Page 10 of Last Mile

“Yes,” Gavin and I replied.

“Bishop has just taken a mechanics apprenticeship at a local garage— one that has no affiliations to the Raiders.” At what had to be Gavin’s and my identical expressions of surprise, Peterson added “Apparently, he’s looking to go legitimate in his career choice and have no help from the Raiders.”

Straightening up in his seat, Gavin asked, “So you guys want to put me to work at this garage?”

Peterson nodded. “We’re hoping you can gain his trust and become a hang-around for the club . . . maybe even work up to prospecting.”

“I can do that. I might need a week or two to do a little refresher on mechanical terminology.”

“We have you booked into a garage to do just that starting tomorrow. We won’t put you into the one where Bishop works until after you’ve completed the refresher.”

Gavin choked on the french fry he’d been chewing. “Tomorrow? Damn, Peterson, you guys sure as hell were banking on me saying yes.”

“You’re the only one with the credentials to do it. This case isn’t just about someone who knows cars. It’s also about motorcycles.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s in your file that you ride your Harley every chance you get.”

I couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement. “He’s at best what bikers call a ‘weekend warrior.’”

Gavin glared at me. “I sure as hell could hold my own if I had to.”

Picking up Bishop’s picture, I waved it in front of his face. “You’re telling me you could be BFFs with this guy and be convincing as a hard-ass biker?”

When Gavin jerked his chin up defiantly at me, I merely smiled at Peterson. “For him to even remotely have a chance, you need to book him for one hell of a makeover— the best the bureau has when it comes to undercover. I’d start at the top, with weeding out the hair product, and then work my way down.”

“Bitch,” Gavin muttered under his breath, but then he winked at me.

After wiping his mouth with his napkin, Peterson said, “You also need to come up with a new last name. We don’t want anything that can be traced back to you.”

Gavin tilted his head in thought. After a few seconds, he said,“Marley.”

Wrinkling my nose, I questioned, “Why Marley?”

“’Cause I love me some Bob Marley, and then my initials don’t have to change just in case I draw a blank sometime.”

I rolled my eyes but laughed in spite of myself. Jerking my chin at Peterson, I said, “So it sounds like you have Gavin all sorted out. I can’t help asking where I come in.”

Peterson shifted uncomfortably. “One of the last places you can be ‘out’ and be accepted is in the biker world.” He stared straight atGavin. “As an attractive man, you will immediately garner the attention of the sweet butts and club whores.”

Gavin swept a hand to his chest. “Thanks for the compliment.”

With a shake of his head, Peterson added, “But the first time one puts her tits in your face or grinds her ass on your dick and you don’t rise to the occasion, so to speak, you’re in big trouble.”

“I could fake it,” Gavin argued.

“Too much is riding on this case to put you in that position.”

His expression grew grave. “Although we have no proof that the

Raiders have ever participated in this type of initiation, some prospects for other clubs have been forced to show their allegiance to a club by gang- raping women.”

“Jesus,” Gavin muttered.

“There’s no way in hell we can have an ATF agent partake in such violence, and if you were to refuse, you could lose your life.”

His gaze flickered to mine. “That’s why we’re sending you in with him as his girlfriend.”

With the tension high in the air, I couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled from my lips. “You’re joking.”