Merrick leans in to my ear. “You look fine,” he whispers.
“I see you two are getting along well.” Greta dusts the peanut salt off her hands. “How long has this been going on?”
“A while,” Merrick says. “You haven’t said why you’re in town unannounced.”
“Just checking up on my big brothers!” She stands up. “Come on, make me that fizzy pink thing.”
Merrick slides out, his hand on my hip.
“Leave the mouse for a moment,” Iron Jack says.
Greta shakes her head. “So much for women’s lib.”
I don’t think I’m making a very good impression.
“Come on,” Merrick says. “I’ll fix your drink.”
Merrick and Greta head for the bar. I sit across from Iron Jack.
He watches Greta walk away. Is that interest? Huh. I’ll have to ask Merrick about this. I haven’t seen Iron Jack look twice at anybody since I’ve known him.
He finally drags his gaze away. “Thanks for the intel. I knew you were a smart girl.” He makes a few notes on the map. “Everything all right with you and the prospect?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Any talk about what will happen at the end of the two weeks?”
I shake my head. “I think we’re focused on the raid.”
He nods. “I’m sorry I had to confine you to the club. You’ll find your way. The information you get about us is a lot to absorb at first, but you’ll come to understand when to talk and when to be silent. Lives are at stake.”
I stare at the grain of the table. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re all right. We all have to learn. Stoney will take you back when he finishes his beer. Don’t leave his sight.” He tilts his head to where Stoney is downing a pint.
Iron Jack returns to his map, and I realize I’ve been dismissed. I stand up and head over to Stoney.
I only hope I contributed something that might offset the damage I may have caused the club.
CHAPTER 36
MERRICK
The headlights of cars going in the opposite direction are a streaky blur as I motor down the highway toward Lucifer’s Kin.
Most all the club has come out, other than the posts guarding the clubhouse. I ride near the back, like a prospect should, in front of the truck driven by Fancy with Chain in shotgun, along with a literal shotgun in this case. He keeps leaning out, his gray braids flapping in the wing, waving the barrel around.
I glance back at him every once in a while in the mirror. He’s on top of the world, almost euphoric. Several of the Wild Hair whoop it up in encouragement, raising their fists. Low Joe, Two Fast Freddy, Scottie.
Iron Jack leads the formation with grim determination. I see why he’s the leader. The others might act foolish and cocky, but not him.
He told us what Marietta found out about Anarchy. Turns out his bonus woman is the former sheriff’s wife. Iron Jack rattled a lot of cages with that information. The sheriff has a lot of influence on the local law enforcement, and all bets are off on any protection his wife wrangled for the Kin now that her husband knows she’s been banging Anarchy.
Iron Jack figures we have to make life hell for Anarchy, and between our pressure and the lack of a sweet, look-the-other-way deal, they’ll move on. Or better yet, scatter completely.
We turn off the highway. We’re taking back roads when we can since a group our size will get noticed on major thoroughfares. Out here, with the Everglades to our right, the darkness is cut only by our headlights.
I can feel each bump and crack in the asphalt. I wonder if we’ll be burying someone in the woods tonight. It wasn’t my intention to be involved in a setup like this. But I should have known. Construction and protection might be the club’s primary pursuit, but sometimes, they have to fight ugly with ugly.
