Raging Hard(43)

Eventually I ordered a third drink, tipping well again, and worked up my nerve.

“So, Dan, you must know a lot about this place.”

“A lot? My great-granddaddy was the mayor for a few years. I know this place better than anyone.”

I nodded. “You seem like a smart guy, too.”

“Guess you could say that.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“If I can, I will.”

I took the drawing out of my pocket and opened it up. As soon as he saw it, I could tell he recognized what it was, but his face quickly passed over his initial reaction.

“Do you know what this means?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? I have a friend who has this tattoo, and I’m trying to find him.”

He looked at me quietly for a minute. “You got a friend with that mark?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I think you should leave.”

I was surprised at how fast his demeanor shifted. One second he was affable and kind, and the next his eyes were narrowed and I could sense the threat behind his words.

I folded the paper back up. “Okay, okay. No harm meant. If you don’t know, you don’t know.”

“I ain’t kidding. Get out of here.”

“What do you know about this, Dan? It’s very important to me.”

He leaned closer. “Don’t go around asking folks about that symbol unless you want to get yourself killed. That’s all I’ll say.”

I stared hard at him for a second and then nodded once. “Thanks, Dan.”

He nodded back and walked away. I finished my beer and left the place.

What a damn strange interaction. I figured Dan might have some passing knowledge, maybe had seen it on someone’s riding leathers or something like that, but his reaction was of a very different order of magnitude. Whoever these people were, they were not to be fucked with. And Dan the barman definitely knew exactly who they were.

As I sat down on a bench outside the bar, I knew I had a conundrum on my hands. Based on the way Dan had reacted, any local that knew about the group wasn’t going to say a word to an outsider. Whether it was out of fear or something else, I wasn’t sure. Dan seemed afraid, but also a little angry that I was even mentioning it.

The solution to my problem came to me pretty quickly. It wasn’t ideal, or really even something that I particularly wanted to do, but I knew that it would be effective.

I made up my mind. I couldn’t fuck around with this and half-ass the mission. The safety of Claire was potentially at risk. If there was something going on with this crew or gang or whatever they were, I needed to find out who they were and learn what I was dealing with as quickly as possible.

I wasn’t about to let some asshole thugs threaten me and mine. They’d already ruined one day. That was enough to really piss me off.

It was late, the sun having set hours ago. I was crouched in some bushes, my breathing steady, everything about me Zen as fuck. It was my combat training, of course, that let me be so calm.

The bandana I had bought with cash at some tourist trap was pulled up over my face like an Old West robber. I didn’t think it was going to do much to hide my identity, but it could help. I fingered the knife in its holster, fresh from the kill just a day earlier.

The drunks and the regulars were stumbling out of the bar. I checked my watch: nearly three in the morning. There weren’t many streetlights around, and those that were nearby shone a weak, yellow blur, which meant it was the perfect spot to play the waiting game.

It didn’t take too long after that. Once the people had filtered out, maybe ten minutes later Dan the barman made his appearance.

I watched as he locked the door to the bar. Okay, Nathan, don’t fuck this shit up, I thought to myself.

I was out of the bushes and crossing the space between him and me within seconds. He had no clue I was there until he felt the steel of my blade pressed up against his throat.

“Don’t move or I kill you,” I whispered.

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Take what you want. Don’t hurt me.”

“Open the door.”

He unlocked it and pushed it inward. I kept my blade firmly against his neck, careful not to cut the skin. It took skill to keep such a sharp blade as mine from opening him up as he moved around, but I was good with it.

We moved inside and I shut the door behind us.

“Money is in the drawer,” he said. “Behind the bar. Take it all. Please, God, don’t hurt me. Please.”

“Shut up,” I growled.

“I have kids.” He was practically pissing himself.

“Listen to me,” I said. “I need information.”