Page 24 of Devil's Marker

The room was spacious by biker standards. It was also luxurious by biker standards. It seemed the Marauders didn’t do things halfway. In addition to the nice furnishings and mini-fridge, he had his own big screen TV. When he got back to Austin, he was going to have some stories to tell about some clubs really knowing how to live. He took a little grim pleasure in anticipating how that was going to get Brant’s goat.

The biggest drawback, so far as he could see, was the paradox of living in a concrete building without windows. On the one hand, the walls were impenetrable. On the other, it was a scary way to live from the standpoint of fire hazard. If there was a fire near the exit doors on the loading docks, the entire building would be a death trap with no way out.

He made a mental note to talk to Boss about that, if the opportunity ever arose.

Meanwhile, he pulled off his boots, stretched out to test the compatibility between his body and the mattress and found it agreeable. Within minutes he was asleep, but the last image on his mind was the sight of R.C. turning back to get another look at him.

CHAPTER Six

When Win opened his eyes he was staring directly at the digital time display on the clock beside the bed. Nine thirty. And his bladder was begging for relief.

He shuffled toward the bathroom in sock feet and turned on the light.

Nice. Like everything else in this place.

He sighed. Even if he was working the market, it was Sunday. He had a job to do and it wasn’t trading. It was spying.

He threw water in his face, pulled on his boots, took the key, locked the room and headed out to get his stuff from the saddlebags on his bike.

The main room still showed signs of party debris. The still active monitors showed a perimeter that was quiet and deserted.

Two prospects who looked too fresh for the life were cleaning up. Both looked up when he came in. They said nothing, as prospects should, but waited to see what Win would say or do.

“I’m Win Garrett. Need to get things from my bike.”

“Yes, sir,” said the one closest to him. “I’m Bo. This is Catcher. Would you like one of us to go for you?”

Win shook his head slightly. “No. Just show me which one of these doors to use and let me back in after I grab my shit.”

“This one right here,” Bo said, walking toward the farthest door to the left.

Win followed. “What time will people start rousin’?”

“Hard to say, but some will be up pretty soon. We’re tryin’ to make it look like there was no party last night by the time earlies come in, but they had a really good time last night.”

Win chuckled. “Yeah? I left early. How’s my face look today?” The kid froze like a deer in headlights, not having any idea how to respond. Win laughed. “I’m just kiddin’.”

“We heard about the accident.”

“Accident,” he repeated without inflection. “I guess that’s what you’d call it.”

As he was opening the door Bo said, “You sure you don’t need some help?”

“Sure.”

“Leavin’ the door unlocked since you’re comin’ right back.”

“Good,” Win said before stepping out onto the loading dock.

He descended eight feet of steps to where the bikes sat in open air, but under cover and essentially out of sight to anyone not already in the truck yard. The saddlebags were locked and didn’t appear to have been tampered with.

Thinking it was a good thing he hadn’t had the burner phone on his person, since he’d been knocked out most of the day before, he retrieved the few personal things he’d brought with him. If he was hunkering down for a month, he’d need to do some shopping. Once-a-week laundry service wasn’t going to keep up with two changes of clothes.

When he stepped back inside, he said, “Should I lock this?”

“I’ll do it,” Catcher said as he hurried over. “Can I take these things to your room?”

Win had to hand it to the Marauders. They were profitable and disciplined, too.

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