Chapter One
Cruz Livingston took a deep breath and willed himself to relax. He’d been undercover with the Red Brothers Motorcycle Club for a month—no, twenty-six days to be exact—and in his eyes, it was twenty-six days too long. Undercover assignments were never easy, but this had been like taking a fiery trip to hell the entire time.
He hadn’t expected the job to be sunshine and roses, but he’d obviously gotten soft, because Cruz knew some of the shit he’d been forced to do to “prove” himself would haunt him for a long time. He hadn’t killed or been pushed to rape anyone, thank God, but he’d threatened and beaten men up, and sold drugs. It was the selling of the drugs that had almost broken him.
It was ironic, the very reason he’d gone undercover—to stop the sale of drugs—was what he’d been forced to do from the very start of this assignment.
Cruz hadn’t seen much of Ransom’s supposed girlfriend, the person he was supposed to be getting close to in order to get information about the president. Her name was Angel, but from what Cruz could tell, she wasn’t much of a girlfriend, more like a woman he was screwing. Cruz had seen Ransom fuck women in the middle of the clubhouse, not caring who was watching, so he obviously wasn’t concerned about being exclusive with Angel.
Cruz’s original plan had been to get in tight with the girlfriend and see what he could find out about the operation through her. But he had quickly found out that wasn’t going to work. Ransom didn’t give a shit about Angel, so it would look extremely odd for him to be cozying up to the woman.
MCs typically had two types of women hanging around—bikers’ old ladies and club whores. The old ladies were somewhat respected by the other members of the club, and weren’t ever disrespected by the whores or anyone outside the tight-knit group. The whores, on the other hand, were there to fuck and to use. Period. The whores knew their place, and never complained about it, ever hopeful that one day they might catch the eye of one of the members and become an old lady.
Cruz figured many of them continued to hang around for the drugs they were given in return for their services far more than they wanted to be an old lady. It was hard for him to fathom why any woman would allow herself to be mistreated as the whores in this club were, free drugs or not.
In the twenty-six days Cruz had been a prospect of the club, he’d seen some of the worst treatment of women he’d ever had the misfortune to observe in all his life, and that was saying something. His job as a member of the FBI included some pretty gnarly things, but watching as a drugged-out, half-conscious woman got gang-banged by ten members of the Hermanos Rojos motorcycle club, who didn’t give a shit how rough they were, was one of the worst. The only reason Cruz hadn’t had to participate was because of his prospect status. Until he was deemed “worthy” of the club, he wasn’t allowed to participate in the orgies. Thank God.
Cruz knew he couldn’t save everyone, but watching the women essentially get raped by the MC members brought to mind his ex-wife. She’d never been raped, but Cruz hadn’t been able to save her from other seedy parts of life.
Cruz shook his head, trying to get back into the game. Standing in the middle of the Red Brothers’ clubhouse wasn’t the time to remember his fucked-up relationship with his ex-wife.
“Yo, Smoke, get your ass over here!” Ransom called from across the room.
Cruz had chosen the nickname Smoke when he’d joined the club. He hadn’t bothered to explain it, letting the club members think what they wanted about the name. In actuality, it was his friend Dax who’d come up with the moniker. They’d joked that he was sneaky like smoke…getting into every crevice of the Hermanos Rojos’s business and hopefully being the reason they were eventually taken down.
The only reason Cruz was able to infiltrate the MC was because an FBI agent who’d had a long-term undercover assignment at another club, near the border of Texas and Mexico, had vouched for Cruz when Ransom and his vice president had inquired. Simply being allowed in the clubhouse, and being privy to much of what went on there, was a huge step in being able to gather information on the club and hopefully stop one of the many entry points for drugs into the city.
He’d told Ransom and the others he was a part-time mall security cop. He had to have some sort of job, and doing anything directly related to law enforcement was definitely out, but he also needed a reason to look relatively clean-cut and not quite so “bikerish.”
Cruz ambled over to where Kitty, Tick, and three other members of the club were standing.
