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“Officially?” Mouse questioned.

“I don't give a shit about officially,” Ghost growled.

“It says here that there was a club war about seven years ago,” Mouse read.

Ghost's jaw tightened. “With who?”

“Reapers of Ruin MC,” Mouse said.

Hammer stood. “Fuck,” he shouted. Yeah, that was about the size of it. The Reapers of Ruin wasn’t a club—they were animals wearing patches. They specialized in drug running, selling guns, and trafficking women. Hell, they were into whatever made the club money.

“Was Viper killed?” Ghost asked.

“Shot outside a bar owned by the Nomad Knights. Three other members died with him,” Mouse said.

“Do you see anything about Angel?” Hammer asked.

“It says she disappeared shortly after the shooting,” Mouse read.

“Anything about her man?” Ghost asked. There was another pause, and Ghost's patience snapped. “Mouse.”

“I'm getting there,” Mouse grumbled.

“Get there faster,” Ghost ordered.

“His name was Gabriel Torres. His road name was Shadow,” Mouse said.

Ghost looked at Hammer. “Was he part of the Nomad Knights?”

“He was their Sergeant at Arms,” Mouse said.

Of course he fucking was. “What happened to him?” Ghost asked.

“He was part of the same war, and he was killed about six months after Viper,” Mouse said.

Ghost's stomach tightened. “How?”

“That's where things get interesting,” Mouse said.

“Meaning?” Hammer asked.

“Shadow wasn't killed by the Reapers,” Mouse said. Ghost went still, and Hammer did too.

“Who killed him?” Ghost asked.

“Nobody knows,” Mouse said.

“Bullshit,” Hammer growled.

“That's the truth,” Mouse insisted. “His body was found behind an abandoned gas station, with two bullets to the chest and one to the head.” Ghost knew immediately that it was an execution.

“So why blame the Reapers?” Hammer asked.

“They didn't,” Mouse said.

Ghost frowned. “What?”

“The Nomad Knights never publicly blamed anyone for Shadow's death.”