by KL Myers
“You Gauge?”
“Yep.”
Stitch pushed past me into the house and straight to the living room, finding Shiloh sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. Every instinct in me had me warring with myself to not let this happen, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to play my part, let this go down, no matter how fucked up it was. Gunner was counting on me.
Stitch tossed a bag at me and smiled. “Where is Trident?”
“He’ll be here shortly. He knew you’d want some alone time with the bitch before you talked business.”
Just calling Shiloh a bitch felt wrong, but this was all a game, and everyone had a part to play. I’d act all badass about this, but if he truly hurt one hair on her head, I’d remove every one on his.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Stitch asked while making his way around the couch and dropping down beside her.
Shiloh didn’t answer, she knew it wasn’t a question but more of a statement. Women didn’t speak to guys like Stitch; they just did what they were told.
“My cock needs your mouth wrapped around it, bitch. Now, open up and suck me off.”
Shiloh dropped onto the floor in front of Stitch without saying a word or even hesitating. Her hands reached for the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper. Stitch raised his hips, allowing her to slide his pants to mid-thigh and freeing his flaccid cock.
When Shiloh didn’t move fast enough for him, Stitch grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head and forced her face into his junk. Without hesitation, Shiloh did what she was sent to do, and she did it like a pro. Sliding her hands up his thighs, she lifted her head, wrapped her hand around his cock, and started to stroke. Her tongue ran up and down the underside of his dick before she wrapped her lips around it, bringing it to life. This went on for several minutes before Stitch got bored and wanted more.
I watched Shiloh for any signs that she was in trouble or needed my help, but she showed none. She sucked and swallowed his cock over and over again. If truth be told, I was getting semihard from watching her suck this fucker off. It was no different than watching porn on the TV; the only difference was I wasn’t going to bust out my Johnson and stroke it. I wish that could be said for the two dumbshits sitting in the chairs beside the couch. Those dumb fucks were getting off on watching this. Stitch was close, I could see it; his hand forced Shiloh’s head down one last time on his cock, burying her nose in his groin, gagging her with his cock as he dumped his seed down her throat.
When he was done, he pulled Shiloh's head from his cock and tossed her to the side to buddy number one, who immediately picked her up off the floor, bent her over the arm cushion of the chair, and plunged his cock into her cunt. He fucked her hard, driving into her over and over again. With each inward thrust, he’d pull back on her shoulder, forcing her to take it deeper. I was starting to worry she was in over her head, but dumbass number one got off before I could count to ten.
As if she were nothing, dumbass number two pushed his friend out of the way and drove home into her. Hard, fast, and furiously for all of two minutes before he lost it. Leaving Shiloh bent over the chair and half out of it. Stitch rose from the couch, looked at his watch before he spoke.
“Looks like I have time for one more before Trident shows up.” Looking over at me, he smirked. “You got a problem with that, Gauge? Maybe you want to join me?”
Disgusted, I answered, “Nope, I’m all good over here, but maybe she needs a break.”
Stitch laughed at my comment. “Not going to happen, friend.”
“I’m not your friend and don’t ever forget that. Our clubs are in business together, so that doesn’t make you and me friends. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Now, shut the fuck up and get out of my way while I take what was offered to me.”
It was almost comical to watch that inconsiderate son of a bitch get his rocks off. He was sloppy and couldn’t find a rhythm to save his life. I could tell Shiloh was done; there was no pleasure in it at this point for her. She was coming off her high and wanted it over with, and I had to wonder how long it was going to take this fucker. He drove into her over and over again, chasing a release I wasn’t sure he would find.
When frustration finally set in for Stitch, he pulled out of her pussy, shoved her to the floor, and stuffed his cock down her throat. Holding her head between his hands, he drove deeper and deeper into her mouth, gagging and choking her with every stroke. Water built in her eyes and her nostrils flared trying to take in additional air, yet he didn’t stop. Over and over Stitch pushed his cock down her throat, holding her head to his groin, cutting off Shiloh’s ability to breathe.
“Take it, bitch, take it all, do you hear me?” Stitch yelled at her. Shiloh attempted to nod her head, but he just pushed her face harder and harder to him, forcing his cock deeper and deeper down her throat until he erupted with a grunt, pulling out of her mouth and spewing on her face and then walking away.
I wanted to grab her and pull her in my lap and make sure she was OK, but I couldn’t. If I did that, then my cover would be blown, but that didn’t mean I didn’t think about it. Walking to the kitchen, I grabbed a few towels from the roll, walked back to the living room, and tossed them at Shiloh.
“Clean up, Shi, now, and get dressed, hear me?”
Her head nodded in understanding as she rose from the floor and made her way to the bathroom. Again, I heard the rumbling in the background of the impending arrival of bikes. Looking out the window, I saw Trident along with two life members and two prospects getting off their bikes and making their way up the walk.
The front door swung open, and Trident walked through it, scanning the room for Stitch. Trident was sure to assess the situation before entering the room completely. When he felt nothing was out of place, he moved past me and went straight to Stitch, holding out his hand, and started discussing business.
