by Susan Stoker
Cruz didn’t like it. He knew Angel would be there tonight, along with her friends, not to mention the old ladies and club whores. There were so many things that could go wrong; it was almost a suicide mission to try to take down the club as quickly as the FBI was moving, but it was out of Cruz’s hands. He was somewhat surprised at the speed of the operation, but also secretly thrilled. The FBI had been after Chico Malo for a long time, and the connection between the Red Brothers and the Mexican drug lord was an added bonus to the op.
Cruz didn’t care why they were mobilizing so quickly, just that they were. The sooner he could end this mission, the faster he could come clean with Mickie and see if she’d be able to forgive him. He hoped they could continue their relationship after everything was out in the open, but he’d even be willing to start from scratch if that’s what she needed
The plan was for the agency to take Cruz into custody along with the rest of the club, to try to alleviate suspicion that he was undercover. Once the dust had settled and everyone had been hauled off for interrogation and incarceration, Cruz would be able to sneak out and disappear.
This was the biggest party Ransom had thrown with Angel and her friends since he’d started playing her. Bubba had been busy supplying all of her friends with both weed and cocaine. The women had begun to contact Bubba themselves, instead of going through Angel. Ransom’s plan had worked like a charm, and he no longer needed to keep stringing Angel along. He had her friends right where he wanted them, and she wasn’t necessary anymore.
Cruz knew Ransom was planning on getting rid of Angel at some point during the party that night. He’d had enough of her “hanging on him” and was cutting her loose. He planned to make it very clear if she retaliated by taking her friends with her when she left, she’d regret it.
He was glad, on one hand, that Ransom was going to finally make the break with Angel, but didn’t like to think about what Roach or any of the other members would do afterwards. Cruz was sure they were all dying to get their hands on her. If she was high on cocaine when Ransom scraped her off, there was no telling what she’d do to try to get back at him.
Cruz sighed. His “simple” undercover operation was anything but. It was fucked up ten ways to Sunday and all he wanted to do was hide in his apartment, in his bed, with Mickie.
“What’s up your ass, Smoke?” Camel demanded, walking into the large room. “Still pissed you can’t tap any of that?” He gestured to the other side of the room where Ransom was currently taking one of the club whores—Cruz thought her name was Billie—up the ass while several other members stood around with their gazes locked on the tableau in front of them, waiting for their president to finish so they could take their turn with the coked-out whore.
“Fuck no. Just ready for the party to start.” Cruz took a swig of the beer he’d been nursing for a while and waited for Camel’s response.
“Word is some of the prospects will be voted in tonight.”
Cruz knew Camel was fucking with him. He simply nodded.
“What? Not curious if it’s gonna be you? Don’t you want it?”
Playing his part, Cruz answered, “Fuck yeah, I want it. Wouldn’t fucking be here if I didn’t. But me wanting it means dick. Ransom’ll let me in when he wants to and not a second before.”
Camel nodded in agreement and approval. “Got that shit right.”
“When’re the bitches getting here?” Cruz was hoping Angel’s friends would be late and wouldn’t get caught in the raid.
“Around an hour I think. You hear we have a special guest tonight?”
Cruz turned to him. He didn’t know what the man was talking about. “Nope.” Hoping his lack of questioning would make Camel open up more, Cruz held his breath.
“Yeah, the fucking Bad Boy himself will be here tonight.”
Fucking hell. “Chico Malo?”
“Yup. Heard he was all pissed off at Ransom and his demands. They had some words and the prick decided to head up here himself to see what the fuss was all about. Apparently he and Ransom had a heart-to-heart and they’re all buddy-buddy now. Ransom invited him to check out the new rich pussy we’ve got and to show him why we need more blow.”
