Chapter Three
Ghost
I slam the gavel down onto the table, calling this meeting to order.
“Does anyone have anything they want to talk about before I get into the main reason I called this meeting?” I ask the table full of men.
“I just want it to be on the record that I don’t think it’s fair the pool idea was vetoed,” Knox says. “I think having a pool on the club’s property would be great.”
“Shit wouldn’t get done,” I sigh. I’ve had this same conversation half a dozen times already.
“There’s a pool at both our place and King’s,” Taylor tells his man.
“Yeah, that’s not doing me any good here, now is it?” Knox sasses. “I won’t press the issue. I want it on the record that I am against the decision.”
A few snorts go around the room, knowing full well that Knox plans to press the issue until he gets what he wants.
“Parker, how business?”
Taylor and his club merged with us months back. The Obsidians went from eight to twelve. Seventeen if you add in the women and children.
It’s been a smooth transition, and sometimes, I find it hard to believe that we were ever a club without them.
Parker asked during one of our first meetings if he could build a motorcycle repair garage near the clubhouse, and it’s been a hit. Not only is he fixing bikes, but he has orders in for custom built ones.
Including many of ours.
“It’s great,” he smiles. “I did end up having to hire a couple more people to help with the repairs. I have six custom orders in and don’t want to fall behind.”
“Hayes taking care of the books?” I ask. Hayes was patched in as our club’s treasurer and is now responsible for the club’s books and Obsidian Oasis, the Cage, and Parker’s business, Obsidians MotoCare. Not to mention Taylor’s security company. They used to call themselves Sentinel Security, and now they’re called Obsidian Shield. Our name will be all over Harborbrook before long.
I was worried Hayes would be overwhelmed with everything, but that man is in his element.
“On top of it,” Hayes answers. “Every business is doing amazingly. I’ve taken care of every employee’s paycheck and transferred the agreed-upon portion of each business’s profits into the club account.”
“No issues?” I ask.
“Just with the Cage,” he answers. “And I know exactly how they’ve been doing it.”
“Before we get into that, I have an update on Colt,” I start. “When he got word that his Ma was sick, he left to take care of her. Unfortunately, she’s not doing well. He’s asked me for a permanent removal from the club.”
“No,” Knox whispers sadly.
“I told him that unless there’s a club he wants to transfer to, he will remain an Obsidian,” I explain. “He doesn’t have to come back, but I ensured he knew he had family here if he ever needed us.”
“It’s okay, Pup,” Taylor comforts Knox. “We’ll take some time off and go visit him.”
Knox’s eyes widen, letting me know he isn’t quite ready for that long trip.
“When the time is right,” Taylor adds.
“Allie’s birthday is in a few weeks,” Venom reminds us. “She wants to throw a community party with food trucks, clowns, games, bouncy houses, and singing.”
“Then,” Knox practically bounces in his seat. “She wants to take every bit of money made that evening and donate it to her mom’s shelter to help families in need.”
“Nine going on thirty,” Jax smiles. “That little girl is amazing.”
She really is. Allie hasn’t had it easy in her short life, but the fact that she wants to do something so selfless doesn’t surprise me.
“We’ll have to think of something more to do that’s just for her,” I add. “Venom, talk to your woman and see if she can come up with something.”
The room breaks out in chatter while everyone throws out ideas and I remain quiet for a little while to let them get it out of their systems.
“The Cage,” I say when the noise dies down. “As everyone knows, money is missing. A lot of fucking money. Knox and Hayes have been looking into it for months now.”
“Hayes has been looking into the Cage’s financial past and I’ve been digging up everything I can on the employees,” Knox announces. “I haven’t found any major red flags apart from one of the bartenders owing back pay on child support. But he has payments being pulled from his checks to get it caught up.”
“Maybe he wanted it paid in full,” Parker suggests. “More money for him when he gets paid.”
“I had that same thought, but there hasn’t been a significant amount of money being directed towards the backpay,” Knox explains. “And no one has substantially increased their weekly bank deposits.”
“However, we did finally figure out where the discrepancies are coming from,” Hayes adds. “It took us ages before we caught it. Someone has been doctoring the inventory orders.”
“Explain,” I demand. “I’m the one who places those orders.”
“Which is why we didn’t bother looking at them until recently,” Hayes says. “On three separate occasions, after you had already submitted your supply orders, someone modified them.”
Hayes slides a piece of paper down the table, and I snatch it up.
“This one in particular,” he begins. “Your original order was for a restock of different types of spirits and liqueurs as well as several different cocktail and mixer ingredients.”
“Typically, twenty grand for a restock,” I say absently as I look at the order form.
“Exactly,” Hayes says excitedly. “But this order alone was only five grand.”
“Someone changed your order after you had already paid,” Knox continues. “The company refunded the amount that was changed, and we were none the wiser.”
“The company you buy from has their employees deliver and put away your orders,” Hayes reminds me. “It’s part of their contract. You wouldn’t have noticed that you didn’t receive as much as you had ordered.”
“So, when it came time to check inventory your list doesn’t add up to what you have because of the unmarked changes.”
“Hold on,” I raise my hand to stop any more information. “If there was a change in my orders, wouldn’t the refund go straight to The Cage’s bank account? If anything, it sounds like I should have more money than I knew of.”
“I checked three times, Ghost,” Knox says. “You pay them with checks from your bank, but every time they’ve refunded you for changed items, they’ve sent the money to an offshore account in the Caymans.”
“Could it be someone from the supply company?” Reynolds asks.
“It’s unlikely,” Knox answers. “I’ve checked all of their employees, and it’s the same as the ones at The Cage. However, I did contact them and told them what was happening. From now on, any refunds will be made via check and handed directly to Ghost or Hayes.”
I rub my hand down my face in frustration.
“Maybe we should close down until we get shit figured out,” I say, feeling so fucking tired.
“I honestly don’t believe it’s any of your workers, Ghost,” Knox says. “Someone is messing with you using the good old internet. However, Emily and I have a plan.”
I walk over to Knox’s little fridge, which he keeps next to his desk, and grab a beer. He doesn’t really drink them but keeps them handy for me.
“Go on,” I say, retaking my seat.
“Okay, so the bar is closed tomorrow because of the fight, right?”
Fuck. I forgot all about there being a match tomorrow. I host not-so-legal cage fights beneath my club, which is why I called the place The Cage to begin with. The fights take place below in the Undercage.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Em and I are going to add layers of protection to your computers,” he says. “We’re going to make it unhackable, and you can place all the orders you want without anyone being able to change them.”
“Knox, I barely know how to use the damn thing as it is,” I sigh.
“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “Nothing will change on your end. I truly believe that someone is doing this through hacking. Em’s going to protect the system and I’m going to make a virus that will track anyone who so much as looks at your IP address.”
“What the hell is an IP address?” Jax asks.
“One more month,” I say. “If more money goes missing, I’m shutting the damn place down.”
“We’re going to figure this out, brother,” Steel says. “And when we do, you’re going to hire a manager and take a step back. You have too much shit on your shoulders.”
I don’t respond because he’s right. I’ve been meaning to hire a manager for years, but apparently, I have a hard head and want to do everything for myself.
“If you don’t hire one, I’ll tell Ma that you’re running yourself into the ground.”
I glare at Hawk.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I growl.
He simply relaxes back in his chair and smiles.
“In a freaking heartbeat, big brother,” he says cheerfully.
Ma may be in her sixties, but she’s not afraid to pull me by my ear in front of the whole damn club and ground my ass.
“I’ll hire a manager once everything gets figured out,” I say. “No need to bring Ma into it.”
Everyone laughs, and I slam the gavel to end this damn meeting.