Chapter 9
NINE
GHOST
“So you just expect me to sit around on my ass waiting for you biker boys to handle business?” she says, arms folded tight across her chest. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Someone wrecked my bar. I want a piece of this prick.”
“My bar,” Wayne grouches.
She waves him off and stares at all of us.
Blade lets out a low chuckle from where he’s leaning against the wall. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “She’d fit right in with the rest of ’em.”
Rae shoots him a look. “Whatever that means…”
Before the conversation can spiral any further, I step forward and grab her arm. Not rough, but firm enough she knows I’m serious. “Come here,” I say.
She starts to protest, but I’m already steering her down the hallway toward the back door. The busted frame splinters under the morning light, but I keep going until we’re far enough away from the others that they can’t hear us.
She pulls her arm free and turns to face me.
“I need you to let me handle this,” I say.
She snorts immediately. “Like you handled it a few nights ago?”
My eyes narrow.
She sees it and lifts both hands in surrender. “Sorry,” she says quickly. “Sorry. I’m feeling a little spicy right now.”
“That much is obvious.”
She crosses her arms again, the anger still rolling off her in waves.
“Someone wrecked the bar,” she says. “Forgive me if I’m not in a calm, rational mood about it.”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck and look down the hallway for a second, giving myself a moment before I answer. Then I look back at her. “This is what I do, Rae,” I say quietly. “Problems like this? I’m the one who makes them go away.”
Her eyes search my face like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious.
“I won’t let Voss get to you,” I add. “I promise you that.”
She studies me for another second before shifting her weight. “That’s very heroic,” she says. “But you should probably know something.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not very good at sitting quietly while someone else handles my problems.”
A breath leaves me before I can stop it. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m starting to figure that out.”
She shifts her weight, still watching me like she’s deciding whether to argue more or not. For a second neither of us says anything.
The hallway is quiet compared to the front of the bar. I can hear the guys talking in low voices, Wayne moving things around behind the counter.
Rae finally breaks the silence. “So,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “are you done lecturing me now or was there a second part to that speech?”
I shake my head once. “Yeah,” I say. “There is.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “What?”
“I need your number.”
That catches her off guard. “…My number.”
“So I can reach you,” I say. “If something comes up. If we learn something about Voss. Or if you decide to go chasing trouble and I have to track you down before you do something stupid.”
Her mouth curves slowly. “Wow,” she says. “You really know how to charm a girl.”
“That wasn’t charm.”
She snorts. “Really? I didn’t notice, big guy.” She leans one shoulder against the wall and pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans.
I hold out my hand for her phone. “Give me the damn phone, Rae.”
“Oh my God,” she says, digging it out of her back pocket. “You’re so grumpy,” she says.
I hand mine over and take hers. We both start typing. She’s fast, thumbs moving across the screen like she’s done this a thousand times. I punch my number into her contacts and add my name. When we finish, we hand the phones back.
“So let me get this straight,” she says, tilting her head as she studies me. “You pull me into a hallway, tell me I’m not allowed to help handle the situation, and then immediately ask for my number.”
I stare at her. “When you say it like that.”
“It sounds like a terrible pickup line,” she finishes.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Uh-huh.”
She folds her arms and watches me like she’s piecing something together.
“So what you’re saying,” she continues slowly, “is you think I’m sexy and can’t stop thinking about my rocking bod.”
I blink at her. “That’s the conclusion you jumped to.”
She shrugs. “Just checking.”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck. “You do realize you’re making this conversation weird on purpose.”
She smiles a little wider. “Maybe a little.” She pushes away from the wall and slides her phone back into her pocket. “You know I’m going to be bugging the fuck out of you now, right?” she adds casually.
“That’s why I asked for your number,” I tell her.
Her brows lift slightly. “You want me to bug you?”
“I want to know where you are,” I say. “Preferably before you do something reckless.”
She studies me for a second. Then she smiles again, that same troublemaker smile. “Well,” she says, “good luck with that.”
She pushes off the wall and heads back toward the bar without another word, like the conversation is finished and she’s already moved on to the next thing. I stay where I am for a second, watching her go.
She knows I’m looking.
I can tell by the way she walks.
Her stride slows just enough to be noticeable, hips swaying with a little more intention than necessary. Not exaggerated, just enough that it’s impossible to miss.
She throws a quick glance over her shoulder halfway down the hall, catches me still standing there, and the corner of her mouth lifts like she just proved a point.
I shake my head once and push away from the wall, following her back toward the bar before she decides to start another argument with the rest of the guys.
By the time I step back into the room, Rae has already rejoined the group like nothing happened, leaning against the counter while Mason and Dagger talk with Wayne about the damage.
But now every few seconds her eyes flick toward me. And every time they do, that same smug little smile shows up again. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
Mason’s voice cuts through the room while I’m still watching Rae lean against the bar like nothing happened.
“Alright,” he says, clapping a hand once. “We’ve seen enough.”
The movement pulls my attention back to the room.
Tank straightens away from the window boards. Blade pushes off the wall, toothpick shifting to the other side of his mouth. Riot pockets his phone after one last look at the busted doorframe.
Mason looks at Wayne. “Get the place fixed up. Doors, windows, whatever you need.”
Wayne nods. “Already got a guy coming this afternoon.”
“Good.”
