CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ghost looked over Razor’s shoulder, staring at the disaster of an engine. It was huge and probably guzzled more gasoline than his pickup truck.
“You looking over my shoulder won’t get it fixed any faster,” smirked Razor.
“I know,” he scoffed. “I was just…” He stopped, staring down at something that shouldn’t be there.
“Just what?” asked Razor.
“Razor, on the inside of the belt wheel. What is that?” Razor looked up at Ghost, then twisted his body, shining the flashlight inside the vehicle.
“Fuck me,” he growled, pulling the device from the car. “It’s a tracker. Someone was tracking her. It would have deactivated the minute it was near our property, so we don’t have to worry about it. But someone was definitely following her around.”
“That’s how they knew she’d left her office and headed home,” said Ghost. “Do me a favor and don’t tell her about it. It doesn’t matter now. Check to see if there are others. I’ll have Sly check her cell phone and make sure there’s nothing in her laptop bag or purse.” Razor nodded.
“Hey, Ghost. I know this car is sentimental to her, but it’s really a piece of shit. Are you sure we rebuild this?”
“Positive. Her father gave her this car, and it’s all she’s got left of that memory. Let’s make sure it’s fixed for her. If she decides to sell it, so be it. For now, it’s hers.” Razor nodded at his old friend as he left the garage and headed back into the showroom.
The bikes were lined up in beautiful displays. Some lifted up on massive stands to show how artfully they were constructed. Each bike had a custom frame, custom engine, custom fork and handlebars, and custom paint. Everything was designed specifically for the client or a potential client. No one understood bikers better than the team at Steel Cycles.
“This one is new,” said Ghost, looking at Whiskey. He nodded, pushing some of the paperwork aside at the register.
“Yeah. It’s for an ex-cop in L.A. He’s driving out later this month to pick it up. Said he’d been saving for the last twenty years to pay cash for the bike,” smiled Whiskey.
“We gave him the first-responder discount, right?”
“Yep.” They heard the tap of comms in their ears and waited to hear a voice.
You’ve got company. We let them through the stealth netting. I think you’ll want to speak to them. The other businesses are still hidden.
He nodded as the bell above the door chimed, two men walking in wearing suits. Not their typical customer, both men were uneasy at their appearance. Whiskey tapped his comms and immediately heard a reply. Skull and Noa would be joining them shortly.
“Help you, gentlemen?” asked Whiskey.
“We’re looking to purchase a motorcycle,” said the man. Whiskey knew immediately he was lying. No man looking for a bike would walk in and say, ‘I’m looking to purchase a motorcycle.’ He’d be kicked out for losing his balls.
“What kind of engine are you looking for?” he asked. The two men stared at him, shaking their heads.
“Doesn’t really matter.” He raised his eyebrows at the man. “I mean. You know, it’s fine. Whatever you have.”
“Listen, buddy, these bikes are for serious bikers,” said Ghost. “Everything is custom-made. Average price is north of a hundred thousand.”
“I get it,” nodded the man. “Look, the truth is my girlfriend and I had a fight, and she headed out this way a few days ago. We were just wondering if you’ve seen her.” He held up the grainy photo of Deanna, and Ghost frowned at the man.
“I’m not sure what your game is, but we don’t turn women over to random men claiming to be their boyfriends or husbands. Especially men lying about why they walked into my business in the first place. There’s a lot of businesses along this road. Why would a single woman, apparently running from you, come into a motorcycle shop.”
The man’s mouth twisted in anger, and Ghost felt great satisfaction for that. Behind him, he heard the door open and knew that Noa and Skull had walked in. They walked around the counter, positioning themselves amongst the bikes, just looking at them.
“I’m offering a reward for the woman,” said the man.
“Is that so? You’re offering a reward for a woman you claim is your girlfriend. That sounds like slavery, mister. Women aren’t belongings. They aren’t owned by anyone, and they damn sure don’t have to return to you if they don’t want to.”
“Are you the fucking dating police?” growled the second man.
“You might say that,” nodded Ghost, laughing at him. His expression suddenly sobered, and he stepped forward, crowding the two men who immediately stepped back. “See, I suspect that your intentions are not good for that young woman. Even if she’d come through here, I wouldn’t tell you. In fact, I might even take it upon myself to try and find her before you do. And when I find out why you really want her, I’ll come looking for you.”
Jackson stared at his bodyguard next to him and gave a nod. The man attempted to reach for his weapon, only to be met by a fierce grip.
“You do that, you’ll be leaving in a body bag,” said Noa. Ghost gave a knowing smirk to the two men, who were shocked that a couple of crude bikers outsmarted them.
“I think it’s time you gentlemen found your way out of here,” said Ghost. He could see out the window that Razor and Tango were placing trackers on their car. He couldn’t help but smile at that.
“You have no idea who you’re fucking with,” snapped Jackson. “I can ruin you.”
“I doubt that,” said Ghost. “Better men than you have tried. But you boys move along now. These bikes are way too grown-up for you. You’re going to need something smaller. Simpler. Maybe a tricycle or perhaps a scooter. We’ve got motorized ones that will get you around town. Twenty miles per hour, if you’re careful.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered under his breath. “We’ll leave. But if I find out you knew where the girl went, I’ll be back.”
“Oh, man,” said Ghost, laughing. “Please. Please, come back. The boys and I could use some exercise.” The man turned, hearing the bell on the door. Walking in were Nine, Gaspar, Ian, Alec, Tailor, and Max.
“Hey, did you fellas know you’ve got three flat tires out there?” said Tailor.
“I don’t suppose you could help us out,” said Jackson.
“Sorry,” said Ghost. “We do bike tires, not car tires.”
“You’ve got cars out there you’re working on,” said the other man.
“Yeah. No go, buddy. I suggest you call a tow.”
The two men left the building, taking a seat in their car. Forty-five minutes later, a tow truck arrived, pulling the car onto the flatbed and driving away with the men.
“They want Deanna,” said Max. “We need to make sure they don’t get her.”