Page 3 of The Biker’s Secret Claim (Chaos Brothers MC #2)

Ghost

When I get back to the clubhouse, Tennessee is on the front deck grilling in jeans and a T-shirt, a beer in his hand. I haven’t seen much of him lately, so it’ll be a good opportunity to catch up.

“How the hell did you ride back with all that shit?” He nods toward the record player.

“Bungee cord to the back seat. How the hell’d you think?”

He shakes his head and grins as he lifts the lid and flips a few steaks. “Made enough for everybody. You hungry?”

“Starved.” I grab a beer from the cooler and settle down in the chair next to him on the porch. It’s a gorgeous day out. Sun and heat, but there’s a nice breeze that keeps it from ever feeling too warm outside. “Where you been lately, man?”

“In the garage, doing work, like you should be.” Not unlike myself, Tennessee is a man of few words.

He’s also very dedicated to getting things finished in a timely manner.

Once those things are done, he’s much more pleasant to be around.

Though as our club doc, he’s the voice of reason under most circumstances, which is both annoying and needed.

“You finally back off that hit you were circling?”

I don’t even like the word hit anymore. Something about it stirs up a hunger, like a dog hearing the crinkle of a treat bag, tail already twitching.

It’s not that I enjoy murder, I don’t. I enjoy freeing the world of evil people. People who have no business breathing. People whose existence tilts everything off balance. Turns out, there are a lot of them.

“The guy was on the up. I think the wife was paranoid or something.”

“And you’re done taking jobs like this, right? If Duke comes back and finds out you’re fucking around with all this, he’ll extradite you.”

Duke is our unhinged Prez, who’s taken sabbatical but told none of us how long he’ll be gone. He says he went back to Texas to clean up some loose strings, but who knows with that guy? He’s not acting right lately.

“I’ll worry about that when it happens. I can’t lie low, man. I don’t know how. I’ve got two more jobs on the horizon. I need to go check them out after I drop this shit off.”

For a second, I think about the girl at the record store. The one with the dark brown hair and flecks of yellow in her eyes. She was hiding something, but I can’t put my finger on what it is, though I get the feeling it’s about the banker boyfriend. It’s always the boyfriend.

“Dude,” Tennessee groans, “you’re fucking up. Don’t let your demons get in the way of making a real life. You were messed up for weeks after the last hit. You should talk to someone.”

“And what? Lay down on the big, long therapy couch and unload my deep, sick, perverted desire to throw every asshole off the face of the planet?”

“I was thinking you could talk about how you got that scar on your neck.”

I run my hand over the mark just beneath my chin, pushing away thoughts of that night.

“No,” I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, “I don’t want to talk about it.

It’s the past, and the past is over. Besides, a doctor would toss me on a bunch of meds I don’t need, and I’ll sit comatose in the corner of a room for eternity. Lord knows that’s no way to live.”

“I’m not sure it’s much different from the way we were living.

All that death takes its toll.” He sighs as he says, “You’re not alone.

We were all feeling it, and that’s why we slowed down.

No one can push that hard for that long and not start making mistakes, and those mistakes get the wrong people killed. ”

“I hear ya, man.” I stand from the rocker and lean against the front porch, staring out at the mountain range that sprawls out in front of the cabin.

The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth.

I know there’s truth to what he says, but I don’t know how to stop.

Violence has been pressing against my ribs from the inside out since the day I was born.

What does a man do when all he’s ever been good at is fighting?

I tap the glass bottle against the railing and stare out into the abyss, thinking over every life decision I’ve ever made, when all at once the girl from the record store drifts back into my mind.

Her face seeps in first, unbidden. A quiet presence, slipping through the cracks before I even realize it's there.

She doesn’t belong in my world. She’s far too fucking sweet and I don’t believe for a second that she listens to War Pigs.

That said, there was something off about her, something that stuck with me.

That doesn’t happen often. Maybe I should go back into town, catch her before she gets off for the day.

Better yet, maybe I should follow her and see what this banker boyfriend is really all about. Something tells me he’s a fucking tool.

“Dude, you’re getting lost again,” Tennessee laughs from the grill and adjusts his hat back. “What the fuck is going on?”

I contemplate how a conversation about the girl would go. I’d tell him I saw her and felt something weird. He’d tell me I shouldn’t be messing around with anyone with a head this fucked up, and I’d agree… which is exactly why I’m not talking about it.

“Nothing, man, just figuring out what the hell someone does with their life when they aren’t stalking people.”

“I think we fix bikes and try to settle down.”

