Chapter 20 Merrick
MERRICK
Idon’t walk into church the next morning with any of my usual swagger. I feel cut at the knees that the Wild Hair has taken the Marietta situation to the point of recruiting her a man.
I’m at odds between what I want to do and what I ought to do.
I should leave her alone.
Only Stoney and Iron Jack are in the room when I sit in the corner. There’s another chair in the opposite corner, I assume for this Adam fellow. A marksman. Fuck me.
Iron Jack tips his chin. “Prospect, I don’t think we’ve discussed the next phase of your probation.”
I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. “All right. You have something in mind?”
Iron Jack turns in his chair to face me. “We’re going to bring you in on a situation we have. We know the bar is important. Can you get a night free?”
“Sure. I think the only night Diesel is definitely out is Wednesday. He can cover most nights. Friday and Saturday are the hardest, but we could call in the backups.”
Iron Jack nods. “I think this Thursday is when we’ll make a move. You think you can do that?”
“Sure. I’ll let Diesel know. What’s involved?”
He spins back to the door as Two Fast Freddy and Hoss stride in. “We’ll go over the situation in a few.”
I sit back in my chair. Okay, then. It sounds like I’m moving forward with this prospect business. It’s been three months since I first patched in. Iron Jack told me it typically took a year to be approved, and the workload for them would increase with my loyalty to the club.
Loyalty. Probably that didn’t include diddling the house mouse they are trying to set up with this other prospect.
Maybe she fell head over heels for him, and whatever we’ve been doing will be moot.
But the mere thought of that pisses me off. Fuck no. I’m not letting her go that easily.
Low Joe and Chain enter the room, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. Behind them is a man I’ve never seen before, young, with curly carroty hair and a blond-red beard.
I squint at his black leather cut. Sure enough, it reads, “Prospect,” just like mine. So, this is the guy.
I watch him enter. He salutes Iron Jack and takes his place in the other corner. Our gazes meet for a second, but I mean nothing to him, so he just nods in acknowledgment.
The others will notice if I stare too long, especially since they know I got all bent out of shape last weekend over their prank with Marietta and the belly button beer. No doubt the whole club is aware Adam is here to solve the cherry problem.
The room fills. Betz shows up with a tray of coffee and makes a big show of pouring hefty shots of whiskey in each one.
Marietta arrives shortly after, wearing another of those outrageous outfits they have her in. This one is all Daisy Duke, ridiculously small jean cutoffs, and a red bandanna tied around her chest with a knot in front. Her hair is in two long curly pigtails, and I have to drag my gaze away.
I watch Adam look at her. He grins unexpectedly, and I whip my head around to see if she’s smiling at him.
Fuck me. She is.
I’m not the only one who notices. There’s a roar of approval from the table and a chorus of encouragement.
“Look, the mouse likes the new prospect.”
“I expect that red beard will be all up in that cherry!”
“Can we buy tickets to the show?”
It takes active attention to my rage to tamp it down. The comments keep coming.
“He’s untying that bandanna with his fuck-me eyes, isn’t he?”
“Maybe he’s already done it!”
I refuse to look at either one of them, but when I scan the other half of the room, I notice Iron Jack is watching me.
Goddamn, does that man miss a fucking thing?
Betz and Marietta finally leave, and Iron Jack slams his fist on the table. “Everybody get a drink and let’s get this going.”
The tray scoots around, and people take a mug. Adam and I stand at the same moment to reach for the last two.
“Whadya think, old prospect? Is this one good enough for the mouse you brought us?” It’s Two-Shit, and I know he’s asking the question not to start shit with me but out of curiosity. I count him as a friend.
Of course, Chain and Fancy punch each other, laughing. They were the ones who pulled the prank at the bar. “Maybe Merrick will fight him for her.”
Jesus Christ. “I don’t know him,” I say, “and Marietta can choose her own goddamn fuck buddy.”
This gets a big laugh.
