Ghost (VDMC #11)

Prologue

Ghost shook his head, smiling to himself as one of the Honeys lowered herself between Bear’s spread legs.

The club’s road captain was a big guy, but a teddy bear at heart.

Women flocked to him like bees to honey, and Bear ate up the attention, both in public and in private.

Of all Ghost’s brothers, Bear was probably the most similar to him when it came to kinks, but Ghost had no desire to be watched as Bear did.

No, everything he and a woman did would be for their pleasure only.

His best friend and club brother, Ranger, was sitting at the clubhouse bar, watching the show. The two nodded to each other as Ghost passed. Ranger had had a late night at the bar they co-managed in town, Demon on the Rocks, and had come to the clubhouse this early at Ghost’s request.

Their other brothers constantly made fun of the bromance between Ranger and Ghost. It didn’t bother Ghost in the slightest. Ghost had finally found someone he could connect with.

After spending his entire adolescence in foster care, Ghost had joined the Navy and eventually became a SEAL.

He had his team, fellow sailors he would live and die for, but there was still a disconnect, a distance between him and them.

It wasn’t until he came to Mount Grove, Pennsylvania, and found his place among a motorcycle club, of all things, that Ghost truly started to understand the meaning of ‘family’.

And the fact that he’d also gotten a best friend out of the deal?

Yeah, the brothers could poke fun at them all day long. As Clark Gable had so elegantly put it, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Ghost headed toward one of the two offices under the stairs of the clubhouse.

Most of the brothers were at work. A few Honeys were about, either cleaning or with a brother.

It wasn’t even ten in the morning yet, so Ghost wasn’t surprised by how empty the clubhouse was.

Tonight would be a very different story.

He wrapped his knuckles on the door, and waited. When a terse “Enter!” came from within, Ghost opened the door. Steel, the club’s president and founder, sat behind his desk. Rather than paperwork or a computer in front of him, though, there was a partly built child’s bassinet.

Ghost leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “Something you need to tell us, Prez?”

Steel’s expression didn’t change. It rarely did.

He’d gotten his moniker in the Marines for having a ‘face like steel’.

For nearly the entirety of Ghost’s time as a prospect, he’d wondered if the man even could smile.

He was a hard man, clinical, and calculating—and it was only around his ol’ lady, Jenna, and his children, one of which was married, the other about to enter college, and the other in high school, that Steel showed any emotion.

Well, them and Scotty. But who could resist that lovable goof? The club’s VP, Lucky, had a teenage son with Down syndrome, who had won the heart of every hardened warrior who entered this club.

“Carter and Lucy announced last night that they’re trying to get pregnant. Jenna wants this built so we can give it to them as a Congratulations present as soon as they know for certain.” His gunmetal-gray eyes narrowed on the crib. “Damn thing has more little parts than an M13.”

Ghost chuckled slightly. “I can’t imagine, but then kids aren’t likely to be in my future.”

Steel turned his all-too-knowing gaze on Ghost. “One thing in this life that’s always certain is how uncertain it is. Now, why are you bothering my bassinet-building time?”

Ghost straightened off the doorframe. “There’s something I want to run by you. Bulldog was talking about increasing security, but wasn’t sure how and what tech was best to use. I want to bring on a prospect who would be able to help him with that.”

Steel raised an eyebrow. “You know the rules for bringing on a prospect. Why are you coming to me about it?”

“Well, this would be an unusual situation, and it might need to be voted on before I go get him.”

Steel put down the Allen wrench. “I’m listening.”

“I know this kid. Graduated high school at fourteen, went to MIT at fifteen. Pulled a prank on the Pentagon that landed him in the Navy rather than jail. He’s out now. And he’s wicked smart, Steel. Social cues are lacking, but he’s young.”

“How young?”

“Nineteen, or thereabouts.”

Steel frowned. “How is he out when he’s only nineteen?”

“That’s where this is an unusual situation. He’s got an Other Than Honorable discharge. I don’t know the full story, but I do know Caspian. He’s a good kid, Steel. And he’s out there on his own right now, with no guidance.”