“What’s up?” Cruz asked with a chin lift to the guys.
“Got a job for ya,” Ransom said with disdain, obviously annoyed at something. “I’m keeping some pussy on the side, but she’s getting to be a pain in my ass. You know, demanding and shit, but I’ve got plans for her, so I can’t piss her off. She called and demanded to come over to the clubhouse tonight. I don’t particularly like her ass anywhere near here, but if I want to get in there and use her to get more high-class customers, I have to give in. I need you to go and pick her ass up.”
Cruz’s mind spun. He figured Ransom was talking about Angel, but he hadn’t been privy to what customers Ransom thought he could get by using her. Cruz wondered just what other plans the president of the club had.
“Sure thing. What’s the bitch look like?” Cruz’s words were sneered with just the right amount of attitude.
“She’s tall and skinny with big tits, which makes her nice to fuck. She’s got long blonde hair and fancies herself in love with a real live MC president.” The other guys laughed as if Ransom had said the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
“What’s the draw, Pres?” Cruz knew he was pushing his luck, but he wanted to see if he could dig a bit deeper and see if getting in with Angel’s friends was the only reason the man was hanging around her.
“The draw is that we’re trying to expand business, and Angel is beautiful to look at but dumb as a rock. She’s got access to a whole new set of customers…fancy-ass rich women, and we need to draw them in. She’s so enamored of my role, and my cock, she’ll do whatever I tell her to. I know she wants to continue to suck my MC president dick, so she’ll do what I want, no questions asked.”
Cruz didn’t like what he was hearing, but kept his voice even. “So, I pick her ass up and bring her back here, then what?”
“Then we throw a lame-ass party with the old ladies, no whores around, she sees we’re harmless, like a real-live, fucking romance novel or like that stupid-ass TV show, and she goes on her merry way. I get her hooked on me and the lifestyle she wants to believe in, as well as the drugs, and she’ll be my ticket to selling to her rich friends.”
Cruz’s stomach turned. He wondered if this was how his ex had started out. He didn’t know Angel, but there was no way he wanted to be a party to anything Ransom had in store for her, never mind her friends.
When he’d volunteered for the assignment, the goal was for him to gain some knowledge the FBI could use to remove just one of the avenues for drugs getting into the city, and if necessary, plant the seed for placing a more long-term agent inside the club. Since Cruz wasn’t supposed to be there for months, he was to gather evidence about their drug-dealing so the agency could keep their eye on the club and, if things went as planned, bring down some of their contacts as well. No one knew how deep the Hermanos Rojos were with the big players.
Ransom wanting to use innocent women—although always a possibility; they’d known about Angel going in—was something that would never be all right with Cruz. If he could save Angel in the process of shutting down some of their supply lines before he got out, all the better.
“Sounds easy enough. Pick her up, bring her here. Got it. You got her address?”
“Better. I’m tracking her. Planted a bug in her purse. Bitch doesn’t go anywhere without that huge-ass bag.” Ransom flicked a small electronic device in Cruz’s direction. “You’ll see where she is. Bring her ass back here at eight. Not a second before. We’ll do the party thing, I’ll take her home, fuck her, and be back here by eleven. Then we can really party.”
The other men around him laughed crudely.
Ransom focused on the other members of his club. “Make sure the whores are back by then. I’m in the mood for a gang bang tonight. Angel’s tight pussy just won’t be enough. There’s nothing like fucking a whore when she’s tied down and squirming for more.”
Cruz laughed along with the other men at the president’s words, while cringing inside.
“One more thing, Smoke,” Ransom warned as Cruz started to leave.
Cruz turned back to the president and lifted his chin.
“Angel has a bitch of a sister who doesn’t want her to have anything to do with the club. She’s been riding Angel’s ass, and I’m sick of it. Do whatever it takes to keep her skanky ass away, even if that means you put her out of commission for a while. That bitch had better not fuck with my plans, otherwise she’ll find herself hurt in a way so she won’t be able to mess with me.”
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