Black Dogs Motorcycle Club: Full Series Box Set (56 page)

BOOK: Black Dogs Motorcycle Club: Full Series Box Set
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“Objection, your honor!”
yelled Ghost from somewhere behind her.

 

She couldn’t take her eyes
off the guard without risking her safety, not until Ghost came stalking up to
stand between her and the enemy, shoulders square. She had never seen someone
who looked both utterly relaxed and ready for a fight.

 

Bridget pushed up against
his back. “Nice timing.”

 

“I got caught up at the
samples counter.”

 

“I can handle this,” she
said, only half-believing it. It was her mess, regardless, and she intended to
clean it up.

 

“Well, baby, you know I’m
fond of you, and the way you charge into danger gets me hard as a rock, but
you’ve already kind of made things worse here. And making things worse is
my
job. So why don’t you step back and let me have some fun now?” He turned and
gave her a wink.

 

Bridget obliged. She
stepped back from Ghost as the security guard found his footing and laid eyes
on his newest annoying enemy.

 

“This is way closer to a
fair fight, anyhow,” said Ghost, rolling his shoulders.

 

“Stay back, punk!” the
security guard leveled a meaty finger at him. “This isn’t your concern!”

 

“Oh, come now, I think
it’s everyone’s concern when some meathead in a monkey suit starts menacing
women at the local hipster super mart. American values haven’t declined that
much, have they?”

 

The men were sizing each
other up, and cars had stopped, unable to pass by them safely. Shoppers watched
from a distance, hiding behind parked vehicles and shopping carts. Some were
already on cell phones and taking pictures.

 

“You don’t know what the
fuck you’re talking about,” said the guard.

 

“Now, I get the mercenary
impulse, I really do. We all have to do bad jobs for money—not
this
bad,
I mean, you’re kind of a real dick for it. But you need to get back in your
fancy car and run home to your boss,” said Ghost. “Before I decide I really
want to have some fun.”

 

“Yeah?” said the guard. He
faked a punch and instead threw a low, hard kick at Ghost’s thigh. Ghost fell
against the trunk of the town car with an angry growl.

 

“Oh, now I’m not going to
even feel bad about this, you fucking jagweed,” said Ghost.

 

In one fluid motion, he
pulled out one of the many knives he carried on his person and swiped it toward
the guard. Bridget was actually impressed by the beauty of the maneuver. The
razor-sharp knife cut right through the guard’s unbuttoned suit jacket. Ghost stabbed
the handle of the knife hard into the thin steel of the town car trunk. The
blade stuck and the handle vibrated back and forth.

 

Now the security guard
couldn’t dodge as Ghost reared back and threw a right hook straight into his
jaw. He
tried
to dodge, but the knife stuck in his jacket kept him
static, and he took the punch without so much as a forearm raised to block it.
The guard growled and shook the punch off, and threw his huge right fist into
Ghost’s side. The sound of the connection made Bridget groan and clutch at her
own stomach.

 

Ghost doubled over for
just a split second before he made a roaring noise and started pummeling the
guard with punches until the man was on his knees, a huge gash ripping through
his jacket as he fell. He wobbled there on his knees as his face puffed and
bled.

 

Suddenly Bridget was aware
of their audience, and the sound of distant sirens racing closer. “Ghost!” She
yelled. “Time to go!”

 

It took both hands for
Ghost to yank his knife out of the trunk of the town car, but he did it after
only two pulls. The guard’s jacket fluttered to his sides as blood dripped down
his face and clothes.

 

“Nice to meet you!” Ghost
shouted back at the guard as he ran after Bridget.

 

None of the curious
bystanders dared to stand in Ghost’s way as they bee-lined around the parked
cars and jumped into Bridget’s. She yanked the ignition to life and sped away
from the parking lot before they got eyes on a single police car.

 

 

 

 

~ FIFTEEN ~

Ghost

 

Ghost picked at the scabs already building on his
knuckles and sighed. The two men standing above him, literally looking down at
him as they berated him like a child, were not amused.

 

“You’re a lucky little
shit,” said the sheriff. “Stephen Cary could buy this town twice over if he was
so inclined, and you beat the hell out of one of his very expensive security
detail.”

 

“I did the guy a favor.
He’s obviously over-paying for the services, if that’s all it took to beat that
fool.”

 

“Christ, Ghost,” said
Henry Oliver, standing next to the sheriff and shaking his head.

 

“What?” said Ghost with a
faux-innocent shrug. “Look, I can’t expect you guys to understand, because you
clearly don’t care about what goes into your bodies like I do.” He gestured
tenderly to the big beer bellies that both men had been cultivating over the
past few years. “But when you just want to clear the rotten chi out of your day
and some jagweed in a suit takes the last asparagus water from the shelf, well…
a man’s got his limits.”

