Page 32 of The Enforcer

Rolling my eyes, I raise my hands over my head and drop to my knees. All around, anyone with a cut on is forced to their knees, guns aimed at us. When I make eye contact with Shane, his eyes are burning with anger as he steps away, allowing the dickhead cop that was following us to approach me, pointing a gun at my head.

With a grin, I ask the cop, “You didn’t want to enjoy the games today? I can win you a stuffed animal too.”

Chapter Fourteen

Zeke

“Fuck you, you motorcycle riding piece of shit!” The cop yells in my face, his hand shaking as he waggles his gun at me. “Get the fuck down!”

With rough hands, he pushes me down, my face landing in the dirt. I growl in irritation, since I just got this shirt and lined up my goatee. This fucker is lucky he has a badge because even that gun wouldn’t keep me off his ass.

“Hey!” Shane shouts, stepping forward quickly.

The cop puts a knee in my back, then aims his gun at Shane. “Back the fuck off!”

In a voice that barely contains my anger, I say, “Step back, Shane. This stupid bitch is terrible with gun safety. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

As I expected, the gun is aimed back at me. “That’s a good boy,” I mutter, laughing when the cop releases a sound of frustration.

Shane’s curse is low and hard as he looks around at what’s going on around us and hears the shouting of the cops and the screaming and crying of the kids. He’s really sensitive, so I know he’s having a hard time with what’s going on because of the club.

This is one of the reasons why I didn’t want Shane to get involved with me. I wanted him to stay far away from this part of my life. Even though he knows what we do and had a hand in helping Rax escape the country, he’s never been a part of the downside—the dangerous side—of what we do. This is a crash course for him and I don’t like that I can’t protect him. If I didn’t fear a fucking bloodbath, I’d knock this cop on his ass for pointing a gun at Shane in the first place.

The muzzle of the gun is pressed to the side of my head and the cop threatens me in a growly tone. “Keep fucking with me and I’ll end you.”

“And I’ll make sure to not only have your fucking badge, but I’ll have you thrown in fucking prison,” Shane growls. “As the attorney for the Devil’s Mayhem Motorcycle Club, it’s in your best interest to move your fucking weapon from the head of an unarmed man that is not a threat to you.”

The cop keeps his weapon where it is for a few beats, then moves it. “Don’t threaten me,” he says petulantly to Shane.

“Fuck you,” my straitlaced attorney growls back and something stirs in my gut. Shane being this angry and taking it out on the cops is the biggest turn on.

Tamping down my arousal—because who gets hard with a cop’s knee pressed to their back?—I look around as much as I can at what’s going on. Normal civilians are being herded away from the event by men in tactical gear, mothers holding their children close and fathers ushering their families away, looking back at all of us lying face down on the ground.

I meet Prez’s eyes and his are burning. I know he wants to do something, but what can we do? The cops have us by the balls. Luckily for us, Prez halted bringing the drugs with us and the other chapters were told this was a drug free event. They have nothing, so I’m just going to bide my time until they give up and let us go. We might have to spend a few hours in a holding cell, but they’ll have to let us go without probable cause.

And we have a lawyer here that will ensure we’re out before long.

“Who’s in charge?” Shane asks.

A deep voice answers from behind him. “That would be me. Agent Schwartz, DEA.”

Well, well, well. This must be what Captain Mathews had up his sleeve. We all put our heads together, trying to figure out what his trump card was. Can’t say it wasn’t clever, but that bitch should have waited to act on the tip about the clubhouse if he wanted to catch us and put us all away.

Silly rabbit.

Cuffs are slapped on my wrists and I’m hauled up to sit on my ass while Schwartz and Shane talk.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Shane asks, throwing his arms out to encompass the chaos around us. I crack a smile at the picture he cuts—his red and twisted with anger as he gestures around with the large peep in his hand.

“Who the hell are you?” Schwartz gives Shane the once over, curling his lip.

“I’m their lawyer and I demand to know what the hell is going on!”

The DEA agent puffs his chest out and grins like he’s hit the jackpot. “Drug bust. Seeing as they crossed state lines with an untold amount of cocaine, federal charges will be laid against them.”

“Drugs?” I ask, fixing my face in a mask of confusion that I know looks phony as fuck. “We don’t do drugs, officer. We were all in the DARE program. Just say no, right?”

Schwartz’s face turns red behind his bushy beard and I smile, knowing he wants nothing more than to beat my ass. If Shane weren’t here, I’m sure he would have.

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