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CHAPTER 19

GHOST

We’ll finally get to live together like we were supposed to.

“Who the fuck do you work for?”

Poker and I have been in the Nightmare Room with Monty, the latest dealer slinging Soulless Kings shit laced with Fentanyl, for three hours. The guy’s clinging to life, his breathing shallow and his heartbeat slow as molasses. He’s close to giving up his employer, so fucking close. Hell, he’s almost spilled the beans a few times already.

Monty tries to shake his head, and whimpers in pain at the movement. “He’ll kill me.”

“He won’t get the chance,” I snarl, holding the lit torch to the bottom of his feet. It’s easy to do with him dangling from chains attached to the ceiling.

Monty screams, and the concrete space swallows up the sound. There’s not a soul on the planet other than Poker and me who can hear him now.

Poker reaches into his pocket and pulls out the baggie we confiscated from Monty when we brought him here. The little pills are marked with the Soulless King brand, but they’re a light green when ours are white. And we don’t aim to kill anyone. These little green tablets are designed with that specific purpose in mind.

“Give us a name, and we can make this a little less painful for you,” my brother says, holding the baggie in front of Monty’s face and shrugging. “Yeah, you’ll still die, but you’ll go out on a high.”

A total of forty-three people have died since some jackass put these pills on the streets, forty-three people who might not lead the best life or make the best choices. That doesn’t mean they deserved to die, especially when their addiction is punishment enough for their decisions.

Of those forty-three, eleven have been minors. Soulless Kings aren’t saints by any means, but our dealers know better than to sell to kids. Doing so is a one-way ticket to meet their maker.

When Monty says nothing, I glance at Poker. “Bro, he’s not gonna give it up. Let’s end this and move on.”

Poker hesitates, as I knew he would, and stares at Monty. He’s giving the guy a chance to change his mind, a few moments to let the fear of a painful death override his fear of his boss. Like Poker said, we’re still gonna end his miserable life, of that he has no choice, but he can choose how it happens… kinda.

“Okay,” Poker finally says as he moves to the wall and grabs the scythe from its perch. “I’ll gut him, and you shove the torch up his ass.”

Monty’s eyes widen as far as the swelling allows, which admittedly isn’t much, and he thrashes against the chains. “No. No, wait. Just… w-wait.”

“We’re done waiting,” I snarl, walking around to his back.

“I-I’ll talk, okay?” he cries. “I’ll g-give you what y-you want.”

I turn the torch off and return to his front. “You’ve got two seconds or?—”

“Miguel Cruz,” he blurts, apparently not needing to be reminded of what more we can do to him. “His n-name is M-Miguel Cruz.”

“Now was that so hard?” Poker states, returning the scythe to its rightful place on the wall.

“J-just do it,” Monty begs. “K-kill me and get it o-over with.”

“As you wish,” I say, taking the three green pills Poker hands me. I shove them into Monty’s mouth and cringe when his saliva coats my fingers. “It won’t be long.”

Monty greedily swallows the tablets, wanting death more than he wants to draw another breath. I don’t blame him. The wounds inflicted upon him today would have eventually taken him, and if they didn’t, Miguel Cruz certainly would.

My brother and I leave the room, letting the douchebag die alone. We’ll send a prospect to clean up the mess in a few hours. As we walk through the hall, I pull out my cell to turn it back on.

“That was fun,” Poker says nonchalantly, a wicked grin on his face.

“And fruitful,” I remind him. “Crow’s gonna be happy, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of this Miguel Cruz guy?”

“No. I’m guessing he’s tied to the cartel or something.”

“Probably.” Poker rubs his hands together. “Let’s go fill in Pres, and then we?—”

“Fuck!” I shout, stopping in my tracks.

“What?” he asks, turning around to face me.

I hold up my cell. “Ember’s called four times and texted me that there’s a problem,” I explain as I tap the screen to return her call. She answers on the first ring as if she was sitting there, waiting for me to call. “What’s wrong?” I growl, putting the call on speaker.

“Where have you been?” she demands, but there’s more fear in her tone than anger.

“I’m sorry, Em. I had my phone off while Poker and I handled something.”

“Someone came to the house, Ghost,” she says. “They left a note, and it, well, it scared me. I’m sure I’m overreacting, but I thought you should know.”

“I’m on my way.” I glance at Poker, and he nods, somehow knowing what I need without me asking. “Poker’s gonna come with me. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Okay. Um, thanks, Ghost.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she has nothing to thank me for. I’ll always come when she needs me. Always. But I don’t say that. I can’t say that. I won’t say that.

“Keep the doors locked, and I’ll see you soon.”

