Predator Patrol (Mars Cannon Novel #2)

by Nicolette Pierce

  The Road Hog Bar was just opening for the day when I walked in. The old bartender glanced at me.

  “You said you’d be back. I didn’t believe you,” he grumbled.

  “If I say something, I mean it. I’m here for the job.”

  “You can’t have it.”

  “You said I can’t handle it. I think I can. Put me to work for the day and see how I do. You don’t even have to pay me.”

  His eyes were assessing warily. I could hear his thoughts because they mirrored my own; plain hairstyle, honest face, safe clothing without an ounce of risqué, not suited for this atmosphere.

  “Why do you want this job?”

  “I want the challenge . . . and I’m desperate.”

  He cussed. “You have the job for today only. I’m expecting the Blue Thunderballs to roll through on their way to a rally. You’ll probably be crying under the bar before the night is over.”

  “l’ll be fine. Just show me what to do. Do you have a cocktail recipe book I can review?”

  “What fancy ass bar do you think you’re in? We serve beer and hard liquor.”

  “What about the ladies?”

  “What ladies?”

  “You have ladies come in here all the time. I’ve seen them.” I even saw one on Evan’s lap.

  “Honey, those aren’t ladies. Do you know how to use the tapper?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me show you the kitchen. Jack should be back there now.”

  I followed the man to the kitchen. A greasy smell permeated the air and a thick coating clung to work surfaces and walls. My shoes stuck to the floor.

  “Jack?” The man hollered.

  A man stuck his head out of the walk-in cooler. “What’s up, Hank?”

  “This girl is starting today. I’m pretty sure she’ll only last one day since the Blue Thunderballs are passing through.”

  Jack chuckled. His smile livened his strong features. I figured he was in his late twenties. His hair was dark and pulled into a short ponytail. His t-shirt was faded and his jeans well worn. A short white apron with a layer of stains was tied to his waist.

  “If they’re rolling through, she won’t last the night.” His dark eyes narrowed on me. “No offense, but you don’t look like someone who should work at this bar.”

  “It’s not about looking the part; it’s about getting the job done.” I scowled.

  Both men were left with a peculiar expression on their face. I didn’t have time to question them when two men walked in the front door.

  “You’re up,” Hank said.

  “You’re not going to train me on what to say or do?”

  “This is a bar. Ask them what they want and then give them a beer.”

  “What if they don’t want a beer?”

  “Do you always ask so many questions? It’s like I’m living with my ex-wife all over again,” he muttered.

  “Oh, fine. I’ll wing it. I’m good at winging it.” I had a career of winging it when I was an events coordinator. There were always unexpected problems or last minute changes. Many clients knew what they wanted and were particular. I assessed the two men sitting at the bar wearing worn jeans, tank tops, and bandanas around their head. This should be easy.

  “What can I get for you?”

  They turned their attention towards me and began chuckling. I glanced at myself in the mirror behind the bar. I couldn’t see anything laughable.

  “Hey, Hank! Is there a pool on how long this one will last? I want in. I say two days.”

  I slammed my hand on the bar next to them. Their chuckling halted. “Do you want something or not?” I barked.

  The second man eyed me. “Put me down for three days!” He hollered as they both burst into a belly sized laugh.

  Hank and Jack stood by the kitchen door suppressing a grin.

  Chapter 6

  “Mars, are you okay?” Kym asked as I stumbled into Mrs. Janowski’s dining room.

  “I’m feelin’ a lil tipsy,” I slurred.

  The ladies glanced up from their monitors as Kym slid out a chair for me to plop down in.

  “A little tipsy? More like drunk as a skunk,” Sylvia said.

  “You don’t have a job, so you go out drinking? That’s how you become homeless and drinking out of a paper bag,” Edna tittered.

  “Nothing wrong with paper bagging it,” Ida said.

  “I found a job today. I’m on trial. No . . . probation.”

  “So, you’re celebrating?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’ll drink to that!” Ida lifted her coffee mug.