Mason glances around the bar one more time, his jaw set tight like he’s memorizing every piece of damage. “We’ll deal with Voss.”
The room goes quiet for a second. Wayne exhales slowly. “Appreciate it.”
Rae leans back against the counter beside him, arms folded again. “Yeah,” she says. “Please feel free to ruin that guy’s day.”
Blade snorts. Mason gives her a long look, somewhere between amused and tired. “Working on it.”
Then he turns toward the door. “Mount up.”
Chairs scrape lightly across the floor as the guys move for the exit. Boots thud across the wood. The energy in the room shifts again, the tension that filled the place when we walked in easing just enough now that a plan is in motion.
I hang back a second longer than the rest. Partly because I want to make sure Wayne’s good. Mostly because Rae’s still watching me.
She pushes off the bar when the others start filing out. “So that’s it?” she asks. “You guys ride off dramatically and handle business?”
“Something like that,” I tell her.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You’re going to keep me in the loop, right?”
“I’ve got your number now,” I say. “Remember?”
That crooked smile shows up again. “Right.”
Blade pauses near the door and glances back at me. “You coming or you moving in here?”
“Hold your horses,” I mutter.
He smirks and steps outside with the others. The rumble of engines starts building almost immediately. I look back at Rae one more time. “Stay out of trouble.”
She rolls her eyes. “No promises.”
“Rae.”
She lifts both hands like she’s surrendering. “Fine. I’ll try not to start any biker wars while you’re gone.”
“Appreciate that.”
I head for the door before she can add anything else.
Mason swings onto his bike first. Dagger follows. Riot pulls his helmet on while Tank kicks his engine over. Blade’s already mounted up, one boot planted on the pavement while his bike idles.
I climb onto mine and start the engine. The vibration rolls through the frame and into my hands, familiar and steady.
Mason looks down the line of bikes. “Jackson.”
Engines growl louder as everyone settles in.
I glance back toward the bar one last time. Rae’s standing in the doorway now, one shoulder against the frame, watching all of us like we’re some kind of traveling circus. She catches me looking. That smug little smile appears again.
I shake my head once and pull my helmet on.
Then Mason rolls out of the lot and the rest of us follow, engines roaring as we head back toward Jackson and the clubhouse.
By the time the clubhouse comes into view, the sky’s starting to shift toward late afternoon. The Iron Reapers compound sits just outside town, gravel lot wide enough for trucks, bikes, and whatever else the club drags in and out on any given day.
Mason rolls in first.
The rest of us follow, engines cutting one by one until the lot settles into silence again.
Boots hit gravel as everyone dismounts. Riot pulls his helmet off and runs a hand through his hair. Tank stretches his shoulders like he’s already gearing up for a fight.
Nobody says much as we head inside.
The clubhouse smells like coffee, motor oil, and old leather. Familiar. Solid. The kind of place where plans get made and problems get solved.
Mason doesn’t waste time.
“Church,” he says.
Chairs scrape across the floor as we gather around the long table. Dagger drops into a seat on Mason’s right. Tank leans back in his chair across from him, arms folded.
Blade takes a spot near the end of the table, toothpick still lodged between his teeth.
I stay standing for a second before pulling out a chair.
Mason rests both hands on the table and looks around at all of us.
“Alright,” he says. “Let’s talk about Voss.”
The name hangs in the room for a second.
Riot sets his phone on the table and slides it toward Mason.
“I’ve been digging,” he says. “He’s been running this racket for at least six months. Maybe longer. Small towns mostly. Bars, auto shops, liquor stores. Anywhere that moves cash and doesn’t have the muscle to push back.”
Tank’s jaw tightens. “How many places?”
“That’s the problem,” Riot says. “Hard to say right now. Most of them keep quiet. Pay him and move on.”
Mason nods once.
“Which means we start finding out.”
He looks at Dagger first.
“I want feelers out everywhere,” he says. “Talk to the other clubs. Local businesses. Anyone who might’ve heard something. If somebody’s paying this guy, we need to know.”
Dagger nods. “I’ll start making calls.”
Mason shifts his gaze to Tank.
“You help him. Bars, shops, garages. Anywhere Voss might’ve leaned on somebody.”
Tank grins slightly.
“People talk when you ask the right way.”
“That’s the idea,” Mason says.
He leans back in his chair, thinking for a second.
“We need the full picture before we move,” he continues. “Every business he’s touched. Every guy working for him. Every place he’s operating out of.”
Blade taps the end of his toothpick against the table.
“You think he’s working alone?”
“No,” Mason says immediately. “Nobody runs something like this solo.”
Riot nods toward his phone.
“I’ve got a couple names tied to him already. Nothing solid yet, but there’s a pattern.”
“Good,” Mason says. “Keep digging.”
The room goes quiet again while everyone processes it.
Finally Mason looks at me.
“Ghost.”
“Yeah.”
“You keep eyes on Harlan.”
I nod.
“Already planning to.”
Blade glances over at me, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Funny how that works.”
I ignore him.
Mason’s gaze moves between all of us again. “Voss thinks small towns are easy targets,” he says. “People too scared to fight back.”
Tank cracks his knuckles. “Sounds like he picked the wrong territory.”
Mason nods once. “Exactly.”
His voice drops a notch, calm but deadly.
“Let’s find out how big this operation really is.”
Then we’ll shut it down.