It was the most Cruz had heard Camel say at one time. He needed to get ahold of Dax and let him know the shit had just hit the fan, big time. It was quicker and easier to contact his friend, and Cruz knew Dax would pass the information on to the FBI and the rest of the team. Having Chico Malo at the compound when they were just expecting to take down Ransom and the club members was fucking huge. It upped the danger factor by a hundred and ten percent—but it would also make their job a hell of a lot easier if Chico Malo was indeed here in their territory and not hiding behind his evil minions across the border. Of course, it’d only be easier if Chico didn’t bring his army of thugs with him to the party though.
“Fuckin’ A. It’s gonna be a hell of a party.” Cruz lifted his bottle to Camel in a toast.
“Fuck yeah, it is,” Camel responded, then drifted off toward the gang bang that was now happening in the corner of the warehouse.
Cruz stood leaning against the makeshift bar, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. He had a bit of time before the task force would be heading out. He couldn’t bring attention to himself. He had to hang out and wait. Discreetly pulling out his undercover cell, he shot off a text to Dax. No one seemed to notice or care what he was doing, since a cheer went up in the corner of the room as Billie whipped off her bra and did an impromptu strip tease.
Cruz observed more people entering the large room. Slowly but surely it was getting more and more crowded. It looked like the entire MC had shown up for the special party. Dixie and Bambi were there, along with some of the stripper whores from the club. The alcohol was flowing and, at least for the old ladies and the whores, the drugs were as well.
He couldn’t help but watch Dixie swallow Ransom’s cock as soon as she was led to him. She knew the score. To get drugs, she had to service the president, but she wasn’t able to get him off before he threw her away from him and ordered Bambi to bend over the arm of the couch.
Cruz had to give the man one thing, he was always able to get hard. He had no idea how he did it, but he watched for the second time that night as Ransom fucked a whore in front of his MC as they cheered him on.
Finally, Ransom pulled out and jacked himself off all over Bambi’s back. She looked at him and smirked. Cruz observed Ransom slapping her on the ass then reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small baggie and threw it onto the cushion in front of her.
Bambi didn’t bother pulling her skirt over her naked ass before she snatched up the bag of drugs. She hurried over to a small table, fell to her knees in front of it and opened the bag. She poured the white powder out on the glass tabletop and immediately leaned over to snort it. She pushed away another one of the women who had come in with her when she tried to horn in on her stash. The woman fell back on her ass as the club members laughed.
Vodka hauled the second woman up with a hand on her neck. He leaned down and said something to her, most likely promising her own stash of drugs if she took him. She nodded enthusiastically, turned away from him, bent and grabbed her ankles, readying herself to be taken.
Meanwhile, as Vodka unzipped his pants, preparing himself to take her right there, Bambi was getting screwed by Tick as she leaned over to snort another line of the cocaine Ransom had given her, not even caring who was behind her fucking her.
Apparently the party had officially started.
Another hour passed and the members got rowdier and rowdier. The old ladies weren’t passed around as the whores were, but the members had no problem taking their women in the main room in front of everyone. Even though the old ladies were respected, mostly, by the members of the club, they weren’t treated well by any stretch of the imagination. They were expected to fetch drinks for the men, clean up, take the club whores to task when the men decided they needed it, and to service their men whenever
and however they wanted.
Eventually, Angel’s friends started arriving. Each time one walked into the room, one of the club members would intercept her and take her to the other side of the warehouse, away from the gang bangs, and get her to snort a few lines of coke. It was obviously all planned out in advance. They’d then pass her a joint and a shot of tequila and settle her into a tamer part of the clubhouse, away from the orgy but still in sight of it.
The club needed the money from the women, but they weren’t willing to tone down their lifestyle in the long run. There was a better chance of the women accepting it if they were high than if they weren’t. Ransom was hoping the high they got from the drugs was enough for them to overlook the harsher aspects of club life.
Cruz kept Angel’s friends in his sights as they started floating from all the drugs and alcohol they’d ingested in such a short period of time. The looks in their eyes reminded him too much of Sophie and how she’d looked at him the last time he’d seen her. He’d gone down to the police station after his friend, Quint, had called him and let him know she’d been arrested for prostitution, again.
