Page 33 of The Enforcer

Shane looks torn on if he should go to Prez, since he’s the one that pays him and president of the club he represents, and staying with me because he belongs to me. I tilt my head in the direction of Prez. He’s the one with the President patch on, the one they’re more likely to fuck with. I’m just the guy that makes sure our members follow the rules and beat the ass of anyone that fucks with us. I’m almost at the bottom of the barrel.

Blowing out a deep breath, he nods, turning back to Schwartz. “I’m going to confer with my client. I need the warrant you have for disrupting this peaceful gathering.”

Shane walks off, glancing back at me. Schwartz follows after him, standing just behind him as Shane exchanges words with Prez. After they’re done, Shane turns to Schwartz with his hand out. Visibly bristling, Schwartz slaps a piece of paper in his hand. Guess he didn’t count on us having a lawyer with us today.

The two of them have a heated conversation that I can’t hear the words of even if I try. Letting Shane handle his business, I look around at what’s going on. There are DEA agents and Georgia state police meandering around, searching the saddle bags of our bikes, ripping through seats of our F-350, tossing shit out of people’s backpacks and digging around in the toy bins. It’s a mess, items strewn about everywhere. Luckily, there are no drugs to be seen. It just sucks that all the toys are being opened and destroyed.

Dogs are brought out, prowling around and sniffing wherever their handlers indicate. None of them alert anywhere, much to the frustration of their handlers, the other cops and the DEA agents around.

I’m not sure how long we sit out there, all of us peering around at the other, but it’s fucking hot and I’m tired of sitting in one spot. I try to make myself more comfortable, but with the hard ground and my hands cuffed behind my back, it’s not fucking likely to happen.

Eventually, officers all gather together, standing close as they talk. The DEA agent gestures around, hands on his hips as he goes from angry to confused. Shane walks over, listening to what’s going on, then he joins in on the lively discussion. I wish I could be a fly on someone’s lapel to hear what’s going on, but I’m sure Shane will tell Prez, who will then tell us if we need to know what’s going on.

After a few minutes, Schwartz throws his hands up, stomping off like a petulant child that didn’t get his way. Shane looks at his retreating back with a smug smirk, then turns to the cops. They all look at him like they loathe his presence, but they disburse from their huddle and make their way over to us, uncuffing our hands from behind our backs.

The officer that put a gun to my head stomps over to me, hauling me to my feet and roughly turning me around so he can uncuff me.

When my wrists are free, I turn to meet the cop’s eye, trying to rub the soreness away. Smiling a smile that shows all the pissed off I can muster, I say, “That was a waste of taxpayer dollars. I hope your next endeavor is more fruitful.”

With a look of pure disdain, the officer scoffs and storms off. Looking at Shane with a playful expression, I ask, “Was it something I said?”

He laughs heartily, wrapping his arm around my waist and pushing the peep against my chest. “You’re trouble.”

I kiss the top of his head. “I know.”

We walk over to where Prez, Christian, Joker, and the other presidents and VPs are gathered. Joker’s stern expression clears when he sees us walking towards them. His eyes drift over to the peep I’m holding and he pouts.

“Fuck man, I wanted to win a teddy bear too. My man would have loved one of those stupid peeps.”

We’re silent for a moment, then we all crack up laughing, even Prez. I’m sure if we had the coke on us, nothing would be funny. But we’re all in the clear because of Prez, so even things that wouldn’t normally be so funny crack us up.

After the laughter has subsided, I give Shane a kiss and tell him I’m going to help with the cleanup effort while he talks to the big guys about what Shane said to the DEA agent and whatever else legal shit he wants to tell them.

Everyone does their share, picking up destroyed toys and tossing the garbage back in the cans. It’s bullshit that we have to clean up what they fucked up, but whatever. No reason to have the cops on our asses for littering.

Once everything looks presentable, we get started on getting our rides together. There is no damage to our bikes, so it’s mostly repacking our saddle bags and getting everything straight for the long ride back home. At a time like this, I wish I had a car so I could lie down and shut my eyes because of the bullshit.

After I’m done, I walk over to Prez, who’s talking to Joker and Christian. “It has to be the person that called in that tip,” he says as he glances at me. “First, they say we have drugs at the clubhouse, and now on the ride? It can’t be a coincidence.”

“If it is,” Joker says, “that person is dumb as fuck. He basically gave you a heads up to prepare for some trouble.”

“Well, his stupidity gave us some warning, which is why we’re not in cuffs now,” Christian mutters, shaking his head.

Prez looks around, dropping his voice, then tells me, “Someone told the police captain we would be bringing over two hundred kilos of cocaine to this charity ride, which is why they had the DEA showed up, ready to make a mass arrest. They searched every stitch of our cars and choppers and found nothing. That’s why Schwartz is so pissed. Looks like caution kept us out of prison. We’ll talk more about how we’re going to change shit up, since the rides will probably be hot for a while.”

I’m not sure how, but we have to find who the fuck dropped this tip. I’d hate it to be one of our brothers that ratted us out. I don’t know most of the guys from the other motorcycle clubs that came on the ride with us besides Joker, so I can’t be sure it wasn’t one of them.

That’s not very likely, since the police captain in Mellbind said they were going to shut us down. That alone is reason enough to think that whatever is going on is because of someone from Mellbind.

I’m sure Prez will send us out to ask some questions. Hopefully we can come back to him with some answers.

Or a body.

Chapter Fifteen

Shane

Before my interview, I’m buried up to my eyeballs in work. The DEA agent that headed the raid against the bikers at the charity ride has since called to apologize, telling me he had concrete proof that there would be copious amounts of drugs at the event. From what he told me, there was over one hundred thousand dollars invested in the bust, everyone expecting to take down notorious drug dealers.

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