Black Dogs Motorcycle Club: Full Series Box Set (49 page)

“Our men will handle
that,” said Lucero, pointing his own finger at his chest. “The merch is plenty
light enough for us to handle carrying ourselves. We already sent out a
heads-up that we’d have strange faces with us, but you four just stay put with
the vehicles and don’t interfere.”

Ghost and Tommy exchanged
wide-eyed glances and muffled smiles. Ghost didn’t know why he couldn’t take
Lucero seriously. Not that he took anything seriously, really, but he
especially didn’t take dudes who tried too hard to be tough very seriously. And
that thick Kentucky drawl wasn’t helping matters. It didn’t make Lucero sound
stupid, but it made him sound even more dramatic than his words did.

“Not a problem,” said
Jase. When Ghost looked over, Jase was giving him that look. Ghost pursed his
lips and blew Jase a kiss, and his friend just rolled his eyes and shoved an
eggroll in his mouth.

Scott worked with Ghost
and Tommy to get the walkie-talkie headsets set up in their helmets after
dinner. It was just a simple Bluetooth-style earpiece that linked to a wire,
which clipped onto their cuts, and held the switch for the talk button. They
would be able to hear all the chatter passively and only had to flip the switch
to be heard by everyone in both vans. This way, if anyone ran into trouble, the
entire cavalry could work to respond together instead of leaving half the
convoy stranded.

The Eagleton Dogs left for
home early, and it was strange for the LeBeau Dogs to be in such an empty,
quiet clubhouse setting. Their own clubhouse was rarely empty for long; someone
was always around to have a beer or shoot some pool with. The wooden décor was
warm and inviting, and the house mouses… well, they could make any man feel
welcome. The Eagleton clubhouse had modern cleanness, sharp-angled furniture,
and big ceilings where the shadows could gather. But without the boisterous
laughter and shenanigans of the men who belonged in it, there was nothing to
chase them away. It probably felt like a much better, brighter place when they
were at full strength. But right now, it was a graveyard.

As he sat on the edge of
the cot that would serve as his bed for the night, Ghost listened to the
silence and felt sad. He didn’t realize it before, how much different the
clubhouse at home might feel without all the men and women who made it what it
was. It’d feel much like this place: empty, cold, haunted. This was what it
felt like without caring people around.

“This place is creepy,”
said Tommy, echoing his feelings. The young gun was standing at the small sink
of the auxiliary kitchen upstairs, shirtless, filling up a kettle so he could
make some tea. Tommy didn’t sleep well in unfamiliar places.

Ghost laughed to himself.
“Just let your worries drift away on the soothing sounds of Jase’s snoring.” He
thumbed behind him to the dark bedroom where Will and Jase had already crashed,
claiming the actual beds for themselves as senior Dogs and leaving Tommy and
Ghost to the cots.

Tommy laughed hard. “Does
Maggie really put up with that?”

“He’s gotta have a magic
wang or something,” said Ghost. “ ‘Cause otherwise, I don’t get it.”

Tommy waited patiently for
the kettle to boil while Ghost slowly made himself ready for the night, setting
his boots neatly near the end of the cot, and folding his clothes in a pile
next to them. He removed both his firearms, and all five of his blades, and set
them in a straight line just beneath his cot, close enough that he could lean
over the edge and reach any of them.

He lay back on the cot in
his boxers and flipped through his phone, bored. His thoughts began to drift to
Bridget, and Ghost made a groaning sound and adjusted his legs. Fuck, it sure
didn’t take much to get him going when it came to her.

“What’s that?” said Tommy,
pouring his steeped tea into an ugly brown mug.

“Nothing, dear,” said Ghost.
“Don’t forget to take your blood pressure medication.”

Tommy just snickered and
shook his head. Ghost loved the hell out of Tommy. He never gave him a hard
time about his jokes.

Attention falling back to
his phone, Ghost got an urge. For a moment, he resisted, but his resistance
couldn’t last long. He pulled up a new text message to Bridget.

I just wanted you to know
that even in a room full of snoring, ugly, hairy dudes, I can get my engine
revved just thinking of you.

Ghost waited a few anxious
minutes, waiting for her smartass response, but it didn’t come. He frowned and
realized maybe that wasn’t the best first text to send to a woman who didn’t
actually have his phone number until now. He probably looked like some sort of
Craigslist serial killer.

