Devil's Marker (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 4) Read online

  Win took ‘our girls’ to mean the larger extended tribe of geographical or cultural area. Maybe he meant Waco. Maybe he meant central Texas. He wasn’t going to linger long enough to question the prez because it was irrelevant to the task. What he needed to know was that Stars & Bars were not to leave the club with any girls.

  “And, by the way,” Boss continued, “nice boots.”

  Win couldn’t help but grin. The thing about boots like that was that they didn’t just look good, they felt like a million bucks as well. Right then he decided on a new policy. When he wasn’t riding, he was wearing those boots. He wondered how many other luxuries there were in life that would make him glad to have some snatch. Dovetailed on that thought was R.C.’s voice saying, “three million dollars.”

  Catcher climbed behind the wheel of the teal blue BMW. Win got in the pearlized ivory Cadillac Escalade pickup conversion. They looked at each other before they pulled away, thinking the same thing. That it was odd experimenting with what it would have been like to make different choices, have somebody else’s life.

  Win was to arrive first. They’d both pretend to be there on their own, but would keep tabs on the other. Just in case.

  When he pulled up, he considered valet parking, but dismissed the idea. He needed to know where his keys and vehicle were in case he needed transportation in a hurry. He found a place on the street not far from the club and clicked the fob to lock it as he was walking away.

  Night Flight was an upscale club for drinking and dancing. It featured talented DJs who encouraged customers to dance. But there was also plenty to watch, because the four corners featured elevated dancers on poles. They weren’t strippers per se. They wore beautiful expensive and jaw-dropping sexy lingerie that they didn’t take off. Their moves were not vulgar, but they were provocative. It was a combination of dance bar and burlesque that worked to ramp up the air of sexuality in the room. Women weren’t turned off by it. Truth be told, some were titillated by the exhibition.

  Win nabbed a seat at a far corner of the bar where he could see almost everything going on in the club. He already had a glass in hand when Catcher came strolling in. Lots of eyes were glued to his every move. Lots of lipsticked lips were being unconsciously licked as he made his way to the other end of the bar without once making it evident that he’d looked Win’s way. He was a natural.

  Win watched the spectacle that Catcher made without even trying with amusement and was scanning the room when he heard a voice behind him.

  “Can I buy you a drink, cowboy?”

  He turned to see an attractive face wearing a smile that someone must have once said was sexy. Win’s first internal reaction was to think that sexy doesn’t have to try that hard. An unbidden image of R.C. came to mind. Of course. And he shoved it away.

  “Already got a drink, darlin’. But thanks.” He turned away expecting that to be enough of a signal. And it was. She wandered away in search of somebody else to ply with liquor.

  By midnight he’d decided that he must be looking pretty good himself because he’d stopped counting how many women wanted to pay for his tab. By one the crowd had thinned.

  A young woman in a backless dress was sitting on the stool next to Catcher. Since her back was to Win, he couldn’t see what she looked like, but judging by the way Catcher was talking to her, he liked what he saw. After another forty-five minutes, there were less than a dozen people. And none of them were S&B.

  Win figured that most people had worked Friday and were ready to hang it up well before one. He slid off the stool and stood to pay his tab. He glanced up in time to see Catcher ushering a girl toward the front door, his hand to her lower back. He looked over his shoulder and gave Win a look that was less than a second in length, but weighted with info.

  Catcher had enjoyed a good day. He’d gotten a new look. Full member status in the club. And was leaving with, what Win presumed, was a beautiful woman.

  Win walked straight back to Boss’s office. As promised the prez was up.

  “Nothin’ to report, Boss.”

  “Where’s Catcher?”

  “Between the legs of some babe who thinks he’s God’s gift.”

  Boss laughed. “Well, maybe he is. Who are we to say?” He looked Win over. “Try again tomorrow night.”

  “We will.”

  Catcher turned up at the clubhouse around two on Saturday afternoon looking like the cat that ate the canary. No further explanation was necessary. He got some sleep, got some food, got a shower, put on clean underwear and a change of shirt and was ready for a repeat at ten o’clock.

