"Not really." I grab a clean bar towel. "Just didn't sleep great."
"That have anything to do with James's friend? Ghost said you took her home."
Word travels fast in the MC. "It's not like that. She needed a place to crash."
"Uh-huh." Wilder's skepticism is clear. "And you, being the gentleman you are, offered your spare room out of the goodness of your heart."
"Fuck off." I start wiping down tables. "She's practically family."
"If you say so." He continues stocking the bar. "But family or not, be careful. Ghost says she gives off serious trouble vibes."
I can't exactly argue with that assessment. Everything about Maddie screams danger, from her sly smile to the calculating look in her eyes when she thinks no one's watching. But it's not the kind of danger I'm afraid of.
The morning passes quickly with prep work and a delivery of beer kegs that need changing. Around noon, my phone buzzes with a text from Maddie.
*How do you feel about someone going through your underwear drawer? Asking for a friend.*
I nearly drop the glass I'm holding.
*Depends on who's asking.*
Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear.
*Just cataloging your assets. You know, for insurance purposes.*
I grin despite myself.
*Find anything worth stealing?*
*Just blackmail material. Nice Batman boxers, by the way.*
Jesus Christ. I'm about to type a reply when the clubhouse door opens and Ghost walks in. I quickly pocket my phone, but not before he notices my expression.
"What's got you looking like that?" he asks.
"Nothing."
He raises an eyebrow but doesn't press. "Need you to make a run to the warehouse after your shift. Reaper wants those parts inventoried by tonight."
"No problem." I start restocking napkins. "Everything okay?"
Ghost's expression tightens slightly. "Just some chatter about a new crew trying to move in. Probably nothing, but Reaper wants us ready."
"Vultures coming back?" I ask, surprised. We'd driven them out six months ago in a confrontation that left their leadership decimated.
"Nah, Vultures are history. This is someone new." Ghost heads toward the back office, then pauses. "By the way, your brother's friend..."
Here we go. "What about her?"
"Reaper ran her name. Came back clean."
I frown. "You ran a background check on her?"
"Standard procedure for strangers hanging around the clubhouse," Ghost says, unapologetic. "Especially ones with connections to ex-cons."
"And?"
"Like I said, clean. Too clean, maybe."
