throwing away the key. There are a lot of parameters in this case. He and his brothers play their cards right, and they won’t be locked up forever.”

  While I nodded, I didn’t tell Gavin what I was really feeling. The truth was in that moment, I had a hard time imagining seeing Bishop punished. In my mind, I hoped there was some way he could cop a deal and plead out of any charges. If they were truly giving their guns to the cartel, then the bureau would be much more interested in taking the cartel down if the Raiders would help.

  “Stop overthinking, Vargas. I’m starving for some fucking waffles,” Gavin said, bringing me out of my internal tirade.

  I laughed and let him lead me into the restaurant. At the sight of us, Peterson waved us over. The place was fairly empty, with only a few sleepy-eyed truckers as the other patrons.

  When we reached the booth, Peterson’s gaze roamed over my heavy makeup and skintight attire. “We really have to stop meeting like this, Vargas.”

  I snorted as I slid into the seat across from him. “I have a feeling a burlap sack wouldn’t stop you from ogling me, you old pervert.”

  Peterson threw his head back and laughed. “I’m never able to get one over on you.”

  “And you never will,” I said as I picked up the grease-encrusted menu.

  After the waitress got our order, Peterson asked, “So, how did your first MC party go?”

  Although my mind still spun from trying to process all I had seen and heard, I gave an apathetic shrug of my shoulder. “Meh, it was okay, I guess.”

  Peterson’s bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows shot up. “Just ‘okay’?”

  “Actually, it was pretty tame. Apparently, all the exhibitionist sex and nudity happens at the rallies, not the parties,” I replied.

  “Did you find that out from some of the old ladies?” Peterson asked.

  “Actually, Bishop was the one who let me in on that little secret.”

  “Ah, you had a little chat with the target. What’s your take on him?”

  At the insinuation of getting to know Bishop, I jerked my gaze up from the menu to stare at him. When I saw he wasn’t suspicious, I replied, “Yeah. I did. I found him to be quite the fount of information about certain things.” I didn’t dare look at Gavin. Instead, I glanced back at the menu.

  “You find out anything else besides the party-versus-rally info?” Peterson questioned.

  “Not anything good that we can use in the case, but I did really well when it came to rattling him. We had a long time alone together while Gavin helped a prospect get a keg in the warehouse.”

  At the mention of the warehouse, Peterson forgot all about me. Instead, he turned his bright eyes to Gavin. “I had no idea you would get inside there so quickly. See anything useful?”

  Gavin shook his head. “Nope. It was a total bust on physical evidence. No suspicious crates or boxes, no empty spaces where a shipment might’ve been or was about to be. If the Raiders are still running guns, I don’t see how it’s possible they’re doing it out of that warehouse. Maybe they’ve got something going off the property.”

  When Peterson gave a frustrated grunt, Gavin held up his hand. “I said I didn’t get any good physical evidence, but the word of mouth from the prospect, Joe, was pretty good.”

  “So the old adage that a frustrated prospect is your first point of club knowledge rang true?” Peterson asked with a grin.

  “Yeah, it certainly helped.” He leaned forward in the booth and lowered his voice. “Apparently, there’s a big powwow coming up between the Southeast chapters of the Raiders. Louisiana all the way to the Carolinas are meeting at the chapter headquarters in Virginia.”

  “When?”

  “The end of the month. The prospect was a little vague on the actual date.”

  “We need you at that meeting. Think you can work on Bishop in the next few weeks for an invitation?”

  Gavin nodded. “From what Joe was saying, the other guy that’s also prospecting really isn’t working out. He fucks up one more time, and he’s out. Joe was bitching about the fact that if this dude gets kicked out before the meeting in Virginia, he’ll be running his ass off for everyone as the lone prospect. They’ll need someone reliable to go along. I’m thinking it might be me.”

  “Good. You keep working that angle.” Peterson then looked at me. “You’ll be along for this one, too, Vargas.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “We need you front and center with Bishop. If we can have him rattled, we’re likely to get more information about what’s going on at the meeting.”

  “So more revealing clothes and whorish behavior?” I questioned humorlessly.

  “Not entirely.”

  Intrigued, I asked, “What exactly do you need me to do?”

  Before he answered me, Peterson downed the rest of his coffee and then waved the waitress over. Once we were alone again, he said, “Ideally, you need to be his shadow. More than anything, we need you on the back of that bike. As a hang-around, Gavin won’t be allowed in the inner circle for any briefings before or after the meeting. If we have you there, you can pick up everything—from each time they stop to take a piss to before they meet up with the other Raiders.”

  “Jesus, Peterson, from the way you talk you want me standing beside them in the urinals.”

  “I would totally be down for that,” Peterson replied with a wink.

  “I’ll try my best, but you can forget me being anywhere near germ-infested urinals.”

  Gavin glanced between us. “While that sounds great in theory, just how do we get Sam on the back of Bishop’s bike? I mean, do I suddenly have a malfunction with the bitch seat on mine?”

  I shook my head. “As a hang-around, you won’t be taking your bike.”

  “Huh?” Gavin asked.