  “What are you gonna do if she’s there again tonight?” Win asked as they walked to the cars.

  Catcher looked dumbfounded. “Hadn’t thought of that. Christ. You don’t think she would, do you? I mean I left her, um, satisfied.”

  “She leave you satisfied?”

  Catcher grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

  “But you’re up for more tonight?”

  His face fell. “I see what you mean. Well, I guess I’ll just have to let her down easy. ‘You were a fantasy come true, but one night is all I got to give right now.’ How’s that sound?”

  “Like dick to the third power.”

  “Yeah. I dunno. I’ll think of somethin’.”

  “Uh-huh. Just remember we got a job to do and you’re not off duty until two.”

  “I know. Did you get a good look at the dancers in the lingerie? The garter belts…” He shook his head like he was describing one of the wonders of the world.

  “You’re not there to ogle ass. You’re on club business.”

  “I got it, Garrett. Jesus. You’re not my mother.”

  Win rolled his eyes. “How old are you again?”

  “Back again?” The bartender said to Win when he took up his post from the night before. After taking a good hard look at the tip Win had left, the man was genuinely happy to see him.

  “Yeah. Give me water in a gin glass with ice and put lime and mint in it so it looks like I’m drinkin’. You can charge me like it’s the good stuff.”

  The bartender didn’t act like that was anything out of the ordinary. He just said, “Comin’ right up.”

  Win watched the repeat performance of Catcher arriving and strutting his stuff. It was almost like the crowd parted for him. The kid’s confidence had taken a quantum leap after one night of being pursued by bevies of beauties. He was afraid he’d played a part in creating a monster.

  Things went pretty much as they had Friday night except that, apparently, there were a lot more people who went clubbing on Saturday. Win constantly scanned the crowd looking for signs of S&B under the pretext of people watching. It was around eleven when things began to go horribly, horribly wrong. And that wrongness came through the door in the form of a blonde knockout named R.C. Greer. She was with Zip’s girl, Robin, which didn’t make things any better.

  The last thing he needed was to be trying to watch out for club girls while on club business.

  She didn’t notice him right away and he was grateful for that. It gave him time to slide off his stool and back away to disappear into the shadows along the walls. It would probably be smarter for him to take a patrol approach anyway since the crowd was getting too thick to tell who was there and who wasn’t.

  He prowled around the edges, eyes roaming over the people, but always coming back to R.C., never letting her out of sight for longer than a couple of seconds.

  She and Robin had bought drinks and taken them to a standing round where they talked, laughed, and sipped fruity-looking drinks through straws. When the drinks were empty, the two of them headed out to the dance floor.

  R.C. was wearing a spaghetti-strap black dress. Her hair was down and spilling over her bare shoulders. The way her hair moved reminded him that six days before he’d been enjoying the view of her on top, looking down at him, while she rode him in a way that might have spoiled him for other women.

  Robin began to dance with a guy in a c
owboy hat, who looked ridiculous trying to move to pop music. Robin seemed to be into the guy and not know that he was a tool.

  When Win’s eyes went back to R.C., Dredge had moved up behind her with a wolfish smile. It took Win a double take and a few seconds to identify Dredge because, like Win and Catcher, he’d changed his look to fit in with the young urban cubicle-lites who frequented Night Flight on a quest to feel alive and relevant.

  He’d trimmed his beard close to his face, coiffed his hair to appear stylish. He was wearing white jeans, biker boots, and a linen jacket over a tee with the tail out. Like a lot of guys who pursued alternate life choices, he was smart enough to keep his ink confined to areas where it could be hidden when it might be useful to do so.

  Win was perturbed that the S&B prez had also chosen a linen jacket, but that concern quickly dissipated when Dredge lightly put his fingertips on R.C.’s hips and said something with a grin. When she turned to see who was touching her and speaking so intimately, directly into her ear, so close she would have to feel his breath on her skin, Win forgot everything else.

  His name. His location. Most importantly, his purpose for being there.