Steel sat back in his chair for a long time, contemplating. “Bring him in. Once he’s here and got a roof over his head, we’ll assess his situation and vote.”

Ghost let out a low sigh of relief. “Thank you, Steel. I tracked him to the southside of D.C., but don’t have him specifically pinned down. Might take a few days.”

Steel nodded once, sitting forward and picking up the Allen wrench again. “Take Ranger with you. We’ll figure out the bar schedule without the two of you.”

That had been Ghost’s next question, wanting Ranger to go with him. As always, Steel was one step ahead. “Thank you. We’ll be back in a few days, a week tops.”

“Keep me posted.”

Ward Eight was not a place one should walk around at night without a care in the world.

Ranger and Ghost glanced at each other as they saw the lanky kid with his headphones on and hoodie up walk down the sidewalk.

He didn’t even notice them standing at the corner as he passed, his head bent over some gaming device in his hands.

Dogs barked and people shouted, yet this kid kept on walking.

He didn’t even pause when a car backfired or sirens went whirling past. Completely oblivious to his surroundings, he only stopped what he was doing long enough to open a creaking, black gate and head down a set of concrete steps to what looked to be the basement of a townhouse.

Ghost followed, Ranger right on his heels.

There was absolutely no situational awareness in the kid as the gate creaked again behind him. He just used a key to unlock the door and headed inside.

“Think he’s that blind or are we walking into a trap?” Ranger asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Could be either,” Ghost answered honestly.

Over the past three days of tracking down Caspian, Ghost had told Ranger all about the Navy Intelligence Cryptologic Technician he’d met when he returned to Norfolk, Virginia, as a civilian contractor about a year ago.

Ghost had been both impressed by the kid’s skillset and concerned at everything that was put on his shoulders at such a young age.

When he heard through the grapevine that Caspian had been court martialed, Ghost had pitied the kid.

It also begged the question about why Caspian had walked away from the United States Navy without so much as a slap on the wrist. Even the OTH discharge was minimal, and depending on the order, could still come with benefits.

If the scuttlebutt Ghost had heard was true, and the kid had disobeyed a direct order, it could have been a lot worse, including jail time and a dishonorable discharge.

The only thing he did not tell Ranger was about the OTH classification of Caspian’s discharge. That was Steel’s call if the club should know that detail.

Ghost opened the door behind Caspian. There was a dark, square landing in front of them, followed by more descending stairs to his left. He didn’t see Caspian below. Stepping inside, the basement felt cold, with a light draft coming up the stairs.

Ranger stepped into the room behind Ghost—just as Ghost walked face first into a solid wall where he thought the first step would be.

“Freeze, dirtbags!” came from behind him.

Rubbing his nose, Ghost turned. He did not understand how someone was behind him. Or what the hell he’d just walked into in front of him. What happened to the stairs? It had just been a landing with the door, two walls, and the staircase. What had he missed?

The door slammed closed behind Ranger of its own accord, making both Ghost and Ranger reach for their holstered weapons. They were immediately plunged into darkness. What the hell was going on, and why did it feel like the walls were moving in on them?

Ranger’s arm brushed Ghost’s just as the room was lit up by a single lightbulb.

A figure stood before them. Still dressed in his hoodie, which Ghost could now see said brING OUT YOUR DEAD in all capital letters, he now wore a white mask over his face.

It was either a cat or a fox, with a red sun above the right eye and both eyes looked like red bullseyes.

A single black line created the mouth, frowning at them. And in his hands—

Ranger stood up straighter. “Is that a Nerf gun?”

It certainly looked like it to Ghost. One of the giant automatic rifles he’d seen commercials for, and it was aimed right at Ghost’s chest.

“Are you here to take me back?”

The voice was muffled, but he recognized it. And clearly the kid remembered him if that was the question he asked. “No. I heard what happened and wanted to check on you. I have an offer for you, if you’re interested.”

He cocked the pump grip, loading a round. “I want nothing to do with Uncle Sam, not even as a civilian.”

Ghost nodded evenly. “That’s fine. That’s not why I’m here.