He’d wanted to try one more time to get her some help. She’d looked up at him and smirked. “Hey, Cruzie. You here to get me out? Want to party?”
He’d simply shaken his head, asked Quint not to tell him when she was arrested again, and left.
Cruz was sipping his beer when the door to the warehouse opened. He saw Angel’s Asian friend—he couldn’t remember her name—enter the space, along with another woman, one he hadn’t seen before. She was curvy and sexy as all get out. Cruz’s gaze went from her hips and chest, up to her face—and he almost choked on the beer he’d been about to swallow.
Roach and Steel sauntered over to the duo and each took hold of their arms and steered them to the other side of the room, as the other members had done with all of Angel’s friends.
Cruz’s feet were moving before his brain could fully comprehend what he was seeing. He recognized the sway of those hips, the short black hair that brushed against her neck, now with a pink streak along the side…the wide-eyed look of innocence in her eyes.
Fuck. It was Mickie, and she’d just walked straight into hell. They were both fucked.
Chapter Sixteen
Mickie tried not to hyperventilate as the meanest man she’d ever seen took hold of her arm in a grasp she knew she couldn’t break, and steered her toward a corner of the large room. She’d only been able to catch a glimpse of the area before she’d been hauled off, but she knew what she’d seen would haunt her forever.
There were women bent over pieces of furniture all over the left side of the room. Most were completely naked, while some were still wearing some sort of top, but all were being fucked. None were struggling, but none were actually participating either. They just lay there, or stood there, as someone pumped into them. Mickie also noticed, in the quick glimpse she’d had, that there were men waiting to take their turn with the women. They had their dicks out and were cheering their buddies on as they waited.
The music was loud, and the stench in the room was eye-watering. Body odor, alcohol, weed, smoke, and who the hell knew what else.
Mickie had regretted her stupid decision to come as soon as they’d pulled up. Li had tried to reassure her, but Mickie knew in her gut she’d made a horrible mistake. There was no way she’d be able to covertly film whatever was going on inside the warehouse. She was an idiot.
She’d tried to get Li to let her take her car home, promising to come back and get her whenever she was ready, but Li refused, saying that no one was allowed to drive her car, but her.
Li had driven them to a part of San Antonio Mickie had always avoided like the plague. It was industrial and notorious for always being on the nightly news because of the area’s high crime rate. The music was loud even outside the building, and there were no lights on. The parking lot had been pitch-black, and only the light from the small flashlight on Li’s keychain had illuminated the concrete as they’d walked to the side entrance of the building.
Mickie tried to wrench her arm out of the hold of the man who was propelling her forward, with no luck. She started panicking—but then heard the last voice she ever thought she’d hear in this hellhole.
“Let the fuck go, Roach, I got this one.”
“Fuck off, Smoke. I got to her first. She’s mine. When I’m done with her, you can take your turn.”
“I said, let go.”
“Fuck you. These tits and ass are all mine tonight.”
Cruz didn’t bother arguing, he simply hit Roach in the face with everything he had.
Roach fell with a thud, and didn’t move. Cruz had knocked him out with one punch. No one put their hands on Mickie except for him.
“Wh—”
With the punch, Cruz knew he now had the attention of most of the club members so he had to play the next few minutes exactly right or they’d both be dead. Cruz cut Mickie off and grabbed her arm in the same place Roach had. “Shut the fuck up. Let’s go.”
Mickie kept her mouth shut. Cruz was pissed and she was scared out of her mind. She had no idea why the other man had called him Smoke, but she knew she was in deep shit. But when all was said and done, she’d rather Cruz have a hold of her than any other man in the place.
Cruz hauled Mickie over to a table covered in white powder. He had no idea how he was going to get through the next few minutes, but knew it was critical they both keep their cool. He couldn’t screw this up now. Not when they were so close to shutting everything down.
Dax and the FBI knew Chico Malo was in play and they’d be at the compound within the hour, as planned.
Cruz brought them to a halt in front of one of two small tables and held his hand out to Steel. “Bag.”
