by Ada Stone
“At the mall.” Belle kept her eyes on the carpeting. “I saw you, but I forgot after Devlin grabbed me.”
“He touched you?” Ghost nearly yelled.
“He grabbed my arm.” Belle qualified with a shake of my head. “What do you care? Candy’s right. When the club won’t let your drugs into town, Devlin is going to want me dead.” Once she put her mind to it, she pieced everything together. Devlin was after her town, and the Street Demons—they were a biker club, not guardian angels, but they wouldn’t let that shit into town if they could stop it.
He ran his hand over his cropped hair, looking at Candy sitting on the couch. “Did he threaten you? Hurt you?”
Candy frowned. “No. He just asked me about Belle. He wanted to be sure she was who he thought she was.”
Ghost blew out his breath, his lips flapping from the force. “He’s out of his fucking mind.” He turned a concerned eye on Belle. “Are you okay? I mean, do you need anything?” He motioned toward her belly.
“I need Michael. Can you get him for me?” she asked with her chin thrust in the air.
“No. That I can’t do.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Michael stood with his brothers at the warehouse tucked neatly off the highway. This part of town was deserted. Factories closed up and moved out of state or the country, all except the two small warehouses they used to hold their product or the few dozens of cars they kept for either sale or as loaners for their garage business. It depended on who was looking in the warehouse.
“It’s nearly nine. Where the fuck are they?” Sniper bit out, looking toward the road. “They’re not gonna show. They just want us standing out here holding our dicks, waiting.”
“They’ll be here. Devlin’s not the only player here. He has to answer to his club just like I do. He’ll be here with his VP and captains. No one wants a war over a little pot.” Craig sat on the steps of the main office.
Michael looked at his phone for the fourth time that hour. He’d sent Belle a text checking on her and Candy but hadn’t heard back. He tried to tell himself they were just watching a movie or talking or just didn’t have the phone nearby to hear the notification, but he couldn’t help the nagging feeling in his stomach.
Devlin was already twenty minutes late. Something was wrong.
“Hey, Craig.” He put one foot up on a step and leaned closer. “You remember Ghost? One of Devlin’s enforcers?”
Craig eyed him silently for a long moment and nodded. “Yeah, Casper the Ghost. What about him?”
“He still running with them?”
“As far as I know, why?”
Michael shook his head. It could mean nothing; it could not impact them at all. But he needed to put all the information he had out on the table, just in case. Better to have his club have his back should it mean something then to have to go out on his own. “Belle. She found out today that Casper’s her dad. She didn’t know him growing up. He took off on her and her mom. She didn’t know he was with the Devil’s Nest until this afternoon. As far as Belle knew, he was long gone.”
“Ghost’s daughter?” Craig’s expression twisted. “Fuck, man. Does he know?”
“Casper? No, I don’t think so. Belle said she hadn’t seen her dad since she was a kid, real little. Her mom only told her today.”
“What’s this?” Sniper entered the conversation.
Craig recapped the information. “This could mean nothing. I mean, if he doesn’t know that his daughter has shacked up with one of us. But if he does know, it could bring a new shitstorm down on us.”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want him near her until she has a chance to decide if she wants that or not. The only way he would know is if he saw her, and he’s not usually part of all the club shit, right? He’s like their hired gun?”
“From what I remember, and it’s been years since I’ve done any dealings with him, he didn’t get into club politics. He put in his vote, paid his dues, and took the jobs as they came. Sort of a recluse among the club.” Craig scratched his chin. “But he didn’t walk out on his old lady; she tossed him out. Wouldn’t let him near his kid, so if he finds her, he’s not going to stand by and let you ride off into the sunset with her.”
“Isn’t Belle’s mom real sick?” Sniper lit a cigarette.
“Yeah. Cancer. We’ve been paying the hospital bills. She’s going in for surgery, I think tomorrow or the next day.” Michael pulled his phone out again and dialed the house. He kept a landline for emergencies. She’d hear that phone ring, no matter where she was in the house.
It rang. And rang. Nothing. When the automated voicemail picked up, he cursed and clicked off. “Something’s wrong.”
Four bikes roared down the road and pulled into the lot, aiming their headlights on the three of them sitting on the steps. Craig pulled himself up to his feet with a groan and stepped down, leading his captains.
Devlin cut his bike, and the others followed suit. Once they all dismounted, they exchanged greetings, head nods and grunts for the most part. None of them wanted to be in the same place at the same time.
“You’re late.” Sniper took a long drag of his smoke.
Devlin smiled, a knowing grin, like he knew something no one else there did. Michael’s stomach became even more unsettled. “Was held up, but we’re here now.”
Michael took the time to look over the faces of the men he brought with them. The VP wasn’t among them, and he’d never seen those three before either. Hell, they looked young enough to be barely patched.
