“Who the fuck do you think you—” the biker started, but Jack had already ducked behind him to punch him in the lower back.
“Ouch,” I said, wincing, as the biker staggered, gasping. He let go of the pool cue and the bartender at the same time. I wondered if that liver of his was enlarged, based on his rage at being cut off from the booze; even if not, a punch like that would be agonizing.
“Nice start,” Angelo said appreciatively.
Jack had already locked the biker in a headlock and was dragging him toward the door. I kept an eye on the other leather-clad men at the pool tables, but none of them seemed inclined to intervene.
“I’m just gonna…” I told Angelo, tilting my head toward the door as it swung shut behind Jack.
“Just in case,” Angelo agreed, but he seemed more amused than anything else.
Outside, the biker was grabbing hard at Jack’s arm rather than trying to break free, his face turning redder and redder.
Jack was dragging him over to the Harley Davidsons parked to the side of the building. “You picked the wrong bar, pal. Ciro Castellani likes this place, you know what I’m saying?”
The biker’s face went from magenta to white in seconds. “Castellani?” he croaked out.
“You heard me. So fuck off and don’t come back, or else I’ll have to hunt you down, and I really don’t wanna have to do that. I’m plenty busy right now. Get it?”
He threw the biker to the ground. After coughing fiercely, the guy got to his feet and glared at Jack, who opened his arms in invitation. “Come on, big boy. Happy to teach you that lesson all over again.”
In the doorway, I folded my arms. The biker glanced at me, at Jack again, and stumbled off to his hog without another word.
Jack watched him go before he turned to re-enter the bar. When he saw me in the doorway, he looked surprised. “Sorry, Flynn, I should’ve kept the entertainment inside. Didn’t know you wanted to watch so badly.”
I grinned. “Think there’ll be a sequel?”
“Oh, I doubt it,” he said, coming back inside the bar with me. “Guys like them, they prefer to pick on people who can’t fight back.” He raised his voice, calling toward the pool tables. “Anyone else here got a problem?”
There was a general murmur of dissent and shaking heads.
Angelo was flirting with the waitress when we got back to our table, or at least, she was flirting with him, and he was letting her. He was good with waitstaff, always had been. I couldn’t blame her, either. She obviously had good taste.
“All done?” he asked me, wiping his fingers on a napkin.
“I’m gonna hit the john,” Jack said, nodding toward the back.
“We’ll meet you out front.” Angelo left a twenty-dollar bill as a tip for the waitress, and I followed him out. As Jack had predicted, the bikerwasn’twaiting out there for him with a two-by-four.
“What do you think?” I asked Angelo as we waited.
“I think he didn’t have to get involved. I think it’s a good sign that he did.”
I put my sunglasses on. The glare here in LA was something I still had to get used to. “Out here, he told the biker this place was under Castellani protection. Could be he was just doing his job.”
Angelo smiled.
“But,” I went on slowly, “this bar iswayout of their territory, and it’s more likely that Jack took us out here preciselybecauseit’s a long way from anyone that he knows—he’s under orders to keep our presence in LA quiet. So he probably justsaidthe bar was protected to scare the crap outta that guy. And it worked.”
Angelo kept smiling. “What else have you noticed, Professor Biceps?”
“Ha-fucking-ha,” I snorted, before admitting, “I like that he talked right away about his Boss seeing him as expendable. Let us know where we stood.”
“So you think we can trust him?” Angelo asked, as Jack came out of the door of the bar.
I wasn’t sure yet, and I didn’t have time to respond anyway.
“Well, gentlemen,” Jacopo said, settling his hat back on his head. “I’ll need to ask a few questions around town, but I should be able to get a lead for you in the next day or two. So looks like we’re done for the day.”
