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“Danger, c’est mon deuxième prénom,” Baptiste replied with a grin. Seeing Bruno's puzzled expression, he said, “Danger’s my middle name.”
Bruno sighed, realizing Baptiste wouldn't back down easily. “I think you and I need to have a talk about what’s been going down because Gator is getting caught up in the middle of all this, and you might be able to help.”
Baptiste nodded, his earlier playfulness giving way to concern. “Alright, let’s talk.”
“I can’t right now,” Bruno said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just about to leave to meet someone when you walked in.”
As if on cue, Elodie set Bruno’s beer down in front of him. Baptiste raised an eyebrow. “Is that a beer to go?” he asked, smirking.
Bruno chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s yours now. I ordered it before I got the call from the person I’m meeting. Unfortunately, it's urgent.” He stood up and pushed the beer toward Baptiste. “Enjoy,” he added with a wry smile.
He thanked Elodie and told her Baptiste would be picking up the tab. Giving his friend a pat on the shoulder, Bruno strode out of the bar, stopping at the door to sigh once more, then headed for his meeting with Marvin.
* * *
Baptiste downed halfof the beer in one go, leaned over the bar, and gave Elodie a quick kiss as she met him halfway. “Sorry, babe... gotta follow a cop.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
As Baptiste hurried outside and jumped on his bike, he called Gator and told him to drive past Cops Corner, heading west. He said he’d update him as soon as he knew where they were going. Gator didn't even question Baptiste; he just raced to his Harley and set off in the direction he was told.
Baptiste trailed Bruno at a discreet distance, careful not to draw attention to himself. Eventually, they arrived at The Bulldog Café, a biker hangout on the outskirts of town. Bruno parked his Charger and met up with a guy on a Harley. Baptiste could see that the man with the short brown hair and big belly didn’t appear to belong to a club.
He texted Gator their location, and soon enough, his friend pulled up beside him. “What’s up, man?” Gator asked, his brow furrowed.
Baptiste pointed at Bruno and the man on the bike. “Recognize him?”
Gator squinted at the pair. “What the fuck,” he said. “That's Marvin... Sylvie’s ex.”
“You sure about that?”
“Damn sure,” Gator confirmed. “Even if I couldn’t see him, I'd smell that fucking dog from a mile away. What the hell are those two meeting for?”
Baptiste shrugged, his eyes never leaving the pair. “No clue, but we need to find out. You smell a dog... I smell a rat.”
Gator nodded, and they both sat there for the next quarter hour, watching the meeting unfold. They couldn’t risk getting any closer without being seen.
“I’m meeting Bruno at Cops Corner tonight,” Baptiste said. “Rencontre-moi là-bas?”
“I’ll meet you there…for sure,” Gator replied.
Once Bruno and Marvin had gone, the two Jokers rode back to the club. Gator wasted no time in calling Sylvie, hoping she would answer her phone this time.
When she picked up, he said, “Hey, babe... you OK?”
“Yeah... sorry, have you been calling?”
“Yeah. How’s the old lady?” Gator asked, concerned about her neighbor.
“She’s fine. She’s tough,” Sylvie said.
“And you?”
“I’m tough too.”
“Hey, about tonight...” he began, unsure of how to broach the subject.
“Can I take a raincheck?” she asked, and Gator almost sighed in relief. He wanted to meet up with Baptiste and Bruno to find out what the hell was going on with Marvin and the cop, and he didn’t think Sylvie would want to be part of that conversation.