  “I’m working at The Road Hog Bar. They said I have to drink my mistakes. I must'a made lots of mistakes.”

  “Did Hank tell you that?” Ida asked. “They’re giving you a hard time. It’s hard to make mistakes on straight liquor and beer.”

  The ladies eyed Ida.

  “You’ve been there?” Edna asked with wide eyes. “That’s a biker bar.”

  “I know what it is. It’s a building with alcohol . . . and rugged men,” she added with a wink.

  Mrs. Janowski rolled her eyes. “Ladies, we have work to do. Edna, why don’t you bring Mars coffee. I’ll make her a sandwich. Kym, take over her work station for the afternoon.”

  “Aaron will be looking for me today. I’m only on break for a couple hours. The Big Blue Balls are coming through.”

  “You mean the Blue Thunderballs?” Ida asked with a creased brow.

  “Oh, yeah. Them.”

  R u there?

  “My kid is here. I like him. He tells jokes.” I squinted at the keyboard.

  I’m here. W2PG?

  Not really. I’ve 2 much going on.

  Like what?

  Mainly chores. But I have a lot on my mind.

  Like what?

  R u a broken record?

  Edna brought me an oversized mug of coffee and Mrs. Janowski plunked down a ham sandwich. I took a giant bite.

  Sorry. I’m not feeling totally myself right now.

  I have to pull myself together. I sipped the coffee and took another bite of the sandwich.

  It’s ok. I’m just having a hard time.

  Do u need help with ur homework? I can help. I’m in Madison so I’m sure we live far away from each other, but there’s a study forum somewhere on this site.

  What am I saying? It’s summer. He’s not in school. Nor does he care where I live.

  The alcohol wasn’t helping matters. I gulped coffee, groaning as warm coffee mixed with alcohol.

  Madison, WI?

  Yes, y?

  Nothing. I don’t need ur help.

  U mad?

  L8r

  Aaron signed out.

  “He left.”

  “Oh, they do that all the time. They remind me of hummingbirds zipping here and there and never stopping more than a millisecond,” Edna said.

  “How’s Earl doing? Did he get over the PP hat yet?”

  Edna blushed.

  “They had dinner last night and she’s staying tight lipped.” Ida grinned.

  “I just don’t want any rumors started,” Edna explained. Her hands inched towards her knitting needles. “We had dinner. That’s all.”

  “A very long dinner,” Sylvia added.

  Edna’s needles twirled.

  “I heard he didn’t leave until four in the morning,” Ida said. “There are eye witnesses.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught Mrs. Janowski suppressing a grin.

  Edna’s cheeks bloomed. “We fell asleep watching a movie. It was very embarrassing waking up to find his hand in my popcorn bowl.”

  The ladies snickered.

  “Mrs. J, did you buy those night vision goggles?” I asked.

  “I might have.”

  “Did you test them out yet?”

  “I might have.” She busied herself at her station. I could see a grin forming at the corners of her lips.

  Edna’s knitting needles slowed as her face opened with recognition. �
�You were the eye witness!”

  Kym dropped me off at the bar. She offered to come in but I quickly shot down the offer.

  “So, you’re back for more?” Hank asked.

  “Lucky for you I’m sober.”

  “Did you eat? Jack can grill you a burger.”

  “I had a sandwich and a gallon of coffee. I’m good for another round.”

  He nodded.

  As I took a rag from behind the counter and began wiping tables, I noticed money exchanging hands between Hank and the two bar patrons from earlier, Bob and Mac. I was nearly finished with the tables when loud rumbling vibrated the building.

  “Is it thundering out?” I asked.

  “The Blue Thunderballs are rolling in. I’ll warn you again; they’re a rough crowd. Most bikers that come through here are low key. The Blue Thunderballs are . . .”

  The front door slammed open as a sea of bikers trampled in; men in jeans, boots, and leather jackets all with the same Blue Thunderballs emblem on the back. Women with tight jeans and cleavage amplifying tank tops filtered in amongst the men. It wasn’t so much the leather and chains that made me nervous; it was the hardened eyes.

