Bridget’s heart fell. Of course, Ghost was right. She was being reckless with righteous fury. They would only have one shot at getting her out safely and cleanly, and they had to be smart about it. Otherwise, she could trigger an avalanche of violence that she would never forgive herself for.
“How are we going to match his firepower?” she said with a hint of despair. “That’s our problem. He’s rich and powerful and has security and a gated mansion. I can’t even get the housekeeper to help.”
Ghost rubbed her leg and shrugged. “We get him out of the house, away from the security.”
“We’d also have to have a plan for Miranda and Toby after we spring them. Somewhere safe for them to go while they figure out what to do next; food, clothes, counseling…”
“Right.”
Bridget sighed. “Usually, these kinds of tactical puzzles get me off, but this is a lot less fun when it’s not theoretical.”
Ghost squeezed her leg. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe we just need a few days to think it through. Some rest and, like, seven thousand orgasms should help knock something loose.”
Bridget giggled and Ghost winked at her.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been much of a help on the plan, babe. My mind’s just been wracked with this Lucero thing.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s not your fault we’re both dealing with intense shit right now.”
“You’re a peach,” he said and leaned forward to kiss her. “I’m sure I’ll be more use to you after the tribunal.”
“Tribunal?”
“Yeah, a whole wild pack of the Black Dogs is coming up here to play judge, jury and….” He trailed off, and his eyes went wide. Ghost sat up straight. “Jesus tapdancing Christ, that’s it.”
Bridget looked at him curiously. “What? What’s it?”
“I know how we’re going to save Toby.”
~ SEVENTEEN ~
Ghost
The day of the tribunal arrived, and the Black Dogs of LeBeau met at the clubhouse before they headed out to greet the challenge. The whole club was making a show to support Tommy and Will, and the placed buzzed with activity. House mouses shuffled through the crowd, passing out beers and whiskey shots and joints. Ghost arrived fashionably late, not wanting to get cornered by anyone who wanted to have a heart-to-heart with him before this thing started.
Besides, he already had one of those on his plate, and it was one too many. He and Jase hadn’t spoken much since the accident. Truth be told, Ghost hadn’t talked to many of his MC brothers, and it wasn’t just all the glorious time he was spending with Bridget. His guilt about not stopping Lucero himself before he had a chance to hurt Tommy made him want to withdraw; his anger at Jase for not listening to him and protecting Tommy made him want to lash out. Withdrawal seemed like the smartest choice, given the situation. But if he didn’t fix that wound between him and Jase soon, it would get infected and never heal, and he didn’t want that.
A few boys patted him on the back as he entered and passed by, asking around for Jase. He found him upstairs in the conference room, sorting through some paperwork no doubt Henry had left for him, spread out on the giant mahogany table. Henry’s molding of Jase into the future MC president had ratcheted up the last few years, especially since Jase had married Henry’s daughter. He was hanging out less and working more on boring shit like this—sorting papers, making phone calls, writing checks. Jase was proud of it, and so Ghost was proud of him, but Ghost would never share his interest in traditional authority.
“Oh, hey,” said Jase when Ghost came in. “What’s up? You ready for this?”
Ghost shut the conference room doors to block out prying ears and the buzzing din. “As ready as I can be.”
“You’ll do fine. Lucero’s a fucking punk.”
“Yes, he is,” said Ghost. He tipped on his heels a bit and paused. “I wish you’d thought that when I told you the first time.”
Jase closed his eyes and sighed. He rubbed the back of his thick black hair. “Yeah. Me too.”
“I tried to tell you, man. Why didn’t you listen to me?”
Jase lifted his arms and shrugged. “For all the same reasons I gave you that day, Ghost. It just seemed like a bad decision to make as a leader. Lucero looked and sounded fine every time I talked to him that day, and I just… I had to make the call. And I made the wrong one, obviously. It’s kept me up every fucking night since we got home.” He sighed again. “I’m sorry. I should have listened.”
Ghost sighed. He was great at watching enemies in pain and even taunting them while he was at it, but when it came to his brothers, he just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. “I know, man. I know you were just doing what you thought was right. But I don’t think it’s just you who doesn’t take me seriously around here.”
