Riding Anopaea Pass (Closed)

[Gamina]

U.S. Route 285 on the way to Denver 1984:

While the wind was whipping her long blond hair around, Harley Gunnulf couldn't believe how incredibly lucky she had been or incredibly unlucky. She had just finished her basic law enforcement training course while working for the Gage County Sheriff department a few weeks ago and on her first solo patrol she had decided to 'Random' stop a biker that had crossed over a solid line to pass a car. She had been in the process of giving the hard looking biker a warning, mostly because he had surprised her of being civil about the stop, when the Fed's rolled in and escalated the stop to an arrest. When they got back to the precinct she had wanted to warn the sheriff that she had seen the Fed's planting the drugs on the man's bike. But when the old man had beamed proudly at her for catching one of the feared Spartans, she had bit her tongue. Trusting that if the Fed's went to these extreme's to lock these men up, there must be a good reason.


The shock came later, when she had been told by the agent in charge that they wanted to send her back to Colorado with the man, to pose as his girlfriend while they gathered enough intel to bring the biker gang down. She had wanted to refuse the position, as being gay she felt nothing good would come by trying to play the girlfriend role. Sheriff Mason had also objected as he felt that the Spartans were way to dangerous to send in what was but a mere rookie. But the feds had been clear, she had an in, she would be well protected by both her handler and the man in custody, a quick make over later, she was shipped off to Colorado with strict orders and a promise of a promotion to the FBI station of her choice when the mission was done.

So now holding on for dear live on the back of bike, she was riding to the biggest adventure of her life, or to her doom...

​

 

[Biker_Faerie]

Garth Collins' mind was racing. Only the sound of the big twin beneath him stopped his head from exploding. The day had started so innocently. How could it have become so fucked up so fast?

If only the dumb bitch hadn’t pulled him over then maybe none of this would have happened. Garth didn’t really believe that though. The Feds hadn’t found him by accident. If it hadn’t been a traffic violation it would have been something else, somewhere else.

What he didn’t understand was how they’d known where he would be. Somebody in the Dallas chapter must have ratted him out. He'd find out who.

As Sergeant at Arms for the Denver chapter of the Spartans Motorcycle Club, Garth had been sent to help his brothers in Dallas ‘sort out’ a problem they were having with a rival gang, the First Nation Brotherhood. It was the usual friction, drugs, prostitution, territory. But the hit needed to look unrelated to inter club violence so required someone from out of town. Garth didn’t mind these jobs. They came with a bounty. They also came with hospitality and the young Mexican chick the Dallas chapter had arranged for him had been most agreeable. She'd done things that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

The way he'd been set up had been simplicity itself. The Feds had waited until he was in New Mexico, got some tame cop to pull him over then fitted him up for something he'd do jail time for. New Mexico was Brotherhood territory and a Spartan wouldn't last a day in the state penitentiary under normal circumstances. He didn't dare contemplate what they'd do to him if the Brotherhood found out what he'd been doing in Dallas.

So he'd had a simple choice, face certain death in prison or become a confidential informant and face possible death at the hand of his chapter brothers if found out.

Garth was a pragmatist. He had no desire to die. He enjoyed living too much. He'd seen enough 'death or glory' from his time in the Army Rangers and he knew that once you were gone, you were gone. And soon forgotten. Garth wasn't ready to be forgotten.

And so, reluctantly, he'd agreed to become a C.I. At least until he could find a way out.

What now made it worse was that he was saddled with the dumb bitch who'd originally pulled him over. He could see she was a Rookie and going to be a liability. But he knew he had to keep her safe. For the time being, their fates were intertwined.

He could have done without the added complication but, if there was one good thing about his pillion, it was that she didn't look like a Fed. The Feds first idea had been to have a guy to ride with him as his buddy. Had they learned nothing about how biker gangs worked? You couldn’t just turn up and be accepted with open arms. It took years. With girls it was different. They could get close as bitches or ol’ ladies, although they could never join the chapter. You had to be male to be a Spartan.

At least in her leathers Harley looked hot. Under different circumstances he'd have wanted to fuck, but Garth's mind wasn't really on sexual gratification right now.

They were back in Texas now. On home ground. It had been ninety minutes since they’d last stopped for fuel and the tank was almost empty. If she wasn't used to riding then Harley was going to be stiff when she got off the bike, but if she was going to be his 'bitch' then she was going to have to start getting used to that.

He pulled in at the next gas station, cut the engine by a gas pump then waited for her to get off the bike.