Predator Patrol (Mars Cannon Novel #2)

by Nicolette Pierce

  "If I agree to come back, changes need to be made."

  She nodded. "Your pay would need to change," she agreed. "I paid you far too much. Since you’re on your second chance, you'll need to take a pay cut. It's not like you’re going to find a better job anywhere else."

  My fingers curled into the bar towel. "I decline your offer,” was all I could say without combusting.

  A pay cut! I could barely make ends meet before and I worked my butt off. I'd rather work here for nothing.

  "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

  "I knew you wouldn't accept, so I had our conversation recorded." She held up her cell phone with an activated recording app. "I was close to losing your unemployment claim, but now I just tried to hire you back and you refused. Good luck trying to collect your money!" She jumped off her stool with a peel of laughter.

  I glared as she sauntered out the door.

  "Damn, she's crazy," Bob said, sipping his Mai Tai.

  "Yeah, but those are the ones that give great . . ." Mac stopped and glanced at me with an embarrassed smile.

  I shrugged. "No need to edit for me."

  A bewildered Jack walked in the bar. "Who was that woman? I think she just offered me something really dirty. I'm not even quite sure what it is."

  "She didn't offer me anything." Bob frowned into his glass.

  "That's my old boss. I suggest washing any parts she might have touched."

  He glanced down at his jeans. "There wasn't any skin-to-skin contact, but damn, she's not shy."

  I nodded. I’ve seen her in pursuit before.

  "It's good to see you boys," Jack said as he swung behind the bar. "What in the world are you drinking?"

  "I'm testing out some cocktails," I said. "There needs to be other offerings besides whiskey and beer."

  "It ain't bad," Mac piped up, scooting his empty glass forward. "I'll take another round of vitamins. If anyone comes in, switch it for a beer."

  "Yeah, I'll take another too," Bob said. "Ditto on the switch."

  "I never thought the day would come when cocktails are served at Road Hog." Jack gave a slight head shake. "Where's Hank? Did he fall over dead?"

  "He had a meeting or something. He'll be back later, which is why I'm experimenting now." A grin twisted.

  Jack chuckled. "I'm glad you stuck around. If nothing else, you've livened the place."

  I scanned the empty bar. Not yet, but it will be. My eyes caught on the door as it opened. Kym fluttered in.

  "Mars, are you okay?" She rushed over to the bar and hopped on a stool a few spots away from Mac. He quickly pushed his glass away.

  I pushed it back. "She's married and doesn't care what you drink. Kym, I'm fine. I'm worried about Aaron."

  "Mrs. J. filled me in. I'll call T a little later and see if there are any new developments. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I forgot people were coming to our house. I was in a mad dash to make it respectable."

  "You have a cleaning crew that makes it look respectable. There was no need for you to be at the park. I swear there must have been two cops hanging in each tree with the amount of people that showed." I placed a Mai Tai in front of her. "Who came over this morning?"

  As she took a sip, her eyes slid to Mac and Bob. "I'll tell you later. It's nothing I want to talk about right now. Mmm! This is delicious."

  "Thank you. Come back tomorrow for Bloody Marys."

  "How are things with Evan and you?"

  "Fine. I'd rather not talk about it here," I said.

  "This is a bar. You can talk about anything," Bob pointed out. "If it's sad, take a drink. If it's happy, take a drink. It all works out."

  Mac nodded. "It's therapy."

  "Somehow I don't think drinking is therapeutic," I said.

  "Then you're not doing it right," Bob said.

  "Tell them your problem," Jack said. "I guarantee they'll have the solution."

  "I don't have any problems," I said with a look that defied arguments.

  "Fine. If you're not strong enough to go through therapy, then you won't get better. There's a reason bars have been around for thousands of years. You can't dispute history," Mac reasoned.

  "It makes you think, doesn't it," Jack said with a sly wink.

  "Then tell me why there's Alcoholic Anonymous out there trying to help people with drinking problems?"

  Bob shook his head. "Nah! You don't drown yourself in booze. You get to the point of Zen without having to meditate and stuff," he explained. "You find the point when it becomes clear. Good. Bad. It doesn't matter because you'll see it."

