6. Chapter 5
Jack
T he blood hadn't even dried on the ground when Ghost found me. His face, normally unreadable, told me everything I needed to know before he opened his mouth.
"We found Flowerz," he said, his voice low enough that no one could hear. "Back edge of the property. By the old fence line."
My jaw clenched so hard I thought I might crack a tooth. "Dead?"
Ghost nodded once. "Strangled with her own weight. Those fuckin’ snare ties Shank likes to do to terrorize club whores at the Copperheads when he’s feelin’ bloody and can’t kill. Looks like this time he let her slowly strangle to death. Once she was too weak to hold her position, she died."
I closed my eyes briefly, seeing Flowerz in my mind. Young club girl, barely twenty-one, with that ridiculous flower tattoo covering half her face. Always laughing, always eager to please. And she’d been the woman Honey had identified in that hallway with Shank right before all hell broke loose.
"Been missin’ since that night. I really figured she’d gone. Cut her losses and skipped out."
"Bug said she’d been feeding Shank information for months.
I don’t get the whole ins and outs of how he finds shit out but it had something to do with her phone and how all these ads suddenly appear in my browser when I talk about something I want to buy.
Anyway, apparently she filled him in on what little club business she knew while she fucked him.
And I mean that literally." Ghost's expression hardened.
"We found burner phones, cash. She was on their payroll. "
I rubbed my knuckles, suddenly itching to put them through Shank's face. I tried to process what Ghost was telling me. Flowerz had betrayed us to the Copperheads. Had been betraying us for months. And now she was dead—not just dead, but murdered slowly, painfully, on my property. While Flowerz fate had been sealed the moment she chose to aid our enemies, I didn’t torture women.
If a woman needed to die, she got a clean death.
"Anything salvageable from the burner phones?" I asked, keeping my voice low. We stood in a shadowed corner of the compound yard, both of us positioned to see anyone approaching before they got within earshot.
"Bug's working on it. So far, just confirming what we already knew. She passed intel about shipments delivery dates, security rotations. Basic stuff, but enough to give them an edge. You know. Like knowing there was going to be a huge Hell Night party where the Copperheads might slip in a few men we didn’t suspect.
" Ghost shifted his weight, a tell I recognized from years at his side. There was more.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Ghost's gray eyes met mine. "Last text she sent before she died was about Honey."
The world around me narrowed to a pinpoint, the ambient sounds of the compound fading until all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. "What about Honey?" My voice came out as a growl.
"Nothing specific. Just that you'd claimed her as your old lady, and she was staying in your quarters." Ghost watched my reaction carefully. "Bug thinks Flowerz was trying to curry favor after the raid went south. Offering up information about a potential weak spot."
Weak spot. The words hit me like a physical blow.
I'd claimed Honey to protect her, but in doing so, I'd painted a fucking target on her back. If I were honest, I’d known what I was doing all along. I just didn’t care.
Not because I wanted her to get hurt. Oh, no.
I think I knew from the first second I saw her I’d never let her leave me.
My gaze moved around the compound yard until I found Honey.
She sat with Wren at one of the picnic tables, the sun catching in her honey-blonde hair.
She laughed at something Wren said, the sound carrying across the distance.
Something in my chest tightened at the sight of her, this woman who'd stumbled into my world by accident and somehow carved out a space for herself in such a short time.
"When did this happen?" I asked, still watching Honey.
"Based on the decomp, Bug thinks she was killed the night after the raid. Body's been there a long fuckin’ while."
Which meant the Copperheads had already struck again, right under our noses.
My failure to protect my own territory twisted in my gut like a knife.
First, they'd infiltrated our party. Then they'd executed one of my people on my fucking land.
This had to stop. If that meant I lived up to the name Bloody Jack, so be it.
My gaze stayed locked on Honey. She must have felt me watching because she looked up, those amber eyes finding mine across the distance. She gave a small smile, and something inside me shifted, rearranging priorities I'd thought were set in stone.
"I need to get her out of here," I said, the decision crystallizing in my mind. "Not permanently, but somewhere off the compound until we get a handle on this shit."
Ghost nodded, no questions asked. That's why he was my VP. He understood the unspoken.
