“The Motorcycle Club?” Melissa sits up a little straighter in her chair when DeVry nods. “Sure, the Kings are a 1% Motorcycle Club. I’ve heard they have a hand in a lot of illegal activity in Portland, hell all over the state.” Excitement has crept into her voice and she knows, without the aid of a mirror, that her eyes are sparkling with possibilities.
DeVry nods, seemingly surprised that she’s not as clueless as he probably thinks she is. “More than just the state. These guys are national. They specialize in dealing illegal weapons, manufacturing drugs, and providing protection. They’ve been under surveillance from the Feds, the ATF, you name it for years now, but they’re careful. They don’t let themselves get caught out and they’re loyal. You won’t find anyone who would betray the club. It’s that loyalty that makes it impossible to get anyone to testify against them.”
Melissa feels herself getting more excited as DeVry talks, knowing this really could be the break she’s been waiting for. But he hasn’t finished yet. “These guys have a lot of Portland PD in their pockets. Our boys in blue leave them alone so long as they keep violence contained between the criminal elements and don’t get innocent people involved. So the cops aren’t exactly inclined to bust them.”
Melissa leans forward eagerly, impatient now to learn what part she’s to play in all of this. “So what am I writing about?”
DeVry shakes his head at her eagerness. “You heard what I said, right? About these guys being dangerous outlaws?”
Melissa nods quickly. “I can handle myself.” She tries not to be bothered by the condescending chuckle that DeVry makes no move to stop from coming out of his lips. He isn’t to know that she’s been doing karate pretty much since she could walk thanks to her overprotective mother. She’d been state champion more times than she could count. She knew how to look after herself.
“The Feds haven’t been able to infiltrate these guys. They’re not exactly trusting of outsiders and they can smell a rat within about a hundred feet. But a girl, a young pretty girl, that’s someone who might slip through under the radar.” DeVry looks her over, as if he’s assessing her and Melissa sits up a little straighter a prickle of irritation eating at her.
“You’re pimping me out to the Kings?” She manages to keep her voice calm and collected despite the anger that’s bubbling just beneath the surface. She’d always worked hard not to be treated any differently from the guys, at school, at college, at her dojo, and now DeVry had chosen her for a story precisely because she isn’t a guy.
“Jesus, I’m not a monster, Potter!” DeVry lifts a paperweight from his desk and Melissa flinches involuntarily at the thought of him letting it fly. “All I’m saying is that men are likely to keep a pretty girl around, let her overhear things that my guys would never get a sniff of. You get me?”
Melissa feels her ire cool. She knows DeVry’s right. Men had a tendency to let their guard down around her.
“I’ve read some of your stuff. It’s good. A little Pollyanna, but good.” He doesn’t look directly at her as he pays her the compliment as if that will make the admission easier for him.
“Pollyanna?” Melissa frowns, confused by the reference.
“Jesus, you’re too young for that, aren’t you? Make me feel old, why don’t you?” DeVry collapses into his squeaky chair behind his desk as he continues to play with the glass paperweight, tossing it between his hands. “You have a tendency to make things a little rosy, a little too clean. This piece is going to need a different treatment. It’s an exposé, a feature ‘Behind the Scenes of the Kings’.” DeVry spreads his hands out as if he can already see the headline.
“I thought you figured I was just some high school drop-out.” Melissa raises an eyebrow at him, mimicking his expression.
“Don’t get cocky, Potter.” He levels an accusatory finger at her and Melissa has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
Instead she asks the question that has been playing on her mind since he mentioned the Kings. “Why me? You have some young female staff writers.” She jerks her head back towards the now reduced pool of writers out on the main floor of the paper.
Macintyre shrugs lazily, but Melissa isn’t fooled. She knows everything this man does is calculated. “I know you’re ambitious, that you want more than just a byline in the back pages of the Portland Tribune. This is your chance to prove it. And this paper needs a scoop, a big story, something that will prove to the shareholders we’re not done yet. This could be it. Besides, you’re younger and prettier than all the other girls on staff. I’ll bet there’s not a lot that a man won’t do once you bat your baby blues at him.”
Melissa shifts a little uncomfortably in her seat. Sure, she got her fair share of attention with her long auburn hair and bright blue eyes, but there was still something that didn’t sit right with her knowing that was the reason she’d been chosen.
“Do you want the job or not, Potter? If you don’t there are other ways to get into the Kings that don’t involve you. I’m not really the type to put all my eggs in one basket.” DeVry, looks off into the distance, almost like he’s already dismissed her.
“No, I want the job. I’ll do it.” The words are out of her mouth before her brain has a chance to catch up. DeVry’s triumphant grin looks more like a grimace and it tells Melissa that she’s played right into his hands. It’s give and take, she tells herself – it’s not just him getting something out of this. “So where do I start?” She reaches for her bag to pull her notepad out but DeVry’s bark stops her.
“Where do you start? You’re a reporter. Figure it out. And I want an update on where you are this time next week. If you’re not getting anywhere, I want to know sooner rather than later so I can pull the plug.” He shoots her a warning look.
“A week? You want me to infiltrate one of the most notorious biker gangs in the country in a week? Do you want me to learn how to speak Russian at the same time?” She’s aware that her voice has turned into a squeak but she’s so shocked she can get any words out at all. A week – she’d had longer deadlines for reporting on the story of a lost dog reunited with his doting owner.
“If you can’t do it, Potter, then just say. Like I said, I’ll find someone who can.” He replaces the paperweight on his desk but his hand still hovers over it proprietarily, keeping Melissa on her toes.
“I didn’t say that. I can do it. You’ll have something on your desk next week.”
DeVry just nods and motions her out, done with her.
As Melissa wanders out of the office in a daze, absently waving at Olivia as she passes her desk, she doesn’t stop to figure out how she’s going to make good on her promise. There’ll be time to worry about that next week. For now, she has a biker gang to infiltrate.