Merrick: Harlequins MC (13 page)

“You!” he said, pointing at a man and handing him the length of flexible gas pipe. “Take this and go to Lowes. There’s one on San Dario. Tell them you need another one of these and pipe dope. Got it? If you hurry you can get there before they close.”

“Do it,” Taylor said.

The man took off at a run toward one of the production vehicles. He started the truck, but it sat for a long moment idling as the man found the address on his phone, then took off, the truck straining under heavy acceleration.

“What are you going to do?” Poppy asked.

“Clean the threads so I can put the pipe on as soon as he gets back,” Merrick said as he started across the street.

***

Forty minutes later, the man returned with a length of bendable pipe and some pipe tape. Ten minutes after that, Merrick had the pipe installed and was turning on the gas. He rooted around in the kitchen until he found some dish soap, which he carried to the garage and smeared on the connections, watching carefully for bubbles. After thirty seconds of watching he cycled the door to reconnect the opener, lowered the door, and stepped out through the side door.

“Fixed,” he called as he stepped around the corner of the garage.

“Let’s go, people,” Taylor said, slapping his hands together. “We’ve lost an hour of shooting already.”

“Looks like I owe you another one,” Taylor said, stepping up to Merrick as the crew crossed the road back to the house.

“All part of the service.”

There was a scramble to get set up, and while the crew worked, Merrick carefully examined the pipe under one of the strong camera lights.

“What are you looking for?” Poppy asked, stepping up beside him.

“I’m looking for the break. I don’t think this was an accident. Pipes don’t just break, not like this, not unless someone is messing with them.”

“Who would be messing with it?”

“Good question.”

“Did you find the problem?” Blake asked, walking up as Merrick continued to look at the pipe. “I thought I smelled gas earlier. I should have said something.”

Merrick ignored him. If Blake had really smelled gas and hadn’t said anything, he was dumber than he thought. With all the cameras and lights in the house, they could have been blown sky-high.

“Here it is,” Blake said slowly, flexing the pipe to open the break. “This has been cut, or stuck with something sharp. See how the sheathing is damaged. That wouldn’t have happened if the pipe just failed.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Poppy asked. “We could have been killed, right?”

“It’s possible, though not likely. The gas was contained in the garage. Somebody would’ve probably smelled it before there was enough to explode, but yeah, it’s possible.”

“And if nobody had?”

Merrick shrugged. “If nobody had smelled it, and the water heater came on, we would’ve had a really bad day.”

Poppy shook her head and walked away.

Merrick turned to Blake. “Next time I tell you to do something, you should consider doing it.”

“I could have helped!”

“You a plumber?”

“No, but—”

“Then you would have been no help. My job is to keep you safe, so next time do what I tell you.”

Blake glared at him a moment then turned and walked away without another word.

***

“That’s a wrap tonight. Good job, people,” Will said, then stretched. The windows were just beginning to light with the first rays of the new day. It had been a scramble, but with Merrick’s quick thinking and handyman skills, they’d managed to get all their shots tonight.

“Thank you, Merrick. You saved us another day of shooting.”

“You’re welcome. How many more of these night shoots are there?”

“One more. But that’s later in the schedule.”

“Good. I’m a night owl, but I do like to sleep sometime.”

Will chuckled. “People think making movies is glamorous. They don’t realize how brutal principle photography is.”

“Yeah. I had no idea. What time is call tomorrow?”

“Three, at Casa Blanca Park.” When Merrick groaned Will grinned. He felt sorry for Merrick, trying to run security for production and manage his other business, as well. “It’s a short day. Only six hours.”

“That’s good. You guys are killing me.”

Merrick stood under the awning stretched over the crew to protect them from the sun as Poppy and Blake sat on a brightly colored blanket spread on the grass at the water’s edge. They were having a picnic, drinking wine and gazing into each other’s eyes as they shared deep thoughts about life. Will was shooting with two cameras over Poppy and Blake’s shoulders, allowing them to play off each other.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Dad,” Blake said softly, his eyes full of compassion as he reached across the basket of food and took Poppy’s hand.

