Chapter Sixteen Samantha
Iwoke the next morning to the bellowing sound of an unfamiliar alarm clock.
When I shifted in bed and came up against a rock-hard body, the realization hit me that I wasn’t at home.
I had stayed the night at Bishop’s. I had broken his rule not only of women not coming to his house, but of staying over.
Today we were rising early to go to Chattanooga on some club business.
Last night when the secretive meeting was broached by Rev, I had immediately felt divided.
Part of me wanted to go to see what I could uncover, while the other part of me feared what I might find.
I wanted more than anything to believe Bishop when he said his club was going legitimate.
It was just incredibly hard to imagine the Raiders going clean after years of illegal dealings.
Bishop cursed as he slapped the alarm clock off. When I turned over to face him, he was furiously rubbing his face and eyes to wake up. “Good morning,” I said.
After a wide yawn, Bishop grumbled, “Morning.”
“I guess it’s safe to say you aren’t a morning person, huh?”
“Fuck no.” He cocked his head at me. “Are you?”
I shrugged. “I’m okay with getting up early.”
“Well, as long as you’re with me, you better not be okay with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t want you throwing open the curtains at the crack of fucking dawn while whistling a happy tune.”
I snorted at his summation. “You have nothing to worry about on that front, trust me.”
Bishop grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.” He stretched in bed and groaned again. “Fuck, I do not want to get up and get on the road.”
Snuggling up to his side, I asked, “So, what’s so important about this meeting that has you getting up early and missing work?”
“It’s just something Rev and I need to do. . . . I guess you could say it’s for Rev more than me, but I need to be there for support.”
As I traced the ink lines of one of Bishop’s tattoos with my finger, the irrational side of me couldn’t help worrying about what Rev needed to do and why Bishop needed to be there for support.
It didn’t sound good at all, and that fact made my stomach churn.
Of course, I couldn’t imagine why Bishop would ask me along if it were something illegal.
Maybe he planned to use me as a lookout or diversion.
That thought made me feel like a paranoid fool.
More than anything, I hoped that today would give me evidence to support the claim that the Raiders had gone legitimate in their business dealings.
I hadn’t yet broached the subject to Peterson because I wanted to make sure I had some concrete evidence to back me up.
He had no idea that while I worked on the paper trails of other cases, I was secretly working on the Raiders.
“Are you sure about me going? It sounded kinda like a brothers’ thing.”
“Of course I’m sure. You heard Rev say that Annabel couldn’t go.”
“Yeah.”
“And there will be some other women there.”
“It’s good to know I won’t be the only vagina,” I said teasingly.
Bishop laughed. “You’ll be the only vagina that belongs to me.”
“Yes, Caveman.”
Bishop dipped his head to bring his lips to mine for a tender kiss. “I’m starting to dig you calling me Caveman. Kinda makes me hot.”
I grinned. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Guess we better get up and get going. Rev will have my ass if we make him late.”
“Where exactly is it we’re going in Chattanooga?” I asked as I sat up in the bed.
“You’ll see.”
“You really expect me to just get on the back of your bike and let you take me wherever you want?”
He laughed. “I sure as hell do.”
“You’re such an egomaniac!” I huffed.
Pulling me against him, Bishop nuzzled my neck. “Yeah, but you like it.”
I gave a resigned sigh. “God forgive me, but I do.”
He gave my bottom a resounding smack. “Let’s get this fine ass of yours in the shower.”
We got on the road at a little after six in the morning. After stopping for a quick breakfast at seven, we continued on our way. Just before we reached Chattanooga, we pulled off at an exit.
I was wondering if it was for a pee break or gas until we topped the hill, and I was momentarily blinded by the gleaming chrome coming off a multitude of bikes. They were parked in a rest stop for truckers.
After we turned in, I noticed that while the men and women were wearing cuts, they were all different. There wasn’t a unified chapter like at the party in Virginia. Several of them had armbands that read BACA.
Instead of turning off the engines and getting off the bikes, Rev and Bishop just pulled into the back of the group. A man at the head of the line waved to them. He then did a count of the bikes and nodded. Once he got on his bike, the others around us started up their
engines.
“What’s going on?” I shouted over the roar of the pipes.
“You’ll see,” Bishop replied cryptically.