“What kind of settling down? Find someone and then sit behind a white picket fence for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that would be good for you. Look at all it did for Hank. He’s a new man with Abby. He’s pleased as fuck to fix a few bikes and then head home for the night. All he talks about is having babies and doing all this family shit now. I didn’t think that would happen for him, or any of us.”

I almost don’t believe what I’m hearing. “Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up?”

“How so?” Tennessee pulls the steaks off the charcoal grill to let the meat rest. “You don’t want a family?”

“No, man. I’m fucked up. Why would I want to drag all that shit onto someone else? Kinda figured you were gonna be the one to tell me that.”

“You’re not fucked up. You’ve just been burying the damn past so long it’s weighing you down. You need to find a way to come to peace with who you are and then figure out what to do with yourself afterwards.”

I exhale hard, watching the smoke from the grill swirl into the afternoon air. “You trying to sell me that settling down makes all the weight go away?”

“Nah, but it gives you another reason to live instead of chasing highs.”

I don’t say anything because I’m not sure what to say, and I’m definitely not ready to admit he has a point.

“You got quiet,” Tennessee laughs. “That mean I’m makin’ sense?”

“Nope,” I lie. “Thought you went to medical school, not the psycho-babble clown tent.”

He laughs under his breath. “I did, but I learned to adapt to this circus.”

“What the fuck ever.” I narrow my eyes playfully. “I’m not crazy. I’m dealing with real life shit. I have no idea how the rest of you don’t feel like we’re all ticking time bombs. Why would I want a family? They’d be in constant danger. Who knows when all the shit we’ve done will catch up with us?”

Tennessee exhales slowly and leans forward. “You ever let yourself think that maybe none of this has to catch up with us?”

I scoff. “That’s a pretty idea, man, but we both know that’s not how things work.”

He tilts his beer bottle back as though he’s thinking over his words carefully. “You’re already walking, man. We left the jobs, and we left the heat. We’re here, starting over. All you gotta do is let it happen.”

“I don’t even know where to start with that comment. I’ve never let anything ‘just happen ’ in my life. It’s not how I’m wired. I know you aren’t either.”

“Didn’t used to be, but I want something slower. I need it. We all do.” A warm breeze blows past as he talks.

There’s bravery in what he’s saying. There has to be because I don’t know how a man that’s seen the things we’ve seen ever lets down his guard again. Lord knows I’m not going to acknowledge it to him, though.

As I stare out into the horizon, my mind is pulled to the girl at the record store again.

I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s drawing me in.

Of course she’s gorgeous. There’s no denying that, but there’s something more.

Maybe it’s the way she talked about her boyfriend, the way she read off his credentials like a resume, like she was convincing herself that the banker was a decent guy.

It’s either that or I’m a sick fuck who clings to whatever drama is within reach, and right now, the girl that’s off limits is blinking like a beacon.

Tennessee slides a plate toward me with a perfectly medium rare steak. “What’s really on your mind, man?”

I pick the warm steak up with my bare hands and take a bite, thinking over how I can tell him what I’m thinking without telling him what I’m thinking. “This person I ran into at the record store was acting weird. I’m wondering if I should circle back.”

“The way you’ve said ‘ this person’ leads me to believe it’s a woman.”

“So what if it was?”

He smirks. “Just asking. Why do you think she was acting weird?”

“Don’t know. She was talking about her boyfriend, and I got a vibe.”

He tilts his head back slowly as though he’s ready to be judgmental but decides against it. “Yeah? What kind of vibe?”

“Like he’s a piece of shit.”

“Dude,” he leans in, taking a swig of his beer, “she has a boyfriend. You should stay away.”

“I’m going to. I’m here, aren’t I? I just,” I stare off into the horizon again, watching a pine tree sway back and forth in the wind, “I keep thinking something bad is happening behind the scenes. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“So, you’re going to stalk her and the boyfriend, see what you can find?”

It’s like he’s reading my mind.

“No. What the fuck, dude?”

“Then what is it? You going to convince her to leave him? I’m not sure that’s the type of healing I was talking about.”

I huff out a breath. “It’s not like that.”

“Okay, then what’s it like?”

I don’t have a good answer, just a gut feeling. A lingering itch that won’t go away. “Just feels off,” I finally say, taking another bite of steak.

Tennessee laughs, stretching his hands up over his head. “Dude, if you’re this fucked up after one conversation with her, you’re already in trouble.”

“I’m not fucked up.”

“Sure,” he says, laughter threading through his voice, “whatever you say.”

I roll my eyes, but the irritation slips away before it can take hold. The truth is… that record store conversation fucked me up, and something tells me I won’t stop until I figure out why.