CHAPTER 1

At dusk, I found myself leaning against a county ownedHarley Davidson, which had been confiscated during adrug bust, waiting on a guy named Gonzo in the nearlyempty parking lot of the Sub Tavern. Sheriff James had donecompletely the opposite of what I thought he would do. Insteadof relieving me of my undercover duties, he threw me headlongback into them. He explained that there was an actual war goingon between two gangs for exclusive control of the Mansfieldarea. One gang was made up of soldiers from the Vintessa family,out of Chicago. This is the group that Skate, Charlie, and Eddieworked for. The other warring family was out of Atlanta and isnamed Rollo. The Tessas have controlled the I-71, I-77, and I-75corridors, the main north-south arteries through Ohio, for years.The Rollo family is trying to start their takeover with I-71, whichgoes right through Mansfield and right into my jurisdiction.Their plan is to use a biker gang for distribution. That's whyI'm stuck out here on a Wednesday night waiting on some guynamed Gonzo. He is one of the heavies in a motorcycle clubcalled the New Sons, being courted by the Rollos.

It hasn't been all that hard for me to infiltrate their group.I had contacts from being undercover and was able to hookthem up with drugs. After that, all I really had to do was hitthe weights, be available, and be patient. Sure, I had to hang outat the right biker spots, which thankfully we're located outsideof Lexington, and more into the heart of Mansfield. Not thatanyone would, but could not afford to be recognized as a deputyofficer, by anyone. While wading, I thought about how quickeverything changed for me. Originally, I was perfectly happypatrolling the small towns and villages around Mansfield, thenwhen my partner, Laura, got pregnant and subsequently left theforce, I became someone looking for new challenges. I foundsatisfaction when I solved a cold case or busted some drug dealerby infiltrating his operation. My boss recognized this and startedgiving me more commendations and moving me up in rank,with each of my professional successes. I also found it satisfyingthat the higher-ups have taken notice to what I am doing. Iguess when I think about it and take the words, "to protect andserve" literally, I am doing the most good for the public righthere. But sometimes, honestly, I would like to be at home withmy girlfriend Lisa, on a weeknight, just hanging out. I changedmy mind's focus from my personal thoughts about my job tothe black Harley Davidson, being ridden by an overweight,stereo typical long-haired man with the graybeard coming in mydirection; this guy had to be Gonzo.

Not wanting to look to eager, I remained motionless, withmy arms folded and my sunglasses on as he rode by once to checkme out, and then back to me again. I have learned that one of themost, if not the most important thing about undercover work,is your cover story. Sharon, the boss's secretary had set me upwith a good one. My name is to be David Bosco. I stayed in theMansfield area after bouncing around the Ohio prison system fordrug trafficking. I supposedly had grown up in Georgia, whichfits perfectly with the Rollo family connection. Personally, I'vefound it amazing how much a different hairstyle and attitudechanges people's perceptions of you. I could walk by most peoplethat I grew up with and they would either not recognize me, orlook away because of intimidation. Gonzo did neither and afterparking his bike, walked directly towards me.

"Are you Bosco," he said, in the gravelly voice, lighting up acigarette.

"That depends," I answered, removing my black sunglasses.

Looking around me, at my bike, Gonzo said,

"That looks like Spider's old bike, did you steal it?"

Knowing the history of the motorcycle that you are ridingis very important to these guys and I was aware of the properprotocol and the history of the bike. I was trying to earn theirtrust, and to do that, I had to know every detail of the othergang members.

"No, I didn't steal it, but after he died in the Mansfield prison,I figured he wouldn't be using it, so I bought it from the auction."

"It shows respect that you waited until he died to do that,"Gonzo said, throwing his smoke out and stepping on it, beforelaughing and saying,

"I never really liked Spider all that much anyhow, but rulesare rules and I'm glad you followed them. Let's go inside andcrush a couple, then maybe we can talk some business."

The Sub Tavern was a small, redneck place, just off ParkAvenue, going out of Mansfield towards Madison. Unlike mostof the bars around, this place's clientele seemed to change all thetime. As I stayed undercover longer, it was obvious that peopleeither got killed or busted, or their wives stop letting them come,so there were long gaps between their visits. This is strangebecause in Mansfield you usually see the same people at the samebars forever. The two of us strode into the bar like we owned theplace. Some looked at us, but only briefly and then went back totheir drinks, or their pool game. The bartender looked like shewas probably pretty attractive twenty years ago, but now showedsigns of hard living, but that didn't keep her from the dressinglike she did twenty years ago. She took one look at Gonzo andsquealed,

"Hey baby, where have you been?"

"I've been around," was all he answered, as he took the twobottles of Budweiser from her and led me to a secluded table.

One of the things that I have had to learn going undercoverwas that you only spoke when you were spoken to. If you aretoo outgoing and friendly in this job, they will pick up on it realquick and figure you for a snitch. I sat back and sipped my beerand let Gonzo do most of the talking.

"That broad at the bar, used to hang out with the New Sonsall the time. She was a lot of fun, for a while. She was even myold lady once," Gonzo recalled as he drank. "I caught her at arally one time screwing Spider, and that was the end of that."

"That's why you didn't like Spider?" I asked, taking in largeswig of my beer.

Gonzo looked at me, confused, then I asked,

"You've never been with the club before have you Bosco?"

Realizing from his question that I had said something wrong,I backpedaled by answering,

"I've always been an independent. You know, rioting andlooking out only for number one."

The bartender came over and brought two shots of whiskeyand set them down, while she blew a kiss to Gonzo. We raisedour glasses, as Gonzo proclaimed,

"To the brotherhood," while we knocked them back.

"You'll find out when you ride with us that brotherhood isall that matters. There are a lot of bad things out there and yourbrothers will help you stay clear of it. I can go anywhere in thecountry and as soon as they see my colors, they know what kindof dude I am. They know I'm someone that is just one part of abigger thing, and nothing or nobody is going to stand in the wayof the brotherhood."

"That includes chicks," I asked finishing my beer.

Gonzo leaned in close to me and said,

"Especially chicks, no matter how much good head she givesyou!"

We both laughed heartily, like a couple of pirates, as shebrought us another round. This male bonding was fine, but I didwant to get around to talking about moving some drugs. I saidnothing, however, waiting for him to bring it up. After anothershot, Gonzo got up from the table and played a Stones song onthe jukebox, I smiled at the aging biker, but kept from laughingas he played air...