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Wild Ride

Wild Ride

5.0 1
by D. Eric Horner

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You would think that finding a dead drug dealer who was involved in the murder of a former classmate would be enough closure, maybe even a little satisfying, but not for David Baker. He wants more. In his heart, he knows he cannot stop the flow of drugs up and down Interstate 71, but he knows that he can make a difference, even if that means joining a biker gang and


You would think that finding a dead drug dealer who was involved in the murder of a former classmate would be enough closure, maybe even a little satisfying, but not for David Baker. He wants more. In his heart, he knows he cannot stop the flow of drugs up and down Interstate 71, but he knows that he can make a difference, even if that means joining a biker gang and going deeply undercover to find the kingpins.

Take the wild ride with David Baker as he totally immerses himself into the gritty motorcycle gang known as the New Sons, where he sees more drugs and partying than he has ever seen while on the force. Find out if his internal moral compass is working properly or if he bends the laws and his promises too far. He knows that drugs played a role in the murder of his high school friend, Peggy, all those years ago. He owes it to her memory and himself to find out just what that role was, but is he in too deep?

Product Details

Trafford Publishing
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.81(d)

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Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2013 D. Eric Horner
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4907-0722-8


At dusk, I found myself leaning against a county owned Harley Davidson, which had been confiscated during a drug bust, waiting on a guy named Gonzo in the nearly empty parking lot of the Sub Tavern. Sheriff James had done completely the opposite of what I thought he would do. Instead of relieving me of my undercover duties, he threw me headlong back into them. He explained that there was an actual war going on between two gangs for exclusive control of the Mansfield area. One gang was made up of soldiers from the Vintessa family, out of Chicago. This is the group that Skate, Charlie, and Eddie worked for. The other warring family was out of Atlanta and is named Rollo. The Tessas have controlled the I-71, I-77, and I-75 corridors, the main north-south arteries through Ohio, for years. The Rollo family is trying to start their takeover with I-71, which goes right through Mansfield and right into my jurisdiction. Their plan is to use a biker gang for distribution. That's why I'm stuck out here on a Wednesday night waiting on some guy named Gonzo. He is one of the heavies in a motorcycle club called 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 hook them up with drugs. After that, all I really had to do was hit the weights, be available, and be patient. Sure, I had to hang out at the right biker spots, which thankfully we're located outside of Lexington, and more into the heart of Mansfield. Not that anyone would, but could not afford to be recognized as a deputy officer, by anyone. While wading, I thought about how quick everything changed for me. Originally, I was perfectly happy patrolling the small towns and villages around Mansfield, then when my partner, Laura, got pregnant and subsequently left the force, I became someone looking for new challenges. I found satisfaction when I solved a cold case or busted some drug dealer by infiltrating his operation. My boss recognized this and started giving me more commendations and moving me up in rank, with each of my professional successes. I also found it satisfying that the higher-ups have taken notice to what I am doing. I guess when I think about it and take the words, "to protect and serve" literally, I am doing the most good for the public right here. But sometimes, honestly, I would like to be at home with my girlfriend Lisa, on a weeknight, just hanging out. I changed my mind's focus from my personal thoughts about my job to the black Harley Davidson, being ridden by an overweight, stereo typical long-haired man with the graybeard coming in my direction; this guy had to be Gonzo.

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

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

"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 riding is very important to these guys and I was aware of the proper protocol and the history of the bike. I was trying to earn their trust, and to do that, I had to know every detail of the other gang 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, before laughing and saying,

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

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

"Hey baby, where have you been?"

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

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

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

"That's why you didn't like Spider?" I asked, taking in large swig 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 and looking out only for number one."

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

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

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

We both laughed heartily, like a couple of pirates, as she brought us another round. This male bonding was fine, but I did want to get around to talking about moving some drugs. I said nothing, however, waiting for him to bring it up. After another shot, Gonzo got up from the table and played a Stones song on the jukebox, I smiled at the aging biker, but kept from laughing as he played air guitar on his hip and shouted,

"Turn it up, God damn it!"

No one said anything as the barmaid increased the volume to a substantial level. Gonzo danced slightly on his way back to the table with two more beers. He sat down and it became obvious to me why he wanted the music turned up. He leaned in and lit another smoke and asked in a low voice,

"How much weight are you looking to move?"

"Let's just say I have access enough to keep all of the brothers busy for a long time," I answered.

"They're not your brothers yet, but I like you, Bosco. We're having a ride and a party on Saturday, through the hills of Mohican. Consider yourself invited, and why don't you bring enough party favors for about thirty people. It will give us a chance to check you and your stuff out. Do you have an old lady?"

"No, it just me," I answered as the songs switched.

Gonzo waded into the music started again, then said,

"Don't worry about it, they'll be plenty of pussy there." Laughing, he added,

"But stay away from that broad behind the bar, she's used goods."

"Because you've had her?" I innocently asked, causing Gonzo to almost choke on his beer, while he answered,

"No because she was fooling around when she was my old lady, so I passed her around to all the brothers and now none of us will touch her. That should include you, my friend, stay away from her, she's poison."

I waited until Gonzo finished his beer and it looked like we were ready to take off. We walked out the door towards our bikes, and I thanked him for meeting with me and buying the drinks. He smiled and looked back towards the bar saying,

"I didn't buy anything, she never asked me for any money."

We left and I held my hand up to shake his. He clamped on mine and then looked surprised at what I had slipped into his palm.

"What's this?" he asked as I started my bike.

"It's a free sample to say thanks," I answered revving up the 1300 that I sat across. "I'll be there Saturday around noon."

I took off towards Mansfield, just in case anyone was watching. Once I was sure that I was alone, I changed direction and headed home.