  Bob and Mac picked up their drinks and moved to the furthest end of the bar.

  I hurried behind the bar near Hank. He was already tapping beers and preparing for the storm.

  “How many are there? They’re still coming in,” I said.

  “There could be as many as two-hundred. The building shakes more when they all come. I’m guessing sixty or so.”

  Shouted orders were placed faster than I could hear. The jukebox kicked on. Shouts and laughter engulfed the bar.

  I had no control of my limbs. They were working on autopilot: beer, money, shots, money, shots off a girl, money. I only messed up two shots but was able to sell them before I had to drink them.

  “Go and collect glasses,” Hank ordered. “We’re running out.”

  I grabbed a tray and dodged my way through the bar picking up empty glasses. My tray was filled to capacity when it flew out of my hands as a pair of meaty hands plucked me off the ground and on to a lap. The glasses crashed to the ground.

  I gasped. “You just made me break all those glasses!” I struggled to break free from the man’s clutches. The more I struggled the stronger his grip tightened.

  “Want to know how to get a good tip?” The man grinned as he held me firmly.

  “Get off my man, skank!” A woman shouted. Her stride was quick but her hand was quicker. Her flat palm blasted across my face. My eyes instantly teared as the sting set in.

  Several women closed in as the men watched with mild interest.

  “Jack!” Hank yelled over the music.

  “Let me up!” I yelled.

  He didn’t release me and the women became angrier. I kicked my foot back into his shin. He released me with a growl.

  Jack pushed his way through as I distanced myself from the man. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded as I felt the color rising from my neck through my scalp. As much as I wanted to yank the woman’s rat tail braid and strangle her man with it, I knew the others wouldn’t think twice about stepping in.

  “Finish collecting glasses. Don’t bother with a tray. You’ll end up breaking our entire stock. I'll sweep the broken glass.”

  I hurried and stacked glasses. I was able to squeeze through the crowd easier without the tray.

  “They’re just warming up. The man that grabbed you gets more aggressive the more he drinks,” Jack warned as he walked by with a stack of glasses. “Watch yourself. I have food on the grill. I'll have the glass swept up in a moment. Don't go back until they cool off." He deposited the glasses on the bar and disappeared into the kitchen.

  The front door swung open as I stumbled up the steps.

  “I’ve been worried about you. Where have you been?” Evan asked.

  “At work.”

  His eyes drifted to the man standing behind me.

  “Oh, that’s Jack. He drove me home.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “I might be. I keep making mistakes.”

  “She was fine until the last hour,” Jack said. “I think word leaked the newbie has to drink her mistakes.”

  “You’re working at Road Hog?” Evan asked.

  “Yep. And I’m doing good. Aren’t I, Jack?”

  “You’re alive. I guess that’s doing good.” He mumbled as he turned and hopped in his truck.

  Evan helped me inside. His eyes bore into me as his lips thinned.

  “What’s eating you? Speaking of eating, do you have food?”

  “What in the world possessed you to get a job at The Road Hog Bar?”

  “Money.”

  His jaw tightened. Evan was turning into a serious man. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. He was the with a careless smile and made all the girls swoon. Now he looked like the Grinch who didn’t want to give Christmas back. I screwed my eyes to focus better. Yep, upset; definitely upset.

  He turned away. “I have leftovers if you want,” he grumbled. “I thought you’d be home tonight so I bought extra. Sit down. I’ll heat it.” Sounded more like an order than thoughtfulness.

  “Are you mad?” I followed him.

  “You got a job at a biker bar notorious for fights and left me wondering where you were all night. I’m not mad, but you aren’t acting like the responsible woman I know.”

  “You’re not acting like the charis . . .charicstma . . . charismatic man I know.”

  His eyes flickered for a moment before turning thoughtful. “You’re right; I’m not,” he said. Before I registered his admission, he closed in and kissed me.

