Chapter Five
COLE
Grabbing the keys from my leather jacket, I unlock the garage door to my new working residence—Prestige Bike Repairs.
Rolling up the door, it makes a crashing noise once it reaches the top.
Stepping into the garage, I make myself familiar with what’s inside.
Two motorcycles that look like they’re currently being worked on have parts on the floor beside them. There’s a computer in the corner with a desk and some electronic equipment on top, which I assume is to service the bikes. To the left is one of the largest toolboxes I’ve ever seen. Opening it, I find it’s filled with specialty tools to work on bikes that are nice and shiny, proving they are brand new. This must have cost a fortune. The wall at the back of the shop is covered by a mesh gate, and rows and rows of parts are sitting in there.
With my T-shirt on, I make my way to the door that’s shut to the right-hand side of the garage and turn the door handle, but it’s locked.
Using the same key, I open the door and find an office. It’s clean and smells like it too. Not what you expect from a mechanic’s office. They must have cleaned this place when he left to get it ready for me.
A filing cabinet is in the corner, and I walk over to it to check if it’s unlocked. It is, so I slide it open and see files stacked alphabetically. A name catches my eye under the letter R, so I pull it out to get a closer look and read RBMC. Opening the folder, I read an invoice with a list of parts and services made for a couple of bikes. It also says paid-in-full by cash. Focusing further, I notice the date of it was only last month.
Luckily, I know everything there is to know about motorcycles from my experience with running a garage. I did a mechanical trade when I was a teenager and learned from a young age how to service them, including Harley-Davidsons, which is what most of the RBMC ride. Motorcycles have always been a passion of mine, which is why I got my first one as soon as I could get my license.
“Hello!” I hear a voice call out, and I quickly place the invoices back in the folder and shove it back in the drawer. Theresa was right, the previous owner serviced the RBMC motorcycles.
“Hello, anyone here?” I hear again.
Turning back around, I make my way outside the office and see a young man who looks half my size and is wearing a T-shirt, just like mine, standing in the center of the garage. He’s wearing a cap and black working pants. Theresa never mentioned I would have company.
“Who are you?” I ask, glaring at him. Does he work here?
“I’m Tyler, I’m your new engine mechanic,” he says, then adds, “Theresa and Ben know me. Didn’t they mention me?” He shakes his head. “That would be right. They always forget about the small guy.”
I guess he got the name small guy right because, well, he is short and kind of lanky.
To be safe, I don’t mention Theresa and Ben. I mean, they never mentioned I was going to have company here. How do I know this isn’t a trick?
“Sorry, I don’t know who Theresa and Ben are.”
He laughs. “You’re good. Geez, you’re good. Theresa said you would be good at this undercover assignment.”
As he finishes his words, I hear a car pull up and turn to see who it is. Tyler joins me and says, “Yeah, here they are.” Theresa and Ben park their car, step out of the vehicle, and walk toward us.
Once they’re in the garage, Theresa says, “Hey, Tyler.” Then she turns to me. “I see you’ve met your new employee.”
“Why the hell do I need an employee? I’d prefer I do this on my own, Theresa,” I reply, irritated that they’re only springing this upon me now.
“Cole. You can’t be here on your own.”
“Why not,” I growl.
Theresa grabs hold of my arm to calm me down and, with a soft voice, explains, “I know you don’t want to have any other responsibility on your hands, but think about this… Brent had at least three other mechanics working here. You need at least one to make it look like it’s a legitimate business. Plus, who knows? You might be busy.”
Sighing, I look over to Tyler and ask, “Do you know anything about bikes?”
He smirks.” I sure do. I’ve been working on bikes since I was fifteen.”
“Are you in the RCMP too?”
Tyler looks at Theresa, and she explains, “Tyler is an undercover agent as well. He was working for Brent before we bought the shop from him. We knew the RBMC were getting their bikes fixed here, and well… because we already had Tyler undercover working for Brent, we thought, why not have you both here?”
