“Clubhouse,” I answered flatly. “Where’s Menace?”
“Still in the office. Said he’s coming later.”
“I’ll check in with him and meet y’all over there in a while.”
“See if you can get his ass out of there. Guy looks like he’s running on fumes.”
“Will do.”
Without waiting for them to leave, I went inside to hunt down Menace. As I walked in, the place looked completely deserted. The chairs were already stacked on the tables and the girls had already dispersed, leaving me wondering why Menace hadn’t already called it a night. When I got to his office, he was leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. “Hey, brother. Why don’t you close up shop for the night and get you some fucking sleep?”
“Wish I could.” His eyes cracked open as he stretched his tatted arms over his head. “Got too much shit to do.”
“Bullshit. There’s nothing here that can’t wait until morning.”
“I guess you’re right. I just hate leaving things undone.”
“I get that, but you’re no good to anyone like this, especially yourself.” He considered my words for a moment, then nodded and stood. As he put on his cut, he looked down at the mess on his desk and grimaced. Fearing he might change his mind, I pushed, “Tomorrow, brother. I’ll even come back here and help you out.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
As we started out front, I remembered I hadn’t asked him about Viper’s thoughts on Schommer. I knew it had been discussed, but we’d never gotten a final word. “What was decided about Schommer?”
“Viper decided against it. Said there was too much heat with the cops to risk it.” As he locked the back door, he glanced over to me and said, “So I’m going to do some more digging on the location we found near San Antonio. Hoping I can find something that will lead us to this guy.”
We continued to the parking lot and got on our bikes. Before I started the engine, I asked, “You think we’re just buying trouble with all this? I mean, we haven’t had any issues. As far as I can tell, we’re in the good.”
“It’s hard to say, but I got a feeling this is the calm before the storm.” Menace turned the key, starting his engine, then shouted, “Like Viper said, if this Scar guy is out there and he’s got his eyes on us, we’re gonna have one helluva fight on our hands.”
Our conversation came to an abrupt end when Menace gave me a nod and pulled out of the parking lot. As I followed him back to the clubhouse, I was tempted to take the turn to Marlowe’s place, if for no other reason than to make sure she made it home okay but decided against it. I told her I’d give her until tomorrow and that’s what I intended to do, but I wasn’t happy about it. In fact, she was all I could think about as I pulled through the gate of the clubhouse. She continued to stay on my mind as I made my way to my room and collapsed into bed. As I closed my eyes, she haunted my every thought, making it difficult to settle. Thankfully, after an hour of tossing and turning, I eventually managed to doze off.
The following morning, I skipped breakfast with the brothers and headed straight to Stilettos to meet up with Menace. I figured if I got there a little early, I’d be able to get out of there and over to Marlowe’s in plenty of time to talk to her before she went in to work. When I pulled up to the club, I wasn’t surprised to find Menace was already there. He was in his office, sorting through the previous night’s receipts, and seemed a bit flustered as I walked over and sat down in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
“Were you and Marlowe into it last night?”
“Not exactly. Why?”
“See for yourself.”
He handed me one of the receipts from last night, and I was surprised to find a message in Marlowe’s handwriting:
going to kill Rafe.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Why would she write this on a receipt?”
“I was hoping you could answer that.”
“I have no idea.” I leaned forward to get a better look at the other receipts as I asked, “Are there any more like this?”
“Not sure. I’ve just started going through them.” He quickly began sifting through the stack of receipts, and his eyes widened when he came across another with Marlowe’s handwriting scrolled across the bottom. After reading it, he grumbled, “Damn.”
“What is it?”
He offered it to me, letting me read it for myself, and my blood ran cold:
he’s watching me.
“Who’s watching her?”
Without waiting for him to answer, I reached over and grabbed a handful of the receipts and started flipping through each one. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest each time I caught a glimpse of Marlowe’s handwriting.