Merrick: Harlequins MC (23 page)

“Blake, no.”

“What?” he asked, his voice dripping innocence.

“It’s not going to happen.”

He grinned. “We’re going to do the love scene in a couple of days. How are you going to do that if you’re not even comfortable with me standing close? Do I make you uncomfortable?” he asked with a small smile as he stepped in close again.

“It’s called acting,” she said, holding her ground this time.

He smiled and leaned in as if to kiss her. “Don’t you want a rehearsal?”

She put her hand in his chest. “No.”

He straightened. “Is it because of Merrick? You can do better than him.”

“It’s because production romances are a bad idea.” She watched as Blake’s face twisted in annoyance.

“Yet you’re sleeping with Merrick.”

She smiled. “As you have been pointing all evening, he’s not part of the production, not part of the
family
as you call it.”

“That’s just you trying to justify it.”

She shrugged. “You’re just like everyone else. You seem to think it’s okay for someone to control every aspect of your life. Well I don’t. I’ll do my job, but what I do in my free time is my business and nobody else’s. I want to have a life outside of Hollywood, a normal life. You can keep your interviews and groupies and everything else. I don’t want them.”

He backed off. “You’re making a big mistake. If you—”

“It’s mine to make,” she interrupted.

“I’m trying to help you, Poppy!”

“I don’t want or need your help.”

“Fine! Go it alone. Someday you’ll look back on this conversation and wish you’d listened to me.”

“Maybe.”

Blake stared at her a moment. “Don’t be late for call tomorrow,” he said before he turned on his toe and stomped out of the room.

She locked her door behind him, and wished for at least the tenth time Merrick was here. She thought about calling him then decided not to, not wanting to come across as the needy type, and wondered how his evening was going.

***

Merrick charged one of the men silhouetted in the headlamp, hoping his brothers were taking care of the other man. The shadowy figure had started reaching behind him, probably going for a gun, but he wasn’t fast enough. Merrick slammed into his, driving him back into the grill of the Chevy. The second man grabbed him by his colors and started to pull him off his companion, but the other Harlequins arrived and joined the fray. With four on two, the fight didn’t last long and they quickly had the two men wrestled to the ground.

“What are we going to do with them?” Jason panted as he knelt on one of the Killers with his knee in the man’s neck.

“We should kill them,” Randy snarled.

“What about it, asshole?” Merrick asked. “Should we kill you?”

“Do what you have to, you fuck.”

Merrick pulled him up and slammed him into the hood of the truck. “Don’t tempt me, asshole. You started this shit when you hit Abana’s compound. Now he’s going to wipe you out.”

“Not before we kill every last one of you fucking Harlequins!”

Merrick’s lips hardened. “Kill them,” he said, pulling his knife from the sheath. The man, realizing he was about to breathe his last, began to struggle as Merrick pulled him off the hood and swiftly drew his knife across the man’s throat.

When the second man hit the ground, their life pouring into the gravel, Merrick turned away in disgust. “Fuck! I hate this fucking shit!”

“It had to be done,” Jason said as he wiped his knife on the dead man’s clothes.

“Let’s just get what we came for and get the fuck out of here,” he said before he wiped his own knife and tucked it away.

“What are we going to do with them?” Randy asked, nudging one of the bodies with a toe.

“We’ll stuff them in the unit and dump the truck somewhere and leave the keys in it. The cut in the door won’t be obvious, and maybe someone will steal the fucking thing and take the wrap.”

Merrick had dropped Poppy off at makeup and was grazing at the breakfast bar when Tim approached. “Merrick, that Charlie guy wants to see you.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants to give you something to give to Poppy.”

Merrick sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for this, not after last night. “Shit. Okay. Where is he?” Tim led him to the barricades where Charlie was waiting. “What do you want?”

Merrick and Tim both stiffened as Charlie opened a backpack, then relaxed when he pulled the Oscar replica from the bag. He handed it to Merrick then reached in again and came out with a book and a pen. “Would you give that to Poppy for me? I had it repaired,” he asked with a nod at the statue. “And if she doesn’t mind, would she sign my book?”