 

“You committed an assault
in full view of the public,” said Henry, exasperated.

 

“C’mon, you said nobody
identified me!” said Ghost to the sheriff.

“Not by
name
, you
lucky little shit,” he said again. “But it only took one of those parking lot
cell phone recordings for me to recognize your bald head and big mouth.”

 

“We’ve done worse in this
town,” said Ghost. “You guys are making this a way bigger deal than it is.”

 

Really, Ghost knew it was
a big deal, but he was going to do any and everything to deflect pressure off
Bridget and her plans to help Toby. So far, neither the sheriff nor Henry had
mentioned a single word about anybody remembering a woman involved in the
altercation. But they all had plenty to say about the ripped dude with the
shaved head who took down the bigger man in the suit right in front of the
natural foods store. As long as everyone was focused on Ghost, they wouldn’t be
looking for her.

 

“I don’t think you get how
loud and boisterous the rich can be when they don’t want to deal with
something,” said the sheriff, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “And you
started a gladiator match right in the middle of their little enclave.”

 

“Those housewives probably
went home and boned the shit out of their husbands after watching such a
masculine display of power. They should be thanking me.”

 

The sheriff and Henry fell
silent and looked at each other with heavy glances. Ghost could read their
silent conversation like they were playing a recording of it for him. They knew
he was full of shit about why he started the fight, but neither of them had any
idea what the real reason was. They wanted to challenge him; they just didn’t
have the proof to do it.

 

Not only was Ghost not
giving them anything they wanted, he was also learning some interesting things
himself. Like the fact that neither Stephen Cary, nor his jagweed of a
bodyguard, were going to press charges against Ghost for the attack.
Considering all the eyewitnesses, video, and the power of money in the legal
system, there were only a few explanations as to why Cary would not bother
pursuing such a slam dunk of a vengeance quest.

 

The most likely one—and
the one Ghost knew in his gut was right—was that Cary was, indeed, beating the
fuck out of his family, and when his bodyguard and housekeeper told him about
the earlier parts of the confrontation with Bridget, Cary knew what had really
started the fight. Pressing charges on Ghost could potentially expose him to an
investigation that he couldn’t control, and ruin the fucked-up little kingdom
of terror he had built for his family. So, instead, he was letting it all blow
away in the wind.

 

Ghost knew for absolute
certain that Bridget was right in her concerns about Toby. Not that he’d really
doubted her before, of course. But having Cary’s unconscious confirmation
turned Ghost’s focus into something far more solid and workable.

 

He felt bad about being
such a combative dick to Henry when all the guy was doing was trying to keep
Ghost out of trouble, but he didn’t have a choice. He hadn’t worn his cut
during the fight, so the MC’s involvement was minimal. None of those rich fucks
recognized him enough to connect him with the Black Dogs. He was just some
random dirt bag who wasn’t even going to get charged for it. The stakes would
be far worse if he gave in and told them about Toby and Bridget now, before
they worked out how to best help the kid. Ghost just hoped Henry would
understand and forgive him when all was said and done; but for now, he had to
leave him in the dark. He promised Bridget he would follow her lead and he intended
to keep that promise to the end.

 

“Ghost,” said Henry,
folding his arms. He was trying to gather patience. “I don’t know what the hell
has gotten up your ass lately, but it seems like every time I turn around,
you’re causing problems for this club.”

 

Ghost rolled his eyes.
“Great, here we go. Sitting down for a heart-to-heart with my two dads. Can you
stop fucking talking to me like I’m a child?”

 

“Can you stop acting like
one?”

 

Ghost rose to his feet. “I
act like a child? Why, because I refuse to swagger around like the rest of
these idiots and pretend that life isn’t one big fucking joke?”

 

“Ghost, did it ever
fucking occur to you that maybe some people
don’t agree with you
?” said
Henry. “And that it’s exhausting to keep cleaning up the messes your big mouth
makes?”

 

“No one asked you to clean
up shit,” said Ghost. “And this club agrees with me goddamn fine when there’s
some dangerous warehouse full of Yakuza to infiltrate, or when your own
daughter’s been snatched by some lowlifes and needs rescuing. No one seemed to
give a shit about my sense of humor then.”

 

Henry fell silent. To
Ghost, it was as good as an admission that he was right.

 

“The fucker isn’t pressing
charges. This is done. Let’s move the fuck on.” He looked from Henry to the
sheriff and back again.