  My brows quirked trying to understand. "You mean all those drinks I tossed back because I made a mistake brought me to Zen? How come the only thing I felt was drunk?"

  "You weren't instructed and focused," Mac said.

  Even though they both had serious expressions, I can't believe they meant to be taken seriously.

  "Kym, do you want to find Zen?" I asked. Being on duty, there was no way I was searching for Zen.

  She eyed Mac and Bob. "I have been trying to come to terms with something."

  Something in her voice told me it was a serious problem; one that shouldn't be handled in such a ridiculous and possibly harmful manner.

  "Kym, perhaps we could talk later. There's no need to entertain these guys."

  "No. I made up my mind. I want to," she said resolutely.

  "You know it's just a drinking game?" Jack offered, seeing my concern.

  "Bring it on. I've been stewing in my own pity. I want to try this, even if it’s just for fun." Her smile told me she was ready for nonsense.

  "She looks like a lightweight," Mac observed. "Use only half shots."

  "Tequila!" She declared.

  Oh boy!

  "You guys did it to yourselves," I warned. "Any messes and it's your responsibility."

  They glanced at each other.

  "I have a feeling she has a standing relationship with tequila," Jack whispered in my ear.

  "Maybe call Ida for backup or a ride home," I whispered.

  His brows rose.

  In all reality, she’d be fine. She knows when she's at her limit and sometimes stays within it. However, Ida and Hank were an untold story I wanted to know about. Perhaps having Ida here will stir up the ghosts.

  Chapter 14

  "First, down the shot. Then say something you are happy about," Bob instructed Kym in the art of Zen drinking.

  Kym nodded and slammed the half shot. She shook her head, riding the tequila from her taste buds. "I'm happy with my friends and family."

  Mac rolled his eyes. "The first one’s always the same. Keep going."

  I refilled to half.

  "Now tell us a problem," Mac said.

  She gulped it. "I chipped my nail today. I just had them done."

  I heard the boys sigh.

  "Keep going. You'll know when you’re there," Jack said, clearly entertained thus far.

  Four rounds later, Kym slammed down the shot glass. "I'm happy Jim has a large penis! Multiple O's galore!"

  Bob sputtered into his glass.

  "Now we're getting somewhere." Mac perked up.

  "What did I miss?" Ida asked as she shuffled in.

  "Multiple orgasms." Jack smirked.

  "Those are a nice surprise but as rare as a white rhino," she stated as she hoisted herself up on a stool. "Double on the rocks. Keep the bottle handy. What are you drinking?" She eyed Kym.

  "Tequila."

  Ida shuttered. "So, why was I summoned?"

  "I thought Kym could use a ride home. She's finding Zen," I explained.

  "Where's the deadbeat?"

  "If you mean Hank, he's left me in charge."

  "Is that so?" I caught a twinkle in her eye.

  "Time for the next round," Mac prompted.

  Kym slugged down the shot and shivered. "I think the taste is getting worse. Okay, next problem is Eddie. He's always around and smells. I think sometimes Jim and Eddie should hav
e married."

  Bob nodded for a refill. "I think we're almost there."

  Kym gulped the shot. "I love Jeff's tongue; very nimble and strong." She giggled.

  "I'll never be able to look Jim in the eye again," I groaned.

  "Is his grandfather available? Maybe a father who digs older women,” Ida asked.

  I poured the shot. "Last one," I said. "Make it count." I didn't care if she found her Zen or not. She was tipsy. It was time to end.

  "Back to problems," she muttered, glaring at the shot glass. She guzzled it. A grim line set on her brow. "I can't have children. There's something wrong with my eggs. I always had a suspicion, so I went to the doctor. I should’ve done it before I married Jim. Why would he want me now?"

  Silence.

  My tongue stunned to silence. Not in all the years I've known her has she spoken of her fear of not having children.

  "You're there," Mac said with a nod. "Now, what are you going to do?"

  Kym's shoulders slumped. "Jim suggested we buy eggs."

  Bob gave a nod to refill. I did. I think she just needed to vent. To hell with being sober.

