Rick Rodgers was an agent so deep undercover he had never seen the sun set or rise, not that his handlers would let him. That was until he was asked to work a case with her, then it all went to hell. What ensued after was murder, mayhem and Mexican biker gangs. Follow Rick, Kate and an assorted gang of agents until they find the truth. This fictional A/U story is co-written by thekingdaddy and Pen to Paper writer (P2P) So please pull up a chair and strap in!

Chapter 1

The director of the FBI Robert Mueller was in a quandary. I the past three years, two of his best undercover agents had been killed while working on the Death Riders investigation. They had both been discovered and summarily shot, by the members of the gang These members were the ones who kept everyone else safe within the gang. A security force so to say. These agents ended up with two to the head. But that wasn't all. The other agents who were supporting the operation had been discovered and beaten within an inch of their lives, before being dropped at the doorstep of the local FBI office in New York City. 26 Federal Plaza was quickly becoming a dumping ground for agents...it needed to stop. And then there was the last agent they sent in, he had been discovered within in a week. But thankfully for all involved he wasn't killed or even beaten, he had been delivered to the same local office in NYC as the others were. But he was stripped naked and wrapped head to toe in duct tape. It was a sign that they knew who he was and why he was spared.

So now he was entering a meeting with heads of law enforcement for the great state of New York as well as the city of New York as well as Homeland Security and other nameless three letter agencies. The meeting was taking place in a secure conference room at the FBI headquarters in DC where he felt he had a home field advantage. He was expecting that there to be some uneasiness when the totality of the poor investigation was revealed.

As the participants of the meeting began to fill the conference room there was one additional attendee that the Director Mueller had not expected, Jackson Hunt the head of training for the covert operations section of the CIA. Hunt's reputation for training, the men he had trained had been some of the most lethal in cold war days. They had carried out a few of the less popular but desperately needed operations that had prevented world war three. At least that is what the CIA liked to claim, that was if the CIA claimed anything at all. Which the Director of the FBI knew all too well.

The Director stood up and called the meeting to order. Giving a second look towards Hunt. He went over the loss of his agents and the problems that the Death Riders were creating for them, and the threat to National Security from the alliances with criminal entities abroad. "So we need to think outside the box, come up with an undercover operation that these guys can't smell from a mile away. The only problem is we don't have anyone who has never been a part of their biker culture. Sure we have a few who have gone undercover in the past and broken some big cases, but when we try and have them work with the agent in charge it always fails."

The Superintendent of the New York State Police spoke next. "Why don't you just send in the agents that are doing the teaching to get the intel that we need. They seem to be the go to guys?"

"Everyone in that world knows their faces. It's worse than when we sent in the agents to break up the mob in Vegas."

As everyone in the room was contemplating that statement and its implications the Chief of the NYPD spoke up. "From what little I know about these gangs, they are a tight knited bunch. If we are going to send in someone they will have to be well schooled in undercover work."

For the first time Hunt spoke up. "I have just the right guy for you, but he will need backup, no, a partner if you will. It's my understanding that this culture is as hedonistic as anything Caligula could have thought up, so it's my suggestion that we send in a woman with him." He looks directly at the FBI director Mueller and says. "I value my 'boy's' life so for the love of god don't suggest that he go in with a fed."

"Just what in the hell does that mean?" The director asked.

"Well you just said that they had all been made by these guys, I need the guy I send you back in one peace." He looked at the NYPD Chief. "Maybe you have someone who worked in vice, they would expect some of the treatment and could handle themselves. But I want to be clear, my guy doesn't come back in a body bag, if it looks like he is compromised he's pulled out, understand?"

After some serious debating that finally ended with the agreement that they would reconvene in New York in seven days with the operative that Hunt was providing as well as his 'partner' that the NYPD was assigning to this operation.

Seven days later in the conference room of the twelfth precinct Kate Beckett along with her team had been summoned by Captain Montgomery. When they entered the room they were met by The Chief of Police and a few suits that could only be from the FBI.

"Kate." Montgomery began. "You have been chosen for an undercover operation in conjunction with the FBI." Beckett nodded and Montgomery continued. "It appears that the motorcycle gang The Death Riders, are trafficking women and weapons back and forth between here and Eastern Europe. And we are asking you to go in undercover, since you speak Russian and have a background in vice that will come in handy."

"Yes sir, but I think that this is more suited for the FBI, don't you?" Beckett skeptically asked.

"Yes it is, but they don't have a great track record with these guys." He cryptically responded, hoping that she would not dive in further for an explanation.

"Just what in the hell does that mean?" Esposito asked angrily. After receiving a glare from Montgomery that conveyed his anger Esposito replied. "Sorry sir."

Now it was time for the Chief Kelly to speak. "I know this is a strange request Detective Beckett, and I want you to know that we scoured the files of all female the officers and detectives to see who had undercover work and you fit the bill to a TEE. Not only do you have the linguistic skills that are needed, but we feel that you will be a valuable asset for this OP. However we were surprised to learn that not only do you own a Harley, but ride often."

