Missing Ch. 21-30

His left thumb brushed over my panties and crossed my 'red line' I turned into him, taking my plastic tray and slamming it into his face, beer bottles and all. With him off-balance and leaning back in his chair, I pushed forward and knocked his chair over. He still had a hold on me, so I let myself get carried over, so I landed on him with my knee in his crotch.

I felt someone grab me and pull me away as three members of the Iron Horsemen started kicking the shit out of the guy. I recognized Blade as the guy holding me; he was a regular who'd taken an interest in me. "You all right, Destiny?"

The bouncers moved in to break up the fight; they tossed the welder out when I told them what happened, and the Horsemen got a round of beer on the house.

I was making inroads.

It took a week before we got our first solid intelligence.

Ch. 23

Bonnie Woods' POV

Full Throttle Strip Club

Kittery, Maine

Blade, the forty-year-old Iron Horseman who had pulled me away from the welder, made his move Friday night. "Let me take you out after closing, Destiny," he said as he grasped my left hand in his fingers. "We can eat pancakes and eggs and get to know each other."

I rolled my eyes. "Where the hell are you going to find pancakes at three in the morning?" Kittery, Maine was a small town, and Portsmouth was a sleepy city of under twenty-five thousand. The streets practically rolled up until five or so. "And don't tell me the answer is 'my kitchen.' Once the bars close, all you have are gas stations!"

"True, but our clubhouse in Manchester is less than an hour from here. We've got a prospect who used to be a short-order cook, and the kitchen doesn't close until everyone is gone or passed out."

"You want me to go to your clubhouse with you?" He'd been watching me, but taking me to his clubhouse was another thing entirely. I'd heard stories about how they treated the biker sluts that hung out in those places. It was expected that you would fuck or suck any patched member who asked. If he didn't claim me as his before the Club, I was just another biker slut, and an old one at that. "Why? I'm tired, I just got out of a crappy marriage, and I don't even know your real name. I'm not looking to be one of your club whores, and I'm old enough to be your mother."

"My Mom doesn't look anything like you, Destiny. You're what, twenty-nine?"

I laughed out loud. "I've got T-shirts that are twenty-nine, Blade. Thanks for making me feel better," I said as I patted his cheek.

"I've never gotten in trouble underestimating a woman's age. Well, as long as she was over eighteen," he replied with a grin.

I bet. "I need this job until I can get back on my feet. If the manager sees me leaving with a customer, he'll be thinking I'm a hooker, not a date."

"Anyone with a brain could tell the difference. Why would I be at a strip club and only have eyes for my waitress? All these young girls are prancing around naked, and I'm focused on the redhead with the killer abs and the fantastic ass who has stolen my heart!"

I could see the bartender waving at me, and the orders were stacking up. "I have to work, or my tips are going to suck. I'll let you know later," I promised. It took me a while to catch up with my customers. and on my next break, I called my fellow agents. "I think I should do it," I told them.

"It's dangerous," Lee Peng told me. "No way can we do it without a backup plan, and Resident Agent St. James will have to sign off on it. Tell him you can't do it tonight, but maybe tomorrow."

Blade was disappointed when I said no, but he smiled again when he realized I said 'not tonight.' He stuck around after closing and walked me to my hotel room. "Thank you, Blade," I said as I reached the door. I reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. It felt weird since Blade was only the second man I had kissed on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"I'll be there, Destiny." I locked the door behind me and watched through the window as he got back in his pickup truck and drove off. I heard the connecting door to the next room opening as I let the curtain go. "Did you talk to Allison?"

"She called a meeting about it for noon tomorrow at the office," Lee replied.

I rolled my eyes at that. Saturday midday meetings for the Task Force? I'd take the blame for ruining weekends. "I can't risk going to the DEA offices in Portland while I'm undercover!"

"I know. Use a burner phone and call in. You'll have an answer before your shift starts."

I sat down on the bed and took my shoes off; my feet were killing me after a long shift. "Are we making any progress?"

"It's hard to tell. The bikers are disciplined enough not to get into details, but occasionally a seemingly innocent comment makes us believe the meeting will happen soon. We know the Clubs are getting ready to host the Presidents of other Chapters. There is no reason for that unless a Biker Summit is happening too."