  With locked jaw, he started forward toward the dance floor, but ran directly into a rock-hard obstacle roughly the same size and shape as himself. He was looking directly into Catcher’s eyes and Catcher’s eyes were conveying a simple, but firm, “No.”

  Catcher was at the stage of young manhood where his body was defined more by frame than muscle. He had broad shoulders, a slim waist, and was a couple of inches taller than Win. The suggestion of youthful lankiness was deceptive. Win could feel that the kid was strong and that resistance would result in a spectacle that would draw every eye. Security, too.

  Win relaxed a hair, to let Catcher know that he understood, but he looked past Catcher to keep an eye on R.C.

  Robin had left the dance floor with the cowboy and was not in sight.

  “Are you callin’ backup?” Win said to Catcher.

  “Not yet. We need to count how many are here. You take this side. I’ll take the other. Keep her in sight, but don’t step in unless you see them headin’ toward the exit. Look everybody over good. We can’t afford to miss anything.”

  Win nodded, his teeth still clamped painfully tight.

  “Do a circle. Meet me back here.” He grabbed the lapel of Win’s coat. “Do not be dumb.”

  Catcher had Win wondering which of them was more mature, more seasoned.

  “Yeah,” Win said, eyes on R.C. She wasn’t letting the S&B prez grind against her perfect ass, but she hadn’t run him off either.

  Catcher let go and moved off to the right, going slow, scanning every male face. Win took in a breath and went left. Twenty minutes later, Win and Catcher were back at their starting point.

  Catcher held up three fingers. Win nodded.

  “Stay here a minute,” Catcher said. “I’ll be back.”

  “Where you goin’?” Win demanded.

  “Gotta check somethin’ out.”

  Win started to protest, but Catcher had disappeared into the crowd. “Goddamnit.”

  He didn’t have long to wait. It felt like hours to Win, but Catcher was back in less than ten minutes.

  “There’s a back exit. Opens to an alley. Got a working camera on it. Also operable cameras in front on the door and valet station.”

  “Why do we need to know that?”

  “Vehicle ID. Also got a record of who’s comin’ and goin’. With who and when.”

  Win nodded. “Go call backup. Tell them who’s here, what they look like, what they’re wearin’. Have Roar sit across the street, eyes on the front door. Tell him to send the other two to the alley.”

  “Okay. Goin’ outside for a smoke. Can you keep eyes on three for five minutes?”

  “Call Boss. Let him know what’s going on. In case he wants to send more people. If all three guys try to leave with girls in different vehicles…” He let the thought trail off because the rest of the sentence needed no air time.

  “Yeah,” Catcher agreed, looking even more worried. It made Win wonder if Catcher had the same moral high ground on the issue of sex trafficking as Boss.

  “Go.”

  Win took that as code for ‘going outside to make a call where it’s quieter and where there’s no chance of anybody hearing anything that isn’t their business’. He watched as two girls practically fell over themselves trying to get Catcher’s attention on his way out. So much for laying low and blending in. The kid was a walking sensation.

  R.C had moved to one of the standing rounds and was talking to a different guy. Win felt a sliver of relief. She’d moved on.

  So had Dredge. He was ‘dancing’ which, in this case, was a euphemism for dry humping. The girl was into it, but looked underage. Blonde. Long hair. Sexy red dress. The kind that attracts vampires and guys like Dredge.

  Win turned toward the front just in time to see Catcher coming back through the entrance. His eyes found Win and his gaze locked, burning with purpose.

  “I gave them a reasonably complete description of our three targets and what they look like. At least tonight,” he said, shouting to be heard over the music.

  Win started to nod, but grabbed the front of Catcher’s jacket instead. He motioned toward the other side of the room with his head. One of the guys was smiling and talking with a woman as he guided her toward the front door.

  “We’re on,” Win said. “Give Roar a heads up. Fast.”

  Catcher pulled out his phone and texted Roar who was coming out the front.

  Roar dialed Boss. “You want us to nab or follow?”

