37. Otis
Chapter 37
Otis
T he bar reeked. Of cigars, cigarettes, pot, and probably anything else it was possible to smoke. It made me uncomfortable, both because it stunk like hell and because it sent a signal that this was a place with no rules.
Rules were comforting. They told me what was expected.
Even prison had had rules, spoken and unspoken.
But this was a “no rules” kind of place, and it set me on edge. Wolf, Jace, and I could handle ourselves in almost any situation, but there were a lot of big dudes at the Strike. Plus we had Daisy with us, something we’d argued about until Daisy had made it clear she wasn’t staying home like some kind of princess in an ivory tower.
Daisy upped the ante for us all. We didn't mind getting our asses kicked from time to time but protecting Daisy had become our prime directive, and that was a lot more complicated when we were outnumbered two hundred to three and half the guys in the bar were eying Daisy like she was fresh chum in a sea full of sharks.
She didn’t notice it — she never did — but I was on edge as Wolf and I moved deeper into the bar even though I knew Jace would cut off his arm before he’d leave Daisy alone at the Strike.
I scanned the crowd, looking for a friendly face, and spotted it in the screened-in porch at the back of the building.
Wolf met my gaze and tipped his head, and I knew he’d spotted the giant bearded guy sitting in a crowd of other giant bearded guys too. There were a couple of women among them, a curvaceous brunette dressed as an old-time bar wench and a redhead wearing head-to-toe leather, a riding crop propped against her plastic chair, but it was mostly guys, some in costume, others wearing their Barbarians cuts like it was any other night at the Strike.
We headed toward them and I relaxed a little when Bruce spotted us and a grin broke out across his weather-beaten face.
“What the actual fuck?” he said, standing. He was well over six feet tall, with a graying beard and brown eyes.
Beyond the screened-in porch, a bonfire blazed, surrounded by a ring of chairs occupied by shadowy figures who didn’t mind the cold.
Wolf extended his hand. “How’s it going?”
The rest of the group was sizing us up, but we were in relatively safe territory thanks to the warm greeting from one of their own.
“Probably a lot more relaxing than it’s going for you,” Bruce said, shaking Wolf’s hand. He turned to me. “Cole.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything. Wolf was better at the bro thing.
“How’s your mom?” Bruce asked Wolf.
He’d dated Daya when we’d been in middle school. We’d all liked him, but he was too enmeshed in the club for it to work long-term. Daya wanted to be in the woods, not riding around on the back of a bike, and she wasn’t down for the rampant criminal activity either.
“She’s good,” Wolf said.
Bruce nodded. “Good.” He stroked his beard. “Gotta say, I never thought I’d see you at the Strike.”
Wolf and I weren’t members of either of Blackwell Falls’ MCs, but Jace was a member of the Blades, and the Blades hung out at Screamin’ Syd’s.
“First time for everything,” Wolf said. “You got a minute?”
Bruce held Wolf’s gaze, then glanced at me, clearly trying to get a read on the situation before returning his eyes to Wolf. “Let’s take it outside.”
We crossed the room and followed Bruce out the squeaky screen door. It slammed shut behind us and we made our way down a short set of stairs to the area at the back of the house.
The bonfire was still blazing, the group of bikers I’d seen from the screen porch sitting around it drinking, talking, and laughing. It was more low-key than the party going on in the bar and it was definitely weird to see a bunch of costumed bikers sitting around a fire like they were away at summer camp.
“Must be important to come here like this,” Bruce said, coming to a stop under a tree a few yards from the fire.
“It is,” Wolf said.
“You could have called,” Bruce said. “Rather than take your life into your own hands, I mean.”
Wolf shrugged. “Didn’t think of it.”
It had been a decade since Daya had dated Bruce. He’d faded into my memories of the handful of people Daya had dated since, none of them seriously and none of them for long. I hadn’t thought of it either.
“So what’s this about?” Bruce asked, folding his big arms over his even bigger chest. He wasn’t as trim as he had been when we were in middle school, but he was still built and scary as fuck.
“We’re looking for somebody,” Wolf said. “Rumor has it he’s a member of the club.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “If there’s anything more dangerous than a bunch of fuckers associated with the Blades coming to the Strike, it’s a bunch of fuckers associated with the Blades coming to the Strike looking for somebody.”
“Believe me, I know,” Wolf said. “We wouldn’t be here if there was any other way.”
Bruce sighed, then ran his hand over his face and down his beard. “Who is it?”
“Derrick Mayer.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows. “You in some kind of trouble?”
“Not like you mean,” Wolf said. “Just need to talk to this guy.”
“Is he in some kind of trouble?” Bruce asked.
Wolf shook his head. “Nope.”
Bruce’s nod was slow. He held Wolf’s gaze for a few seconds, like he was activating some kind of internal lie detector, then tipped his head to the fire. “Over there. Next to the gladiator.”