Uncover Me Read online

  happen was to be around the people who knew me best. If anyone could bring me back to center, it would be my family.

  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.

  “Lansing,” a deep voice called out, interrupting my sweet dreams.

  Why couldn’t they just shut the fuck up and let a man get an ounce of sleep?

  “Lansing!” the voiced yelled again, fully breaking me away from the happy place I’d allowed myself to go.

  “What?” I said, not bothering to open my eyes.

  “Get up. Let’s go.”

  I looked over at the kid in the next bunk and sighed. “Good luck, kid.” Then I cracked my neck, stretching the soreness from my muscles. Turning, I saw that James was the one waiting for me. “Can I piss first?”

  “No. Stop stalling and get your ass moving.”

  “Motherfucker,” I muttered, adjusting my morning wood and fighting the urge to cold-cock him when the barrier between us was removed.

  “Put your hands through the bars.” He dangled the handcuffs in his hands, shaking them for effect.

  Grumbling, I did as I’d been told and then glared at him as he snapped them shut. Pulling them back through the bars, I waited for him to unlock the door without breaking eye contact.

  We didn’t speak as he walked behind me. Through the windows I could see the other club members encased in their cells—exactly where they deserved to be. A few others were being handcuffed and would probably take the same walk, but with a very different outcome.

  “Last room on the left.”

  Settling into the chair, I placed my cuffed hands on the table and waited for him to close the door. As soon as I heard the click, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “It took you fucking long enough.” I shook my hands, bringing his attention to them.

  “You’re such a sissy.” He laughed, grabbing the key from his pocket as he approached the table.

  “Want to switch places and see who can last longer without complaining?”

  “Shut up,” he teased, unlocking the cuffs before taking a seat across from me.

  “What’s the plan?” I scratched my longer-than-normal facial hair that had grown overnight. I wanted a shower more than anything. I barely felt human. The stench of old liquor and jail clung to me.

  “They’re all being sent to different federal holding facilities to await their hearings and eventual trials. Keeping track of each other will be almost impossible. You’re going to have to go to headquarters and be debriefed for a couple of weeks to be safe. After that, you should be able to go home.”

  I blinked, staring at him and processing the words. Home. Would it still feel that way to me after being absent for so long? I had never been away this long. Even after training and returning home for a visit, I had felt like I hadn’t quite belonged anymore. After a week, I’d fallen into the smooth, easy routine and felt like a Gallo again. Could I do that now?

  “When do I get to leave?” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs at my ankles, and stretched.

  “Bobby is on his way to get you, and you’ll be on a flight to D.C. tomorrow.”

  “Good. I can’t go back to that cell. Sorry again you got pulled away from the family.”

  “To get you out of this bullshit life it was worth it.” He smiled, running his fingers through his hair.

  “I just want it al
l to be over.” I tried to smile, but nothing came.

  His own faded as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where do you want me to begin?” I laughed without cracking a grin and shook my head. I could sit here all day and bitch about shit, but then I’d be playing into the “pansy” crack he’d made earlier.

  “You were in too long. They should’ve never let the case drag on the way it did. It was meant to be short term, but you got in too deep for them to end it. They saw the big fish dangling before them and didn’t care how it would affect you.”

  “I can deal with the shit. I can shake the life I’m leaving behind. There are a few casualties that I hadn’t put much thought into until now.”

  “Roxy?” he asked, resting his hands on the table.

  “Yeah. What happens to her now?”

  “Probably what happens to all the women tied to the club. They get by somehow.”

  “I’m going to vanish, James, into thin fucking air. It won’t sit well with her. She loves me.”

  “Do you love her enough to risk everything?” He tilted his head, studying my face. “She’d hold your life in her hands.”

  “I don’t know. I do love her, but what if she looks at me as a traitor?”

  “It’s something you’re going to have to decide and talk to headquarters about. They’d have to sign off on that shit.”

  “I know, and they’re going to be cocksuckers about it. That shit I know.”

  A knock on the door broke the silence that had developed as we both thought about the repercussions of this mission. When you’re inside, it’s hard to see the end. I’d lived day to day and hadn’t thought about the future. After a while, it’d felt like it would never get here, so I’d allowed myself to become one with my new persona. I’d thrown caution to the wind, and now, my heart would be the casualty.

  “Time to go,” James said, nodding toward the door and standing.

  I followed suit, sighing as I felt my shoulders slump from relief. “When will I see you again?”

  “I’ll meet you up in D.C. in a couple of days. I’ll be with you the whole time. We were both neck deep in this, and since I was your contact person, I need to be there. It’ll be soon.”

  “You’re coming straight there?” I asked as I moved toward the door, quirking an eyebrow at him. I wondered if he’d take a side trip to see Izzy before he met me.

  “Yes.”

  I grabbed the doorknob and turned slightly. “When you call Izzy, can you tell her I’m okay and to let everyone know I’ll be home soon?”

  “I’ll tell her. She’ll be relieved.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they all will be.”

  Chapter 9

  At times, I felt like a criminal as I was debriefed at DEA headquarters. I’d been grilled hour upon hour, day after day, and it was becoming annoying. I was ready to go home. I’d given the agency enough of my time.

  James had arrived a few days after I did and had been put through the ringer too. We were outsiders within the agency. Everything that had occurred while I’d been undercover was called into question, and we were both being asked to explain the actions. We had been interviewed about the evidence, our behavior, and everything in between. Finally, after fourteen days, we were told we could leave, but had to be ready to come back when called.

  Before I went back to the hotel to pack up my shit, I headed to the deputy