ONE
COLE “GHOST” MERCER
Church always getsloud before Mason calls it to order. Boots scrape across the concrete floor, chairs drag around the long scarred table, and somebody inevitably cracks open a beer even though the meeting technically hasn’t started yet. The Iron Reapers don’t do polished or formal, and nobody here pretends otherwise. The room smells like oil, leather, and the stale bite of whiskey soaked into wood that’s been around longer than half the men sitting at the table.
I lean back in my chair against the wall where I can see everyone without turning my head. My arms are folded across my chest, one boot hooked under the rung of the chair. I don’t talk much in meetings, and nobody expects me to. That suits me just fine. You learn early that the quiet guy sees more than the one making noise.
Rev is halfway through telling some story about a fight that broke out at Perdition last weekend. His hands move while he talks, like he’s still halfway in the moment. “I’m telling you,” he says, pointing a finger across the table at Switch. “That guythought he was about to win. He had this look on his face like he’d already decided how the story was going to end.”
Switch snorts and leans back in his chair. “Let me guess. Then Dagger grabbed him.”
Rev grins. “Not just grabbed him. Dagger picked the guy up by the collar and walked him straight out the door like he weighed nothing. I swear to God, his boots never touched the ground.”
A couple of the guys laugh. Someone mutters something about Dagger having zero patience for idiots.
Across the room, Dagger is leaning against the edge of the table with a knife in his hand, flipping it open and closed with a steady rhythm. Click. Click. Click. The sound blends into the background noise of the room, and nobody tells him to stop. Dagger has earned the right to do whatever the hell he wants during church. He’s our vice president.
Mason finally steps forward and rests his hands on the table. The room settles down almost immediately. Conversations trail off and chairs shift as everyone turns their attention toward him. Mason doesn’t have to raise his voice or pound on the table to get control of a room. He’s the kind of man people listen to because they know exactly what he’s capable of. “We’ve got a situation brewing in Harlan,” he says calmly.
A few guys shift in their chairs. Harlan sits close enough to Reaper territory that anything happening there tends to become our business sooner or later. It’s a small town with a couple bars and a steady stream of truckers coming through on the highway. Nothing fancy, but places like that can attract the wrong kind of attention if someone thinks nobody is watching.
Dagger pushes off the table and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes move around the room before settling on Mason for a second.
“There’s a bar in Harlan called The Rust Nail,” he says. “The owner’s name is Wayne. He’s been running that place longer than most of you have been riding.”
Rev leans back in his chair. “So why are we talking about him?”
Dagger glances toward Mason again before answering. “Because Mason and I go way back with that place.”
Switch raises an eyebrow. “That where you two met?”
A few guys shift in their seats, already sensing there’s a story there.
Mason exhales slowly and shakes his head. “Yeah. That’s where we met.”
Dagger snorts quietly. “Met isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
Rev grins. “Oh, this should be good.”
Dagger looks around the table. “Mason walked into The Rust Nail one night a long time ago and decided he didn’t like my face.”
Mason shrugs. “You looked like you needed it.”
That earns a few chuckles from around the room.
Dagger continues like the memory doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “So he picked a fight with me.”
Switch leans forward. “And how did that work out for him?”
Dagger glances at Mason. “I kicked his ass.”
The room breaks into low laughter.
Mason just shakes his head slightly. “That part’s not wrong.”
Dagger continues calmly. “Afterward, I figured anybody dumb enough to start a fight like that and stubborn enough to keep getting up deserved a better place to point that attitude.”
Rev smirks. “So you recruited him.”
