Page 16 of Reese’s Protection

The place I was headed wasn’t too far away, located in the middle of fucking nowhere between the city and the closest medium-size town, presumably to avoid dealing with the cops. Speaking of cops, they hadn’t been back to my place, so I figured on top of being a fucking abusive narc, Jeremy was also an all-around liar.

I’d called up Jester and given him Jeremy’s name, asked if he’d heard of him or seen him, and Jester had passed the word on to his MC. That was why I was out here in the middle of God’s country. One of Jester’s buddies—a guy named Penny—said Jeremy frequented a spot out here where tits and asses were regularly up for sale.

A grim smile worked across my face as I pulled into the parking lot of my destination. The Sugar Shack and Maple Syrup Emporium was over the top in every way possible. The sign was gargantuan with orange neon spelling out the words in curly letters and ringed by brilliant white bulbs—very 1960s. With the blinding amount of light there was no missing the low ramshackle building constructed of logs. I’d heard of this joint, but most nights of the week it was a regular strip club—displaying tits and snatch—with a maple store tacked onto the side. I had no desire to see boobs swinging around free in the wind, so I’d never come out, but I guess once a week they featured men.

Tonight was the night.

I pulled my motorcycle into a spot in front of the Maple Syrup Emporium, chuckling at the sight of a group of little old ladies flocking to a candy counter with jugs of maple syrup clutched in their arms. There were canes. There were walkers. There were lots of gray curls. What did they think of the attached business? There was nothing seedy about the syrup sales floor visible through the big front window.

Some people were real innovators. Who would’ve thought this would work as a business? God bless America.

My phone rang, and I tugged it out of my jacket pocket. I sighed as I accepted the call.

“I’m begging you to let this go.” Reese’s voice cracked, which made my gut clench uncomfortably, but I didn’t think he got why this was important. This wasn’t just about him now. It was about my family and him. Everyone I cared about was affected by this bullshit.

“So what? He can hunt you again? Maybe take Layton next time? Maybe fucking murder you in your sleep?” I watched the adorable elderly ladies exclaim over pieces of candy they were handed from a smiling woman with rosy cheeks behind the sales counter. She was very, very hot, which made me wonder what she did after the Maple Syrup Emporium closed.

“I’m more worried about you getting hurt if you keep this up. He’s not going to play fair if you catch him! What are you planning to do?” There was a crackling sound in the background, and I smiled because I was pretty sure that meant he was sitting in front of the fireplace at my house and had taken the time to light a fire.

“Don’t worry.” The gun at the small of my back was a comforting reminder of exactly what I could do if push came to shove. “Anyone low enough to go to the cops when they started shit is a scumbag. I understand exactly what I’m dealing with. I gotta go.”

Reese was still talking as I ended the call, but there was no way to convince him this was necessary. I wasn’t going to stop until Jeremy was either dead or understood he had to leave us the fuck alone—whichever worked. I had zero fucks to give at this point.

There was no one working the door on the strip club side, which made it very clear this wasn’t normally a trouble spot, despite what they might have in the back rooms for sale. I stepped inside, and the dim pink lighting made me feel like I was swimming through a deep tropical lake at sunset. Only the stage at the far end of the room glowed. About twenty tables around the room were packed with groups of men. There were various ages and styles of dress in the crowd, so this was obviously an establishment where everyone was welcome.

Onstage, two muscular men shook their asses—one in blue leather pants and the other in a string bikini. The leather daddy had black hair that gleamed under the lights with glitter and a bronze complexion, and the other guy had blue hair, pale skin, and tattoos that reminded me of Reese. I wasn’t a saint, so I stared for a few seconds until I moved over to the wooden bar on the left side of the club.

“Either a twenty-dollar cover or a four-drink minimum!” the cheerful man behind the bar called to me over the hypnotic dance music tumbling from hidden speakers somewhere in the room. “Tips appreciated.” He winked at me.

Well, you didn’t see a guy like him every day. He reminded me of a lumberjack because he stood half a foot taller than me and had a red-and-black flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. Hell, he could go onstage next with the perfect smile he flashed at me.

“Bring me a drink! Whatever you enjoy,” I called back.

He nodded with a pleased grin as if I’d genuinely made his night.

There was no point in making the locals suspicious, so I took a seat. The bartender added ingredients into a silver shaker, then wandered over with a martini glass and poured the contents out. The booze smelled sweet, whatever it was, and he slid a maple candy shaped like a cock and balls over to me on a pink napkin. I had to laugh.

“Thanks!” I passed him a fifty and shook my head when he tried to bring me change.

“You here alone, sweetie?” He leaned his elbows on the bar across from me, enticed to settle in and make small talk by my big tip.

I tried to brush my hair back off my shoulders as I nodded, then grimaced and combed it away from my face with both hands, pulling out a few knots in the process.

He pouted at me and jutted his chin at my shirt. “The Adventures of Nandor and Guillermo,” he read out loud, then chuckled. “Do you want to fuck Nandor or be him?” He reached across to tug on a strand of my long hair, then laughed loud enough that we caught the attention of the men sitting nearby at the bar.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say—it had been a long time since a stranger had decided to flirt with me—but my brain was totally rocked when I noticed my prey from the corner of my eye. Jeremy had a bruised cheek, two black eyes, and a metal brace taped to the bridge of his nose, but that seemed to have gathered a sympathetic crowd of men who appeared to be buying him drinks.

I growled under my breath and tapped the bar. “I’ll get back to you on that,” I said to the lumberjack, taking my fancy drink with me. He waved his bar towel in my direction as I slipped across the room to the table where Jeremy was holding court.

He didn’t seem to have trouble attracting men to him—hell, they were thicker than flies on honey. Or maple syrup. So, why was he so intent on having the one guy in the world who didn’t want him back? It made no fucking sense. Well, I’d knock his head against the pavement outside until he understood the way things would be from here on out.

When I reached the table, I shooed away a twink who’d been leaning over Jeremy’s shoulder and put my glass down in front of him.

“I bought you a drink,” I said.

He started to smile, but it slipped into a scowl when he glanced up at me.

“You’re not my type.” He was doing some sort of mental calculation as he stared at me, his eyebrows dancing up, then down again.