Page 32 of A Twist of Fate

“Yeah?”

Merc didn’t answer my question though. Instead, he eyed me curiously, as if trying to figure something out on his own. When he didn’t see what he was hoping for, he breathed out a lengthy, fatigue-laden breath. “What’s your angle here, son?”

“Angle?” He tipped his chin up at me this time, as if to say, ‘Yeah, your angle, stop playing games and answer’. Fuck that. He’d have to spell it out before I answered him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Merc grinned at me. “Okay then. How about you tell me why you really wanted to join the club. Never would have guessed anyone from Permanent Marks would want our doorstep to darken your paths.”

I glanced at him, then down at my lap, trying to determine what I should say here. The wrong thing would get me kicked out on my ass, and probably ensure no one else from the studio could take my place either. The right thing, and maybe I’d have someone backing my plays. I wasn’t sure Merc was among the people I could trust here, but at the same time, I knew he wouldn’t have had anything to do with Toby’s death. I decided to lay it all out on the line for him.

“I have friends here,” I explained. “I figured I’d give this shit a try and see if I fit. See if you all fit me. Me prospecting is just as much me testing your club just as you all are testing me.”

“That’s how it should be for man intending to become a brother,” Merc agreed. “That’s not all though, is it?”

“You’ve been watching me?” I didn’t need to ask, but he knew what I meant.

“You’re a prospect. Of course I’ve been watching you.”

“Nah, I mean you’re watching more than you would with a normal prospect.” Merc just grinned. “I’m going to lay this out there for you, and if you decide I’m no longer prospecting after this, I’ll hold you personally accountable for seeing to what I’m about to tell you.”

Merc nodded his head in agreement and sat back as he steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “Go on.” I grabbed a tiny little notebook out of my pocket and tossed it on the desk in front of him. “What’s this?”

“That is why I’m here.” I watched as he opened the first page. I knew what was written there. The names of the six men who received tattoos from Ever. He glanced up at me with his brow quirked up in question, but he didn’t ask anything specific yet. There was a question mark next to PeeWee’s name along with a note about not being able to track his ass down. Crow’s name was circled. T-Bone’s was crossed out and his date of death was next to it. Merc’s name had an ‘x’ next to it, as did J-Bird and Double-D’s.

“Why are you trying to find PeeWee?”

“Someone was helping that cunt, Seneca. I never got a clear look at them, but a man on a crotch rocket rolled up to her once when I was tailing her. He had his kutte turned inside out and a full face shield on. I guessed older dude, or at the very least an out of shape younger guy. He had a good bit of weight on him. Not fat, but solid and on his way to softening up from the looks of things.”

“You think this person was a member of our club?”

“I think that I don’t believe in coincidences, and that bitch always knew where he was going.” I indicated the notebook. “See for yourself. Once Gretchen told us about the bitch, I followed her around for a while. We were waiting on a detective friend of Zeke’s to get us information on her, and until that came through, I wanted to keep watch and make sure she didn’t fuck with G.”

“Seems an awfully big time investment on your part for someone who just works in your shop,” Merc commented.

Kane cocked his head to the side. “Seems to me, a man who runs a brotherhood would understand that a tight-knit family can be formed in a lot of different ways. Our shop is not unlike this club in that we would do just about anything for one another.”

“You didn’t seem surprised?” Kane asked.

Merc shook his head. “That bitch wasn’t the brightest bulb in the room. It always sat wrong with me that she conveniently knew his every move.”

“But you’re not surprised it could have been someone on the inside helping her.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You ain’t a brother yet,” Merc told him. “Prove yourself and you’ll know what I know. Part of proving yourself is keeping me in the loop. If there’s a threat in my house that I’m not able to see, I want it pointed out. There’s something about the look in your eyes when you first started hanging around. Something about the way you were so watchful. I gave you that kutte so you could prove me right about a few things, don’t let me down now.”

In a move that surprised everyone, Merc had been the one to sponsor my prospect period. Actually, it went one step beyond and bypassed the traditional vote for taking on a new man. I still remember the day he handed my kutte to me.

Merc stood and moved to the tall cabinet in the corner of the room. He pulled out a leather kutte with the Prospect patch across the back side of it, and handed it to Kane. “I’m not calling Church, or a vote. I’m just putting you in, because I’ll be honest, I don’t know if a vote would go in your favor. You look down on a lot of these men when you’re hanging around. It’s obvious to some, not to others. You need to get a better poker face if you’re going to pull this off. I want you to strut your ass out there like one of our strippers, proud to show off what you have. You feel me? Peacock the hell out of that leather, and then you take the orders thrown your way, because that’s what it means to be a prospect. You prove yourself to even the lowest brother before you get patched in.”

That was exactly what I had done, and I’d been watching and taking notes through every bit of hell they put me through. I knew the shit they had me shoveling had nothing to do with whether or not they were loyal to the club or if they were behind having Toby taken out, but it gave me a glimpse at the guys that were especially cruel, and I had a long fucking memory.

“We do have one little fucking problem though,” Merc brought me back from memories of months ago.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Some of the brothers have noticed that you don’t seem to be proud to wear that prospect patch out and about, especially when you’re headed to work, at work, or leaving work if you get my drift.”

It took everything in me to hold my tongue. What wanted to come out was a bunch of shit about how it was none of their fucking business, but that wasn’t exactly true. “Permanent Marks is unaffiliated with clubs. I respect that, and don’t wear my kutte there.”

Merc nodded his head sagely. “I suggest you start doing so before you find yourself out on your ass. I need you on the inside. Lot of shit gets said in front of prospects. Some of it as a test, other shit because these assholes get drunk and forget who you are. I brought you in without a vote. You better believe they’ll demand you’re gone if they think you’ve been disloyal. Wear the fucking kutte everywhere from now on or I won’t be able to save your ass when the time comes.”

---