The Pallbearers

HAYLOFT BAR amp; NIGHTCLUB

The parking lot was about half full of cars and a smattering of Harley choppers. The party crowd we'd been following all pulled in and began backing and filling in the gravel lot, sending up clouds of dust that reflected in everybody's headlights.

As we rolled past, I heard car doors slamming and saw the tough-looking men from Avalon Terrace, along with their dates, walking toward a barn-sized front door. Alexa and I came to a stop a block past the club.

As soon as she parked, Alexa leaned across me to rummage in the glove box, quickly pulling out the little palm-sized Beretta Bobcat. Then she grabbed a box of.25 caliber ammo from a hiding place I hadn't found under her seat and began thumbing cartridges into the clip.

"Don't go all Jane Wayne on me," I said, watching her load the gun, then slam the clip home.

"Hey, pilgrim, I know how you plan your work. I'm going in there with you."

"Let's just settle down for a minute and talk this over."

"You talk it over." She got out of the BMW and headed up the street toward the parking lot.

"Shit," I said, and scrambled out after her.

We knelt behind some bushes a hundred yards from the Hayloft. It was now two thirty in the morning, and according to California law, the nightclub should have already been closed.

Then, as we watched, the neon sign on the roof flickered off. We could still hear the distant sound of a crowd cheering loudly.

"What on earth are they doing in there?" Alexa said.

"Underground fight."

"I'm sorry?"

"I read up on this stuff on the Internet before you got home. The younger, upcoming MMA fighters start their careers in unsanctioned bare-knuckle events. They're known as underground fights and they take place in gyms or bars after hours. Lots of MMA fighters, including Rampage Jackson, the ex-champ, got their start like that."

"A bar fight?" She looked at me. "I gotta see this." She started to rise.

I grabbed her arm. "Get back here."

She shook me off, then pulled her shirt out, unbuttoned the bottom, hiked it up, and knotted it. Of course, she's already a ten, but in navel-baring mode, she was a twelve.

"Alexa, I forbid this."

"I'm your boss, dummkopf."

Man, do I love this hard-headed woman.

"Okay, okay. Then at least let's get a plan of action."

"I already got it. The putz with the hair plugs has gotta be E. C. Mesa. I'm gonna seduce that little gnome. Take his temperature."

"Okay, that's not bad. You target him and see what you can find out. I'll be close by." I pulled out my Taurus snubbie. Alexa frowned at the light, magnesium-framed.38.

"We're better off not pulling these two little pop guns. They could die laughing. Put it away. I know how to do this." As I reholstered, she stuck the Bobcat down into her boot, then pulled her pant leg over it.

"Ready?" she asked.

"If something happens to you, I will start a riot. So be careful."

"Shane, I ran the Patrol Division in Southwest for eighteen months. Thats the toughest division in the city. Stop mothering me"

Then she headed straight across the gravel lot toward the front door of the Hayloft.