“The walls were screens?” Ranger asked, amazed.
“Yup.” The kid opened a closet and walked inside. When he came out, he had a duffel bag that looked like theMystery Machineslung over one shoulder and a rolling suitcase with theLooney TunesTasmanian Devil on the front. “Ready!” he announced. “I’ll send a crew to pack up my stuff later. I need to see how big of a room I have and what the electricity levels are before I can bring some of my toys. Don’t want to blow a circuit on my first day with my new family.” He smiled, rollingthe suitcase forward. “Oh, and don’t drop that,” he told Ranger, nodding to the toy machine gun Ranger still held to his chest. “I enhanced the spring time and added new bullets. They’re my own design,” he told Ghost proudly. “They look like sponge tips but they’re actually mini grappling hooks with pointed claws. I call them Tick Bullets, because once they get ahold of you, they rarely let go.”
He kept walking towards the door, not even registering the fact that he was leaving Ranger and Ghost behind in his souped-up basement. “Any chance we can stop for some gummy bears on the way? I’m starving! Where are we going anyway?” Pausing as he opened the door, he added, “Oh, you don’t want to stand there. The floor will electrocute you if I leave while you’re still in there.”
Ghost and Ranger hurried to catch up.
Caspian turned to them when the door closed behind them. “So what was the answer on those gummy bears?”
CHAPTER 1
One Year After STEEL
“Ido not have time for this bullshit.” The complaint escaped Ghost through gritted teeth as he ran a hand through his ginger hair. Feeling the longer than regulation locks, he noted how badly he needed to get a haircut. Things had been crazy since… Well, since the club had put the president patch on his cut.
Red, blue, and purple lights touched the side of the building and surrounding cages of the bar’s parking lot, drawing Ghost’s attention away from the bound men at his feet. He’d sent Ranger and Poker ahead already, and he was supposed to be right behind them. But then Marcus, one of the club’s newest prospects, had alerted Ghost to a scuffle in the bar’s parking lot. Two men were really going at it—only it wasn’t over a girl as Ghost had presumed when he’d broken up the fight.
Nope. Moonshine.
The back of a cage was open to glass jugs and jars of unmarked, unregulated moonshine. The acetone and sulfuricscent still reached Ghost’s nose, even after he’d slammed the trunk closed.
Moonshine! Fucking Moonshine. Being sold out of the back of a cage in his own fucking bar’s parking lot! What the fuck—and whynow? Ghost wasn’t exaggerating when he reminded the universe that he did not have time for this bullshit.
The reason Ghost was aiming to leave the bar before it had even opened for the night was because his club had a glowstick poker run scheduled to start in… Ghost looked down at hisCasio G-Shockwatch and let out another curse. The run was supposed to start in less than an hour.
He was going to be late. Again.
The cruiser came to a stop in front of Ghost, and Carlos stepped out. The town’s sheriff and a friend, Carlos stood just taller than Ghost at six feet. He was the slightly smaller, clean-shaven version of his older brother, Bulldog, the club’s Sergeant at Arms. Both Santiago brothers took after their Hispanic father in looks, but their personalities, appetites, and bilingual skills were all their Italian mother Louisa’s doing.
Carlos put his wide-brimmed hat on as he approached Ghost. “What are you still doing here? I thought the prospects were watching the bar tonight.”
What, indeed, Ghost thought dryly. In answer, Ghost aimed the key fob on the set of keys he’d confiscated from one of the bootleggers and popped the trunk of the old sedan. As he did so, he caught the scrunching of Carlos’ nose and knew the sheriff had likely guessed what this was about before the glass jugs and bottles came into view.
Carlos let out a long groan. “Son of a bitch.” Looking down at the two men Ghost had tied together with rope, he snapped, “Really, Hershel? Moonshine?”
Mount Grove, Pennsylvania, was a small town at the base of a mountain, separated into two parts by a river. On the northside, there was the hospital, main grocery store, and bigger businesses, like an Amish flea market and the club’sHarley-Davidsondealership. The southside was more of the quaint small-town vibe, and had a central strip with various small business fronts, like the bakery, pizzeria, clothing boutique, a tattoo shop, art studio, and daycare. Larger businesses like the veterinary clinic, the club’s bar, and the newly-built children’s consignment shop could be found towards the ends of Main Street, separated by the town’s single traffic light. Town Hall, the new Sheriff’s Station, and the town’s two apartment buildings were more central. The old Sheriff’s Station was now a storage facility for the town’s decorations, office supplies, and whatnots, across from the veterinary clinic and children’s playground.
Ghost had lived here for nearly a decade, joining theVia DaemoniaMotorcycle Club roughly a year after they’d formed. In fact, Ghost and Ranger had been the last prospects to only serve a six month trial period, rather than the year that was now required. Grumpy had been the first, then there had been the club’s one failed prospect, and finally Ghost and Ranger. Even after being here for a decade, Ghost still didn’t know everyone in town. Not like Carlos did or the club’s three officers who had grown up here, Lucky, Bear, and Bulldog.
He was trying, even doubling his efforts since being voted in as the club’s second president, but he feared it was no use. He knew his club and bar regulars. Most of the rest of the town would forever be familiar faces and names he would never remember.
He did know he’d never seen Hershel or his opponent before, though. Which meant neither of them had ever stepped foot in his bar since the club had opened it six-plus years ago.
Unfortunately for Carlos, the bootlegger couldn’t answer the sheriff. Not without putting himself in an even further compromising situation. Ghost had been so pissed when he’dbroken up the fight that he’d tied the men in a slightly unusual way: stomach to stomach and upside down, placing each man’s face in the crotch of his opponent.
Carlos stepped closer to the cage’s trunk, shaking his head. “Hershel is known around town for his get-rich-quick schemes. But he’s never done something this extreme before,” he added with a tone of disappointment and frustration.
“Or stupid,” Ghost pointed out. “Selling moonshine inmybar’s parking lot? He’s lucky I’m running late and don’t have time to dig his grave right now.”
Muffled grunts and groans came from both men at his feet. Ghost kicked out, landing a kidney shot with the heel of his boot to whichever one was on the bottom.
“Go,” Carlos waved him off, ignoring the kidney shot. “I’ll take care of this. Who’s inside?”
“All four of them,” Ghost answered. Prospects Marcus, Artemis, Specs, and Jackson were covering for Ranger and Ghost while they were out on the poker run. Club property was being guarded by Keys’ security guys, brothers Thorne, Goose, and Grimm. At first, Ghost had issue with the club ‘outsourcing’ additional protection, but after last year, he would not allow his pride to ever come before the health and safety of his club members and their families.
Carlos nodded. “Go. Have fun. You need the break.”
Ghost glanced at hisHarley-DavidsonLimited Edition El Diablo Low-Rider in the iconic shimmer red. Christ, he needed a run. To feel the wind on his skin and the rumble of his tires on the pavement…