This is Ghost, by the way.
In case you have many men attracted to you who also sleep in rooms with other
men.

Minutes passed with no
response, and Ghost started to feel bummed. He didn’t know why he felt so eager
to have her spar with him, but he did. Her fiery tongue made him feel alive,
and once he started thinking about having an exchange with her, he couldn’t get
it out of his mind.

“Hey, here,” said Tommy as
he came across the tile floor with a second mug of tea. He held it out to Ghost
with a smile. “My
abuela
’s recipe.”

“I thought chamomile tea
was, like, the most British thing that existed,” said Ghost. He put his phone
down and accepted the hot mug in both hands.

“It’s not just chamomile
tea,” said Tommy with a sip.

Ghost followed suit and
instantly started coughing from the surprising mix of tea, alcohol, and spices
he didn’t have the palate to identify. Yet the warmth that cascaded down his
chest was heavenly. “Oh,
abuela
, you beautiful creature of heaven. This
is what she gives you to get you to sleep?”

“Not every night, but it
helps,” said Tommy. He was already halfway done with his.

“It’s pretty goddamn good.
You’ll have to share the recipe.”

“I can only do that if you
kill a wild, uncircumcised bull at dusk on the solstice.”

“
What?
”
said
Ghost. “Seriously?”

Tommy laughed so loud,
Ghost was surprised neither of the others woke up. “No, just fucking with you!
Got you, though.”

“Is this my Dr.
Frankenstein moment, when I regret the monster I’ve created?” said Ghost as
Tommy sat down on the cot next to him. A few minutes passed in silence as they
enjoyed the warmth of the brew.

Tommy took a big sip of
his tea. “I thought our job was going to be a little more exciting,” he said
with a bit of a frown.

“Eh, me too,” said Ghost.
“But, let’s be honest, the club probably wouldn’t last very long if we were
having shootouts every other week.”

“I’m not even that good of
a shot yet,” said Tommy. He was already yawning.

“We’ll get you there,
don’t worry. But tomorrow’s just gonna be a drive, some quick cash, and then
back home for some victory pussy,” said Ghost.

Tommy just laughed and
shook his head as he took Ghost’s empty mug with his own back to the sink.
Ghost lay back on his cot and got settled for sleep while Tommy cleaned up the
kitchen.

He had almost started to
nod off when he remembered his text and decided to check his phone one last time.

There was a message from
Bridget:

I’m all for adventure in
the bedroom, but can we just start with me getting used to your snoring, ugly,
hairy self before we bring in all your boyfriends?

Ghost laughed, but when
Tommy tried to see what was so funny on his phone, Ghost kept it away from him
until Tommy finally gave up trying to crawl all over him to see. Frustrated,
Tommy huffed and shut out the lights.

~ EIGHT ~

Ghost

The Eagleton Dogs arrived bright and early, a good
half-hour before the sun could be seen through the building spires. The smell
of greasy fast-food breakfast wafted like a tempting fog through the clubhouse
and up to the cots where Ghost and Tommy still hung on to the last gasps of
sleep, random limbs hanging off the sides. Once he started hearing the crinkle
of the paper bags, Ghost’s stomach rumbled too loudly for him to ignore
anymore. Tommy was the last to get up.

When Ghost came down the
stairs and saw Will already into the Arts section of the Eagleton Tribune and
halfway through an egg and cheese muffin, he shook his head accusingly. “You
fucking nerd.”

Will frowned at him, and
then looked at the front of the paper like he didn’t understand. Ghost sat
across from him at the stark white table in his boxers and t-shirt, rubbing the
sleep out of his eyes. Rick was making a giant pot of coffee at the
kitchenette, and Shaun paced near the front door on his cell phone.

Ghost nodded toward Shaun
and asked Rick, “Everything squared this morning?”

Rick glanced over at his
boss as he set out coffee mugs on the table. “Yeah, fine. Just last-minute
checks on things. Shit can change quickly around here.”

“I hear that. Where are
your other bros?”

“Lucero’s around here
somewhere. I think Scott is making his checks of the walkies for you and
Castillo.”