Heading south on Route 13, I found myself fitting into the role of the biker. I kicked back, put up my highway pegs and cruised past the gas stations and McDonald's, away from the everyday distractions towards my secluded home. This assignment, I knew, was going to limit the amount of time that I could spend at home. Living the life, as they say, of a club biker will force me to spend more time at my cover house, which is an apartment, in town. The place was set up by Sharon, just like my cover story. I guess that to fit in, I have to show that I'm not really tied down to any place for anybody. Those thoughts and more were rolling through my mind over the roar of the bike, mostly, how to explain things to Lisa.

For all intents and purposes, the two of us have been living together since her father passed away. Her dad, Mike Henson, was my inspiration to become a deputy. Lisa and I met while he was in a home care for his Alzheimer's disease. The two of us have hit it off beautifully and have been dating for over two and a half years. We have plans to get married, but both of us are so busy with work that when we get time to spend together, all we do is enjoy it. I guess that's a little immature on my part, because if something were to happen to me, in my job, I want her to be taken care of. Again, that's not something we discuss, but we are working towards it. She sold her house, in Lexington, when I started working undercover. She kept it at first; to see if we could successfully live together, before getting married. That lasted about two months and we both knew that we would be fine, so we just moved her stuff into my place.

I shut the bike off and coasted down my driveway, to my storage shed. I walked into the house and there she was. Lisa was the only woman that I'd ever met, who was just as beautiful when she was dressed casual, in sweats and a T-shirt, and she was dressed up. Even after a couple of years of being together, I still catch myself looking at her perfect body and her sexy smile, when she doesn't expect it. Like me, she has let her brown hair grow to almost shoulder length. It was almost like a contest between us; when I was growing my hair for this undercover role, she beats me and I don't mind because it looks terrific on her and I think kind of silly on me. We went through our evening routine, which I enjoyed more than usual, because I knew that over the next months, nights like this would be few and far between.

We went to bed, talking about what I was about to do. I didn't reveal any secrets about the case, but I wanted her to be aware for her safety. She laid with her head on my chest, softly rubbing my stomach, as we paid little attention to the baseball game on TV.

"How long are you going to have to stay at that little apartment?" she asked, with a tone of disappointment in her voice.

I answered, while gently rubbing the small of her back and the firm but soft skin of her buns,

"I'm not really sure. I have to attend a motorcycle rally on Saturday and then who knows. Hopefully, everything goes smoothly and they will start courting me to join the club."

"I've seen stories about how those women do their courting and I'm not sure that's right for you," she said jealously.

I pulled her shoulder back, so that I could look into her hazel eyes and teased her,

"Are you worried about some of those biker chicks?"

"Hell yes I am," she said emphatically, "they all seem pretty eager to accommodate, if you know what I mean."

As strange as it might sound, I hadn't given the women a second thought, but I knew she needed to hear that.

"You do realize that I love you, right?"

"Well, yes and I love you too, but—"

I didn't let her finish and just began kissing her. Both of us knew how we felt and trusted what went with those feelings.

"I could be a biker chick," Lisa joked, getting up on her knees and stimulating holding the handle bars out in front of her and making noises. She continued by saying,

"Hey boys look at these! Do you want to ride me?"

"Stop it," I said pulling her back down to the bed.

We began laughing and wrestling around, by the light of the TV only. Our kissing became more passionate and our playful wrestling moves turned much sexier, as we shifted our attention to the one thing we knew that we both needed and we needed more than you could measure. It was the best sex that we had had since her father had died. Our encounters since that event were good, but not like tonight. Each of us had an enthusiasm and lack of apprehension that made our romp raw and loving at the same time. I guess we both wanted to prove that we were the perfect fit for each other. I also got the feeling that both of us wanted the other to remember this, in case it was a while before we get to do it again.

I was wrong about not being able to be together for a while, because Lisa took the next day off from work and we spent the entire day together. We continued rolling in bed, and in the hot tub, and anywhere else we saw fit. But that wasn't the best part of the day, it was a close second; but just getting to spend uninterrupted time with her—no distractions, no cell phones, and no work at all—was wonderful, and I felt it rekindled some passion that the stress from work and its routine steals from you. Friday morning came much too fast for both of us, as I walked her to her car in the morning. I leaned down to kiss her goodbye, saying,

"I'll call you when I can, I promise."

"You better and you're welcome to come back to your house anytime you want," she joked forcing a smile.

"I'm doing this to protect you, I don't want it to turn out like last time," I said, referring to when she was taken hostage by Eddie's friends, when I was working on that old case.

"I don't want that either, because even though you're sexy as hell, with your long hair and motorcycle dude attitude, I don't think I could stand having a living room full of those people, because the ones I've seen don't look anywhere near as good as you."

I kissed and hugged her hard, telling her that I loved her, and she started to get into her car and I started walking to my bike, to load my stuff in the saddle bags. Before I got there, I heard Lisa whistle and yell,

"Hey Bosco, keep in mind this is what a good one looks like!"

With that, she turned around and pulled up her skirt, showing me her perfect ass. I was already in full "biker mode," as I howled,

"Yeah baby, take it off!"

Lisa smiled as she pulled down her skirt, waved and drove away. I continued packing my saddlebags, mostly with T-shirts and jeans, and the dope. I knew that the apartment was already stocked with towels and sheets, so I didn't need much. I took a look around my place, kind of taking a mental picture of everything. It's not like I was going away for a year or anything, and I knew Lisa would take care of the place, but I guess I just wanted to take another long look around. After that, I fired up the bike and headed towards my apartment.

Excerpted from Wild RIDE by D. ERIC HORNER. Copyright © 2013 D. Eric Horner. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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