Page 4 of Blood & Ash

“God damn it,” he curses as I overhear the sound of him busting a glass. “Anyone know you’re there?”

“Cameras in every corner, but I don’t know if they’re working.”

“Call it in. I don’t want this blowing back on the club. Anyone asks. You boys stopped to catch the show, yeah.”

“Right.” I hang up and call the Sheriff.

“What the fuck kind of sick animal would do something like that?” Buford Adams mutters as he stares at the predicament he’s tasked with. He’s a decent guy. Always been a friend to the club. His daddy was sheriff before him and one of his sons will be once he retires. Legacy and family mean everything around these parts.

Goose, myself, and Gotti are sitting at the bar smoking while we wait to be formally released from the scene.

No one wants to move the body because they’ve gotta decide if they want to remove the bottle from his ass here or at the morgue.

Tawny, one of the dancers, enters the bar from the back and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Moses Witham is the first to comfort her as she presses her fake tits to his chest. He rubs her back and guides her to have a seat a few stools down from us for questioning.

Goose slides down a seat and offers her a cigarette and a shoulder. Leave it to him to try to get laid during a death investigation. Buford hasn’t shared whether or not he thinks foul play is suspected.

We didn’t venture close enough to the body to be able to tell. My guess is he fucked around with the wrong stripper and got worked over by her man. Everyone knows Randy was a greedy, perverted piece of shit who didn’t pay his girls enough and expected them all to suck his dick.

Tawny’s tears are as fake as her tits. I watch her as she dabs at the splotches of makeup running down her cheeks.

“Maybe a drink will calm your nerves,” Goose tells her, helping himself to a bottle of liquor behind the bar. I frown at him, and he shrugs. “He’s not gonna mind.” He motions toward the stage where the coroner is examining the body.

“Do you think he did that to himself?” Gotti turns his head sideways, trying to decide from a different angle.

“I don’t want to fucking know. You’re wrong for that.”

“I need a drink,” he mutters and rounds the bar. “You want one?” He pops the cap off a longneck. Gotti comes from old money. His great grandfather was one of the richest men in the state of Alabama. Inherited wealth passed down from generation to generation until his old man lost it in a bad investment.

“Hell. Might as well.” I grin.

Buford waves me over. “You and your crew head on out. I received another call. Neighbors heard a commotion. Randy’s boys. Clay stabbed T-bone and took off. My guess is he also snapped his father’s neck.”

“Is T-bone okay?”

“Hell if I know. I’ve gotta get this mess sorted and start looking for Clay.”

“If we see him, do you want us to haul him in?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You got it. Oh, if you happen to get a call about a disturbance at Doc’s old office, no you didn’t. I need to have a word with the dentist.”

He shakes his head and walks away muttering under his breath.

I give the guys the signal to ride out.

Goose and Gotti head back to the clubhouse and I go pay this asshole a visit.

Chapter Three

“Do you have an appointment?” The beady eyed receptionist questions as I ring the bell at her window.

“Need to speak to your boss.”

“He’s with a patient.”

“Listen.” I glance at her name tag. “Lois. I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing. You can either tell him to get his ass out here or I can come across this counter and fetch him myself.”

---