Chapter 20
Twenty
Lee
When Dime and Devil go back into the office, leaving Keegan and I to wait for Ransom, I take a minute to talk to him.
It's not something I typically do because I'm afraid I'll blow my cover.
But it's been a while since I've been able to talk to Keegan with no one around, and what can I say? I miss it.
I glance back, making sure that they aren't looking at us.
"How's school going?" I ask Keegan.
"It's going. Just trying to keep it all together, ya know? Football, working, school, and Mia."
"Mia huh?" I grin over at him. "Heard about that."
"I'm sure you did." He rolls his eyes. "How are things going with you?"
"Can't complain." I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and rock back on my heels.
He looks at the office, takes a deep breath, and then pushes forward with what he wants to say. "You think they know we're related?"
"I think they have no fucking idea," I admit, hoping that I'm telling the truth. "Not many know that my grandfather and your grandmother are brother and sister. Probably helped that my grandpa moved to Calvert City before I was born, and my parents followed."
Keegan nods. "Either way, keep safe. You're a lot deeper into this than I am."
Ransom pulls up at that moment and gives me a chin hitch as Keegan hops into the passenger seat.
After I lean in and let the guys know that Keegan is gone and I'm leaving, I head out to my bike and head on home.
The ride to my apartment doesn't take long.
It's a small place on the edge of town, nothing fancy, but it serves its purpose.
When you're working as a prospect for a motorcycle club while also being deep undercover for the DEA, you don't need much.
Just a place to sleep, a place to change clothes, and a place to remember who you really are.
I park my bike in the lot and head upstairs, unlocking the door to my one-bedroom apartment.
The place is sparse. A couch, a TV, a bed, a small kitchen table.
There are no pictures on the walls, no personal touches that might give away too much about my real life.
Because Lee Hankerson, prospect for Saint's Outlaws MC, doesn't have much of a past. He's just a kid trying to earn his patch.
But Lee Brooks Strather, DEA agent? That's a different story.
I strip out of my work clothes and hop in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grease and grime from the garage.
As I stand there, I think about the conversation I had with Keegan.
We've been careful, so careful, about not letting anyone know we're related.
Second cousins isn't a close relationship, but it's close enough that if the wrong people found out, it could blow both our covers.
Keegan's working for his dad, feeding information back to Chief Harrison about what's happening at the garage. He doesn't know the full extent of the operation, doesn't know about Devil and Dime being undercover, doesn't know that his second cousin is DEA, just that I'm in law enforcement.
And that's exactly how it needs to stay.
I get out of the shower and dry off, then pull on a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.
The Charger is waiting for me in the parking garage beneath the building, tucked away where none of the club members will see it.
It's a beautiful machine, a black 2020 Dodge Charger that I bought with my own money back when I thought I was going to have a normal life.
That was before the DEA recruited me straight out of college. Before I spent two years training to go deep undercover. Before I became Lee, the prospect who would do anything to earn his patch.
The drive to Calvert City takes about forty-five minutes.
It's a quiet drive, giving me time to decompress, to shift from being Lee the prospect to being Lee, the grandson.
My grandfather's house is on a tree-lined street in a nice neighborhood, the kind of place where people wave to their neighbors and kids play in the front yards.
It's so different from the world I've been living in for the past six months that it almost feels surreal.
I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. The porch light is on, and I can see movement through the front window. Grandpa's expecting me.
I knock twice and then let myself in. "Grandpa?"
"In the kitchen, son."
I find him standing at the stove, stirring something that smells incredible. Brooks Strather is older than I like to admit, with white hair and kind eyes that have seen too much.
"Smells good," I say, coming over to give him a hug.
"Beef stew. Your grandmother's recipe." He pats my back. "You look tired, Lee."
"I am tired." I grab a beer from the fridge and sit down at the kitchen table. "But that's the job, right? Where's grandma?"
"She's having a girls night with Leigh, and you're right. That's the job." He dishes out two bowls of stew and brings them over, settling into the chair across from me. "How's it going at the garage?"
"Good. I'm making progress, earning trust. Devil and Dime seem to genuinely like me, and Storm's been teaching me a lot about the business side of things."