  She stared into the clear liquid. Her eyes drew together. "It’s an option, but not for me." She pushed back the tequila, her eyes clouded. "Maybe there's a reason I'm not able to have children of my own," she wondered.

  "What will make you happy?" I asked. "Buy eggs or no children?"

  "Neither." She shook her head.

  "There's always another option," Ida said.

  "What's that?" Kym asked with a tear threatening to spill.

  "Adoption." Ida set her drink down. "Perhaps you were meant to care for those that need a mother. Sometimes fate leaves a child with no mother and a mother with no child. You have a warm heart, a loving home, and enough money to welcome a dozen happy children into your life. Don't look at this as a loss. You've undoubtedly shed many tears on this, as you have the right to. Now it's time to embrace your life as it was given to you. You can either give up or start living."

  Kym glommed onto Ida. Her body shook as tears poured.

  "I thought of it before. That’s why I had to have the house perfect this morning for the inspection. But my heart wasn’t in it. Now it's all clear. I'm going to adopt," she sniffled into Ida's shoulders. "You're right. It's the path I'm destined for. I can feel this is the right path. I was blinded by my stupid self-pity."

  My eyes pooled with tears.

  "She found Zen," Bob said into his glass, covering his watery eyes.

  Mac nodded with the same watery eyes.

  My body quivered as I tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears. Jack handed me a bar napkin to mop myself as the tears rushed over. Ida grabbed one too.

  "Bloody hell!" Hank barked. "I leave for a couple hours and I come back to find you all crying like girls." He eyed the drinks. "And drinking girly cocktails! This is a bar not a sorority house."

  "She found Zen," I said with a hiccup.

  "You know that's a game Mac made up to get over losing a five dollar bill, don’t you?"

  I eyed Mac. "You made up a drinking game because you lost five dollars?"

  "I was feeling very angry."

  Kym latched onto Mac. "It's the best game ever," she cried.

  "My pleasure." He awkwardly patted her head. "You're getting my whiskers wet."

  She let go with a small laugh. We all flicked off the last tears and chuckled.

  I cleared my throat. "Do you want something to eat, Kym? I'm sure some food would be good with all that tequila."

  "No. I have so much to do. There are people to call and papers to fill out. I was only going through the motions half heartedly. Now I'm ready."

  "You can't make calls when you’re tipsy. Eat first. Then Ida can take you home if you're not sober. You know Jack makes a really good burger," I added when I saw her hesitate.

  "I'll have it ready in five minutes," Jack said, pushing through the kitchen door.

  She settled on the stool. "I can't believe I'm going to adopt. At first I was hesitant, but it all makes sense now."

  "I'm happy for you," I said. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I can at least listen if nothing else. Maybe not about Jim's features though."

  "I was going to. We were always around other people."

  Hank hovered near, inching towards Ida. "I need to speak with you."

  Ida eyed him warily. "What do you want?"

  "Let's talk in back," he said.

  She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not interested."

  "Not that, you old coot. Strictly business."

  "I gave up business responsibilities a long time ago."

  "Just get in back," he growled.

  "Fine. But I'm taking the bottle with me. I can't listen to you yammering without it."

  He let out a deep gust of air as he headed in back.

  Ida grabbed the bottle and slid off the stool. "If I'm not back in five minutes, it's because I strangled him and I'm heading for the border. Give me a two day head start."

  We watched her disappear with Hank.

  Interesting.

  "Does Hank have any colored markers?" I asked Jack when he appeared with Kym's burger minutes later.

  "I think there are some under the cash drawer."

  "Good. Sit down," I said motioning to a stool.

  I placed card stock in front of each person. It was leftover from my days at Jocelyn McCain Events. There's no way I’d give it back. I dug underneath the cash drawer and retrieved four markers that looked like they were made fifty years ago. I handed them out.

  "Mine's sticky," Kym said, immediately dropping it on the bar.

  I wiped it off with the bar towel and handed it back.

  "Why do I feel like I'm in grade school again?" Mac asked.

  "I need your help to make signs," I said. "Make them as simple or artsy as you want."

  "I knew we should’ve stayed up North," Bob mumbled.

  "At least make one. That's all I ask."

  "What kind of sign?" Jack asked.

