Undercover at the MC
Автор
M. Wolf
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Vanessa, tasked with going undercover at a local motorcycle club suspected of illegal activities, finds herself drawn into a gritty, complex world she never expected. Her mission is clear: gain trust, gather evidence, and report back. But as she becomes part of this tight-knit, chaotic group, reality begins to blur, and her loyalties waver. Caught between duty and the magnetic pull of a certain grumpy giant with steely gray eyes, Vanessa faces an impossible dilemma. When everyone around her has secrets and betrayal feels inevitable, Vanessa must decide if the truth is worth the cost—or if her heart will lead her down a different path.
Chapter 1: A Challenge
VANESSA
I look up and down the street carefully, pulling my hoodie farther over my head. All clear. Casting a final, wary glance over my shoulder, I hurry toward the police station with my head down, a bag full of goodies in my hands.
It’s been a long time since I visited the station, and a big grin appears on my face when I see Mary sitting behind the front desk. She looks up from her computer when she hears me coming in, then shoots to her feet and gives me a hug.
“It’s great to see you again! How are things going?” she asks, and I reach into my bag and take out a container.
“Slowly, so it’s time for a meeting. Here—cinnamon rolls, made this morning, so they’re still warm.” I press the container into her hands, and she beams. I happen to know that cinnamon rolls are her favorite.
“You’re amazing! Good luck,” she calls after me.
Hurrying to the back wing of the building where my department is, I hear the rumble of deep voices and follow the sound to the meeting room.
This entire team is made up of plainclothes police officers, and we mainly work on undercover cases. Under the leadership of Jack Hall, we have several missions—but the biggest at the moment is mine: the infiltration of the local motorcycle club, the Red Devils.
“Vanessa! Oh, I love it when you arrive with your hands full of goodies,” says a voice as soon as I enter, and I shake my head and laugh, putting the pastries on the table.
“I miss you too, Mick,” I say, and he pulls me into a bear hug.
Mick is my partner and, together with Jack, he is my permanent point of contact. Mick is working on the Red Devils case from the office, but he’s juggling other police work at the same time.
He’s a big guy, but mostly in girth. His wife Alice isn’t really a fan of my baking, as it forces her to buy Mick bigger clothes every week. Her words, not mine. Hey, it’s not my fault he can’t stay away from food. He just needs to learn some discipline.
“She’s been busy again!” Jack hollers from the other side of the room.
Jack Hall is our commissioner, and I consider him a good friend. He may be fifty-five years old, but he still walks around like a young god of thirty.
We sit down at the table with coffee and the snacks that I brought. It’s a relatively small group at the moment, since this meeting is purely about the MC.
“Okay, so, the mission with the Red Devils,” says Jack, looking at the notes in front of him and rubbing his forehead.
“How are things with those hellraisers, Nessie?” asks Brady, a colleague with an annoying habit of giving people terrible pet names.
I give him an irritated look, and he holds his hands up in innocence.
“Things are quiet,” I say. “Too quiet. I’ve been there for how long? Four months? And there still isn’t anything to report.
“I’ve managed to get quite close to Morgan, the wife of Hammer, the president. She recently admitted that the club used to be involved in stuff that wasn’t strictly legal. But since Hammer took over from his father, everything’s been clean and aboveboard.”
I lean back in my chair.
Next to me, Jack snorts and shakes his head. He keeps rubbing his forehead, looking irritated.
“You’re not going to convince me there’s nothing shady going on there,” he says with a frown. “My information tells me they’re deep into some black market shit.”
I shrug. “You never told me where that information came from, Jack. But I’ll tell you—so far, it’s been quiet. I’m getting closer to Navy, so maybe I can get something useful from him. He’s the younger brother of VP Steel, so you’d think they’d talk to each other.”
Jack and Brady nod in agreement, but Mick looks at me thoughtfully.
“See if you can get closer to the VP,” he says. “He’s been with the club longer than his brother, right?”
I shake my head. Get closer to Steel? Even the idea sends a cold shiver down my spine. Those arctic gray eyes…
I remember the day I met him—a huge, chiseled guy with an unsmiling face. They were interviewing me for the kitchen job, and the VP looked at me like I was a cockroach.
While I was waiting outside the office for their verdict, I overheard him telling the president that he didn’t think I’d be a good fit.
“Looks more like a Devil’s girl than a worker,” he’d said. “The guys will all want to get in her pants. I’d be surprised if she can peel a potato.”
Now, whenever he sees me, he turns away as if the sight disgusts him.
“Sorry, Mick,” I say. “Not happening. Navy is an open book, the happy-go-lucky type. His brother, the VP? Complete opposite. He’s totally closed off and extremely distant with me. He’s just not approachable.”
Sometimes, I think the VP can tell that I’m not really interested in the club for the reasons I spun them. I’d be scared to hang around him too much—he seems like the suspicious type.
“It sounds like you need to make a little more of an effort with this guy, Vanessa,” Brady says. “Every man has weaknesses. See if you can find his. Maybe you can use your charms and seduce him.” He gives a dirty grin, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m not going to whore myself out, Brady. I’ll leave that kind of thing to you,” I say with a sneer, and he throws his hands up in innocence again.
“At least it seems like Ink’s Tattoo Shop is legit,” says Mick, tactfully providing a distraction from Brady’s annoying behavior. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything there. I found some tax documents, and everything looks aboveboard. Also, the walk-ins seem to be running like a tattoo shop should.”
I throw Mick a grateful look, and he gives me a quick wink.
“All right, thanks for your input, Mick,” says Jack. “I need to see some progress on this case, so I suggest you try to dig a little deeper, Vanessa. See where you can get them. I’m sure there’s something there.”
I nod in agreement. If there’s anything to find, I’ll find it. I hate drug dealers with a passion, having seen one too many overdoses on the job.
We go over a few other minor points, and the meeting wraps up. Brady and Jack leave the room, but Mick grabs another cinnamon roll, and I shake my head at him.
“What?” he says with his mouth full, and I burst out laughing.
“You know I’ll get an angry call from Alice again if you keep this up.”
He rolls his eyes—but his smile is affectionate. “Alice needs to stop fussing so much,” he says through his mouthful. “She’s only had to buy me new pants once or twice. Don’t tell her I said the first part.”
I shake my head, still laughing. Then I ask, “Has Jack been very busy lately?”
He gives me a surprised look. “Jack is always busy, isn’t he? The man practically lives here.”
I nod. “True, but he seemed tired, and he kept rubbing his head as if he had a headache.”
Mick stares out the window as he thinks. “This case is taking a lot out of Jack, I think,” he says. “He’s always talking about it. He wants it to work out. Plus, I think he’s having some trouble with his son again.”
Makes sense. Jack’s son is an adult, but he still seems to worry his dad a lot. Sometimes, he comes into the station, and the two of them hole up in Jack’s office for a while before the young man bursts out and storms away, looking sulky.
“Yeah, well…if Jack keeps this up, he’ll keel over from stress. I really doubt there’s anything to find at the club, but I’ll do my best to dig up the dirt.” I get up to leave.
“Be careful, Vanessa. I want to see you back in one piece,” says Mick.