  “Grab him,” Boss said without hesitation. “Following is too risky. Too many variables. Go with the bird in hand. Sending backup and the cargo van to the back of the club.”

  Roar watched the target emerge and walk the length of the carpet under a red canopy to the valet podium. When the valet trotted off to retrieve the car, Roar followed on his bike. He pulled up next to the car the valet had remote unlocked, and put his booted foot against the door.

  “It’s your lucky night,” Roar said.

  “It is?” The valet parker didn’t look happy to hear that news.

  “Yeah,” Roar said, pulling out his wallet. “You’re gonna take this five hundred,” he held out five one hundred dollar bills, “and take a fifteen minute break. You’re also gonna give me the keys to this car. I’ll go pick up the owner myself. He and I have something important to discuss.”

  The kid reached for the money, but said, “There’s a camera. Somebody’ll know if I don’t bring the car back.”

  Roar shook his head. “Won’t happen. Got a guy disablin’ the feed right now.”

  “Really?”

  “No shit. Now hand over the keys and make yourself gone for a bit.”

  The kid handed over the keys to the white Audi and trotted away. Roar left his bike and texted Win as he climbed in the car.

  ROAR: Get rid of the girl. Coming around in his white Audi.

  By the time Roar drove the car around, Win and Catcher were behind the couple waiting for their ride. Before the target knew anything was up, Catcher had gently pulled the girl away. “Go on home, darlin’,” he said gently. “We need this boy more than you do tonight.”

  She looked unsettled, but obeyed and went back into the club.

  Meanwhile, Win had gotten close enough to the target’s back to put a gun at the man’s waist. “Unless you want to be a permanent stain on the sidewalk, you’re gonna behave yourself and do what I say.”

  The guy tensed from head to toe. When Win heard the door locks open, he gave the guy a push. “Open the back door.”

  Catcher came up behind just in time to frisk the S&B. He took the man’s gun and his phone, turned that gun against him, and followed the target into the Audi backseat.

  Roar drove around the block to the alley and flashed lights at the two Marauders waiting near the back exit.

  He got o
ut of the car and said, “You think you two can contain this garbage while I go back out front?”

  He texted Boss that there was one guy in an Audi waiting for pickup, then walked around to the front again, texting Catcher as he went.

  ROAR: Take out the camera feed on the front door, last few minutes.

  CATCHER: K.

  Catcher found the security closet. It was automated, but not manned, which meant it was completely vulnerable to anyone who wanted to make adjustments. He couldn’t help but sneer at the sloppiness.

  After identifying which were the two front door cameras, he pulled the box that housed the card with the digital record. It wasn’t selective, not the elegant fix it would be if he had time to work on it, but it would do in a pinch. He stuck it under his coat like he was shoplifting and headed out back to hand it off to Roar. The owner would think some junkie had stolen it hoping for a pawn shop pay out.

  Meanwhile, Win did a quick visual sweep. He located R.C. on the dance floor, but didn’t see Dredge or the third guy they’d spotted earlier. He knew he couldn’t get anything done if he was paralyzed with worry about R.C. That concern had to be removed as a factor in play.

  A highly energetic pop number was playing, the kind that had everybody on the floor more or less jumping up and down and whooping at the appropriate moment in the song, being egged on by the DJ. More sweat. More drinks.

  When R.C. twirled around, she found her dance abruptly halted, and her body pressed flat against an ungiving form. The sudden cessation was shocking, but the physical contact, the sensation of touch, was hauntingly familiar. The man who’d claimed her so forcefully in the middle of a public dance floor had his left arm wrapped around her back in a steel embrace, her right hand firmly grasped in his left.

  As her head had tilted back enough to get a look at the prick whose balls were about to be goose liver pâté, her eyes widened. “Garrett!”

  With chaotic sound and movement all around them, Win held her tight and close and swayed gently like they were all alone and dancing to Cole Porter. It would be a moment she’d never forget, probably because of the surreal quality of being so totally out of sync with the environment and, at the same time, feeling like all was right with the world.