” He pointed to his cut. “See this?” Slowly, Ghost turned so the kid could see the back rockers too.

“Remember how I told you I was in a motorcycle club now that I’m a civilian.

That’s where I want to bring you.” He faced forward again.

“I want to offer you a home, Caspian. Brothers, family.”

“Haven’t had good luck with either of those categories,” came the muffled response. “What makes yours any better?”

Ranger was the one who responded. “Did either of them come after you to see how you were doing? Ghost has been tracking you for a while, ever since he heard about what happened to you.”

Caspian slowly lowered the gun. “My family is who did this to me.” It wasn’t just cynicism lacing the kid’s voice, but hurt and sorrow.

Ghost took a step forward. “I’m here to offer you a new family, kid. One that will never betray you and always have your back. A place you can call home and you never have to worry about receiving unlawful orders again.”

The muzzle of the gun lowered even more. Ghost couldn’t see the kid’s face behind that fox mask, but he hoped he was seriously contemplating the offer. “Can I bring my toys?”

Ranger blinked, completely taken by surprise by that question. Ghost, however, wasn’t. He recalled the action figures and collectible items all around Caspian’s cubicle in Norfolk.

“Sure, but you’re going to have to ditch the mask. They’re going to want to see your face.”

As Caspian rested the gun against the wall to remove the mask, Ranger added, “There’s not that many club kids around, but I’m sure one or two would want to play with you.”

The look Caspian gave Ranger was close to horrified. “I’d never let any kids play with my toys. They’re far too dangerous.” He clapped his hands twice. Lights flicked on all around them, startling Ranger and Ghost as the size of the room they were in came to them.

Plastic walls surrounding them raised up into the ceiling.

Somehow, they were further from the entry door by several more feet than Ghost had thought they were.

The lights illuminated a large space filled with a messy bed, multiple televisions, a computer setup with seven monitors, and several arcade games, like Dance, Dance, Revolution and Ms. Pacman.

One wall was entirely Nerf guns on a pegboard.

And was that an Ironman suit in the corner?

The chest looked open, like it had been worn recently.

How the hell had all this been in the room and neither Ghost nor Ranger had noticed or seen anything?

Picking up the weapon, he pushed his machine gun against Ranger’s chest, who needed to lift his arms to hold it or it would have dropped to the floor.

“Optical illusions,” Caspian threw over his shoulder as he walked away from them.

He was thinner than Ghost remembered, making him think that the kid either wasn’t eating or wasn’t eating right.

Based on the amount of money the items in this room cost, Ghost doubted it was a lack of funds that kept him from eating.

“I use dark lights, combined with spatial sensory distractions to keep your focus on what I want you to see.”

“The walls were screens?” Ranger asked, amazed.

“Yup.” The kid opened a closet and walked inside.

When he came out, he had a duffel bag that looked like the Mystery Machine slung over one shoulder and a rolling suitcase with the Looney Tunes Tasmanian Devil on the front.

“Ready!” he announced. “I’ll send a crew to pack up my stuff later.

I need to see how big of a room I have and what the electricity levels are before I can bring some of my toys.

Don’t want to blow a circuit on my first day with my new family.

” He smiled, rolling the suitcase forward.

“Oh, and don’t drop that,” he told Ranger, nodding to the toy machine gun Ranger still held to his chest. “I enhanced the spring time and added new bullets. They’re my own design,” he told Ghost proudly.

“They look like sponge tips but they’re actually mini grappling hooks with pointed claws.

I call them Tick Bullets, because once they get ahold of you, they rarely let go. ”

He kept walking towards the door, not even registering the fact that he was leaving Ranger and Ghost behind in his souped-up basement.

“Any chance we can stop for some gummy bears on the way? I’m starving!

Where are we going anyway?” Pausing as he opened the door, he added, “Oh, you don’t want to stand there.

The floor will electrocute you if I leave while you’re still in there. ”

Ghost and Ranger hurried to catch up.

Caspian turned to them when the door closed behind them. “So what was the answer on those gummy bears?”