“You heard the results of the inquiry,” Poppy replied, pulling her hand back as she looked down, her eyes sad.

“I don’t care what the inquiry said. Dad liked you. He said he you had great future in law enforcement…and he was the best. If you weren’t making the grade he would have said so.”

Poppy stared into the distance. “Why are you treating me this way? Because of me, your father is dead.”

Blake stared at her for a long moment, then grinned as he looked at the prompter. “Why am I treating her this way?”

“Because Dad wouldn’t like it if—” the man began, reading from the script.

Blake looked back to Poppy and composed his face. “Because Dad wouldn’t like it if you were blamed for something you didn’t do. He believed in justice. That’s why he was a cop, why I’m one. He taught me that you do what’s right, no matter what it costs.”

Again Poppy stared into the distance. “He was the best. He was like a father to me.” She looked at him as a tear crept down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Perry.”

Blake reached over and wiped away the tear. “I believe in you, Poppy. You just have to believe in yourself.”

“It’s Abigail,” Will said. “Do it again.”

“What’d I say?” Blake asked, looking into the camera.

“Poppy.”

“Damnit. Couldn’t you have at least waited until after I kissed her?” he asked, causing the crew to snicker. He composed his face, and after a moment, another tear rolled down Poppy’s cheek. He reached up and gently cupped her face before wiping away the tear. “I believe in you, Abigail. You just have to believe in yourself.” He paused, holding her face, before he slowly pulled her into a kiss.

“Cut!” Will called and everyone on the crew relaxed. They were running out of light, but they had the scene. “Good job, everyone, thank you. That’s a wrap for today.”

Poppy stood and limped around in a circle, trying to get some feeling back into her foot, grimacing at the pins and needles.

As soon as her foot and leg were working again, she hobbled over to Merrick. “I didn’t have a chance to thank you last night.”

“For what?”

“For saving the day. Again. It seems like every time something goes wrong, you’re there to fix it.”

He shrugged. “I talked to Taylor last night. He didn’t believe me when I told him the line was cut. I called a plumber I know this morning and asked him. He said there was no way a gas line can just rupture.”

“So it was sabotage.”

“It’s what it looks like. Someone is trying to fuck up this production. But why? What’s in it for them?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. How’d you know?”

“I didn’t. It was blind luck. All the food on the table was making me hungry. I was going to sneak out through the garage and grab a snack. I opened the door and the smell of gas it me. That’s when I started hustling everyone out.”

She grinned. “I think Blake is jealous of you. He was aggravated you stayed behind and fixed the problem. He wanted to be the hero of the hour, too.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Some hero. Turn off the gas and undo a couple of fittings. There are people who make a living doing that sort of work.”

“Well I was impressed. So was everyone else.” She grinned. “Maybe we’ve been in the business too long, but we all were waiting for you to die in a ball of flame. That’s what would’ve happened in a movie.”

Merrick chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Poppy giggled. “I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Ask me to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“That’s right.”

“You know I’m not supposed to aggravate the talent, right?”

She grinned. “Then you better ask me to dinner, because if you don’t, I’m going to be aggravated.”

“Well, I don’t want Taylor mad at me again. So, Miss Poppy Landrieu, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?” he asked, laying on the accent.

“Why, sure, sugar,” she replied, her voice dripping southern honey as she batted her eyes at him with her hands held under her chin. Except she was wearing jeans, sneakers and a modern blouse, she could have stepped right out of
Gone with the Wind
. “I thought you would never ask.”

He chuckled. Poppy could turn in an instant, becoming a completely different woman right before his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Surprise me.”

He watched her a moment. “Okay. Be ready to go at eight. Dress comfortable and be ready to ride.”

She felt a chill pass over her at the thought of riding behind him on his motorcycle. Taylor would have
kittens
if she were to get on the back of a bike, but that made the appeal that much greater. “I’ll be ready. Room 208.”