  "I need cocktail signs. I also want to put an event together. I'm not sure what kind. It should be something that will draw in customers. What do you guys think?"

  "Any event?" Mac perked.

  "Maybe. Toss around some ideas."

  There was a moment of thoughtful silence until ideas sprang from everyone.

  "Wet t-shirt." "Zumba class." "Ladies night." "Battle of the bands." "No t-shirt contest . . . Naked women." “That’s called exotic dancing.” "Mud wrestling." "Trivia night." "Karaoke." "Wine and cheese sampling." "No more ideas from Kym." “Fight night.” “That’s every night.” "Biker night." "Country night. We can rent a mechanical bull." "Midget tossing." "No more ideas from Mac."

  "Well, it's a start," I said, writing down the more appropriate ideas. "Why don't we start with the wet t-shirt contest? We might as well start off small."

  "We hope they won't be small." Mac nudged Bob as he rumbled with a laugh. Bob and Jack's heads fell back laughing.

  "Just start making signs. We'll hold it two nights from now. By then the Thunderballs should be back and the signs might draw in more customers. Let’s get this place hopping with customers quickly." A glance at the door where Hank and Ida disappeared gave me cause for concern. If I could bring in enough event revenue, the bar might pull through. I can ask for help from my old events contacts. Kirby can DJ. Emmy and Curtis might be willing to help if they aren’t already booked. Evan's sister, Andrea, can help Jack in the kitchen. I'll need to start calling people tonight.

  "How are you wetting the t-shirts?" Mac asked.

  "I vote for the hose," Bob said. "Soaking wet and cold."

  "There's always the bucket method."

  "Super soakers," Kym said. "We pair up a girl with a super soaker shooter. The shooter who soaks their girl the most wins. And, the girl who has the best wet knockers wins."

  "I like it. We could have a nominal entry fee for the super soaker contestants to offset the prizes
."

  "But not the girls, right?" Bob asked.

  "No. I think they're giving enough away as it is. Get to work. We need tons of signs."

  "What are you doing while we make these signs?" Mac asked, noticing I didn't have card stock.

  "I'm cleaning this place. We're beyond health code violations." I headed for the bucket and mystery solution. "Don't forget to add information so people know where to go."

  As I began scrubbing black stuff from behind the bar, I heard snickering.

  "They're huge! You went off the page."

  "Don't forget the essential part."

  "What's that?"

  "You know . . . the peaks."

  More snickering followed.

  The evening was quiet except for a few stray bikers. It was a relief to see Evan walk in at eleven. I had already cleaned the majority of the customer areas. I even braved the restrooms. After six gagging and near heaving misses, I had them tolerably clean. Though, I'd suggest a hepatitis shot before use. Needless to say, Evan was an oasis in my dirty desert.

  "I missed you, sugar," he said, leaning over the bar to kiss me.

  I halted him. "I just spent the day cleaning this pit. There are things I've touched that don't belong in civilization. You'll want to wait until I shower."

  His lips tugged at the corners. "You do look a little sweaty, but that can be a hot look in the bedroom."

  "Then you can wait and get me sweaty yourself."

  "That’s a good reason to wait.”

  Hank gave a nod to Evan from across the bar. "Mars, you can leave. You did enough work for a month. Take some money out of the register."

  "Today is on me. Eventually I'll bleed you dry with my asking wage." I grinned. I knew how much he had in the cash register. It wasn't enough to dip into.

  "That won't be hard."

  "Just wait. I have plans for this place."

  "Go home."

  “See you tomorrow, Hank.” I tossed the bar towel down and followed Evan. “I can’t wait to go home and shower," I muttered.

  "This is perfect," Evan said as we headed to his bike. "I need to shower too."

  All fatigue evaporated as I warmed at the thought of Evan in the shower.

  I settled behind him on the bike. I was beginning to relax as a rider. I no longer had to hold onto Evan for dear life. I wanted to. Wrapping my arms around him as we took off, I noticed a stray black truck in the parking lot that didn't belong to Hank or Jack. No one else was in the bar. Perhaps it broke down and was abandoned for the night, I thought until I saw movement behind the tinted windows. Maybe a girl was waiting for Jack.