“But the club does have enemies, and one of those enemies is trying to make us look really bad in this city. They’re using you to help push that agenda, and it’s going to get you guys hurt.”Killed, he amended in his head. “The Dogs are trying to find Allie and Nicole. We’re trying to catch the assholes who are dealing you this shit and telling you they work for us. They don’t, and they’re really fucking dangerous. Anything you can tell me that would point us in the right direction would be a big help.”
There was a moment’s loaded hesitation; lots of glances were traded among them.
Then Elijah said, “He came here to talk to us. Not to threaten anybody, not to sell you some shit. He wants to talk – he wants our help. So we can figure out who’s really hurting girls, and the Dogs can go after them. You think the cops can stop it? If they could, why did nobody find Allie? She’s still missing. If anyone can find her, the Dogs can. If you guys tell him what you know.”
Carter was floored. He glanced toward Elijah, and earned a nod, a solemn regard of solidarity.
He took a breath, let his shoulders relax, and said, “The night of Jimmy Connors party. Who saw what?”
Twenty minutes, and two mini notebook pages of info later, he thanked the students and headed back for the parking lot. To his surprise, Elijah fell into step beside him.
“Does that help?” he asked, and almost sounded worried. “I think they were all mostly telling the truth.”
“It does help, yeah. The more details we have about those guys, the easier they’ll be to find.”
“No sign of ‘em yet?”
“No.” He frowned at thought of Jimmy. Probably the parents had been notified by now. He wondered how ugly things were about to get for them. “We found an empty house they were dealing out of, and collected some stuff for prints and DNA, but no hits in the database yet.”
“Database? MC got a CSI division now?” he asked with a snort.
“Something like that. Lots of friends in town, anyway.”
Elijah nodded. “Guess so.” He walked facing forward, hands in his hoodie pockets, but Carter knew him well enough by now to detect the way self-consciousness crept into his voice and expression. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but I’m gonna try to get some minds changed around here. Work on ‘em a little bit.”
Carter knocked their shoulders together as they walked. “See? You’re gonna be a Dog fan after all.”
He snorted. “Nah. Just…trying to pick the side that’s doing the right thing. In every situation, you know?”
“I know. Smart man.”
They reached the parking lot, and Mercy, sitting on his bike, watching the surrounding area from behind the lenses of his shades.
Elijah, as expected, paused a moment, and murmured, “Whoa.”
Carter didn’t blame him. Even relaxed, his expression pleasantly bland, Mercy was a sight to behold. His height was evident, even sitting astride his bike, and he wore a tank top under his cut that flashed ink, and muscles big as Carter’s head. Some men got married, had kids, and started working on beer guts and receding hairlines. Mercy had managed to pack on more muscle, even more impressive than he’d been a few years ago when Carter first came home, and his hair was as thick and glossy as ever, down to the middle of his back now, shifting in the breeze.
Carter decided to go the polite route. “Hey, Merc, this is Elijah. Elijah, this is Mercy.”
Mercy turned toward them with an easy, automatic grin, and pushed his shades up so the warm brown of his eyes showed. With his other hand, he reached out for a shake. “Hey, Elijah, good to meet you.”
Elijah gathered himself visibly, stepped forward, and gripped Mercy’s hand, his own dwarfed inside it, like everyone else’s always was.
“You’re a QB, too, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mercy laughed, low, and rich, and Cajun, and disarming. “I know this one misses it. Glad you can get him outta the house and back on the grass.”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” He’d never sounded so uncertain.
Carter didn’t blame him. “Eli, thanks for this,” he said, offering his own handshake, one Elijah gripped ready and strong. “Let me know if you need anything. Or see anything. Or just get freaked out. It’s brave, helping us.”
Elijah rolled his eyes – but smiled. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He said goodbye, and headed off for his car.
When Carter slung his leg over his bike, fastened his helmet, and glanced to see if Mercy was ready, he found him grinning at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Mercy said, buckling his own helmet. “It’s just my little pretty boy’s growing up.”