“I’ll be able to help you, Cole. I know most of the members, so it would just be a matter of getting them to trust you. And I can help with that.”
He makes a good point, but it just doesn’t feel right.
“How old are you?” I ask, unable to believe he’s out of school already.
He smiles wide.
“Twenty-five.”
“Bullshit!” I spit, glancing at Theresa.
“She smiles. “He really is.”
She takes a couple of steps toward Tyler and places her arm around his shoulder. “He’s been on the force since he graduated. He will be good for your cover, Cole.”
Ben steps closer. “Listen, if this is going to work, we need to start calling you Seth,” Ben says with seriousness.
“If any word gets out about your real name, then all this…” he says, waving his hand around the garage, “… will be for nothing.”
Nodding once, my eyes focus back on Tyler.
“Is your name really Tyler?”
He smirks, showing his pearly white teeth. Tyler has long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes are light blue. He has hair on his face, but growing in patches. He could use a shave.
“Nope, it’s Jack. Tyler is my undercover name.”
“Right. Looks like you and I have a lot to catch up on. Seeing you have already dealt with the Royal Bastards MC and all.”
He folds his arms, and I note his shirt is oversized. His black pants are low on his waist, and a tight belt is holding them up. Shit, this kid could be wearing kid-size clothing.
“They call me Skinny.”
Confused, I ask, “What do you mean they call you Skinny?”
“They’ve given me a nickname, so when they come in here, they’ll be calling me Skinny. They’ll probably come up with a name for you, too, Co… sorry, Seth.”
“Whatever they want to call me is fine with me as long as they let me in.”
Tyler laughs and then straightens. “In all seriousness, Seth, don’t fuck with these men. Just listen and answer their questions. Don’t try to act like a know-it-all. They hate that.”
He looks nervous.
“If you say anything they don’t like or don’t trust you, they will let you know it. And I don’t mean let you know by using their words, I mean by using this.” Tyler fists his hand, displaying exactly how they communicate.
“Right, well, let’s not give them a reason to use their fists.”
My eyes focus on Theresa, then on Ben, and back to Tyler.
“Any chance you know when we could expect them in here next?”
“Sure do.” Tyler points to one of the bikes that has parts around it. It’s one of the bikes I noticed when I walked in.
“See that bike right there? That bike belongs to Shooter. He’s the road captain. Vinney wanted to treat him to a new exhaust for better air intake. From what I understand, Vinney wanted these upgrades because Shooter made some money for the club, but that’s all I was able to find out.”
“When they’re around, do they do much talking?”
“If you’re asking if they talk about their business, then it’s a flat no. All they talk about is bikes.
I’m a little scared of the vice president, Mikki, though. I don’t like the look he gives off.”
“What look?” I ask, interested.
“That crazy look, like he’s high on something. He always smells of beer and sweat.”
“He’s probably high on something.”
We continue chatting for a little while longer when Ben announces they need to leave.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Ben states. “Here’s the lighter you wanted. Spencer did a good job.”
Bringing the lighter closer to get a better look, I notice it’s a flip lighter with a Harley-Davidson image on it. I flip it open and light it up.
When I mentioned tapping a lighter rather than a cell phone, I wasn’t sure it would work.
Peering up at Ben, I ask, “Where the hell is the mic in this?”
He smiles. “It’s in there. Spencer had some trouble, but he managed it.”
Smiling, I reply, “He did well.”
He turns to walk away, saying, “I’ll tell him you said that.” Then he disappears out of the garage and into his car.
Theresa lifts a phone out of her pants pocket and hands it to me. “Take this.”
“I told you I’m not carrying…”
“There’s no microphone in this. It’s a phone you can use as Seth Hawkins. I’m in the phone as your landlord,” she explains.
“I’ll reach you on this but call me anytime you need to talk.”
Looking into her eyes, I reply, “Thanks.”
She replies with a smile, thanking me with her eyes. I nod and walk her out of the garage to her car. She opens the passenger side door, takes a seat, and shuts it. I wave them off as they reverse, knowing there’s no turning back now.