Chapter Thirteen
Ghost
January 11, 2025, Diamond Creek, Nebraska.
Tensions were high in church. They had been since Cash lost his old lady and then lost himself inside a bottle of Jack. He wasn’t dealing well; we all knew it.
It was understandable. He lost not only the woman he loved, but the idea that she loved him above all else. Loyalty was imperative in an old lady, and Rachel didn’t choose Cash as her next of kin. She chose Ryder over her old man to make the final decisions for her life.
Some of the brothers thought it would have been too hard for Cash to make the decision to let her go, and judging by the way he handled it when Ryder signed off on donating her organs, maybe they were right.
But fuck that.
What Rachel did was a kick in the goddamn nuts.
It broke him.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved Rachel like the rest of the club. She was our first sister, and she meant a lot to everyone, but what she did was a betrayal.
She chose someone else.
The most important decision to be made, and she gave it to another man.
I would have understood had she chosen Beck. They were best friends. They grew up together. They were close.
Just not as close as Ryder and Rachel.
Ryder insisted that their relationship was platonic. They were siblings. Not by blood, but by choice. When Blade died and Beck moved away, they only had each other.
It made sense. No one understood chosen family more than a fucking biker who had no one until he joined an MC.
But it just fucking sucked.
My mind went to Lyssa. She made me think about taking on an old lady. She was so fucking perfect. But like I said, loyalty was imperative, and she fucking ran.
Here I was almost two months later, and I still couldn’t get her out from under my skin. I had lost interest in the club girls. Tiffany and Jade were great. Together, they were fucking fantastic.
But I didn’t want them.
I had no idea who the woman was, where she lived, or how to find her. I’d even broken down and asked Nav for help, but the seedy fucking bar had no cameras. Without a picture, he couldn’t run facial recognition.
She was gone forever.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I realized I had to let her go. I couldn’t keep dwelling on a woman I would never see again.
“Ok, Gunner, you’re up.”
We all focused our attention on Gunner.
As SAA, he took it upon himself to make sure everyone was good. He might be a cranky son of a bitch, but he took his role seriously.
“I met a woman.”
Staring at my brother, I didn’t know where the fuck he was going with his statement. We didn’t just announce when we met a woman. Good God, if we did, we’d never get anything done. Sure, we talked about the women we fucked. But if church consisted of us telling each other every time we fucked someone, we’d never leave the goddamn room.
“Shit.”
“Batten down the hatches.”
“Better prepare Dec, King. Shit’s about to hit the fan again.”
“Shut the fuck up, all of you. She isn’t for me. She’s for you fuckers,” Gunner announced.
“I have a woman,” Blade called out.
“Me too!” Jack cried.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” King barked. He turned to Gunner with a scowl of annoyance. “What the fuck is she for?”
“She’s a therapist.”
King’s mouth dropped open, and he sat back in his chair. At first, no one said a word, and then all at once the shouting began.
“I don’t need a fucking shrink.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“We handle our shit.”
“I’m not talking about my fucking feelings.”
“Hold on. Gunner, are you trying to fuck this woman? Is she holding out? Why the fuck do you think we need therapy?” I asked. It was the only thing that made any fucking sense.
Cash glared at him as he leaned forward with his arms on the table.
“That fucking woman from the bar?” he snarled.
“What woman?” King asked.
Cash closed his mouth and sat back.
Ok, this was different. If Cash had fucked a therapist, she wouldn’t be much help to him. Pretty sure there were rules about that shit.
“The night Tank and Ben brought Cash home from the bar, he put his hands on a woman—”
“I grabbed her wrist. I didn’t put my fucking hands on her.”
King turned to look at his VP. “Why the fuck did you grab her wrist?”
“She was touching me. Situation was no different from when the girls touch us here and we’re not feeling it. I removed her hand from my arm.”
“Then held it too tight until I made you let go. You left a red mark behind,” Gunner accused.
Cash and Gunner glared at each other, and I was thankful they sat on opposite sides of the table.
“Why were you at the bar and not here?” Blade asked.
Cash closed his eyes and tipped his head back.
“Because he doesn’t want us cutting him off.”
“Why didn’t Grace cut him off?” Jack asked.
“Because King told her if she ever cut off a brother, she would lose her job,” Jingles explained.
“That is not what I fucking said.”
We all looked at him.
“Fine, I may have alluded to that.”
Turning back to Cash, Gunner pressed, “You need help, brother. It’s my job to make sure you get it.” Then he turned to King. “I suggest we all talk to her. Three sessions, club girls and old ladies too.”
“Why?” King asked, his eyes narrowed on Gunner’s face.
I had to admit, this was so far out of the fucking blue there had to be more to it.
“You have to admit everyone has shit to deal with.”
“We can deal with our shit without a fucking therapist. We don’t talk outside the club.”
King slammed the gavel down and that was the end of it.
