Page 82 of Thug

He tugged against the brim of his hat and reached for his glass. “How do I fit in this picture?”

“I need a spot of advice, and I don’t have anyone outside the club to talk to.”

He nodded and then looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Got a problem with one of your runnin’ mates, and you need to know what to do?”

Cactus Jack was nobody’s fool. I nodded in agreement. “Something like that.”

He took a shallow drink. “Let’s hear it.”

I blew out a sigh. “A daughter to the neighbor of one of the fellas was raped a month back, give or take. She was—”

“Kill him,” he said dryly. “Only thing that’ll stop a rapist from raping is to kill the son-of-a-bitch.”

“We did.”

He glanced at me. “Already took care of it?”

“There were three of them. Two held her down while one raped her, and they took turns. Left her laying in the alley behind the bar.”

His jaw tightened. He looked away and shook his head. “Saw that on the news. They gave descriptions of the men’s tattoos. Said they were all wearing black shirts, or something. Surveillance camera caught a glimpse of ‘em, but it was grainy.”

“Black vests,” I said. “They were wearing black vests.”

He finished his whisky. He drew a long breath. “Sons of bitches.”

“Here’s the problem,” I said. “The girl I’m seeing has asked about one of them. She’s not nosing around, and she doesn’t even realize the man’s dead. She’s asking for a fried who is wondering of his whereabouts.”

“You sure she’s not working with the cops?”

I nodded.

“How sure.”

“The positive type of sure,” I said. “She’s the daughter of an outlaw. Lives by the same set of moral values we do.”

He exhaled a long breath. “I’d explain to her that the man’s gone, and that he ain’t coming back. Hell, you might even let her know what he did. It’ll let her come to terms with his absence easier than if she knew nothing. Tell her you’re not willing to discuss it, and there’s nothing else to know, so don’t bother asking. If she’s okay with that, I’d say you’ve got a keeper.”

“If she’s not okay with it?”

He pursed his lips. “Wasn’t meant to be.”

My gaze fell to the bar. “That’s kind of what I thought.”

“What else?” he asked. “That long face tells me you’re not done.”

“I’m not,” I said. “There’s one more thing. Well, really, two.”

He stood. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve got nothing planning short of dying, and I haven’t set a date for that yet.”

While he poured another shallow glass, I continued. “The fella she asked about the man who’s missing was convinced she was working with the cops. Her asking made him nervous as hell. He kidnapped her and took her out to the—”

He spun around. “Kidnapped the gal you’re seeing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he know you were seeing her?”

“Yeah.” I pushed myself away from the bar and stood. “He was convinced he was doing what was in the club’s best interest.”