***

Merrick rapped on room 208. A moment later Poppy opened the door and stepped back. She was dressed much as she was at the shoot, wearing jeans and a pale yellow blouse, opened at the collar to display plenty of tempting flesh, and a pair of sneakers. “You’re early.” He stepped into the room. Leslie was sitting in a chair looking unhappy. “Let me put my hair up then I’ll be ready,” she said as she stepped into the bath. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m ready,” Poppy said, stepping out of the bath, her hair up in a ponytail.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Leslie said. “I’ll have the limo brought up. Jack can take you wherever you want to go.”

“You worry too much,” Poppy said as she opened the door.

“My job is to take care of you. Taylor is going to have my ass if I let you ride a motorcycle.”

“If he says anything to you, send him to me,” Poppy said. “He’s not my dad, and my own time is mine.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her,” he said, causing Leslie to grunt. “Look at it this way. Now you get the night off.”

“Hard to enjoy it knowing it could mean my job.”

“Don’t tell him, and if he finds out and fires you over this, I’ll quit. You can tell him I said that. Let’s go,” Poppy said stepping out of the room.

“It must suck having someone telling you what you can and can’t do all the time.”

Poppy snorted as the elevator doors closed. “You have no idea.”

***

She’d never ridden on a motorcycle before, but as they rumbled through the evening, she was tingling in excitement, enjoying the speed, noise, and the air flowing over her skin. He pulled into a large parking lot filled with bikes. Her stomach lurched over as she removed the helmet he’d given her, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

He chuckled, picking up on her hesitation. “Don’t worry. I come here all the time. This place has the best Mexican food and the coldest beer in town.”

He led her into the bar, country music thumping as he raised his hand to the barkeep in salute. He led her into the back, past the pool tables and the few couples dancing on the small sawdust covered floor, sliding into a small booth near the back.

“Interesting place,” she said.

“I like it. It’s where we tend to hang out.”

“Hey, Merrick. Haven’t seen you in a few days,” the perky waitress said as she glided to a stop, placing chips and salsa on the table.

“Been working my ass off. How’s Nellie?”

“We had tubes put in her ears. So far so good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He turned his attention to Poppy. “You trust me?”

“Implicitly.”

“We’ll have the fish tacos and the AllDay IPA.”

The waitress scribbled then turned and walked away.

“Who’s Nellie?” Poppy asked.

“Her daughter. She has three or four and has been having a lot of problems with ear infections.”

Poppy nodded, impressed Merrick would know something like that. “The waitress, she a friend of yours?”

He grinned, knowing what she was thinking. “Stacy? She’s married.”

Poppy bobbed her head, her opinion of Merrick creeping up a bit more. “So you know her from here. You must come in here a lot.”

“Pretty often. I don’t like to cook.”

Stacy returned with two beers. Poppy was more of a wine drinker, but she tasted the beer. It was smooth, light, and ice cold. “Not bad,” she said as she sat the mug back on the table. “So what about you? You married?”

Merrick grinned. “No. Proudly single for twenty-eight years. You?”

“No. Who has the time?”

“So what’s your story? Tell me about this movie you were in that has that Charlie guy all worked up.”

Poppy smiled. “It was the story about a lawyer, played by William Cressa, helping a mentally handicapped girl keep her baby. I played the girl.”

“And you were in a television show before that?”

She grinned. “I played one of the lifeguards on a show call
Pool.
It was the typical teen-angst type show, who was kissing who, who was backstabbing who, that sort of thing. Think
Baywatch
for tweens.”

“You’re pretty matter of fact about all of this.”

“How should I be? It’s just a job. You build houses and I stand in front of a camera and pretend to be a cop or whatever. Tell me about your club. Harlequins? That seems like a strange name for a bunch of rough, tough bikers.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. I don’t see you guys as the court jester type.”

He grinned. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. If you go farther back, you’ll find Harlequins were originally mischievous demons or emissaries from the devil. The buffoon character came hundreds of years later.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You never cease to surprise me. Did you start the Harlequins?”

“No. That was my dad.”

“Is he still in the club?”

“No. He died a couple of years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How?”

“Emphysema and lung cancer. Too many cigarettes for too many years. When he died, I took over Capra Framing and the club. He’s better off now than he was the last year of his life. I hated seeing him like that.”

“Capra? That’s your last name?

“For my whole life, why?”

“Are you related to Frank Capra?”

“Who?”