  Leaning forward in my seat, I replied, “Prospects and hang-arounds don’t get to ride their bikes on a run. Because they haven’t earned full privileges yet, they end up driving a truck or car, which inevitably makes them stand out even more.” At both Gavin’s and Peterson’s surprised looks, I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t read up on that part?”

  “I’m sure I read it—I just forgot it,” Gavin mumbled.

  “Do you mean to tell me the mighty McTavish actually forgot something?” I teased. He responded by maturely throwing a wadded-up napkin at me.

  “So if Gavin is driving or riding with Joe, we just need a way to get you onto that bike,” Peterson said.

  “No need to worry about it. I’ll get on that bike.”

  “How?” Gavin asked.

  “I don’t know exactly at the moment, but I’ll figure it out.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think this fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants attitude is good. We need a plan.”

  “The plan is simple. I use my assets and our newfound friendship. It needs to happen in the moment. Anything too rehearsed will look suspicious.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  I grinned. “Oh, I know I’m right.” I turned to Peterson. “Now, how about the bureau footing the bill for some waffles? Being a femme fatale has made me work up quite an appetite.”

  Peterson chuckled before turning to Gavin. “When it comes to Vargas, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

  “Damn straight,” I muttered.

  SIX

  BISHOP

  There were a lot of things that brought me pleasure in life—sex, boxing, time with my family—but none of them quite compared to the feeling of taking my bike out on the open road. The sheer exhilaration of the wind rippling your clothes, the way the world melted into a blur of colors, and the freeing isolation of there being nothing but you and the road. Those were the reasons t
hat called to all types of men, from the weekend warrior with his nine-to-five office job to the upstart desperate to stick it to the man. Preacher Man had called it a balm for his soul, and I couldn’t have agreed with him more.

  I didn’t have to glance at my watch to know we were making good time. Since we made the trek yearly, I knew the route to the Virginia headquarters of the Raiders by heart. Each of the Southeast chapters was summoned to meet once a year to take care of necessary club business. While the actual meeting lasted an hour at best, the better part of the weekend was spent hanging out, getting drunk, and catching up with our other brothers. And fucking. Lots of fucking fresh ass.

  But this year’s trip had a different feel than usual. It was because of what our chapter planned to discuss at the meeting. While we might have already been unofficially legitimate, we needed to have the approval of the board to make it official. For the most part, what we were doing was uncharted territory, so we weren’t sure how our other brothers were going to take it.

  There had certainly been a tense feeling in the air as we packed up this morning. The blinding glare of gleaming chrome filled the Raiders parking lot when I stepped out of the clubhouse. Raiders from all over north Georgia had come out for the run. I spoke to a few of the out-of-town guys as I made my way to the bike.

  Since I was a less-is-more kind of guy when it came to packing, I finished with my rucksack earlier than the others. Leaning back against the seat of my bike, I watched as my brothers and their old ladies, girlfriends, and sweet butts scurried around.

  Across from me, Deacon had squatted down to address a pouting Willow. “Do you really have to go, Daddy?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I do.” He cupped her chin. “But don’t be sad. You’ll barely have time to miss me, since I’ll be back at the end of the weekend.”

  “Promise?”

  Deacon smiled as he pulled Willow into his arms. “I promise.”

  “And you’ll bring me something back, right, Daddy?”

  I chuckled at her request. All of us knew Willow’s expectations for presents if we were gone more than a day. We wouldn’t dream of disappointing her, so we always got her something.

  Deacon pulled away to eye Willow. “You’re a spoiled little shit, you know that?”

  “Deacon!” Alexandra’s voice admonished him from behind them. She bounced baby Wyatt in her arms as she gave Deacon a disapproving look.

  “Sorry, babe,” he replied, smirking.

  Although the trip was primarily about business, it didn’t mean that the women were excluded. Since she had the baby, Alexandra would be staying behind, along with Annabel, who had some vet school work. She was currently wrapped in Rev’s arms, gazing up at him and smiling. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the utter domesticated pussies Rev and Deacon had become.

  But there was a part of me—one I didn’t much like to admit to—that kinda envied them. In our world that seemed to constantly tilt and turn, it would be nice to have someone you could count on who wasn’t one of your brothers. Considering that I ran like hell when it came to commitment, I didn’t hold out much hope of me having what my brothers had. It didn’t help matters that the one woman lately who got my blood up and running was fucking unattainable.

  Searching through the crowd, I easily spotted Samantha’s jet-black hair shining in the early-morning light. It was the first time I had seen her since the night we met. Even though I hadn’t seen her, she had certainly been on my mind. She looked just as good in person again as she did in my fantasies. I shifted my dick in my pants at the sight of her body in the painted-on jeans, a skintight black AC/DC T-shirt, and knee-high boots. With a cup of coffee in hand, she watched Joe and Marley as they double-checked the van. It was almost as if she sensed me looking at her, because she jerked her head and met my gaze. As I threw up a hand, she rewarded me with a smile and a wave.

  Wishing to put her out of my mind, I pushed off my bike and walked over to my brothers.

  “Are we ready?” I asked Rev.

  Without taking his eyes off Annabel, he replied, “Archer’s doing the final run-through. Once he clears us, we’re ready to go.”