January 14, 2025
The wind blew hard, causing my truck to wobble from side to side. We all had a vehicle other than our bikes. We had to, living in Nebraska. Unlike Little Rock, where we could ride all fucking year, winters in Nebraska brought snow, and worse, ice.
Driving a vehicle with four wheels over black ice—something I had never heard of until we moved to the goddamn North Pole—was scary enough. Two wheels would guarantee I lost control.
Not to mention I would freeze my dick off from the wind.
Jingles and I were on our way to the motel on the edge of town. Warren Kelley was a son-of-a-bitch shady business owner and fired the kid that worked for him when he refunded the money Maureen had spent to book a room in the run-down rat trap.
The problem was, when she booked the room, the pictures online didn’t show an accurate assessment of the reality of what she would find when she came to town.
Joey was now prospecting for the club. He was a good kid, doing his best as he tried to raise his baby sister in spite of his drunk mother. Gunner sponsored him without hesitation. We all knew he would, seeing as he’d been in a similar situation when he approached Steele in Arkansas. The difference was, Joey’s baby sister would be safe hanging around the clubhouse here.
I never met Gunner’s baby sister, Mellie. He shipped her off to college just before I prospected. The rumor was she came to the clubhouse looking for him and one of the brothers pinned her in the corner. Gunner beat the shit out of him and almost lost his patch because of it.
If anyone bothered to ask me, the asshole deserved what he got. Not just for assaulting the girl, but no one in their right mind would touch Gunner’s sister. We all knew the story about how he beat a man to death at fifteen because he found him tugging his dick over her while she slept.
Anyone would have to be one crazy motherfucker to take a chance on going up against Gunner when his sister was involved.
Either that or they had a death wish.
Pulling into the parking lot, the first thing I noticed was the girl sitting at the desk. She looked to be about eighteen or nineteen. At least I hoped she was. Kelley was known for hiring kids who he could take advantage of.
We stepped into the office and when she looked up and saw the cut, her eyes widened in fear.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. We ain’t here to cause you any harm. Just looking for Mr. Kelley,” I explained, hoping to calm her down.
She swallowed, and I swore the way her throat moved slowly up and down; anyone would think she’d eaten a baseball for dinner without chewing. The fear radiated off her like a tsunami.
“Sweetheart, how old are you?” Jingles asked, leaning on the counter, giving her his best panty dropping smile. The one that accentuated his fucking dimples.
Women loved those goddamn things. I swear the man could look like a bridge troll and women would still fall at his feet the moment they caught sight of them.
This girl wasn’t any different.
She blushed, her cheeks turning bright red as she answered quietly, “Nineteen.”
He pulled a fucking business card from his cut and slid it across the counter. My eyes rolled so far back in my head I thought I might tip over.
“Sweetheart, hold onto this card. If Mr. Kelley does anything you aren’t comfortable with, I want you to call me, ok?”
The girl nodded but didn’t say a word. She just stared at Jingles.
“Darlin’.” My elbow connected with his rib to wipe those fucking dimples from his face. They were like a beacon calling out to women everywhere. “Do you know where we can find Mr. Kelley?” I asked, pulling her focus away from Jingles.
“Um, no. He doesn’t come here much. Unless we have a problem.”
Jingles frowned, looking out the window on the door.
“What kind of problems do you have here?”
Her eyes dropped to the desk, and she hesitated. “Uh, nothing really. Some of the guys that stay here can get a little rowdy is all.”
“Define rowdy,” Jingles growled. His face turned hard, and I elbowed him again. Thankfully, the girl didn’t see him with her eyes still downcast. We didn’t need her getting scared and clamming up.
“They just get a little loud. Some of the women they bring with them don’t always look like they want to be here.”
Fuck, I knew what that meant.
Some fucking asshole had been making the rounds, drugging women in bars and taking them somewhere to rape them. I looked around, wondering if this was where he was bringing them.
“Do these cameras work?” I asked, pointing at the corner of the room.
“The ones in here do. Not the ones outside.”
I was surprised with how forthcoming the girl was with the information. It had me wondering how much she had seen.
“You call the sheriff?”
She shook her head, dropping her eyes again. “Mr. Kelley said to call him when there was a problem and he would take care of it.”
“Does he?”
“No. He never even shows up.”
Jingles rapped his knuckles on the counter and told her, “Keep that card handy. Next time someone gets a little rowdy , you call me. The club will take care of it.”
She nodded, but something told me she wouldn’t be calling. Maybe we needed to do more than have a talk with Kelley. If the club bought the motel, we could clean it up and get it running the way it should be.
Adding to the coffers.
And cleaning up the town.
We walked back to my truck. Pulling out of the parking lot, we headed back to the clubhouse, and I thought about the possibilities the motel could provide. If King wasn’t interested, maybe I would persuade Kelley to sell it to me anyway.
I could use something to take my mind off the dark-haired siren that had burrowed herself deep into my soul.