After she agrees, I disconnect the call and take the steps up to the main level of the clubhouse two at a time. Poker follows, calling Crow to fill him in so we don’t have to stop and chat before leaving. By the time we reach our Harleys outside, we’re both ready for whatever awaits us at my mom’s house.

The ride seems to take twice as long as usual, and only when we pull into the driveway does my heart no longer feel like it’s going to pound out of my chest. I unlock the front door and burst inside, Poker hot on my heels. When I spot my mom sitting on the couch, knitting and watching something on TV, I skid to a halt.

“Parker West,” she chides. “What are you doing running in here like your pants are on fire?”

Poker tries and fails to stifle a laugh, and I glare at him before responding. “I,uh, wanted to?—”

“I asked him to come, Mrs. West,” Ember says as she enters the living room. “You were wondering why he hadn’t been by so I thought you might like to see him.”

Mom seems to consider that for a moment. “It’s a little late for a visit, sweetheart,” she tells me. “I wish you’d have come earlier. I was about to go to bed.”

“Sorry, Mom,” I say. “I couldn’t get here any earlier.”

“We were helping out at the clinic,” Poker lies. “Jackyl was offering flu shots tonight and needed our assistance with crowd control.”

Mom laughs lightly. “I’m so proud of you boys, always doing what you can to help out the community.”

“Thank you, Mrs. West,” Poker says. “Hey, would you mind if I watch the end of this show with you? It’s been so long since I’ve been able to just sit with a pretty lady.”

Mom blushes. “Oh, stop it.”

Ember smothers a smile. “I’m going to go fix the guys a plate of spaghetti,” she says to my mom. “I’m sure they’re both hungry.”

“I’ll help,” I say, crossing the room toward her.

“Okay, dear,” Mom says, her attention on Poker and the TV.

“Show me the note,” I demand the moment Ember and I are out of earshot of the others.

She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper to hand me. I open it, read the words, and fury slithers beneath my skin. Unsigned, it would be easy for my mind to race with possibilities about the sender, but only one name comes to mind after what Poker and I learned: Miguel Cruz.

“Who left this?” I ask her, hoping like hell I’m wrong.

Ember shrugs. “I have no clue. There was a knock on the door while we were eating dinner, but by the time I answered it, no one was there. That was taped to the door.”

I snap a picture of the note and send it to Crow, giving him a heads-up on what I’m dealing with. He quickly responds.

Crow: What the fuck?

Me: My thoughts exactly. I’m bringing Mom and Em back to the clubhouse

Crow: I’ll have two of the rooms made up for them

Me: Thanks, bro

I return my attention back to Ember, and she’s fidgeting with her hands. “I want you to pack a bag for you and one for Mom. I think it’s best if you both stay at the clubhouse for a while.”

She shakes her head. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I bark. “It’s not safe here.”

“You don’t even know who left that,” she argues. “Besides, switching up your mom’s routine, forcing her to go somewhere that isn’t familiar, would be detrimental for her. It wouldn’t be fair and could very likely send her on a downward spiral.”

Shit!

“Okay.” I shove a hand through my hair and begin to pace. “You’re right. I won’t do that to her. But I can’t leave you two here alone, not now.”

“Why not? I’m a big girl, Ghost. I can keep us safe.”

I bark out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Em, I have no doubt of your ability to protect yourself… against normal assholes. But I have a bad feeling about this. This is about the club, and that means it’s no normal asshole we’re dealing with.”

“Well, we can’t go to the clubhouse, so I suggest you come up with another plan.”

“Why don’t you stay here, Ghost?” I whirl around at Poker’s voice and arch a brow. “Your mom dozed off. Figured I’m more useful in here than watching her sleep.”

“Right. Nosy bastard,” I mutter.

“Look, I saw the note. Crow already sent it out to all of us, wanting to give us a heads up.” Poker moves to sit at the table. “It makes sense that you would stay here. You can keep an eye on them and handle any threats that might pop up. It’s not like you need to be at the clubhouse twenty-four-seven.”

“True,” I agree. “Think Crow will go for it?”

He shrugs. “Don’t see why not.”

“Wait a minute,” Ember says, moving to the fridge to pull out leftovers. “You’re seriously gonna move back home, all because of some stupid note?”

“You did say that it scared you,” I remind her.

“Well, yeah, I did, but…” She gnaws on her lower lip while she prepares a plate of spaghetti for Poker and me.

“But nothing,” I insist when she doesn’t finish her thought. “I’ll move back in here until I know for sure that Mom and you aren’t in any danger. Hopefully, it’ll only be for a few days.”

“And if it’s not?” she asks.

I grin. “Then I guess we’ll finally get to live together like we were supposed to.”