  I was locked in his tight embrace as his lips pressed to mine. Six years of waiting for this moment and here it was. There were so many thoughts in that instant. I’m drunk and kissing Evan. I have whiskey breath . . . though alcohol kills germs, right? He feels really good; I can’t believe I’m kissing Evan. I should stop . . . but I’m kissing Evan.

  I gave into the kiss and lost myself completely in his arms. As our tongues met, I heard a moan. It could have been me, but I was lost. Lost in Evan. He held me tight as if he feared I’d pull away. There’s no way I could stop. Not now.

  His lips were amazing; soft yet firm. An expert without a doubt, I thought as he gave everything he had in his kiss. His hands ran down my back and down to my . . . oh!

  Perhaps it was the alcohol making me dizzy; the kiss definitely . . . maybe even the tight embrace. Something was making my head spin out of control.

  “Evan?” I moaned into his lips.

  “Mars, I have to have you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed as I spiraled to unconsciousness.

  Chapter 7

  I woke to find myself in a cocoon of sheets and arms. If it wasn’t for a headache and a pasty mouth, I’d think I was wrapped in a puffy cloud.

  “Evan?” I whispered for fear of spreading my skunk breath.

  I froze as his body brushed against mine. His eyes blinked open in a dreamy way.

  “You passed out last night,” he said full of sleep.

  “It must have been your kiss,” I said.

  A smile played. “It was a great kiss.” His fingers brushed off the wayward strands of hair around my face.

  “Do you have to work today?” I asked.

  “Already trying to get me out of your bed?” He smirked.

  “Not at all.” Though, my pasty mouth was getting the better of me.

  “Can I come over tonight?”

  “You already have an open invitation to come over and study any time you want.”

  “I wouldn’t come over to study.”

  Oh man! I know I heard right.

  “Come over to study and we’ll see what happens,” I negotiated. “But it will be late because I’m working tonight.”

  “Are you sure they gave you the job?”

  “I’ll find out today. I’m going in early again so I can get more traini
ng.”

  “Let me pick you up at the bar. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “That’d be perfect.”

  He pulled me in for a kiss. I quickly blocked my lips with my hand and scurried out of bed.

  “No kissing until I brush my teeth. Actually, no kissing at all. I need to work and help Mrs. J.”

  I raced into the bathroom as Evan curled back into the pillow.

  I walked into The Road Hog. I wouldn’t say I normally walk with a spring in my step but what little spring I had was now drooped over.

  “Damn, Mars. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Hank said.

  “You’ll have to give me a schedule, otherwise I’ll come in every day,” I said.

  “I didn’t say you’re hired. You haven’t seen a bar fight and you’re drinking all the profits with your mistakes.”

  “I was doing fine until the last hour. Jack thinks someone let it slip that I have to drink my mistakes.”

  “Does he?” Hank smirked.

  “You know who did it!”

  “Well,” He rubbed his balding head, “a few of the boys didn’t want you to overreact when the women showed a little skin. It’s bound to happen when the Blue Thunderballs roll in. It looked like we were going to have a real girls gone wild showing. I’d hate to wreck the boys viewing pleasure.” He chuckled.

  “You got me drunk so I wouldn’t put up a stink?” I scowled.

  “I told you, you’re not right for this job. I don’t want to wreck everyone’s night just because one eight ball fell in the wrong pocket.”

  Bob and Mac traipsed in.

  “Damn! Who’s got day two in the runnin’? Is it Jack?”

  Jack stuck his head out of the kitchen as Bob and Mac hopped on their usual barstools.

  “Bob had two days. Mac had three days,” Jack said.

  “What about Hank and you? Maybe we should write this down,” Mac said, scratching his scraggly beard.

  “Hank didn’t think she’d come back after break. I think she’ll stay.”

  “Don’t stick ideas into her head. She’s as stubborn as a rusty lock,” Hank grumbled.

  I itched to interrupt their conversation. Knowing it was a wasted effort, I headed into the kitchen to see if I could scrounge a snack to tide me over. Making myself at home, I rummaged until I found frozen onion rings. I brought them over to the fryer.