Chapter Five Samantha #2
Although my mind still spun from trying to process all I had seen and heard, I gave an apathetic shrug of my shoulder. “Meh, it was okay, I guess.”
Peterson’s bushy salt- and- pepper eyebrows shot up. “Just ‘okay’?”
“Actually, it was pretty tame. Apparently, all the exhibitionist sex and nudity happens at the rallies, not the parties,” I replied.
“Did you find that out from some of the old ladies?” Peterson asked.
“Actually, Bishop was the one that let me in on that little secret.”
“Ah, you had a little chat with the target. What’s your take on him?”
At the insinuation of getting to know Bishop, I jerked my gaze up from the menu to stare at him. When I saw he wasn’t suspicious,
I replied, “Yeah. I did. I found him to be quite the fount of information about certain things.” I didn’t dare look at Gavin. Instead, I glanced back at the menu.
“You find out anything else besides the party verses rally info?”Peterson questioned.
“Not anything good that we can use in the case, but I did really well when it came to rattling him. We had a long time alone together while Gavin helped a prospect get a keg in the warehouse.”
At the mention of the warehouse, Peterson forgot all about me.
Instead, he turned his bright eyes to Gavin. “I had no idea you would get inside there so quickly. See anything useful?”
Gavin shook his head. “Nope. It was a total bust on physical evidence. No suspicious crates or boxes, no empty spaces where a shipment might’ve been or was about to be.
If the Raiders are still running guns, I don’t see how it’s possible they’re doing it out of that warehouse.
Maybe they’ve got something going off the property. ”
When Peterson gave a frustrated grunt, Gavin held up his hand. “I said I didn’t get any good physical evidence, but the word of mouth from the prospect, Joe, was pretty good.”
“So the old adage that a frustrated prospect is your first point of club knowledge rang true?” Peterson asked with a grin.
“Yeah, it certainly helped.” He leaned forward in the booth and lowered his voice. “Apparently, there’s a big powwow coming up between the Southeast chapters of the Raiders. Louisiana all the way to the Carolinas are meeting at the chapter headquarters in Virginia.”
“When?”
“The end of the month. The prospect was a little vague on the actual date.”
“We need you at that meeting. Think you can work on Bishop in the next few weeks for an invitation?”
Gavin nodded. “From what Joe was saying, the other guy that’s also prospecting really isn’t working out.
He fucks up one more time, and he’s out.
Joe was bitching about the fact that if this dude gets kicked out before the meeting in Virginia, he’ll be running his ass off for everyone as the lone prospect.
They’ll need someone reliable to go along. I’m thinking it might be me.”
“Good. You keep working that angle.” Peterson then looked at me. “You’ll be along for this one, too, Vargas.”
“I figured as much.”
“We need you front and center with Bishop. If we can have him rattled, we’re likely to get more information about what’s going on at the meeting.”
“So more revealing clothes and whorish behavior?” I questioned humorlessly.
“Not entirely.”
Intrigued, I asked, “What exactly do you need me to do?”
Before he answered me, Peterson downed the rest of his coffee and then waved the waitress over.
Once we were alone again, he said, “Ideally, you need to be his shadow. More than anything, we need you on the back of that bike. As a hang- around, Gavin won’t be allowed in the inner circle for any briefings before or after the meeting.
If we have you there, you can pick up everything from each time they stop to take a piss to before they meet up with the other Raiders. ”
“Jesus, Peterson, from the way you talk you want me standing beside them in the urinals.”
“I would totally be down for that,” Peterson replied with a wink.
“I’ll try my best, but you can forget me being anywhere near germ- infested urinals.”
Gavin glanced between us. “While that sounds great in theory, just how do we get Sam on the back of Bishop’s bike? I mean, do I suddenly have a malfunction with the bitch seat on mine?”
I shook my head. “As a hang- around, you won’t be taking your bike.”
“Huh?” Gavin asked.
Leaning forward in my seat, I replied, “Prospects and hang-arounds don’t get to ride their bikes on a run. Because they haven’t earned full privileges yet, they end up driving a truck or car, which inevitably makes them stand out even more.”
At both Gavin’s and Peterson’s surprised looks, I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t read up on that part?”
“I’m sure I read it— I just forgot it,” Gavin mumbled.
“Do you mean to tell me the Mighty McTavish actually forgot something?” I teased. He responded by maturely throwing a wadded-up napkin at me.
“So if Gavin is driving or riding with Joe, we just need a way to get you onto that bike,” Peterson said.
“No need to worry about it. I’ll get on that bike.”
“How?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know exactly at the moment, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think this fly-by- the- seat-of- your- pants attitude is good. We need a plan.”
“The plan is simple. I use my assets and our newfound friendship. It needs to happen in the moment. Anything too rehearsed will look suspicious.”
“I guess you’re right.”
I grinned. “Oh, I know I’m right.” I turned to Peterson. “Now how about the bureau footing the bill for some waffles? Being a femme fatale has made me work up quite an appetite.”
Peterson chuckled before turning to Gavin. “When it comes to Vargas, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
“Damn straight,” I muttered.