Having served these guys for a week, I shook my head. "Can you imagine how difficult it would be to organize that thing? The chances of it going down without gunfire are pretty low."

"Let's talk about your (air quotes) date."

"I've been thinking about it, and I want to go forward."

"It's dangerous. We're not going to be listening in, and we can't be right across the street. If your cover gets blown, those bastards will kill you."

"I don't think so," I said. "I've got tits. I'll never be allowed in the room where Club decisions get made, and I don't know any of their secrets. I'm no threat to their plans. All they will care about is WHO I do. If they find out I'm a cop, it's Blade that will get killed, not me. He's the one bringing me to the Clubhouse."

"They still won't talk with you around, Bonnie."

"You'd be surprised what guys might say to get in a girl's pants. Even if he doesn't spill, I might be able to plant a bug or two where it would help."

His eyes widened at that. "These guys don't mess around. If they catch you with a wire or a bug, they WILL kill you. They won't care you're a cop."

"I'm sure our tech people can help me avoid that, and I won't do anything the first time I go there. That's when they'll be the most paranoid about me." I couldn't talk about how I could overhear things on the other side of the room or through walls. "We should get a warrant for some GPS trackers and get them on the bikes and vehicles of the leadership. If we can't figure out ahead of time where they are meeting, we sure as hell can watch them coming together."

"It's a hell of a risk, Bonnie, and it might not get us anything more than we get at the strip club! If they don't talk outside of Church, we don't have a case."

"It's worth a try," I said. "I'm tired. I'm going to take a shower and get some sleep. I start work at four tomorrow."

He stood up and headed back to the connecting door. "I'm going to head north and try to get a couple of hours of sleep at home. You know what the concerns will be, so think about how we can minimize the risks."

"Thanks, Lee." It was all I could think about until I fell asleep.

I woke up with a sore back, thanks to a crappy mattress. Bonnie could afford to go to a gym, but Destiny didn't have any money. I put on exercise gear under cheap grey sweats and runners and headed out. I jogged a mile to a park that had 'exercise stations' and did what I could, then did a ten-mile run. I finished with stretching and yoga on the brown grass, preferring that to the questionable carpeting in my room.

The meeting was interesting. After almost an hour of heated debate, Allison nixed the idea until our team could find a way to keep me safe inside. "It's different with female undercover agents," she concluded. "Males can get beat up and killed. A woman is going to be gang-raped and THEN beat up and killed. The risk far beyond the reward, so I'm unwilling to take it."

I wasn't happy with it, but the boss had spoken. Blade was there at four with two of his buddies; the people around him changed during the night, but he kept an eye on me. About ten, I stopped him as he came back from the restroom. "Can we talk? In private?"

"Sure, Destiny." I led him to a table that I knew wasn't bugged. "Are we on for tonight? I found out I have Sunday off now."

His eyes brightened. "Hell yeah!"

"I have some reservations." I put my hand in his. "I need to know I'll be safe and that you'll bring me home when I ask."

"I've already talked to the President about this. Everyone knows you are with me, and they'll respect that. If you're uncomfortable, I'll bring you home. I'm hoping you stay with me, though. We'll have fun."

"I bet we will," I said. "Here's the deal. Give me thirty minutes to shower and change after work, and then we can head out." Yes, I was going ahead with it even though my boss rejected the idea. Yes, this was dangerous.

I didn't care. I needed the Club to point me to where the Cartel was hiding. I needed to find the Cartel operation to track down the cook and his guards. If I died, I died.

I promised Sean I wouldn't kill myself if he died, but I never promised I wouldn't do something that might get me killed.

I said goodnight to the agents in the next room then took a quick shower. I dressed in yoga pants, ankle boots, and a Harley Davidson shirt covered by a black hoodie. I was standing outside when a white panel van stopped by me.

Three men dressed in all-black with ski masks jumped out the back. I turned to run, only to feel the Taser darts hit my right leg and left butt cheek. The electrical charge froze me, and I dropped to the ground.

Thirty seconds later, I was handcuffed, hobbled, and wearing a black hood on the hard floor of the van.

And nobody knew I'd left my room.

Ch. 24

Destiny's (aka Bonnie Woods) POV

Somewhere in Kittery, Maine

The van drove through the city streets, and I had no way of knowing where it was going. I felt a big hand on my shoulder before he spoke. "Don't struggle. I have orders to bring you. You can arrive in as much pain as you want."