 

“And you’re not going to
tell me what’s really going on, the real reason you started that fight?” said
Henry with a raised eyebrow. “You’re going to stand here and cut out your MC
brothers from whatever it is you’re doing on your off time?”

 

His words stung a little.
Ghost said, “It’s not like that. But I don’t call in weapons I don’t have use
for. That’s just wasteful.”

 

“So something is going
on.”

 

“Something is going on,
yes. It’s not your problem.”

 

Henry studied his face for
a moment before he finally took a big, deep breath and shook his head. “You’re
a bit of a lightning rod, kid, you know that?”

 

“Hey, this isn’t my fault.
And neither is the Lucero shit.
Force majeure
.”

 

“Well, you’re the first
member in fifteen years to cause us to have to call a tribunal, so fault or
not, you’re going down in the history books.”

 

“What’s so important about
this tribunal bullshit?” Ghost put his hands on his hips.

 

Before he continued, Henry
excused himself to walk the sheriff back out to his car. Ghost just gave the
cop a sarcastic wave as he left. Henry returned and poured them both a whiskey
before he came back to the table.

 

“To Tommy,” said Ghost.

 

“To Tommy.” Glasses
clinked and they drank.

 

Henry wiped his mouth and
said, “It’s hard getting multiple charters together, and harder still to get a
group of men who want to live outside the law to gather together and enforce
laws. But, it’s going to be done. Per the bylaws, we’ve called the nearest six
charters to gather here. They should arrive in the next few days.”

 

“This place is gonna be
bumping,” said Ghost.

 

“It’s not a party,” said
Henry with a serious face. “We’re going to have to treat this much like a
trial. Lucero and the Eagleton men are going to try and discredit you. You
should be ready for it.”

 

“I’ve never been less
afraid of anyone in my life than I am of Lucero.”

 

“Whoever gets the blame in
this outcome is going to suffer consequences. Not just the monetary hits
against the club for the hospital bills, but someone’s going to have to pay with
his reputation.”

 

“Yeah, Lucero. It’s his
fuck up.”

 

“It might not turn out
that way, Ghost. Are you ready for that?”

 

Ghost fell silent. He knew
what Henry was trying to do, and he felt insulted. He joked all the time, but
it wasn’t like he didn’t think about serious shit. In fact, he thought about
darker, more fucked up stuff than any of them ever realized. And he had damn
well thought about what might happen if this didn’t turn out how he planned.

 

“I’m not lying,” said
Ghost. “I’m not making anything up about what I saw with Lucero. I stand by it.
Even if this fancy tribunal doesn’t swing my way, I have my integrity
regardless. Or are you telling me that’s in question, now, too?”

 

Henry looked at his
whiskey glass and Ghost almost thought there was something like shame on his
face. “Not as far as I’m concerned,” he said after a silent moment. “You’ve
been a dependable brother, Ghost. I get that you’re a different breed. I’ve met
men like you before. A lot of men like you stumbled out of the jungles of
Vietnam.”

 

Ghost actually felt his
heart seize up. He didn’t reply.

 

“You’re not like any of
the boys here. They all had rough times, but not like you did. They haven’t
seen the things you’ve seen… haven’t had to fight the same demons you’ve
fought. I know why you joke all the time. And sometimes it breaks me to think
about it.”

 

Ghost was completely
disarmed in that moment. He could only stare at Henry with unsure eyes.

 

“The trouble is that we’re
not at war anymore, at least not often,” said Henry. “And people who haven’t
seen the dark aren’t going to understand that you’re fighting it. Men like us,
we don’t just protect civilization from the monsters themselves; we protect
them from the myths of the monsters by being stronger than them. And humor is one
way to be stronger than them.”

 

Ghost averted his gaze and
said, “So you’re saying… I have to change this in order to do my job? That I
have to fix the myth I’m writing?”

 

“No,” said Henry. “You are
who you are and we’re lucky to have you. But you have to learn to use different
tools when the ones you have aren’t getting the job done. Right now, you need a
group of men who don’t know you from Adam to believe you over Lucero, and if
they don’t, it could cost you and this club a great deal of hurt. Do you really
think going in with your wit is going to get the job done? Are you sure
everyone’s going to understand you like I do?”

 

Ghost didn’t reply. He had
no answer.

 

“Think about it,” said
Henry. He rose and took Ghost’s empty whiskey glass with him. “This isn’t me
condemning you, son. Every platoon needs someone like you. Men like you keep
the quiet demons at bay, the ones that chew on your bravery and strength when
you’re not looking. I just don’t want to see you tie a noose around your own
neck, that’s all. I want you around my club for a good long time.”

 

Henry left Ghost there
with the echo of his words.

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