“Let’s get to the meat of it,” Craig started. “You want in our town, and we don’t want it. You can peddle your shit on the outskirts, go around us but not through us. We don’t want that shit in our schools or on our streets. We won’t stop you outside of this place, but I don’t want your dealers, your product, or you anywhere in our town. As far as the medical line, it’s ours, but cutting you out of town hurts your profits. I get that. So in exchange for you staying out, we’ll cut you five percent of the medical line. Your guys take one run a month, and the five percent for whole month is your cut.”
Michael watched Devlin’s expression while Craig laid out their offer. Nothing changed. He looked as solid in his resolve as when he pulled up on his bike. He wasn’t going to take that deal or any other. He wanted it all, and he had something stacked in his deck, something he was holding that gave him the overconfident smirk he was sporting.
“I’m not sure you understand.” Devlin tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I wasn’t asking for permission to enter your precious fucking town. I was just letting you know we were going to be expanding our operations. You can either be smart and earn or you can be a bunch of fucking pussies and get cut out altogether. I’m talking, disband your fucking club or move it somewhere else. Because I’m not going to be competing with your bullshit. That’s your decision to make. Either join up or get the fuck out.”
Craig’s jaw tightened, and his hands clenched, but he remained silent. Michael heard Sniper pull in another drag of his cigarette, but other than that sound, everything was still.
“Oh.” Devin held up a hand and looked at Michael. “Before I forget, and just to help you with your decision, your girl—the one with the belly full of your bastard.” Every fiber in Michael’s body tensed, but he showed no reaction to the son of a bitch. “Turns out she was a bit of a bastard herself, but lucky for her, I found her daddy.”
The breath in Michael’s lungs refused to move.
“What are you playing at?” Craig responded when Michael continued to look at Devlin without speaking.
“Easy enough. Make the right call, and the girl just has a little family reunion. Fuck this up again, and the girl finds out why her daddy is called the Ghost.”
“You think her father will hurt her?” Craig laughed, but it was forced. Michael knew him well enough to know when he was pushing a reaction to confuse the opposition. They’d all heard the stories
about Ghost. He was true to his job title. He enforced any ruling his club handed down. Someone was expelled from the club but hadn’t done the proper cover up of tats or removed patches, Ghost was sent in to do the work. More than one tossed-out member showed up in the ER with burns covering their back where a tattooed patch had been or large chunks of skin removed where other tats were.
No one met up with him when he had a job to do and got away until it was done. If they were lucky, they were left breathing. If they weren’t, they were left in pieces all over the county. Ghost was not a fucker to mess with. But would he actually hurt his own daughter, his own blood?
“You forget, little boy, I’ve been around a lot longer than you. I didn’t run with your crew or Ghost, but I knew him. When he lost that girl, when his old lady kicked him out and told him never to come back, it broke him. If you think putting them together and then ordering him to hurt her is going to work, you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I gave you credit for.”
“Ghost is loyal to the club first. He’ll do what he’s told, daughter or not. And you forget, old man, that she’s carrying the bastard child of your club, not ours and not one he approves of. So if you think he’s gonna let that fly, you’re just as senile as I thought.”
Sniper tossed his cigarette to the ground and used the heel of his boot to grind it into the asphalt. “What’s your timeline?”
“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.” Devlin kept his eyes on Michael. “And just so you don’t worry too much about your girl, she has company.”
Sniper took a step closer, and Michael put his arm out to keep him back. They knew who he meant and what that meant, too. Even if Ghost went against the club and kept Belle safe, he might not be that kind to Candy.
“Besides, Ghost hasn’t had his cock in her mouth since she took the walk for shame from our club to yours.” The guys behind Devlin let out a few snickers.
It took both Craig and Michael to keep Sniper back. “What the fuck are you talking about? You hurt one fucking hair on either of their heads and I’ll mount yours on the fucking wall of my shitter!”
“Keep your pants on.” Devlin laughed. “She never told you, huh? Yeah, she was over at our place a good six weeks or so before she high tailed it out. My cock was just too damn big for that tight little ass of hers,” he sneered. Michael could feel the muscles in Sniper’s body jerk at what he was hearing. “She needed something a little...smaller. Ended up at your club.”
The little assholes behind him out and out laughed, making Michael take a step in their direction. At least the wet bastards had the sense to step back.
“Tomorrow night. Make the right call, and everything’s good. The girls come home, and business continues. I’ll even give you an extra point, three percent off the top.” Devlin signaled to his guys to get back on their bikes, and once they were all on and their engines were roaring, he did the same.
Once they rode off, Sniper kicked the gravel and yelled into the air.
“Well, fuck.” Craig shook his head.
Michael tried the phone again, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere but needing to do something, anything. Just standing there and letting the mess of the situation fall on top of him wouldn’t get anything done.