"Fine," I said as I relaxed. I didn't recognize the voice or scent. I calmed myself and let the Taser jolt effects fade away. I was slowly regaining the use of my arms and legs though they remained bound. My kidnappers had pulled the darts out, and the spots were bleeding slightly. I was thanking the Goddess that I hadn't peed myself, though.

I focused on the scents around me and recognized three of the four. I wasn't surprised; the only person who knew I'd be coming back out of my room was Blade, and these were his Club members. Blade wasn't in the van, which could mean he was in more trouble than me.

Or, he gave me up.

Either way, I knew Skidmark, Fever, and Tartarus were in the van with me. The first two were patched members of the Iron Horsemen, while Tartarus was their Sergeant at Arms. It made sense he would be here; his Club responsibility was security and waging war. If they'd figured out I was a cop, his job was to cauterize the leak. Tartarus was a scary guy, forty-some years old, the size of a linebacker, with a deep scar along his left cheek he got as a Prospect. Our task force file said he was a suspect in a half-dozen murders. He took the name of the Greek dungeon of torment and suffering for the wicked, where souls go to be judged and punished. If there was a better description of his Club office, I didn't know it.

I hoped it wouldn't describe the rest of my night.

I didn't know where we were going. We drove on, longer than it would take to get on the freeway. If we got on the Interstate, I could be anywhere by morning. We were moving fast now, slowing occasionally for curves, so we were on a rural road. I could smell the salt air, meaning we were close to the ocean. It didn't help me much since I'd lived and worked a few hours north of here. It did mean that instead of heading towards their Clubhouse, I was heading into the unknown.

The van slowed and turned onto a gravel driveway, and a minute later, it came to a stop. The guys got out and opened the back door. Skidmark pulled my legs out, then picked me up and set me on my feet. Fever cut the rope at my ankle. "If you try to run, Bonnie, you get a bullet in the ass because I'm not bothering to chase you," Tartarus told me.

"I'll behave," I promised. Going undercover at my age and so close to a high-profile funeral had always been risky. I had to wonder how long the bikers had known. Still, now wasn't the time to escape. No matter what the DEA and State Police suspected, pinning my death on the Horsemen would be difficult. No, I had to convince them to let me go.

They left the hood over my head as Skidmark and Fever walked me down a concrete sidewalk towards the water, with Tartarus following us. The sidewalk became a patio, then a wooden walkway down to a pier. I could hear the waves breaking on the rocky shoreline and the echoes of footsteps on the rough wooden planks. I went forward twenty steps before we stopped. "If you try anything, I put one in your gut," Tartarus promised.

My escorts uncuffed my left hand, moving it above my head and wrapping my wrist with a leather cuff. While they were securing my left hand, I smelled another familiar scent. I was about to say something as they moved my right wrist into the cuffs. I didn't have time because Tartarus kicked me in the stomach.

I stumbled back a step only to find nothing under my foot. I let out a scream as I started falling helplessly, only to scream in agony the rope snapped tight. I felt my left shoulder dislocate as I swung back and forth in the darkness.

A hand grabbed at my head, pulling the hood off. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and looked around in the darkness.

I was at the end of a pier, hanging over the water. The cuffs were attached to a rope and pulley at the end of a davit and winch setup used to raise and lower traps and catches from the boats ten feet below. Back on the pier, a single dim light backlit the four standing men who'd brought me here plus one more. All were wearing dark snowmobile suits or winter jackets, gloves, and ski masks. "Detective Sergeant Bonnie Woods, Penobscot County Sheriff's Department," the new man told me.

"If you wanted to talk to me, Red, you could have bought me a beer," I replied. "There was no need for you to make Skidmark, Fever, and Tartarus commit felony kidnapping to have this conversation. I'm sorry, I didn't catch the other guy's name."

My revelation shook them. "How the fuck," Skidmark said before Tartarus slapped his chest.

"Shut the fuck up," Red told him. He looked directly into my eyes and pulled his ski mask off. "How did you know?"

The other guys started pulling their masks off as well. "You smell like those cheap fucking cigars you step outside to smoke. Tartarus has some nasty-ass halitosis. Fever uses that Old Spice deodorant that doesn't work very well, and Skidmark has a nervous habit of tapping his knee. I'm a Detective, Red. It's my fucking job to figure shit out."

