Chapter Thirty-Three
Muerto placed abottle of beer in front of one of the regulars at Balls and Holes. “Hey, Willy. What’s shakin’?”
“Not much. Jus’ waitin’ fer Gator to git his ass in here. He got lucky the last time. I gotta git my money back.” Willy’s laugh turned into a coughing fit, and the older man grabbed his beer and took a large gulp.
“You should check out that cough. It doesn’t sound so good.”
“Fuck, Muerto. Don’t you start on me. I git enough of that shit from my ol’ lady.” He took out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out.
He chuckled. “Fair enough. If you need anything just holler.”
As Muerto headed to the bar, he saw Sheriff Wexler coming inside and he immediately tensed. His dislike of badges went back to when he was a kid and saw how many of the people in his neighborhood were treated differently from the ones in the better sections of town. Since joining the Night Rebels, his distrust of anyone wearing a badge had grown.
Glancing sideways at the sheriff, Muerto kept walking to the bar.Probably here about the strip bar. He’s got a lot of balls comin’ here to talk to me when we did his fuckin’ job. Asshole.Lining up the glasses for the day, he ignored the cop.
“How’re things going?” Wexler asked as he sidled up to the bar.
“Okay.” Muerto didn’t look up.
“I need to talk to you about someone I think you may know.”
Muerto’s insides tightened.There’s no way I’m talking to a badge about a brother. I’m no fuckin’ snitch.He kept stacking glasses, never once looking up.
Wexler laughed dryly. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the Night Rebels. I have a situation here and I need to clear some stuff up.”
Muerto glanced at him. “I know I can’t help you.”
“I think you can, and I think you need to because something bad may happen to you or someone you know.”
Standing tall, he rested his hands on the counter. “Stop with the cryptic warning. What the fuck are you talking about?” A curl lifted Wexler’s lips as he slowly took off his bomber jacket.He’s fuckin’ enjoying this. I’m ready to kick his ass.“I don’t have time for this shit. I have a job to do.” Muerto turned his back and started arranging the liquor bottles on the shelves.
“Do you know a Penny Leslie Burnside?”
“Nope. Never heard of her,” he replied, his back still to the sheriff.
“She works for you.”
Muerto turned around. “I don’t have anyone working for me by that name. If she told you that, she’s a goddamn liar.”
“How many women work for you?”
“Only one, but she quit a few days ago. She was with the management company I use, but her name isn’t what you said. It’s Deanna something. I can’t remember her last name just now.”
“I’m talking about your businesses.”
“The club’s businesses? I don’t know all the women who work at Lust. I just run this place.”I’m getting real pissed with the game this fuckin’ badge is playing.“I got a feeling you know exactly who the chick is, so stop with the bullshit and just ask me.”
“Penny Leslie Burnside is an alias. She goes by Jaime Brandt. Do you know a woman by that name?”
“Jaime? Yeah. She works here. What the fuck did she do? Drive too fast in a school zone? I’m busy here.”
“I picked her up the other day for shoplifting over at Randall’s. It was a tube of red lipstick. I—”
“I’ll pay for it. She’s cool. She’s been under some stress. Don’t you have bigger shit to deal with than a shoplifter?”
“What kind of stress? The pool hall’s robbery?” Wexler leaned over the counter. “I knew about that. Figured you guys were gonna take care of it on your own.”
“I said I’d pay for the lipstick. Let this one slide.”