"And the Rebels?"
I take a bite of stew, buying myself time. "That situation is getting complicated. Devil and Dime met with Ethan, got a sample of the product. They handed it off to Chief Harrison, but something's not adding up."
Grandpa's eyes sharpen. "What do you mean?"
"Harrison told them the sample didn't test positive for fentanyl. But that doesn't make sense. We know the Rebels are dealing fentanyl-laced weed. There's no way that sample came back clean."
"So Harrison's lying."
"That's what I think. And I think Devil and Dime think the same thing." I set down my spoon. "They had a meeting in the office today. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they both looked like they'd just made a decision they weren't happy about."
Grandpa is quiet for a moment, eating his stew thoughtfully. "Those two have been under a long time. Almost four years now. That's a long time to maintain a cover."
"Too long?"
"Maybe." He looks at me. "When you go that deep, when you live a lie for that long, it starts to become the truth. You forget who you were before. You start identifying more with the people you're supposed to be investigating than with the badge."
"You think they've gone native?"
"I think they're close to it. And if Harrison's lying to them, if he's trying to buy time to build a case that doesn't rely on their testimony, then he thinks the same thing."
I push my stew around with my spoon. "What happens if they decide they don't want to come back in? If they choose the club over the badge?"
"Then they become criminals. And we have to treat them as such." His voice is hard. "But hopefully it doesn't come to that."
"And me? What happens if things go sideways and my cover gets blown?"
"Then you get out. Immediately. You don't wait, you don't try to salvage it, you just run.
" He reaches across the table and grabs my hand.
"My past put you in this position, Lee. They came after you because of my jail time.
Offering me a pardon had a lot to do with this.
I'm the one who convinced you to go undercover.
If something happens to you because of that, I'll never forgive myself. "
"Nothing's going to happen to me, Grandpa. I'm careful. And you didn't necessarily convince me. It sounded worth it." But has it been?
"Careful isn't always enough." He squeezes my hand. "Your cousin Keegan is in this too, working with his dad. There are too many moving pieces, too many secrets. That's when operations fall apart."
He's right, and I know it. This operation has too many layers, too many people playing different roles.
Dime and Devil are undercover cops who might be going native.
Keegan is feeding information to his father.
I'm DEA pretending to be a prospect. And Chief Harrison is in the middle of it all, trying to coordinate everything while keeping everyone alive.
It's a powder keg waiting to explode.
"I'll be careful," I promise. "I'll keep my head down, do my job, and get out when the time comes."
"Good." He releases my hand and goes back to his stew. "Now tell me about the rest of your life. You seeing anyone?"
I laugh. "When would I have time for that? I'm working at the garage six days a week and spending my nights at the clubhouse trying to prove myself worthy of a patch."
"You need to make time. Life's too short to spend it all working."
"Says the man who went to work this morning."
"Exactly. I know what I'm talking about." He grins at me. "Your grandmother put up with a lot, but she also made sure I had a life outside the job. You need that too."
We finish our dinner, and I help him clean up the dishes. We talk about normal things. The weather, the upcoming football season, his plans to visit my parents next month. It's nice, this slice of normalcy, this reminder that there's a world outside the one I've been living in.
But as I drive back to Laurel Springs later that night, the weight of everything settles back onto my shoulders. I'm Lee Strather, prospect for Saint's Outlaws MC. I work at the garage, I follow orders, I do whatever it takes to earn my patch.
And underneath it all, I'm Lee Brooks Strather, DEA agent working to bring down a drug operation that's poisoning a small town.
The question is, how long can I keep being both?
When I pull into my apartment complex, I sit in the Charger for a long moment, staring up at my building. Tomorrow I'll wake up, change back into my work clothes, and head to the garage. I'll be Lee again, the kid who wants nothing more than to belong to something bigger than himself.
But tonight, just for tonight, I'm Lee. And Lee is tired of the lies.
I get out of the car and head inside, locking the door behind me. Tomorrow the performance starts again. Tomorrow I go back to being someone I'm not.
But for now, I'm just a guy who misses his real life.
And that has to be enough.