Read Online No Angel by Jay Dobyns - Free Book Online Page B

up. Pay for all of it.” He spoke to Timmy. An absent grin faded from the lips of the nameless woman clutching Rudy’s waist. She looked like she’d lived the lives of three women put together. Rudy slapped her on the thigh and she slowly draped her arms over his shoulders, like a bored bitch doing a trick for which she no longer got rewarded.
    Timmy shook his head, but did what was asked. He was an experienced cop who’d dealt with perps and CIs like Rudy for years. He knew we were on our way to a real-life run, and we were all playing dramas that would make us more like the genuine article. As a prospect, Timmy had to get used to being ordered around.
    I went inside and bought a pack of Marlboro Lights and two packets of Advil. I slammed the pills dry and packed the cigarette box on the heel of my palm. I lit a cigarette as we pulled out.
    We rode on for another hour and pulled off at Munds Park. At the bottom of the ramp, Rudy turned to me and said, “That sucked. You better speed the fuck up. My club ain’t gonna roll like bitches.”
    “ Whose club?”
    “Slats told me to kick you up. You’re s’posed to be following me. I’m your P.” “P” meant president.
    “We ain’t at the run yet. And I thought we did pretty good.”
    “Maybe we hit seventy. That’s too slow. You gonna work the Angels, then kick it up a notch or twenty.”
    “All right, President Kramer, next time we’ll make you prouder, sir.”
    “Good.” He turned back to the road and gunned it. We followed, but at a distance, just to piss him off.
    We rode through flat land toward blue mountains rising up in the east. On either side of the road, broad swaths of green-yellow grazing grass alternated with massive stands of ponderosa pines. It was a nice ride.
    Rolling into a biker rally wearing a three-piece patch is like walking into a high school cafeteria naked. It was no different at Too Broke. Before we got there I’d been nervous, but as we rolled in I got scared. This was a feeling I was used to. A huge part of undercover work is hiding your fear and channeling it into things that bolster you. Everyone we passed looked at us. I decided to take the attention as a compliment and not an accusation. My ego was hungry and ate it up. I accepted the fear, and the attention felt good.
    Rudy sped up as we approached the entrance gate. We did too. He blew by the attendant, flipped him off, and yelled, “SOLOS DON’T PAY FOR SHIT!”
    That felt good too.
    We pulled into a parking area and walked around. Rudy led us to a group of Red Devils and intro’d us to Tony Cruze. Cruze looked like Jerry Garcia without a smile. He ordered a prospect to get beers, Rudy ordered Timmy to help him. Rudy yelled at Timmy to bring him two, and to make sure they were both “like ice.” Timmy marched off. Carlos and Pops and I stood behind Rudy as he talked to Cruze. Rudy bitched about setting up the new charter, never missing an opportunity to flatter himself and his ability to sway the Angels. Cruze asked if I was the one who did the business down south. I said yes. He said we needed to get together, Rudy said one of us would be in touch. Two women, one short and skinny, one tall and overweight, walked up to Cruze. He grabbed and jiggled the ass of the taller one. She leaned toward him and bit his ear. The smaller one winked at Rudy’s gal, who, to her credit, hadn’t said anything. The women walked away. The backs of their jackets had single patches that read property of the red devils. This referred to both the women and the jackets.
    Timmy returned toting a load of Silver Bullets. I took two. I popped one and wedged the other into a back pocket. I was always an amateur drinker, but knew I’d have to get in shape fast on this job. I took a large gulp. The cold beer sliced through the dust kicked up by bikes and wind. Timmy stepped between Cruze and Rudy to hand his president his beers.
    “Prospect, I am trying to talk to this guy and you’re getting