“Magical.” Ghost dug into
one of the paper bags and wrapped his hand around the first hot sandwich he
felt. Jase and Tommy came trudging down the stairs a few minutes later, fully
dressed, just as Rick poured the coffee.

“How’s everyone feeling
this morning?” asked Will of his collected brothers.

Jase and Tommy both
grumbled, neither of them big fans of early rising; Jase would get his shit
together after his coffee and some push-ups, and Tommy just needed food. Ghost
hadn’t slept great, but that was nothing new. It felt like a good night’s sleep
was the unrequited love of his life, but he’d mostly learned how to operate
anyway. The plus side was that he truly enjoyed the atmosphere of mornings, so
being up this early didn’t bother him a bit. The quiet of dawn felt exciting
and hushed, a lot like the quiet right before a bomb dropped.

“C’mon, lads, buck up!”
said Ghost. He nudged Jase with his elbow, but Jase’s bulkier form barely
budged. He made a noise like a growling bear. “Weather forecast looks great. We
might even see some hot co-eds in their convertibles up to no good.”

“Already done with the
Viking chick, huh?” said Will without looking up from his paper.

“I said
see
. Not
touch, not tickle, certainly not lick.”

Shaun came over to the
table, his call ended, and put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Morning, guys.
Everyone sleep okay?”

Answers rumbled from
around the table. Shaun said, “I’ve got green lights from all of my sources at
the DOT and Highway Patrol. We can get this show on the road as soon as
everyone is prepped and ready.”

“Scott’s still out with
the walkies,” said Rick.

“I’m gonna go check on
him,” said Shaun. He pointed at the food. “You boys have at that, get full.
We’ve already had ours.”

“Shit yeah,” said Tommy as
he dove in for seconds.

“I’m gonna hit the head,”
said Ghost, thumbing over his shoulder. “Can I get anyone anything?”

“From the
bathroom?”
said
Rick.

“Just don’t engage,” said
Will without looking up.

Ghost shrugged and got up
from the table. He threw away his garbage and walked down the hallway until he
found the men’s room. He pushed the door open and felt it hit wobbly, but hard
resistance.

“Hey, fuck!” said a gruff,
surprised voice.

“Let’s not both push at
the same time,” said Ghost when the door didn’t budge. “Step back, Einstein.”
It took a few moments, but finally Lucero stumbled back from the doorway and
Ghost was able to enter.

“Fuck’s your problem?”
said Lucero with a bitter anger that seemed to erupt out of nowhere.

Ghost gave him a confused
look. “Physics, I guess? Maybe there needs to be an entrance and exit door on
all bathrooms.”

“You think you’re such a
fucking jokester, don’t you?” he said. When he took steps toward Ghost, there
was something mean and ugly on his face, in his eyes. Something that hadn’t
been there yesterday. Everything about the way he was standing, the way he was
staring Ghost down, was predatory and aggressive, like he wanted a fight.

Ghost wasn’t taking the
bait. Why would he? That egg muffin thing he had just eaten was delicious and
he felt great. “Among other things,” he said, studying Lucero’s face. “Are you
all right, man?”

“Just fuck off,” said
Lucero. He turned away from Ghost in a huff and left the bathroom.

“Some people’s children,”
said Ghost to himself, shaking his head.

The bathroom was small, a
single stall next to a wall-mounted sink and mirror; he shuffled inside and
shut the stall door. As he relieved himself, he saw something small and bright
near his feet. He kicked it out with his socked toe. It looked like the torn
remnants of blue and yellow plastic—balloons, maybe.

Ghost made a groaning
noise as he finished up and flushed. “Fuck,” he said to himself. He bent down a
little further to be sure of what he was looking at, but he already knew.
Someone around here was a heroin junkie, and it was probably that suddenly
angry asshole that just left the bathroom.

This was not good. He
tried to tell himself that he didn’t know Lucero that well, and maybe the guy
was just not a morning person. But he’d been around his share of junkies,
heroin and otherwise, and he knew irrational and sudden rage was part of the
package. So were desperate shoot-ups in public bathrooms, even after he’d
probably already had a fix at home before he left.

