24. Ghost
GHOST
I finish what I needed to do with time still to spare.
No one has interrupted me, and though I’m aware of a commotion happening outside of the hangar, I’ve been left alone.
I slide the blade back up my sleeve and peek out of the cockpit door.
The coast is clear, so I race down the steps, back across the hangar, sticking to the wall and the shadows, and take up my position once more.
Once I’m settled back in place, I focus on getting my breathing under control and quickly wipe the sweat from my forehead. Then I carefully pull the rope from my pocket and wrap it loosely around my wrists, which I place behind me once more.
If anyone comes my way in the next few minutes and looks at me, they’ll think I’ve been here the whole time. Dropping my head to my chest, I let it roll a little to one side as if I am only half conscious and close my eyes.
These fuckers are going to get the surprise of their lives, which should teach them not to mess with me or my club. I let visions of what could happen to them play through my mind, enjoying the carnage I hope my actions will precipitate.
Voices drift toward me, and I risk a quick glance. Black, heavy boots round the corner of the hangar, and I see they are carrying the woman in their arms. Dammit. The poor girl didn’t manage to get away. Her head is lolling over the arm of the man holding her, and I think she’s out cold.
Fuck. What the hell did they do to her?
Anger rises in me, and it takes all I have to quash it and let this play out. The club will come for me, and her best chance of survival is them getting here and taking these fuckers down. It won’t be heroic of me to try to do that myself, just stupid.
God, how long are they going to be?
“Don’t put her back in the plane,” one of the men says. “Not if she’s figured out how to get free of there. Lock her in the bathroom instead.”
I’ve already been in the bathroom, and though there’s a window, it’s small and high in the wall. Is she small enough to climb through? Would she risk another escape attempt?
“Make sure you tie her up properly, too,” the man says, clearly anticipating her next possible move. “And no one is to untie her this time, no matter what, or Hector will lose his shit.”
“Has he gotten rid of those inspectors?” the one carrying the woman asks. “They could cause us even more problems than the girl.”
“Yeah, I think so. That was a close call though. If either of them had spotted her running, this whole thing could have blown the fuck up.”
The man shrugs. “Hector would have just killed them.”
“Yeah, and then someone would have reported them missing and sent others to track them down. It’s an interference we don’t need.”
I wonder if the inspectors suspected not everything was right.
It’s possible they went away, but red flags had been waved.
If so, they might get in touch with other authorities to check things over.
I’m not sure if that would be a good or bad thing.
I don’t want Hector and his men to have a reason to put a bullet in my head and get the hell out of here.
The woman lets out a groan. At least she’s not dead.
“Better hurry,” the one not holding her says. “Sounds like she’s waking up.”
Ignoring me, they pace across the hangar toward the bathroom and vanish inside. I pray they don’t hurt her or touch her any more than they already have.
Across the other side of the hangar, Hector appears with several of his men trailing behind him like eager puppies. He approaches me, an annoying smile plastered across his face.
He claps his hands to get my attention. “Time to wake up, my friend. Your fellow bikers are on their way, or at least they will be soon.”
I raise my chin and do my best to look as if I am totally out of it, though my fingers curl upward toward the blade. I picture him coming closer, and me lashing out at him, bringing the razor-sharp edge across the breadth of his throat.
I’d be signing my death warrant, as his men would shoot me in an instant, but fuck, just seeing the shock in his eyes would almost be worth dying for.
He would never be able to hurt Camile or her family again—she would be free of him—but I’m a selfish motherfucker, because it would mean I’d never get to be with her either, and I can’t bear that.
I’ve discovered she is the one and only reason I want to keep living.
“I’m not stupid enough to believe they will stick to my terms,” he continues conversationally. “They will bring more men, but I am ready for them, and I doubt they will bring the girl either. But that would be a big mistake. Muy grande.”
I tense at that. The girl? Christ, he must mean Camile. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Surely, the guys wouldn’t bring Camile here?
Jack would never allow it. But then I remember Jack is hurt, and Camile has a way of getting what she wants.
I can practically hear the conversation happening in my head, how she’d blame herself for me being taken and think it was on her shoulders to make things right again.
Hector thinks she won’t come, but, unfortunately, I believe Hector is wrong.
He also doesn’t know his son is already dead. When that fact comes to light, this whole thing is going to get seriously ugly. And he wants Camile in the middle of all that?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The panic starts to well up, but I can’t let that happen.
I reassure myself that my fellow club members already know all this. They will plan and prepare for it. I have no idea how they’re going to pull off an exchange, but they’ll have come up with something.
I lift my head a little more. “Should I warn them that you have no intention of making this exchange?” My voice comes out as a croak, like I’ve forgotten how to use it.
Hector blinks at me, and I note he has surprisingly kind eyes, for a coldhearted sociopath, with pretty, long lashes.
“Who said anything about not making the exchange?”
“Call it a gut instinct.”