He thought about it a moment. “Give them here,” he said holding his hand out. “I can’t promise anything but I’ll ask her. What was your last name again?”

Charlie grinned. “Harton. Charlie Harton. I run allaboutpoppy.com, a website devoted to her.”

“What was the statue about again?”

“I thought she should have won an Oscar for her performance in
Fallen Petals
. I’m not the only one. A lot of people said it was a scam she wasn’t even nominated and—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Merrick said, cutting him off so he didn’t have to listen to the whole story. “If I do this for you, you’ll continue to mind your manners and do what you’re told?”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Merrick grunted and turned away. He simply couldn’t understand why anyone would be interested in someone’s autograph, but if kept Charlie from being a pain in the ass, he could ask the question.

As he walked away, he noticed Blake shaking hands and signing autographs. He grinned as a couple of women swooned over him and how Blake seemed to be lapping it up. He shook his head. Blake seemed to live for that stuff.

He was waiting for her when she stepped out of Wardrobe. “Your biggest fan wanted you to have this,” he said holding up the figurine. “Something to do with you not getting an Oscar nomination for
Fallen Petals
. What would you like me to do with it?”

Poppy grinned. “That’s sweet. He’s the guy who snuck onto the set and you tackled, right? Can you hang on to it until you take me back to my room tonight? It may be the only Oscar I ever get.”

“Okay. I’ll go put it in the bike later. He also asked if you wouldn’t mind signing his book.”

She sighed. “I guess that’s the least I can do after the gun fiasco.” She took his book and flipped to an empty page. “Do you know his name?

“Charlie Harton. He said he runs a website called allaboutpoppy.com.”

She snorted. “I know it. At least his site isn’t creepy.” She paused then scribbled a quarter page note and signed it. “That should make him happy,” she said as she snapped the book closed on the pen. She paused, then gave her head a jerk. He followed her to a where there was a large folder with publicity stills. She pulled out three different photos of her in her police uniform and signed them with a thick marker before handing them to Merrick.

“He’s going to have an orgasm,” Merrick chuckled as he took the photos.

She giggled. “Then he can’t say I never gave him anything.”

He grinned and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re a very naughty girl.”

“And you love it.”

He chuckled again then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Especially at night, on the beach.”

She grinned and shooed him away with her hands. “I have work to do. Go.”

He grinned as he walked away. Blake had almost reached Charlie so he quickened his pace to get there before him. “Here you go,” Merrick said, handing him the book. “She also sent these,” he added as he handed over the stills. “She asked me to put the Oscar in the bike so she could take it back to the room with her. I think you’ve gotten all you’re going to get out of her, so don’t bother asking for anything else.”

“No! This is great! Thank you so very much! Tell her how much I appreciate her signing my book and the photos! They’re great!”

Merrick gave him a curt nod, then stepped past, taking the statuette to his bike so he didn’t have to hold the damn thing all day. He was about fifty feet from the crowd when he heard Blake cry out.

“Gun!”

Merrick turned and ran back as the crowd surged back from the commotion. Blake was on Charlie, wrestling with him, before he popped up with a small revolver in his hand. “Stay down!” Blake ordered before he pointed the weapon at the sky and quickly ejected the shells.

“That’s not mine! I didn’t do anything!” Charlie cried, still on the ground, his hands up in a warding off gesture.

Merrick hauled Charlie to his feet as three Harlequins converged on the run. “Are you licensed to carry?”

“No! It’s not mine!” Charlie yelled, becoming increasingly agitated.

“Where did you see it?” Merrick asked, looking at Blake.

“It was under his shirt, right here,” he replied, tucking the gun in the front of his pants. “I saw the bulge and you walked right past him. Good thing I was here.”

“It’s not mine! I swear! I told you before: I don’t like guns! I don’t even own a gun!”

“Call the cops,” Merrick ordered Kyle.

“I didn’t do anything!” Charlie screamed, struggling to get out of Merrick’s grasp. “I just wanted Poppy’s autograph! I wouldn’t hurt her! I didn’t do anything!”

