Chapter 18
MERRICK
As Saturday night plays out at the Leaky Skull, I keep looking at the stage where No Lucky Break is playing tonight. It looks different with the four kids in black jumping around, screaming lyrics, but I can picture this morning with Marietta on the pole.
And what happened after.
We’re playing with fire, and I figure I ought to loop Iron Jack into what’s happening, if I get a chance. I don’t know how Marietta will feel about that, though. It’s her situation.
I figure I’ll bring it up after church, but then Iron Jack himself strides into the bar around midnight.
The place is pretty full, with the band finishing out its set.
I’ve called off the twenty-something influencers for the time being, but the young women are still coming based on the info circulating.
Two tables of them watch from near Hookup Heaven as Iron Jack commands the attention of the room just by walking.
“I can cover the bar,” Diesel says as Iron Jack tilts his head to indicate he wants to talk to me.
“Hopefully, it won’t be long.” I hop the bar, wondering why the president of the club would seek me out. Maybe Marietta talked to him? Or she told someone who tipped him off?
Iron Jack chooses a table near the girls, who can’t take their eyes off him. He’s got a black shirt on under his cut today and a leather skullcap over his shoulder-length blond hair. He looks right out of Sons of Anarchy, and probably, those girls are fans.
He turns a chair around and straddles it, resting his tattooed arms on the back rails. It’s an intimidation tactic, surely, since the words visible on his forearms in this position are “Death” and “Revenge.”
It’s not a bad idea, putting out a message like that. I think about what my two words would be, but I haven’t sat down two seconds when Iron Jack says, “We have to watch the mouse.”
Whew, boy. I don’t know what to say that won’t incriminate me, so I mumble, “All right.”
“Lucifer’s Kin is aiming to infiltrate our territory with all sorts of bad shit. Drug warehouses. Gun running. They do construction coverups. Mainly buy future demos and use them for storage.”
I hold back from releasing a sigh of relief. “And what does this have to do with Marietta?”
“They snatched Cilo’s girl a few days ago. They thought he was still in the Wild Hair. Sent the message to the wrong dick.”
“Did y’all get her back?” I’ve been so focused on Marietta, I haven’t kept up with the club.
“Fuck yeah, we did. And we sent the whole MC to their club outside of Fort Lauderdale.”
“Was that the Wednesday night gig?” The one that allowed me to be all over Marietta alone without anyone noticing.
“Yeah. The retrieval. It didn’t go clean.” Iron Jack grimaces. “I hate getting the club’s hands dirty on that.”
“Were there bodies?”
Iron Jack shakes his head. “Close, though.”
Damn. “Are they after Marietta?”
“They’ve heard we have a virgin mouse. You can imagine what they want to do with her.
” He pauses as Vicki rushes up and leaves him a scotch, then scurries away.
“We have to keep the club protected, plus really watch her on campus. You think she’ll take a break from that dance thing she does?
It’s a lot to ask the club to do on top of the school. ”
“I’m with her at those.”
He nods. “I’m not saying I doubt your ability to protect her, but you’re a prospect, and you don’t do our protection gigs. My priority when I chose you to take her was to keep my men off her. But now, it’s to keep theirs away.”
Fuck. “What do you have planned?”
“We took on a new prospect. He might seem green, but he’s a marksman. That boy can shoot the eyelash off a ladybug.”
“You think a marksman is the best protection? Seems like you’d want some brute force.”
“I want both. I’ve seen you handle yourself, and I think having you by her side is fine. But I want cover. Eagle eyes.”
Eagle eyes on Marietta. Great. “How long do you think this threat will be around?”
Iron Jack takes a sip of the scotch. “I’d like to get that cherry handled. Someone take her on. Be her full-time gig. We think she might take a shine to Adam. He’s more her speed. Lighthearted, you know. Not so heavy-handed.”
Shit. They’re giving Marietta to this new prospect?
“How do you know this prospect isn’t a plant?”
“I knew his dad. He didn’t want his kid in the club, but he passed on about a year ago. Adam will be good new blood. Like the mouse.” He sets his empty glass down. “We could use some spirited young people around.”
I guess he lumps me in with the callous old guard. It’s the military work. Diesel and I both have that hardness about us.
“How about Marietta coming here?” I ask him. “She’s been working on Wednesday nights.”
He glances around. “Yeah, sure. This is fine. Can’t keep her cooped up. But see if she’ll stick to school and here until we get her handled. Hopefully, Adam will be the ticket.”
I nod, but inside I’m thinking, Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s about to stand up, but I hold out a hand. “Has she met him yet? Adam?”
He grins. “She’s with him right now. It’s going well from what I hear. Betz is supervising.”
Well, shit.
Iron Jack gets up and heads for the door.
When I walk behind the bar, I unload barware from the dishwasher to keep my mind off Marietta and this new prospect.
But after breaking two pints in a row, Diesel nudges me aside. “Let Jake do that before you run us out of business on glass.”
I step aside, then turn around and pull a Guinness from the tap. I down half of it before pausing.
“Drinking on the job,” Diesel says, tucking a towel under the bar. “What’s eating you?”
I haven’t spilled a word about Marietta, not even to him. “Club bullshit.”
He pulls the towel back out and runs it along the bar. “Anything to do with that pole setup I saw in the storage room?”
Fuck. “Why would it?”
He grins. “I dunno. Red spangles on the stage when the band got here. More on the base of the pole. You taking Marietta to her pole class.”
“Well, aren’t you a regular Sherlock?” I down the other half of the beer.
“You already take that cherry? Did you just inform Iron Jack?”
I shove the glass in the sink since the dishwasher is clean. “I haven’t taken anything. And Iron Jack has recruited a new prospect for her.”
“To smash that virgin vault?” Diesel stops moving the towel.
“Eventually, I guess. He says the new guy is more appropriate for Marietta than any of us black-hearted bastards.”
“He might be right about that.”
Was he? Fuck.
Several groups approach the bar, and the next twenty minutes are nonstop slinging drinks.
When it slows down, I’m tempted to text Marietta and ask what the hell is going on, but I can’t do that. Not if she’s on some official Wild Hair date. If she doesn’t reply, I’ll go stark raving mad imaging what is happening.
Fuck Iron Jack.
Fuck the Wild Hair.
Fuck Lucifer’s Kin, whoever the fuck they are.
I start clearing the bar and break two more glasses when Diesel takes me by the shoulders and sends me to the kitchen. “Things are slowing down,” he says. “Get the hell out of here before we have to serve straight out of the tap.”
I stomp out the back door to my bike. Goddamn it. Goddamn the whole fucking situation.
I ride out onto the marsh on a tiny dirt road. I kill the motor in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and moss and the sounds of frogs. A long slithering sound is probably an alligator sizing me up for a midnight snack, but maybe I don’t give a fuck.
I consider my options. Riding to the clubhouse and kidnapping Marietta myself. We could fix this thing in five minutes.
Backing out of the Wild Hair. It’s no big thing to do as a prospect, not nearly the problem as when you’re fully patched in. Then I don’t have to follow their rules. I could go for her without disrupting their plans.
Or letting Marietta figure out what she wants. Maybe this Adam fellow will be the ticket. Maybe she’ll feel obligated like she does when Betz dresses her.
Fuck if I know.
But there’s one thing I’m not going to do.
And that’s make a goddamn fool of myself over her.