“Never known you to take such a liking to pussy before.”
“Yeah, well, look at it.” Cruz gestured to Mickie’s tits crudely. “You blame me?”
Apparently it was the right thing to say, because Steel laughed. “Fuck no. I, myself, like Asian pussy.” He put his hand over Li’s crotch and stroked harshly, ignoring her nervous giggle. “It’s smaller and tighter…but can’t deny your taste is good.”
“Thank you,” Cruz ground out. “Bag,” he demanded again.
Steel pulled a small bag filled with coke out of his back pocket and tossed it to Cruz. He caught it with one hand and kept the other tightly around Mickie’s arm. He felt her squirm next to him and try to pull away from his grasp. “Stay still,” he ordered gruffly, opening the bag with one hand.
Cruz could feel the sweat beading at his temple. Fuck. He kept Steel in his peripheral vision; he was bent over Angel’s friend, his hand at her breast and his mouth at her ear. Cruz didn’t waste any time. He stepped so that he was between the two small tables and, more importantly, blocking Steel’s view of Mickie.
Mickie’s heart was racing a million miles an hour. She couldn’t believe Cruz was here, and had spoken about her so crudely to the other biker. She almost didn’t recognize him. He had on boots with enough chains on them to set up a swing set. His chest was bare and he was wearing a leather vest that was open in the front. He was frowning and had at least a day-old beard that made him look scary as hell and Mickie was quickly putting two and two together.
All the times he’d asked about Angel, how he’d magically shown up right after Mickie had argued with her sister. He’d played her. Apparently he was a member of the same MC she’d bitched about all those times they were together. He wasn’t going to talk to his coworkers about the club…he was a part of it.
She was the dumbest woman on the face of the earth and she was going to pay for her stupidity big time.
Cruz’s voice interrupted her mental flogging. It was only slightly less harsh than a few seconds ago. “I’m going to put two lines on the table. When I push you down, breathe out slowly and blow lightly without pursing your lips. It’ll spread the powder out to look like you snorted it. Whatever you do,
don’t inhale. ”
Cruz didn’t wait for her acquiescence. He poured two short, thin lines of cocaine on the table and closed the baggie and tucked it into his pocket. He put his hand on the back of Mickie’s neck and forced her over the table roughly, or at least what he hoped looked rough to Steel and anyone else who might be watching.
He’d put his free hand against her hip, and when he pushed her against the table, he moved the hand just enough so the table bit into his hand instead of her skin. “Snort it, bitch. That’s it. You know you came here just for that shit.”
Cruz let out a relieved breath when he saw Mickie doing just as he’d demanded. She didn’t struggle against him, simply breathed gently on the line of cocaine and it dissipated amongst the other powder residue on the table. She put on a good show, moving her head and cupping her hand as if she was actually snorting the drug. If Cruz hadn’t been watching carefully, he would’ve been fooled.
He wrenched her upward when the lines were gone and hooked her around the neck and backwards, until she was clutching his biceps, much as she’d done the other night as he’d pounded into her. She was arched over his arm, completely at his mercy. Cruz didn’t give her a chance to say anything, but covered her lips with his and drove his tongue into her mouth roughly. With the way he was feeling, there was no way he could be gentle.
Cruz kissed Mickie with all the pent-up frustration, worry, and stress he had within him. Even with their situation, and how pissed he was at her for putting herself in the middle of a fucked-up motorcycle club party that was about to get raided by no less than three different state and federal agencies, the kiss quickly turned carnal. Mickie didn’t lie in his arms docilely, she gave as good as she got. It was as if the danger surrounding them gave their attraction an extra edge. Their tongues intertwined and they sucked and nipped at each other as they relearned the taste and texture of each other’s mouths.
Hearing Steel clapping behind him, and coming to his senses, Cruz finally lifted his head and stared into Mickie’s eyes, keeping her immobile in his arms, hanging backwards. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so many things he needed to say, but now wasn’t the time or the place. All it would take was one wrong word and they’d both be fucked.