“Tell it to the cops,” Merrick said dragging him away from the rest of the crowd. The whole thing didn’t feel right, but if he let him go,
he’d
be talking to the cops.

***

“Is it true?” Poppy asked an hour later as everything began to settle down.

“I don’t know. Something isn’t right,” Merrick replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I think Blake set the poor sap up.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I don’t know. What I do know is Blake is lying about the gun.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. If he’d said he pulled it from his back, or out of his backpack, or something like that, I might have bought it. But wearing it in the front like he said? No fucking way. A fat as he’s, he would have printed like a bitch, and there is
no way
I would have missed it.”

“Printed?”

“Having the outline of a gun on your clothes.”

Poppy stared at him. “Why would he lie?”

“You tell me.”

“Did you tell the cops?”

“No. Blake was standing right there telling the cop what happened and I didn’t want to give him a chance to change his story, but I’m going to slip away and go have a chat with the police about it. It pisses me off that Charlie could pull a two year stretch for illegal carry if he really wasn’t.”

Poppy stared at him. “You really care, don’t you?”

“Don’t you? How would you like to go to jail for something you didn’t do?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t you like someone to step forward in your defense?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She looked into his eyes and saw the anger and determination there. “You’re nothing like I imagined a biker would be.”

“Why? Because I don’t want to see someone railroaded? Just because I ride a bike doesn’t mean I’m willing to stand around and watch an innocent man go to jail.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“What did you mean, then?”

“Nothing. Just drop it.”

“No, you brought it up. What did you mean?”

“Nothing! It’s that you’re not what I thought a biker would be like. None of the Harlequins are.”

“Nothing like you see in the movies, you mean?”

She looked down and scuffed her toe. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And that surprises you?”

“No! Well, maybe a little. I don’t know! You’re the first biker I’ve ever met!”

He grunted. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t assume everyone is like they’re portrayed in your fairytale world.” He pivoted on his toe and began to walk away.

“Merrick! Wait!” she called, running two steps and taking his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m just not used to people actually…caring, I guess…about anyone other than themselves.”

“Not everyone wants something from you, Poppy. I would the same for you, but that doesn’t mean I want something from you. This isn’t Hollywood; this is Texas. Maybe we do things differently here.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t have any honor or sense of justice, or whatever. I just assumed if the cops arrested him, he must be guilty.”

He snorted. “Then you have a lot to learn about cops. They’re people, too. If some big movie star action hero says he took a gun off some guy, even if the guy denies it, who do you think the cops are going to believe? Especially if the guy has been a problem before.”

She looked at him, her opinion of him going up another notch. “What are you going to do?”

“Give the cops something else to think about.”

***

“I’d like to see Charlie, Charles I assume, Harton. He was picked up a few hours ago at the film location for having a gun.”

The officer tapped away on a keyboard. “He’s still in processing. I assume you’re not a lawyer. You a relative?”

“No. But I was there. I want to ask him a few questions.”

The cop behind the desk looked at him. “Sorry.”

“Who can I speak to, then?”

“You want to make a statement?”

“No, not really. I would just like to talk to someone about his arrest.”

The cop looked at his screen. “The arresting officer was Nevell.”

“Can I speak to him?”

The officer gazed at him a moment then tapped on his computer. “I’ve sent him a message. You can wait over there.”

***

“I’m Officer Nevell,” the tall, broad shouldered, cop said. Merrick remembered seeing him stuff Charlie into a squad car and talking to Blake.

“Can I speak to you a few minutes about Charlie Harton?”

“Yeah. Come on back. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Charlie. I know what Blake Teagle told you happened, but I’m skeptical.”

“Why?”

“The Harlequins are in charge of security for the production crew. I’d just talked to him not two minutes before Blake said he had a gun. He didn’t have a gun when I spoke to him. Not where Blake said he saw it anyway.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very.”

Officer Nevell looked at Merrick. “Why would Mr. Teagle make up something like that?”