"Thank you, sir?" Kate wasn't sure how she was expected to react to the Chief's statement.

Now it was the FBI agent in charge who spoke. "Detective Beckett you will not be going in alone, we have a partner for you."

Before anyone could form a response, heavy footfalls emanating from a heavy boot could be heard as someone strode across the hardwood floor of the bullpen. When the occupants of the conference room turned to the sound, the door opened and a long haired and bearded, large framed man accompanied by an equally large man with white hair and matching trimmed beard entered the room. An air of confidence seemed to enter the room with the two men.

"Nice to see you could make this meeting Hunt." The agent snidely commented.

"Had to get my boy from the airport, and don't take that tone with me or I will turn Rodgers here loose on you." Hunt responded enjoying the nervous expression on the face of the agent.

The long haired man simply known as Rodgers spoke. "Can someone explain why the hell I'm in New York and not in Afghanistan?" Beckett took in the appearance of the man who spoke. If it was not for the fact that he could pronounce the word Afghanistan, she thought he would be illiterate. He had shoulder length brown hair as well as a full bushy beard that stretched down to his chest. He was wearing faded jeans that seemed to be a couple of sizes too small, leaving nothing to the imagination. He wore a black AC/DC tee shirt that clung to his chest and a black motorcycle jacket.

The FBI agent in charge spoke up. "Rodgers we are looking to mount an undercover OP with the primary target being the motorcycle gang the Death Riders."

Rodgers looked around the room at the people amassed taking in each one, making mental notes on their physical appearance's and demeanor. After he had assessed each he turned back to the agent and spoke. "These guys will be dead before the first night is over."

An appalled Kate Beckett spoke up. "Now wait just a goddamned minute. You don't know anything about me or my team. I'll have you know that I have been on plenty of undercover OP's with vice in the past."

"Vice, that's what you claim to have in the realm of experience? Oh, and with this limited experience you are going in are you? You're probably right, you won't be killed the first night." He smirked as he saw a smile come over Beckett's face. She was thinking that she had gotten the upper hand. This guy was so full of himself she could see he was such a jerk. Then he spoke again. "You'll be'raped' and then killed on the first night."

Beckett seethed at him. "You don't know anything about me. I have been riding my Harley since I was seventeen years old."

Rodger's shrugged off his jacket and stepped right up to her, invading her personal space. He reached up and grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her into a deep searing kiss. It was all about his lips being on hers, not wanting to deepen the kiss by asking her to part her lips with his tongue, this was the kind of kiss that usually shows everyone in the room that who the kissee is to the kisser. Kate pushes Rodgers away from her violently and cries out. "What the hell?!"

"Right there, that will get you killed...every time!" He said a little less emphatic than earlier.

Confused, Beckett asked. "What?" As Rodgers moved back to the chair where he dropped his jacket. Rodgers turned to her and asked. "How much experience do you have with the men in these gangs?"

"Not much." Beckett conceded.

"Well let me tell you how it goes. First of all you, as a woman, are property of one of the brothers in the club. An old lady if you will. And whoever is you old man" he looked to her partners. "Will be the one who either defends you or allows you to have sex with the men. You don't have a choice. That's just the way it is."

Esposito has had just about enough from this long-haired jerk. "Just how in the hell do you know all of this?" He looked to the Captain and finished. "For all we know he could be making all of this up. I think we should bring up someone from the gang unit and talk with them."

Rodgers laid his jacket back on the chair, the same one it was on just moments ago and reached down grabbing a handful of his shirt lifting the back of it up and over his head. When he did it exposed a large diamond tattoo that took up his entire back. It was solid red with the number one and a percent sign within it. Above it read Death and below was Riders. "How do I know? Because I am that asshole."

You could have heard a pin drop while he was tucking his shirt back in again and grabbing his jacket. "I guess that you brought me here because you want me to go in? Am I right?"

Again the FBI director spoke once more, stunned by the sight of the tattoo on Rodgers back. "Yes we do, and we want Detective Beckett to go in with you."

"Not a chance in hell. Didn't you hear what I just said? There is no way I am going to be responsible for her."

"You won't be responsible for me." Kate stated matter of factly. "I can take care of myself."

"No sweetheart, you will be my property so you can't take care of yourself. Only I can, and as hot as you are, it will get very ugly, very fast." He looked around the room at the faces of everyone. "I'll go in, but I go alone. Besides I have a little unfinished business with some of the boys in there." The last part was a whisper that no one heard, except for Kate.

Jackson Hunt spoke up. "Rodgers you are going in and she is going with you. So I suggest that you and Detective Beckett go and have a beer, a fight, or a night of no-holds-barred-monkey-sex. But whatever you do, the two of you are a team tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?!"

"Crystal sir." With that Rodgers exited the room. Not looking back behind him to see if the detective was following him or not.