Once Shiloh returned, Trident dismissed me, telling me to take Shiloh back to the clubhouse. This was it, the moment I was waiting for. Grabbing Shiloh’s hand, I led her to my bike and helped her get on the back.
“You OK?” I asked her
“Does it matter?” she said more as a statement than as a question. I knew it wasn’t a question. She knew her place, and whether or not she liked it, she served the purpose Dagger had sent her to do.
When we reached the stop sign at the corner, I saw the unmarked cars parked along the street. Sitting there inconspicuously, they were waiting for my go-ahead sign. Giving the two long revs of the bike's engine as instructed, I drove off watching in my mirrors as the motions started to play out.
Moving Up The Food Chain
THIS MORNING, I was summoned to Dagger’s office. I had an idea of what was going to transpire, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, so I’d just have to wait and see.
I knocked several times on the door before I heard Dagger call out for me to enter. When I did, it was like all hell had broken loose. Everything in his office was a mess, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
“What the hell happened yesterday, Gauge?”
Playing stupid, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Give me the rundown on what fucking happened with the meeting. You’re not an idiot, so don’t act like one.”
“Look, Dagger, Shiloh and I did what you asked. I took her with me, she entertained the troops, and we left when Trident told us to. Why? What’s up?”
I could tell Dagger was trying to determine if I was telling the truth. There was a look of apprehension on his face while weighing in his mind, I’m sure, how much he wanted to share with me. He didn’t know I had the whole scoop already. I knew Trident, Stitch, and the rest of them were all behind bars. When Dagger spoke, I acted surprised.
“The deal went south fast yesterday. Seems the cops were waiting and watching. I’ve hired an attorney for Trident, but I think he may have to do some time for this one.”
“So, what do you n
eed from me, Dagger?” I asked, all along hoping his next words would put me in the position I needed to be in to finish my plan and get myself out of this bullshit.
“Normally, we vote on the Sergeant at Arms position, but frankly, right now I’m not sure who to trust. Shiloh says you took good care of her yesterday and wouldn’t let those jackasses hurt her. I appreciate that. The VP and I have discussed it, and we’d like you to step in temporarily until we can get Trident out and back into his rightful position. You interested at all?”
This was exactly what I had been waiting for. “Sure thing, Dagger, I’d be happy to fill in temporarily.”
“Good, then consider it done. Now, I think we have a snitch and we need to find out who it is. This fuckup has not only cost the club a new alliance with the Vipers, but has gotten us some notoriety I would prefer not to have.”
Things are falling into place at warp speed. Since the bust that took out Trident, the Devils have been losing business right and left. There have been five more busts, all thanks to me, and no one is the wiser. Dagger wants the snitch’s head on a platter, but little does he know it’s been sitting right beside him for weeks.
Gunner and I met last night, and we both agreed it’s time to land the last blow. Other clubs are seeing the blood in the water, and they have been circling like sharks, ready to step in and take over where the Devils have fallen short.
Saturday will be the final straw. One of the largest shipments of cocaine is being passed through our hands to its final destination. The cartel has already made it perfectly clear to Dagger that if anything goes wrong, he will pay and pay with his life. I just wish there were a way for me to make it clear to him as he takes in his last breath that paybacks are a bitch and with compliments of Blaze, he was finally paying his dues. I want to see the shock in his eyes when he realizes he brought all this on himself by taking the life of the Prez of the Renegades.
The clubhouse is eerily quiet today. Everyone is focused on the task at hand, which is making sure the shipment is moved from location to location without a hitch. The prospects selected to be part of this transaction know this will be the one that gets them patched in. This is the mother of all motherloads, the kind of transaction to make or break a club, and the kind of bust that every captain wants his name tied to.
The plan is in place. I’ll give the signal when all the players are together and the merchandise is on sight. The crew will converge on the warehouse and storm the doors. I anticipate there will be bloodshed; no one will go down without a fight. I just need to make sure I’m not in the way of flying bullets.
Dagger confirms he is taking the lead on this drop and not leaving it to me. “Gauge, you follow my lead. I can’t afford to have any mistakes on this one, you feel me?”
“Yeah, Dagger, I feel ya.”
“Let’s roll then, time’s a wasting.” Those are the last words I hear before Dagger walks out the door and heads toward his bike. I follow behind him along with several other men. The rumble of our engines bounce off the clouds as they sit low in the sky tonight. When we reach the drop point, everyone kills their motors, climbs off their bikes, and heads to the warehouse. Not one single soul isn’t packing. Everyone knows what is at stake when you deal with the cartel.
I am beginning to wonder what is going on with my team; we’ve been in this shit hole warehouse for over an hour, and Dagger is wrapping it up. I have long expected my team to bust the doors down half an hour ago. I’ve given the sign they were waiting for, so I don’t know what is taking them so long.
Just as I am giving up all hope that anyone will show up, the doors fly open and in comes the cavalry. Guns are drawn, and demands are being made for everyone to drop their weapons. As if that is really going to happen with a group of criminals. Shots are fired from several different locations, and I see Dagger drop to the floor with a bullet hole in his head.