“Watch out,” Chain says, “Merrick nearly took out this old man over the girl.” He jerks one of his gray braids. “Yanked my chain.”
The room roars again.
Adam shifts in his seat, casting a quick glance at me. He’s not sure what this is all about, that’s clear.
Oddly, it makes me feel better about the situation. He’s all right.
“All right, shut your fat mouths,” Iron Jack says. “After Wednesday night, you know we have a serious situation at hand. I want to recognize Hoss, who took the brunt of the altercation. Thankfully, they look worse than we do.”
Hoss raises his hand, and I see his arm is in a cast. Black, swollen fingers stick out of the end. I didn’t realize anyone was injured, but Iron Jack had seemed to indicate that things had gotten ugly.
Iron Jack’s gaze travels around the room. “We have a snitch that tipped us off that their next mark is the mouse. They want to rough her up and take turns. We’re not going to let that happen.”
Rage courses through me again. What sort of fuckups are these?
“Two-Shit and I have got campus,” Fancy says. “Though maybe we should have four instead of two.”
“Done,” Iron Jack says. “Who’s available during the day?”
“I can do morning,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “Who else?”
“I might as well go,” Hoss says. “I won’t be much good for the demo for a couple of weeks.” He rests the cast on the table.
“Perfect. Maybe you and Merrick can go in his truck and be on foot inside the building. Fancy and Two-Shit can stay mobile on their bikes.”
Everyone nods.
“The rest of you should be on either the sheetrock gig or the gas station demo,” Iron Jack says. “We’ve got a bid in to rebuild it, so that should keep us busy if we get the work. I figure we will since we’ve been on the job already. Freddy, you be ready to order supplies if it goes through.”
“I have the list from the bid,” Freddy says.
Iron Jack’s face sobers. “Now, about Lucifer’s Kin.”
Everyone grumbles menacingly. A few of the Wild Hair stomp their boots.
“Exactly,” Iron Jack says. “I don’t start a fight, but I will finish it.
I want them to back off. Even if we handle the cherry like we plan, we need to make sure they don’t find some other mark.
” He glances at Adam. “I’m aware of where their new meth lab is.
Their last one blew up about a month ago. ”
“We going to help this one along?” Chain asks.
Stoney nods. “We’re going to destroy the equipment, as any good citizen should, to keep the good people off drugs.” He chortles. “We’re taking out their operation. We’ll make sure nobody’s on the premises. We’re good to go for Thursday night.”
Thursday. Shit. That’s the gig.
I sense Iron Jack watching me for a reaction, so I don’t so much as blink. He tells the room, “I’ve selected the crew for this gig. We have Chain and Two-Shit drawing them out of the house, if they’re in there. Then me and Fancy and Prospect Merrick will break in.”
Breaking and entering. Great. So much for construction and bodyguard work.
But I’m in. I’ve done worse in war zones. And this isn’t much different.
“I want a solid contingent at the clubhouse. Adam, you will be on the roof watching for anybody approaching. Anybody who isn’t on the job will be at the clubhouse. I want eyes on the mouse at all times. Stoney, that might ought to be you.
“If Carol hasn’t gone into labor. We’re close on that.”
“Right. If you take off, Hoss, you get between anyone coming in and the girl.”
Hoss nods. “I’ll bring them down one handed.”
I sip my loaded coffee like this is any ordinary meeting, but inside, I’m thinking, shit just got real.
If any of the Pickle family got wind of this, including Diesel or my sister, I’d be fucking toast.
Iron Jack calls on Adam. “Prospect, you keep me posted on progress with the mouse. If we can put the word out that she’s no longer such a hot property, it would help.”
My eyebrows knit together. Before I can think better of it, I say, “Why not put that word out anyway? Maybe they’d back off.”
“We could,” Iron Jack says. “But to be honest, I’m not sure how much it would matter. She might end up being their mark no matter what.”
Shit. I guess I’m all in.