Page 90 of Beyond the Badge: Crew

If a woman was desiring some physical contact, all she had to do was go work at a biker bar. Cami learned quickly to spend the least amount of time on the floor and as much time behind the bar that she could. Having that two-foot-deep barrier between her and the customers helped somewhat.

Despite that, a few had reached across the bar and pinched her nipple or grabbed her breast. In any other establishment, they would be charged with assault.

If she wasn’t undercover, she’d teach those handsy motherfuckers a lesson. But since she couldn’t, she had to grin and bear it as best as possible. At least for now.

She only ventured out from behind the bar to take orders and deliver drinks but when she did, she darted like a rabbit escaping a hungry fox by weaving in and out of tables, chairs and bodies.

She tried not to stay in one spot too long unless she caught some interesting chatter the task force or even the DEA might be interested in. That was the only time she lingered. Other than that, she wanted to stay as close as possible to the Demons, her main focus for working there.

Both last night and again tonight, the bar was mostly full of bikers that, unfortunately, didnotinclude Demons. She only saw maybe one or two playing pool and drinking, besides the so-called “employees.”

Last night when she stayed after the buy, she had worked with Cap, the Demons road captain according to his patch, as well as Hook. One other guy came out from the back to grab dirty glasses, empty the trash and clean up any messes.

No surprise that plenty of messes needed to be mopped up. More than only spilled beer. If it could come out of an orifice, it could be found in a corner, on a table or the floor. She was glad she wasn’t given that job or have to clean the restrooms. The women’s room was disgusting as it was, she couldn’t imagine how atrocious the men’s room was.

She didn’t want to imagine. She’d most likely be scarred for life.

Donnie, the poor guy assigned to those duties, was shy, lanky and young—maybe eighteen—and didn’t wear a Demons cut. When she asked if he was a part of the MC, he stated he was considered a “hang-around” and hoped to be a member one day when he could afford to buy a “sled.”

Having that as his future hopes and dreams depressed Cami. The kid should be getting an education, or learning a trade, and aspiring to be more than a Deadly Demon. Especially since that club might not even exist after the feds were done with it.

Tonight, she was working with the same crew. Bulldog was overseeing the joint, Cap was busy pouring beers and Hook was tasked with serving “specialty drinks” to customers or random people stopping in to get their fix.

A couple of those buyers looked no better than the walking dead. Meth addiction did quite a number on the human body.

She was doing her best to keep track of how many deals were made out in the open across the bar. If she didn’t already know what was in those disposable coffee cups, she might not think much of it.

But she did and dealing out in the open like that was brazen.

While alcohol was still Hawg Wild’s main moneymaker, their drug sales had to come a close second.

And of course, every sale of meth or pot was paid in cash. She had no doubt whoever the Demons had doing their accounting was cooking those books. The Demons were smart in the sense that they knew the right businesses to buy to easily wash their drug money.

They must have taken notes from La Cosa Nostra, the Sicilian Mafia running Pittsburgh. Though, she couldn’t imagine that the Russos rubbed elbows with the Demons. Use them as mules to transport their product? Sure. Sit down to dinner with them to exchange ideas? Not a chance.

When she had read through the daily reports, some notes in particular had caught her attention. The task force, including all three groups, had heard some talk about the MC cutting out the Russos so they can deal directly with the Mexican supplier and then make all the damn profit.

Cami doubted the Russos would allow that to happen without any blowback. That blowback wouldn’t be a little pop followed by a sizzle. It would be akaboom, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth.

She had a feeling the Demons wouldn’t even know what hit them until it was too late.

The MC might be making good money selling meth, but the Russos had a complete criminal enterprise making them more money than God. It wasn’t difficult to figure out who would win if those two criminal organizations went head-to-head.

No matter who prevailed, devastation would be left behind and innocents might get caught in the crossfire. Cami was pretty damn sure that none of the federal agencies wanted to see a war between those two. If that happened, she could see the top brass snacking on Tums and guzzling Pepto Bismol to settle their stomachs and ward off heartburn.

A shouted, “Gimme a beer!” yanked Cami back to the bar from her wandering thoughts.

Damn.She shouldn’t drift off like that in this crowd.

She glanced down the bar to the “gentleman” slamming his empty mug on the scarred wood bar top.

“Yo, woman, bring me a beer!”

For shit’s sake.Though, being called “woman” was a step up from being called “bitch.”

She headed down to the biker. “What are you drinking?”

“Beer.”

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