Page 56 of Devil's Marker

Catcher nodded at Win among jostling congratulations.

When the two spies walked through the bar in full club regalia at ten o’clock they drew a series of long low wolf whistles. They heard Smash say, “You’d better not try this sissy prissy pretty boy stuff around my old lady, fuckers.”

“Guys don’t have to look good to interest your old lady, Smash,” Cue said.

Everybody laughed.

Boss walked over to the door. “There’s a bar that’s more our style a few blocks away. Gonna have some back up there just in case and they’re not gonna be drinkin’.”

To Catcher, he said, “You hit Roar’s contact if anything goes awry. He’s gonna have his cell on vibrate in the pocket right next to his dick. No matter how loud it is, he’s gonna know if you need them. He sees you tried his number, he comes runnin’.” Catcher nodded. “You scared, kid?”

“Not really. Should I be?”

“Hey,” Win said. “I almost forgot. We’re takin’ two cars. If the night is uneventful, Catcher might celebrate by gettin’ lucky.”

Boss laughed and put his big hand on Catcher’s shoulder. “Sure, kid. Have a good time. Just remember the raincoat.”

Catcher rolled his eyes.

“Look at this,” Boss said to Win. “He’s been a full patch for two hours and he’s already givin’ ‘tude.”

Boss held out his hand for Win’s cell and programmed Roar’s contact in there as well. “Unless you’re plannin’ on ‘gettin’ lucky’, come see me when you get back. Don’t matter how late. I’ll be up.”

“Got it.” Win nodded.

When he started to turn away, Boss grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t take chances, but don’t let those fuckers leave with any of our girls.”

Win took ‘our girls’ to mean the larger extended tribe of geographical or cultural area. Maybe he meant Waco. Maybe he meant central Texas. He wasn’t going to linger long enough to question the prez because it was irrelevant to the task. What he needed to know was that Stars & Bars were not to leave the club with any girls.

“And, by the way,” Boss continued, “nice boots.”

Win couldn’t help but grin. The thing about boots like that was that they didn’t just look good, they felt like a million bucks as well. Right then he decided on a new policy. When he wasn’t riding, he was wearing those boots. He wondered how many other luxuries there were in life that would make him glad to have some snatch. Dovetailed on that thought was R.C.’s voice saying, “three million dollars.”

Catcher climbed behind the wheel of the teal blue BMW. Win got in the pearlized ivory Cadillac Escalade pickup conversion. They looked at each other before they pulled away, thinking the same thing. That it was odd experimenting with what it would have been like to make different choices, have somebody else’s life.

Win was to arrive first. They’d both pretend to be there on their own, but would keep tabs on the other. Just in case.

When he pulled up, he considered valet parking, but dismissed the idea. He needed to know where his keys and vehicle were in case he needed transportation in a hurry. He found a place on the street not far from the club and clicked the fob to lock it as he was walking away.

Night Flight was an upscale club for drinking and dancing. It featured talented DJs who encouraged customers to dance. But there was also plenty to watch, because the four corners featured elevated dancers on poles. They weren’t strippers per se. They wore beautiful expensive and jaw-dropping sexy lingerie that they didn’t take off. Their moves were not vulgar, but they were provocative. It was a combination of dance bar and burlesque that worked to ramp up the air of sexuality in the room. Women weren’t turned off by it. Truth be told, some were titillated by the exhibition.

Win nabbed a seat at a far corner of the bar where he could see almost everything going on in the club. He already had a glass in hand when Catcher came strolling in. Lots of eyes were glued to his every move. Lots of lipsticked lips were being unconsciously licked as he made his way to the other end of the bar without once making it evident that he’d looked Win’s way. He was a natural.

Win watched the spectacle that Catcher made without even trying with amusement and was scanning the room when he heard a voice behind him.

“Can I buy you a drink, cowboy?”

He turned to see an attractive face wearing a smile that someone must have once said was sexy. Win’s first internal reaction was to think that sexy doesn’t have to try that hard. An unbidden image of R.C. came to mind. Of course. And he shoved it away.

“Already got a drink, darlin’. But thanks.” He turned away expecting that to be enough of a signal. And it was. She wandered away in search of somebody else to ply with liquor.

By midnight he’d decided that he must be looking pretty good himself because he’d stopped counting how many women wanted to pay for his tab. By one the crowd had thinned.

A young woman in a backless dress was sitting on the stool next to Catcher. Since her back was to Win, he couldn’t see what she looked like, but judging by the way Catcher was talking to her, he liked what he saw. After another forty-five minutes, there were less than a dozen people. And none of them were S&B.

Win figured that most people had worked Friday and were ready to hang it up well before one. He slid off the stool and stood to pay his tab. He glanced up in time to see Catcher ushering a girl toward the front door, his hand to her lower back. He looked over his shoulder and gave Win a look that was less than a second in length, but weighted with info.

Catcher had enjoyed a good day. He’d gotten a new look. Full member status in the club. And was leaving with, what Win presumed, was a beautiful woman.

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