“What about her mom?” Sniper turned on Michael, his eyes wide with anger. “She might know where this son of a bitch is, where he lives. He might have taken the girls there.”
“From what Belle said, she hasn’t seen or heard from him since she sent him packing.” Michael shoved his phone in his pocket. “I’ll head over there, though. Maybe she didn’t tell Belle something.
“What the fuck about Prank and Jackson?” Sniper jumped on his bike. “If Devlin did get those girls out of your house, they are either hurt, dead, or run off.” Before Michael could say anything, Sniper rode out of the lot.
“You go check with the mom. I’ll get back to the clubhouse.”
“Craig. What are we going to do? If we take his deal—”
“We are not taking his fucking deal. If we do, it will only lead to more bullshit, more of him thinking he can come into our club and make rules and tell us what we run. Fuck that. No drugs in this town are coming in, because we let it happen.” The big picture, that’s what the president had to look at, not one snap shot but the whole thing.
“I’ll talk with her mom.”
“Call me as soon as you do.” Craig walked over to his trike and loaded himself up. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m too old for this bullshit.” He revved his engine and took off, leaving Michael standing in the middle of the lot, clenching his fists with nothing to throw them into.
# # #
Belle heard the television playing in the living room, a few feet from the door of the bedroom she’d been locked in. She hadn’t slept, not really. Everything played over and over in her mind. Her father was with her, or she was with him. Either way, they were together but not really. He was out in the living room watching the morning fucking news broadcast while she was locked in a bedroom with a single bed and an empty dresser.
She couldn’t hear Candy anymore. She’d spent a good chunk of the night banging on her door from the room next to hers. When she finally gave up on that, she’d cried, horrible sobs that tore at Belle. Candy was too young to know so many horrors. Being used so cruelly by the Devil’s Nest, only to put herself in the same situation at the Street Demon’s club, spoke to her insecurity. According to Michael, she’d never been disrespected, and he’d always been upfront with her. He said the members did take what she offered, but no one treated her like a street-walking whore. Belle doubted that had been the situation at the Devil’s Nest.
On the way to the house they were both being kept prisoner in, she’d ignored her father, for the most part. He tried to ask her questions: How far along was she? Was it really Michael’s baby? How’d she get involved with him? It wasn’t until he asked about her mom that she answered him.
“You made your choice when you walked out on us. Your club, that’s your family, right? Fuck us, wasn’t that the way of it?” She’d seen the hurt flash through his eyes, but it only lasted a second, if that long. His hands had gripped the wheel tighter, and he didn’t ask another question.
When they arrived at the house, a small ranch house on a large plot surrounded by a few acres of woods, Belle tried to get a look at where’d they’d driven, to remember street names and highway markers, but it was dark, so dark. By the time they pulled off the highway, she couldn’t make out anything outside the truck. And when he’d opened her door to get out, she could only see the soft yellow light illuminating from the porch.
It didn’t matter, though. As soon as Belle could get in the same room with Candy, they’d figure out what to do, how to get free and run. They’d run until their legs couldn’t carry them. The woods couldn’t go on forever. Eventually, they’d find the end and come to a house or a road, somewhere they could find safety. A phone would help, too, a phone to call Michael or Sniper or anyone.
She sat up in the bed, crossing her legs in front of her. She was hungry. Her stomach growled, but she wasn’t going to ask that asshole for food.
A cell phone rang, and she heard it get answered. Jumping from the bed, she went to the door and pressed her ear against the old wood. It was garbled, but she could make out Ghost talking. He sounded pissed. A lot of “yeahs” and “fines” were uttered but nothing of real significance, nothing to give her a fucking clue as to who he was talking to and what they were talking about.
Boots crossing the room and coming closer toward her door had her scurrying to the bed. The lock was turned on the outside, and a soft knock came just as she made it back on the mattress and pressed herself against the headboard.
Another knock. “Belle? You up?” His voice. She remembered that voice. She remembered hearing him call her from the porch when she was playing with friends outside. Time to come home, Belle, he’d call after her, dinner’s ready. She’d waited so many years to hear that vo
ice again. Nights were spent crying herself to sleep, praying to hear that voice come through her bedroom door telling her it was lights out. And now, here it was.
“Belle?” The door opened just a bit, enough to let some light into the other ways darkened room. When he caught sight of her sitting up, the door swung open all the way. He walked in carrying a bowl with a spoon sticking out of it.
She watched him walk across the room, leaving the door open behind him. He’d changed his clothes, leaving his kutte off. He wore only a t-shirt and jeans. He looked normal.
“Cereal,” he said and put the bowl on the night stand. “You need to eat something.” His gruff voice didn’t match his expression. Concern lingered in his eyes, and his forehead was wrinkled.
She didn’t look at the bowl; she just slid down onto her back and rolled over, away from him.