I didn’t have a chance to try to get any more information out of him because we started out of the parking lot in a two-by-two formation. After getting back on the interstate, we traveled a few miles before taking another exit. I couldn’t imagine what was going on.
Was it some kind of hit to be staged on an MC, and all these men were unified together? If anything illegal went down, I was in deep shit with the bureau for not letting them know what I was doing.
Even if they were aware, it was bad news for agents to be caught up in illegal action. At least I had my cell phone on me with a direct link to Peterson in case things went south.
As we roared into a residential neighborhood, both my curiosity and my worry reached a fever pitch.
I was pretty sure the last thing the residents wanted at eight in the morning was a bunch of noisy Harleys.
After winding around a few streets, we came to a stop outside a small frame house with a well- kept yard.
Bishop eased down his kickstand and then cut off the engine. Slowly, I took off my helmet as I eyed Bishop’s back. In a low voice,I asked, “Are you guys about to do a hit on some unknowing biker?”
Whirling around, Bishop stared wide- eyed at me. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
With a bark of a laugh, Bishop replied, “No, Sam, we’re not here to kill anyone. For fuck’s sake, I told you we were going legitimate.
I’m not sure how a club could be legitimate one minute and then killing someone the next.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know what all these other guys were up to.”
“I can promise you it isn’t murder.”
“Then what is really going on?”
“You’ll see,” he once again replied.
I grunted in frustration as I hopped off the bike.
Rev motioned for us to follow him. He led us over to a walkway where some of the other men and women were forming a line.
I wondered if it was some high- ranking biker we were waiting on, or the leader of a gang.
It was obviously someone who garnered a lot of respect.
When the front door creaked open, I stood up on my tiptoes to get a good look at who was coming out.
A young girl with flowing blond hair appeared in the doorway.
Her black- and- white Converse sneakers carried her out onto the porch.
When she raised her head to see all of us, she bit down on her lip and nervously tugged at her black- and- white- checked dress.
When her parents appeared at her side, I looked from her to Bishop.
“Okay, just what the hell is going on here?”
Before he could answer, Rev placed a hand on my shoulder. “The little girl’s name is Ansley. She has to be in court this morning to testify against the man who raped her.”
I widened my eyes in horror. “She can’t be more than seven or eight.”
“She’s eight,” Rev said.
“But she’s just a baby to have been through something so horrible!”
“I agree. That’s why we’re all here. The men and women here belong to BACA or Bikers Against Child Abuse.
We come to lend moral support and physical strength to children who have suffered physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.
Sometimes they need someone to walk them home from school, and other times they need someone to go along with them to court. That’s why we’re here today.”
“That’s . . . amazing.” It was all I could murmur in response.
After all, how could you put into words what these people were doing? It humbled me greatly just standing there with them.
“Well, a lot of us have experienced abuse in our past, and we want to somehow make it easier.”
Staring intently into Rev’s eyes, I couldn’t help wondering what kind of abuse he had endured. It made me wonder if Bishop had suffered the same fate, and that was why he had also gotten involved.
As if he could hear my internal thoughts, Rev lowered his voice and said, “I was raped when I was eleven by a member of my father’s church.”
I brought my hand to my mouth as I gasped in horror. “Oh, Rev . . . I’m so, so sorry. Did you have to testify against him in court like Ansley?”
Rev and Bishop exchanged a look before Rev shook his head.
“He never went to court.”
“You mean he got away with it.”
A cold, unfeeling look entered Rev’s usually friendly eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Then what . . .” I clamped my lips shut as realization of what had happened struck me.
Rev’s rapist had never stepped foot inside court because someone had killed him.
I couldn’t help wondering whether it was their father.
Although I wasn’t a parent, I could only imagine how agonizingly devastating it would be to see your child hurt like that.
I would be tempted to put the person six feet under as well.
Then it hit me. I had wondered what had driven Preacher Man from his church and back to a life as an outlaw biker. Now I knew the answer.
“Your father killed him. Didn’t he?” I questioned in a low voice.
“Yeah. He did.”
Staring Rev straight in the eye, I said, “Good for him.”
Rev gave me a tight smile. “Thank you.”
Sensing we needed a subject change, I asked, “Where does everyone come from?”
“All over the country,” Bishop replied.
“Really?”