Grabbing my gun, I dive for cover as bullets are coming from all different directions. By the time the smoke clears, no members of the Devils remain standing, and the few members of the cartel that are still alive are being taken into custody.
My job is done on two levels. One, I accomplished what I told Gunner I would and destroyed the Devils for what they did to Blaze. Two, this was such a huge bust that everyone is given high praise, and I am able to write my ticket to move divisions. I had enough of gangs; I am pretty much ready to work my way into NARCO and be the best they ever had, so when I apply for the transfer, it is approved. No questions asked.
Hindsight should have been twenty-twenty for me, but it wasn’t. Remember when I said Cocky was my first name, and Arrogant was my second? Well, my first name and my middle name gave me a confident sense I was never entitled to have, and I took risks I shouldn’t have thought of.
Addiction Is My Downfall
I’M UNTOUCHABLE! At least that is what I think. Undercover is where I was meant to be. I can blend, be anyone I want to be, and I have contacts I work with on a regular basis.
Snitches are a dime a dozen, but a good snitch is worth its weight in gold, and I have finally found myself one of those. Terry is the perfect snitch; he has the pulse of what is going on everywhere in the city and the connections I need to get me in on it.
The department loves me; all I have to do is tell them how much I need and what product I am getting for that dollar. It’s like taking candy from a baby, or at least I think it is.
I hide my problem from the best of them. Yeah, I’ll do a line here or there with a mark so they’ll think I am legit. I report it to my superiors, so everything is on the up-and-up, but what they don’t know is how fast I am falling down that rabbit hole and how my need increases week after week.
No one is the wiser; I am my own case manager when it comes to logging in evidence. I’ll put in a request to buy two kilos knowing that it’s really two and a half to three, skim my personal use off the top, and log the rest in. My own arrogance blinds me to the fact that one day I am going to get caught.
My personal use is increasing on a daily basis, and at the peak of it all, I am using ten to fifteen grams a day. Not once do I ever think that anyone has a clue, but I guess that is where an addict becomes and idiot.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right? I think Terry tries to warn me I will get caught, but I don’t listen. What does a two-bit snitch know anyway? Famous last words.
“Ellington, my office,” the captain barks at me.
Trying to act all cool and collected, I take a seat on the opposite side of his desk.
“What’s up, Cap?”
“You got something you want to share with me?” His question is vague at best, but I can tell there is an underlying statement being made.
“Not sure what you're getting at, sir.”
“Your last buy was short. You logged in two kilos, but when it was audited it was short. What’s going on?” His statement is direct and to the point.
“Cap, it was all there when I logged it. I can’t speak for what happens once I walk away,” I say, cool and collected.
“When they came to me and told me your last two drops were short, I thought, simple mistake, but now that it has happened several times, I want to know if there is something you need to tell me? Do you need help, Ellington? Because you’re one of my best and if you got issues, I want us to deal with them now.”
“No, sir, no issues, straight up, I promise.”
“Then we got a problem in our evidence room, and it’s looking really bad for you, son. If it’s not you, then we need to nip this in the bud now. Get out of my office, we’re through for now.”
I walk out of his office knowing there is a problem in the evidence room and it isn’t mine. Yeah, I’ll lie about what I take in so I can take my cut off the top, but never once did I think someone else was doing the same. I need to get to the bottom of this, and the only way I am going to do that is by figuring out who is messing with my evidence once I drop it off.
I’m getting sloppy, and not on
ce does the thought ever come to mind that I am being set up or that anyone has a clue about what I have been doing. My happy little world is crumbling down around me, and there isn’t anything I can do about it. I’m not expecting what happens next.
“Gauge Ellington, you are under arrest.” Those are not the words I’m expecting to hear as I take the bag of goods and drop them off at the evidence locker.
Tonight's bust was big, five kilos of the best powder there is. I logged it as four when I asked for the money to purchase it. All the bills were marked, the bust was set to take place the minute I picked up the product and left.
My normal routine is to grab a bag off the top, stash it in my safe place, and then log the rest. What I didn’t know was that the sellers were cops as well. The product was weighed, marked, and placed in a bag. Everyone knew exactly how much was there, so when I turned in less than what was expected, they all knew it was me.
My first call is to my friend Gunner. I need a good attorney, one who can make a case to solidify a reduced sentence. I know without a doubt he will take the case and it will be his priority to ensure my jail time is short. He owes me for what I did for him, plus, he will make sure I get the drug rehab I need but was too stupid to ask for years ago.
My trial doesn’t last long; evidence is provided against me, and it looks pretty damming. I know I’m not going free, but I can hope, right? When the judge says, “I sentence you to five years prison time,” my heart sinks. Five years is a long time, shorter than what I deserve, but still longer than what I want to do.
“Gauge, I’m sorry, man. I tried to get you the shortest sentence possible.” Angst fills his eyes because I know he feels he let me down.
“Gunner, don’t sweat it. You did the best you could do, and I couldn’t ask for more. That being said, brother, I need one last favor from you.”