"Where're you thinking?"
"My place." I meant my private garage, the converted warehouse I'd bought years ago when I first took the president's patch. It was off the grid, known only to a handful of people, Ghost included. A sanctuary when the weight of leading the club became too much.
"Smart move," Ghost agreed. "Bug has the whole place wired so we’ll know if you need help. How long you thinking?"
"Few hours at least. Need to clear her head, make sure she understands what's coming." I paused, watching Honey laugh again at something Wren said. "When this blows open, shit's gonna get real ugly real fast."
"And you need her ready."
It wasn't a question. We both knew what was coming. War with the Copperheads was inevitable now, and when it came, no one connected to the club would be safe. Especially not the president's old lady.
"Keep this quiet for now," I said, turning back to Ghost. "Don't need the brothers getting worked up until we have a plan. Keep it between you and Bug. Bug finds anything else, call me immediately. I'll have the sat phone."
"What about a security detail?"
I shook my head. "Not this time. More bodies means more attention. Just me and her. Bug can keep a watch and let you know if you need to send anyone to us.
Ghost's expression didn't change, but I knew what he was thinking. That I was letting my feelings for Honey overwhelm me. Maybe he was right. But the thought of Flowerz's body dumped like trash at our fence line, the thought that it could have been Honey, made my decision clear.
"I'll handle the security," I added, my tone brooking no argument. "Tell the brothers I'm running an errand if they ask. They don't need to know where."
"And the body?"
"Have Rivet and Reaper take care of it. Quiet, respectful.
Whatever she did, she was one of ours." I rolled my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension knotting my muscles.
"And Ghost? Make sure Bug's checking for bugs.
Listening devices. Cameras. If Flowerz fed them information, there's no telling what kind of surveillance they might have planted. "
Ghost nodded, then hesitated. "Jack... be careful. Your old lady's becoming a liability through no fault of her own."
I bristled at his words, even though logically I knew he was right.
"She's not a liability. She's..." I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
What was she to me? Something more than an old lady of convenience, that much I knew.
The rest I was still figuring out. "She's mine," I finished firmly.
"And that means I protect her. No matter what. "
Ghost accepted this with a slight nod. "I'll hold things down here. You do what you need to do. Oh, almost forgot.” He lifted his chin. “On the plus side, Castellano approved the arrangement. Said he admired our ability to adapt on the fly in a positive way. Earlier is always preferable to later. We’re in.” He grinned.
I clapped him on the shoulder, grateful for his unwavering loyalty, then started across the yard toward Honey and Wren. My boots crunched on the gravel, announcing my approach. Both women looked up, but my eyes were only for Honey. The smile she gave me, tentative but genuine, made my chest ache.
"Pack a bag," I told her when I reached the table. "Nothing fancy. Just the basics. We're going for a ride."
Honey's eyes widened slightly, questioning but not resistant. "Now?"
"Now," I confirmed. "Meet me by my bike in ten minutes."
As she hurried off to gather her things, Wren raised an eyebrow at me. "Something I need to know, Prez?"
"Just getting her out for some air," I lied smoothly. “Been cooped up too long."
Wren didn't look convinced, but she knew better than to press. "Take care of her, yeah? She's not as tough as she pretends to be."
As I watched Honey's retreating figure, I thought Honey might not be the only one pretending to be tough. When it came to Honey, I wasn’t nearly as hard as I needed to be.
* * *
The wind whipped past us as I pushed my Harley harder, constantly checking my mirrors for tails.
Honey clung to me from behind, her arms wrapped around my waist, face pressed against my back.
The contact sent heat coursing through me despite the urgency of our situation.
Every time we took a turn, her grip tightened, her thighs squeezing mine through our jeans.
We'd been riding for nearly thirty minutes, taking a indirect route to throw off anyone who might be watching. If we had a tail, I couldn’t spot it.
I finally slowed as we approached an industrial area on the outskirts of town, pulling into a narrow alley between two abandoned buildings.
The warehouse at the end of the alley looked as neglected as its neighbors.
Peeling paint, boarded windows, chain link fence topped with barbed wire just like all the others created the perfect camouflage.