Page 3 of Gypsy's Lady
San Diego
“Fuck.” He expelled the word on a huff of air as he slammed his shoulder into the man running up the forest path away from him. All the legal declarations had been taken care of half a mile ago, and now he was reduced to simple physical actions. Breathe. Stride. Breathe.
The force of the impact knocked them both off their feet, and Doug rolled as he fell,coming up sharply against the trunk of a tree. Lungs spasming for air, he clawed his way upright just in time to see the other man gain his feet, mouth hanging open wide as he sucked in oxygen.
Doug’s vision narrowed as he watched the man reach to the middle of his back. Doug launched himself as the man’s eyes widened in surprise, his hand coming back in view, still empty.Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.You leave a piece shoved in your ass, it’s gonna fall out when you fall down. The man had only gotten two running paces away from him when Doug hit him again. This time Doug retained his balance, going down smoothly with a knee in the middle of the man’s spine, flailing wrists quickly secured.
“You have the right—” He puffed, sucking in his first full breath since knocking the air out of himselfon the tree. The rest of the Miranda warning was provided in the same fashion, staccato delivery not mattering as much as the fact he got it all out there. “Do you understand these rights—” He paused, hearing crunching in the leaves. Someone was coming, and from the cadence of the approaching footfalls: fast. He twisted to glance over his shoulder as Joel barreled into view.
Doug flipped hishair back, irritated at the long strands that had escaped the band which was how he normally kept it tamed. Chin-length, it was no longer annoying on a regular basis, just in situations where he wound up with it in his mouth, which honestly…was more often than not. Leaning over the man prone beneath him, he glared at the patches positioned in the center of the man’s black, leather vest. Malcontents,the same patch riding between his own shoulder blades.Lotta fuckin’ changes.
Their two-week gig with the gang and organized crime task force had drawn out far beyond what anyone had expected. Finally, years later, they were running the warrants to put a criminal organization into the ground. With money funding them from overseas, the Malcontents were a motorcycle gang that had grown out of control.Regardless of what the original founders might have intended, the hand of Al-Qaeda was at the helm these days, and their money paid to bring thedepraveddesires of the men in chargetolife.
Joel settled to one knee beside the current club president, the same man who was nowspectacularly eating dirteven as he tried to breathe with Doug’s full weight on his ribs. “Change is coming.” Joel tippedhis head up and stared at Doug as he spoke. “You’re done. So done, you’re going to disappear within a night of going inside.” He paused, and with emphasis said, “I know all about Mexicali.” The body under Doug turned rigid, his very stillness exposing so much. “Know about the little girls. That means you got about five hours before you die. I will have zero compunction about making that call.Hell, even our allies won’t hesitate to see you bleed when they know what you’ve done. Dead man walking.” Joel turned back to the man and reached underneath him, yanking at a patch of fabric sewn to the leather. “By-laws say president passes to the next inlineunless that person is unfit. Seein’ as he’s inMexiright now, playing at setting up for your games, I’m sayin’ your boy is unfit.” Joeljerked again, and Doug heard threads break. “Malcontents are about to have a change in direction. I’m the new king here.”
“Fuck you.” Those words were so filled with anger Doug tightened his grip.
“No, fuck you.” Joel stood and shoved the president patch into his pocket. “Good thing for me, you patched in our favorite little po-po right here.” He winked at Doug. “Surely makes my life easierto know you opened that door. I see the future of my recruiting process clear as day. We’ll turn the club blue. Walk a fine line.”
“A blue line?” Doug grinned, adrenaline beginning to drop as he wrenched the handcuffs in place finally.
“Hey, catchy name. Think I’ll change mine. Hound never really fit me, ya know? Blue Line, president of the Malcontents. That’s got a real ring to it.”
Doug staredup at Joel. This evening marked an end to the partnership started in the squad room of a precinct neither of them had wanted to serve.It was always supposed to be temporary. Joel gripped his shoulder, then nodded. “You can drop the name, Grinch. Doesn’t suit you anyway. Drop the colors, too, man. I’m telling you now, you are not welcome in my club’s house. Don’t come back.”
Doug pushed to hisfeet, yanking the man from the ground.
Joel leaned closer, voice coming out as a hiss as he spoke to the ex-president. “And you, scum, you aren’t welcome on God’s green earth, far as I’m concerned.” Joel spat, splattering the man’s cheek and jaw. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, my momma always said.”
Withthose words,Joel turned and walked away without another word. Doug stayed in place a moment,then shoved the dirty biker back to the path. He dug through a pocket for his phone, dialing 9-1-1 and waiting through the automatic responder’s prompt before he gave a clear, succinct description of who he was, where they were, and who he had in custody. Minutes later they reached the trailhead to see only two bikes stillinthe parking lot, Joelgone, long in the wind.
***
“Sir.” Doug acceptedthe handshake the captain offered. “You wanted to see me?”
“We’re going to miss you, Tatum.” He led the way into the office and then closed the door behind Doug. “Good work, son. Real good.” Doug tipped his head. It had been a good series of busts, the result of some damn fine work. They’d served nearly a dozen warrants, seizing more than a million dollars of drugs from the Malcontents’ supportclubs. Nothing on the Malcontents themselves had stuck, though, and Doug suspected it was the government’s way of cementing Joel’s new undercover position. Something which sat so easily on Joel’s shoulders, it didn’t seem like a role any longer. Doug waited, knowing Joel’s continued UC would be the purposeofthe office interview. The captain didn’t beat around the bush, getting right to the point.“You talk to Graham at all since you dug out from under that gang filth?”
Hearing the club members generalized like that irked him,andDoug took a breath as he shoved down those feelings. Not all the club members were criminals. In fact, other than the top levels of leadership, none of the men had known who their sponsors really were. Hadn’t known about the extracurricular activities of theirofficers, either. Most of the men worked jobs, had families, voted, paid taxes, and also loved bikes and the brotherhood found on two wheels.
Captain shifted impatiently and cleared his throat,andDoug realized he hadn’t responded. “I have not, sir.”
“Navy pulled him back from us and rolled up their own task force around what you found.” Doug nodded. He’d known that much already. “Heard he’sstaying undercover with the gang.”
“It’s a club, sir.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “The Malcontents, they’re a motorcycle club, not a gang.”
The captain sighed heavily. “No, son, they’re a gang. I didn’t have a”—he did air-quotes with one hand, the other pushing through his hair in an irritated motion—“motorcycle club task force. I had a gang and organized crime task force.If they aren’t agang, then they’re organized crime. What they aren’t is a club.”
Doug let that settle for a moment, turning the words over in his mind until he was convinced of the untruth of the statement. “Well, sir. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that.”
“You’re going back to Indiana.” Shaking his head, the captain spat the words as he stepped behind his desk, putting some distancebetween them. Something Doug had been looking forward to happening years ago now settled on him like a lead weight. He already missed Joel and the Malcontents. “Your old captain is gone, but the district is pleased to be getting you back. None of us expected this to last as long as it has.”
Thereminderof where they’d begun stirred something in Doug’s mind,andhe asked, “Norwood and Thornton.They still around? I’d like to say goodbye before I head out.”
Captain’s features sharpened, his mouth grew taut with some unexplained emotion as he stared at Doug for a long minute. Shaking hishead,he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “You were out there. Under, you know?”
“What?”
“You were undercover. I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell you, but I guess somehow I figured you’d seeit in the papers.”
