Why was Mercy on my case? Why did he even care? I wasn’t hurting anyone. If anything, I was an extra pair of hands at half the pay rate.
“What are you running from?” he pressed.
It was gonna be a long night.
Catch Up
Part 1: The Drifter
Chapter 4
1997
I made my way from the bar toward the stage, balancing a tray of drinks. As I passed a cluster of tables, someone grabbed my ass. I jumped back, the drinks spilling, my clothing instantly soaked.
I gaped at him, a gray-haired man with a dingy trucker’s hat.
“Watch where you’re going, sweet cheeks!” he bellowed in my face.
Glancing around, I tried to find Shannon. She stood behind the bar, her back turned to me as she mixed drinks. The music was too loud, the club too dark.
“You know the rules, Mac,” a familiar voice growled. “Hands off our girls.”
I swallowed. Mercy stood right behind me, the heat from his body burning into mine.
“Aw, I didn’t mean nothing by it,” Mac grumbled. “I’m just drunk.”
“No excuses. Now get out.”
“Come on,” Mac slurred.
Mercy seized him by the collar of his stained T-shirt and hauled him onto his feet. “I asked nicely,” he said. “Don’t make me ask again.”
With a sneer, the old man lurched out of the bar.
I bowed my head, eyeing my wet clothes. I sighed.
Mercy lifted the tray from my hand, setting it onto a table. “Come on,” he said without looking at me. “I’ll show you where we keep the spare uniforms.”
I followed him to a back storage room that held mostly booze. A rack of linens stood against the wall next to the door, though.
“Eighteen, huh?” he commented as he searched through the stacks of aprons and shirts.
I lifted my chin. “Yes.”
“What in the world are you doing here? You and I both know you don’t belong.” He handed me a fresh black dress.
“How did you know my size?” I countered, checking the tag. He was dead on.
“What are you running from?”
I peeked up at him from between my lashes. “What makes you think I’m running?”
“So you really just want to get into the half-naked hospitality business.”
I shrugged. “Why? Does it bother you?”
He used a hand to push his hair back from his face. “It bothers me because Shannon is good people. If you bring anything nasty to her doorstep, then you’re hurting one of the last good people on this Earth.”
Rolling my eyes, I edged toward the door. “Think whatever you want.”
“You’re the worst cocktail waitress I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot here,” I shot back. “I’m going to get changed.”
He spread his hands, his lips tipping in a crooked grin. “No one’s stopping you.”
“Great.” Turning, I yanked open the door and stepped into the cool, dark hall. Instantly my shoulders relaxed a little. I appreciated him kicking out that dirty old man, but the last thing I needed was him asking more questions about me. Shannon hadn’t asked for ID or anything. Half the girls here were probably runaways. I doubted all of the dancers were of age.
I hurried to the bathroom, where I stripped out of my soaked clothing and shimmied into the fresh dress. All of the cocktail waitresses at The Wet Mermaid wore the same low-cut black dresses and stilettos. It was only my first week and I was about one step away from breaking my neck.
But the pay was decent, and Shannon let me stay in a room above the club.
“It’s only temporary,” she said with a warm smile, “considering it’s technically breaking the rules.”
I wondered what rules she was talking about, but didn’t ask. I didn’t ask much at all, to be honest. I just did as I was told, grateful for the job and roof over my head.
Until Mercy had to start guilt-tripping me.
Why did he even care how old I was? I wasn’t hurting anyone. If anything, I was an extra pair of hands at half the pay rate.
I stepped out of the bathroom, tossing my soiled clothing into the laundry bin. I tucked my wet panties into the pocket of my apron, too embarrassed to add them to the business’s laundry.
It was going to be an uncomfortable night.
“So where are you from, eighteen-year-old Bree?” Mercy asked, stepping out of the storage room.
“Goddamn,” I scolded him. “What do you, have a camera on me?”
“Nah,” he drawled. “Just impeccable timing.” His round, depthless brown eyes searched my face. “Me, I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“I didn’t ask.” I glanced at the end of the hallway. Sooner or later, Shannon would notice I was missing.
“But I did.” He grinned again. On any other man, it would’ve looked sly. On him, it looked boyish, mischievous. Maybe a little sly, but in a totally harmless, kind of sexy way.
“I’m from Connecticut,” I hedged.
“Waterbury? No one ever likes admitting they’re from Waterbury.” He chuckled.
“Got me.” I shrugged. “I’ve got to get back.” I strode back toward the bar, not sparing him another glance.
“See you around, Bree from the Dirty Water,” he called after me.
Throwing a hand over my shoulder, I flipped him off and kept walking.
Thank you for reading Chapter 4 of Her Mercy, a River Reapers MC prequel novella.
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