  I nodded. Before I was made sergeant at arms, I had been the road captain, as Archer was now. Big runs like today’s were always such a pain in the ass to coordinate. You had to plan ahead where your stops would be, because with such a large group, you couldn’t just make a stop out of nowhere, and there was always the factor of finding biker-friendly places.

  A few minutes later Archer strode up to us. “All set. Everyone knows the route formation and the stops.”

  Rev reluctantly pulled away from Annabel to pat Archer on the back. “You’re a good man.” He then turned to the waiting crowd. Raising a hand over his head, he called, “All right, boys, we’re pulling out.”

  Cheers and catcalls rang out among the guys, followed by the gunning of motorcycle engines. I waved to my sisters-in-law, gave Willow and Mama Beth a hug, and then slid onto the back of my bike. Once Rev and Deacon pulled out into the road, our secretary and treasurer, Mac and Boone, followed them. Then it was my turn, followed by the next-ranking member, which in this case was Breakneck because of both his age and his years in the club.

  Although it had been a number of years since Breakneck went on a run, he had felt his presence was required on this one. If he was needed, he fully intended to testify in front of the officers about what had happened to his daughter, Sarah, which led to us going after Annabel and our deal with the Rodriguez cartel. I was glad to see that Kim was going along with him. On the outside, they had little in common—the doctor and the former stripper. But they were bound together by the MC world and the tragic shit that had happened to them. While they hadn’t been together long, he probably thought she would be good moral support, not to mention a good time, since Kim was fun as hell.

  At the very end of the line was Archer, who had to ride last as road captain, and then pulling up the rear was the van that held Jolting Joe, Marley, and Samantha.

  We pulled into Stuckey’s, one of our Tennessee favorites, at a little before ten. The mom-and-pop diner was a favorite among truckers as well as bikers. After grabbing a quick breakfast and taking a break to piss, we assembled back outside.

  When I got to my bike, Samantha stood waiting on me with a bright smile. “Hey there.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “It’s good to see you again. Marley and I sure had a good time the other night.”

  “So did I.”

  She ran her hands over the handlebars of my bike. “You have a real sweet ride.”

  I couldn’t help beaming at her praise. “Thanks. I rebuilt this one.”

  Samantha’s dark eyes widened. “Get out.”

  “No. I really did.”

  Shaking her head slowly, she said, “You do have a talent.”

  “I appreciate you saying that.” With a grin, I added, “Although I can’t help being a little surprised that you know a hunk of junk from a sweet ride.”

  She laughed. “You can blame Marley for that one. He bores me to tears sometimes talking about bikes.” Glancing over her shoulder at him, she sighed. “I’m sure he wishes he could be out on his bike now. It sucks seeing all the beauty of the road from inside the van.”

  “You’ve never been this way on a bike?”

  “No. I haven’t really gotten to take a good ride before. We’re always cooped up in town.”

  “You mean, you’ve never really been out on the open road before.”

  “Nope. I’m an open-road virgin,” she replied, then winked.

  I chuckled. “That’s a pity.” As she continued to stare longingly at my bike, an idea popped into my head, and I acted on it before I really thought it through. “What do you say about riding along with me the rest of the way?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Once again I remembered that she had a boyfriend. The last thing I wanted to do was piss Marley off,
so I quickly added, “As long as it’s okay with Marley.”

  “I don’t think he would mind, but let me ask.” She waved Marley over and then asked him.

  He glanced from her to me before grinning. “Of course it’s all right with me. Then I won’t have to hear her bitching about how much longer it is till we get there. I swear, she turns into such a whiny kid when we go on a road trip.” He slapped me on the back. “She can be your problem, buddy.”

  “Asshole,” Samantha muttered before leaning up to kiss Marley’s cheek.

  “Yo, Marley, let’s go!” Joe called from over by the van.

  “Well, I’m being paged. See ya next stop.”

  “See ya, man,” I said.

  As we started loading up, I handed Samantha my helmet. After she slipped it on, she smiled. “Thanks again for letting me ride with you.”

  “You’re welcome. Of course, you might be cursing me when we start around the winding mountain roads going ninety.”

  Her face paled. “Seriously?”

  Cocking my head at her, I asked, “Having second thoughts?”

  She swallowed hard. “No. I’ll be fine.”

  I laughed as I got on my bike. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.”

  “You better. If I end up roadkill, I’ll find a way to haunt you as punishment,” she said as she slid on behind me.

  “That’s a real threat.” Glancing behind me, I gave her a reassuring smile. “Believe me when I say that nothing is going to happen to you.”

  “Okay. I believe you.”

  “Good. Hold on tight.”

  As I gunned the engine, Samantha’s arms came around my waist. When I squealed out of my space and onto the road, her arms squeezed me with a deathlike grip. We rode like that for several minutes before she finally got used to the speed and eased up a bit. I knew she had finally gotten comfortable when she leaned in closer and propped her chin on my shoulder. It was the first time I’d ever had a girl on my bike who was as tall as me.

  “Pretty amazing, huh?” I called.

  “Yeah. It is,” she shouted back.