He purses his lips, the expression distorted because of his scar, and shrugs. “If your people behave themselves and the exchange happens without incident, I will let both you and them walk away unscathed.”
My stomach knots because I know that’s an impossibility.
“I do wish to talk to the Montez girl in person, though, try to make her see that my offer of her and her mother’s safety in return for the safehouse location is a good one. Cartel business should be kept between the men. Women do not need to be involved.”
“Then who is the woman currently being tied up in the bathroom?” I throw out there.
He sniffs. “She is not cartel. She is a nobody. I will return her to her family, if all goes to plan.”
Again, I experience that twist in my guts because this is not going to go to plan.
“So, she’s someone connected to the MC?”
Neurons fire in my brain, connecting the dots.
Hector had known exactly where we would be and when to do the ambush.
There had to be a leak, and my guess is the woman has something to do with it.
I don’t know her, though, so she’s not one of the club member’s ol’ ladies.
There is something familiar about her, so perhaps she’s someone’s family member I’ve not been introduced to.
How will the rest of the club react to the fact one of our men betrayed us?
I remember what Ace did to the Numbnuts and think it won’t be pretty, whatever the outcome.
“You do not need to worry your silly little head about such details. Focus on behaving yourself until your friends arrive.”
Hector walks away, the condescending bastard, but my mind is still on the woman. It’s possible the rest of the club doesn’t even know about her. In which case, they’re not going to realize I’m not the only one who needs rescuing.
My thoughts shift to another girl, one who means far more to me. Will Camile really come? I hope not. That would make things a whole lot more complicated, but perhaps that’s exactly what Hector wants.
Hector pauses a few feet away from me and jerks his chin at two of his men, then back to me.
“Watch over him,” he commands them. “Don't let the asshole try anything.”
I bite back my smirk. He's too late for that. I just hope they don't notice at any point that my hands aren't properly bound.
Hector leaves the hangar, but his men stand either side of me, glaring down. There's nothing more I can do except wait.
I don't intend to, but somehow, despite everything, I drift off, and jerk awake with a start. I realize I've lost track of time. Fucking hell, Ghost, get a grip.
The air in the hangar has changed, and a heightened sense of alertness ripples through the men.
In the distance, I'm sure I hear the familiar rumble of motorcycles.
My heart picks up its pace. They're here.
I try to steady my emotions by breathing in through my nose and slowly blowing out the breath.
Camile will be with them. As much as I want to see her, I don't want it to be like this when she will be in danger. I don't want her to witness me as a prisoner, either—beaten and pathetic. I know she understands how this feels more than she ever should, but that doesn't make it any better.
“It's party time,” I hear Hector whoop from somewhere outside. “Fiesta!”
The man is a total psycho. You’d think he’d be somber and worried, what with his son supposedly being returned to him in a dangerous exchange, but instead he’s acting like this.
I wonder exactly where he's planning for the exchange to take place. The airstrip is protected—chain-link fences that I caught a glimpse of on my way in, plus protective gates barring the entrance.
Will he expect everyone to come inside the hangar, where it's more sheltered, or will he take this outside?
Hector may feel more protected inside the hangar, but there are also more places to hide, and it's harder to keep watch for anyone who might be coming to ambush you.
He's bound to be suspicious that the MC will bring more men. I know I would be.
Plus, I doubt the club would walk into the hangar, especially with Camile. That would be strategically stupid. There could be men hidden inside the hangar waiting to get shots off.
It works best for Hector to make the exchange happen inside here, but best for the club to have it remain outside, and they can simply refuse to step forward any farther if they don’t want to.
I soon get my answer when one of the men grabs my bicep and yanks me to my feet. Panicked by the sudden movement, I grip the ropes around my wrists, holding them in place. If they fall, any advantage I might have created for myself will be wasted.
“Looks like your friends have arrived,” the man sneers.
“What about the woman?” I ask. “Shouldn't she come, too?”
He gives me a hard yank. “She's none of your goddamn business.”
They drag me outside. Night has fallen. The moon is a semicircle overhead, and the stars are bright and beautiful. It's gorgeous out here, but the dark also means it's going to be harder for anyone at a distance to see what's happening on the airstrip.
They drag me over to where Hector is waiting beside a couple of vehicles.
He already has two men with him, plus the two who brought me out, but no one else is in sight.
I assume there must be someone waiting for my friends.
But where is everyone else? My pulse picks up pace.
Yeah, they're planning a fucking ambush, or at least preparing for one.
Neither side trusts the other, and I highly suspect the MC has done exactly the same.
The roar of bikes had gone quiet for a moment, but now they sound again, louder than before.
A moment later, the headlights appear, and it's with mixed emotions that I recognize the bikes and the men on them. One of the compound’s black SUVs follows.
I only wish there were more of them—three bikes, three men.
I see Ace and Rook and Phoenix. And with her arms wrapped around Ace's waist is Camile.
No, no, no. She shouldn't fucking be here.