Ghost used a knuckle to
open the tiny metal trash bin on the wall of the stall. He was hoping the
garbage was full and hadn’t been taken out in a while—that could mean these
balloons had fallen out and were days or even weeks old, and he was probably
worrying over nothing. He peeked inside and only saw a few wadded-up pieces of
toilet paper and a torn condom wrapper.

“Fuck,” he said again,
dropping the lid with a loud clank. It still didn’t mean for sure the balloons
belonged to Lucero—but they very likely belonged to someone at the MC right now
who was about to go on this run.

Ghost finished up in the
restroom and headed upstairs without engaging anyone. He took a quick, cool
shower and got dressed as he tried to decide what to do. As he pulled on his
boots, he thought he should say something to Jase. He pulled him upstairs and
into the spare bedroom as the others got prepared.

“I don’t know, man,” said
Jase after Ghost was finished. He was clearly uncomfortable at the news. “Did
you see him shooting up?”

“No, because then we
wouldn’t be talking, because I wouldn’t need advice,” said Ghost. “But the
stalls are pretty clean, man, and there aren’t that many dudes spending time
here right now.”

“Could have been one of
their ladies.”

“In the men’s room?”

“That’s not that weird.”

“Not that weird, but why
are we looking for zebras instead of horses? Haven’t women been blamed for
enough of men’s mistakes?” said Ghost with a dramatic hand gesture. Jase shook
his head and laughed as he folded his arms.

“Okay, so if I believe
you, then what?”

“Then…” Ghost sputtered
and shrugged. “Then, I don’t know, get him off the run? Do we really want a
heroin junkie calling any shots, even on a simple run?”

“I’m not sure we have that
kind of authority,” said Jase. “And anyway, I’m not going to bring this to
Shaun right now, right before we’re supposed to leave. Not when the only proof
we have is some balloon trash and your gut feeling. We need everyone calm and
focused.”

Something in Jase’s words
stung Ghost. He blinked a few times at the unfamiliar sensation. “But what if
I’m right?”

Jase was looking around
now, making sure no one was hanging out by the slightly ajar bedroom door.
“What if you are? This run doesn’t even have any stops, so it’s not like
Lucero’s going to just disappear to shoot up in the middle of it. We finish it
up and he can go back to his drugs or whatever, and we go home. It’s not our
problem.”

Ghost was silent. Jase had
a point, but it didn’t settle his instincts.

“And hell, we don’t know
it wasn’t one of the house mouses. Just relax. Let’s get this done and get home
and get you laid by your Viking chick; the lack of sex is making you paranoid,”
said Jase with a smile. He clapped Ghost on the arm and turned to leave the
bedroom.

Ghost lingered there,
overcome with a bitterness he recognized, but had never felt so strongly
before. He didn’t know why, but he just knew deep down that if he saw Jase’s
face again in the next thirty seconds, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself
from punching it. So he waited there alone in the dark until the feeling
passed.

Ghost clicked the button hanging on a wire attached to
his cut. He yelled to be heard over the wind and the engine of his bike.
“Shaun, you really undersold the excitement of this drive! You could sell tickets!”

He couldn’t hear anyone’s
laughter, since they had to purposely press their own walkie buttons to be
heard, but Ghost just imagined they were all cracking up, anyway.

They were twenty miles
outside of Burling, the last leg of the run, and Ghost thought he was going to
die of boredom before they would make it. He’d never been to this western
sliver of the state, and had no idea it was going to be a flat desert wasteland
that stretched over the horizon without end. Traffic flowed smoothly with little
clumping, mostly eighteen-wheelers or vehicles from nearby mining and
industrial plants, caked with glittering white dirt. Ghost and Tommy rode
side-by-side, a few car lengths back from the white panel van with Lucero and
Will—as well as the guns—inside. The second half of the convoy carrying Jase
and the Eagleton Dogs was back about ten miles behind.

Even Ghost’s secret hope
of seeing co-eds was shattered. This highway was a bridge between nothing and
nowhere, its only tenants gross, hairy truck drivers and mine workers and one
group of sexy bikers running illegal market gear. Every now and again they
would pass some family packed into a fuel-efficient car on their way to
God-knew-where, but otherwise, the highway was dull as dishwater.

“Seriously, I’m gonna fall
asleep at the helm.” Tommy’s laughing voice cut through the static and noise
and sounded in Ghost’s ear.