Red nodded, then looked over to Tartarus. "We may as well get started, then. This fucking cold makes my knee ache."

Tartarus stepped forward. "This is how it will go, Bonnie. We're going to ask you questions. If you lie to us, I'll lower you a foot or so. That seawater is about thirty degrees, and it won't take long for you to get hypothermia and drown. You'll want to stay above water."

"Why would I want to do that if you're going to kill me anyway? I know who you are, and the Feds take that kidnapping shit seriously."

Red lit up a cigar and let out a chuckle. "You're not very fucking smart, Bonnie. We went to great lengths to make sure you couldn't identify us so we could let you go, and you open your fucking yap like you WANT us to kill you. I know you lost your husband, but I didn't know you were suicidal."

"It makes it more believable when she washes up onshore," Tartarus said.

I laughed. "In this cold water? It's too cold down there to allow decomposition, and the gases from the bacteria are what make bodies float. The lobsters and fish will eat a body before anyone can find it." I twisted my body so I could keep looking at them. "All that said, I'm either fucking crazy, or I did this on purpose."

"Maybe both," Red said. "What were you doing at the Full Throttle?"

"Trying to gain intelligence on the outlaw clubs in the Northeast," I replied. "The strip club is neutral ground, and we've heard rumors of a potential truce between the Clubs. We wanted to know where and when the leadership was meeting, so we bugged all the booths. We have a warrant for your clubs, so all I have to do is tell the others which booths you are in, and they record the conversations."

I could tell Red and the others were surprised they didn't have to beat it out of me. "What did you find out?"

"Not a lot. You guys don't talk Club business outside of church. We look for little things, like someone saying 'I'm looking forward to seeing x' or 'I got a room set up for y.' We know the Summit is in the next couple of days. We don't know where yet."

"And Blade?"

I laughed, then grimaced as the cuffs pulled at my injured shoulder. "Blade has been sniffing my ass since the first time he saw me. He wants in my pants, but he's never said a damn thing about Club business."

"You were trying to use him to get to us?"

"Sort of, Red. Blade would get me to your clubhouse, but it was too dangerous to bring bugs or trackers in until I was more of a regular. I told them it wouldn't be much better than the strip club unless I could get a bug into your meeting room."

The guys moved away, whispering to each other and not knowing I could hear every word. Tartarus had a knife out, and he was moving towards the winch. "Tell me one reason why we shouldn't kill you now, Detective," Red asked me.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," I replied. "That's why you're throwing in with the Hell's Angels, Outlaws, Saracens, and Exiles in the first place. Your Clubs are getting forced out of the narcotics market by the Cartel New Generation Jalisco. They're a bunch of sick fucks who make your outlaw clubs look like fucking Boy Scouts. You're more afraid of them than us, and you should be. They'll wipe you out one by one and take over everything."

"You want to lock us up."

"I hate them more than you, Red. Cartel shooters ambushed my husband and gunned him down in the street. The Feds and the Troopers don't have a single fucking clue who did it or where they are now. I've got a couple of months until I retire, and then my sources go away. I volunteered to go undercover because I thought you might lead me to the Cartel, and I could get my revenge."

"Putting those fuckers in jail isn't justice."

"No shit. I was hoping to find out and take care of it myself. I want to see the fear and panic in their eyes when they realize I'm there to kill them. I want to stand over them as they bleed out. I want to hear the rattle of their last breath." My eyes flashed in anger. "I live for my revenge, Red. I'm using the DEA as much as I planned to use you."

Red didn't look convinced. "How would it go if I let you live?"

"I need you to tell me where the Cartel is when you know. I don't give a fuck about you or a summit or the other clubs. That's your business. I want you to point me to the right place when you find the Cartel guys. Let me take care of them for you while you save your people for the coming war."

"You expect me to be a fucking rat? An informer?"

"I expect you to realize that working with me is a smart play. If I take out Cartel personnel, it's a win. If the DEA gets them, it's a win. The only losing play is going head to head with these people. Play defense while you prepare for war. Let us wear them down first. Plus, my fellow agents know I was going to your Clubhouse with Blade tonight. You don't want the kind of heat on you that my disappearance will bring. "