Jase paused. “Well, you are kind of a comedian.”
“I didn’t realize that meant everything I said was a joke to you guys.”
Jase frowned. “It’s not, man. Is that what you think?”
“That’s what it feels like,” admitted Ghost, crossing his arms. “I’m good for killing and I’m good for a laugh, but if either of those two things aren’t the goal, then no one seems to give a fuck what I have to say.” Jase opened his mouth to protest, but Ghost raised a hand to stop him. “I get now that part of that is my fault. Obviously, I’m the funniest person any of us know, but… funny isn’t always the thing we need.”
“No one’s asking you to change, Ghost.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s my choice. And it’s not just for you ugly jerks, either.”
Jase smiled at him. “A certain Viking mistress got you taking things a bit more seriously?”
“I have no comment on the matter,” said Ghost, shifting on his feet.
Jase laughed. “Good God, that’s a first.”
“Look, there’s one other thing we have to work out here. We’re gonna have to lie to the tribunal.”
“What?” said Jase, his expression falling. “Why?”
“We can’t tell them you dropped the ball,” said Ghost, gesturing to the table full of paperwork. “You’re riding the gravy train to CEO town or whatever here, Jase. Rising to power is hard, and it doesn’t take much to fuck it up. This could fuck it up for you, and it shouldn’t.”
Jase pursed his lips and looked away. “Well, maybe it should. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a leader. I failed Tommy by not listening to you. Who says I shouldn’t get punished for it?”
“Me,” said Ghost. “Tommy’s hurt, Will’s hurt, we don’t need you getting shit on too. I know you did your best, and everyone knows you’re a goddamn good leader. I’ll take this hit for you, bro, because I know you’re going to run this place smoothly one day.”
“Ghost, you don’t have to do that. I don’t have a goddamn problem taking whatever punishment I’ve earned.”
“Yeah, yeah. Save the tough guy routine for Maggie, I’m sure she loves it,” said Ghost dismissively. “Thing is, I fucked up too, Jase. I let you talk me down from my instincts. I didn’t trust myself. I could have done a lot more to stop Lucero and protect Tommy, and I didn’t, because I let all this worry about you guys thinking I’m a joke get to my head. So I’m going to go in front of that tribunal and do my best to make sure Lucero gets the blame he deserves, and I’m going to protect your future crown at the same time. It’s my mess to clean up.”
Jase gave him a secretive smile. “Should I say something about saving the heroic martyr routine for Bridget?”
“Oh, she’s definitely going to love it,” agreed Ghost. “She thinks I’m the bee’s knees.”
“And at what age did she get her head injury?”
“Ouch,” said Ghost, and gripped his stomach in mock pain. “Campbell, you’re a savage.”
Jase laughed and clapped Ghost on the back. They shared a quick, tight hug before they rejoined the mass of brothers downstairs for a quick beer before they left.
The tribunal
was too big to hold in the LeBeau clubhouse. So instead, a veritable army of Black Dogs on their bikes descended on the local LeBeau Masonic lodge. Henry had given the town’s authorities ample warning about the tribunal before it happened, as well as doing his duty to spread the gossip around Dot’s Diner, so the huge parade of strange bikers rolling through town like thundering vengeance had a curious, but unconcerned audience of civilians.
The lodge had a large, beautifully-decorated auditorium used for ceremony and ritual, and it was in here that the men all filed and took seats in the velvet-lined stadium chairs. On the floor, three tables had been arranged: two shorter ones each, reserved for the conflicting charters, and one long table across the way reserved for the members of the tribunal, who held the fate of the accident in their hands.
Ghost sat with Henry at the table reserved for the LeBeau chapter, listening to the murmuring chatter as the room filled up with six charters’ worth of Black Dogs. Eagleton was the only charter whose entire active membership was present; everyone else sent a representative crew of three to four high ranking men alongside the club presidents. All told, there was nearly thirty Black Dogs gathered in the small auditorium seats. It was the presidents who would sit at the table of judgment, and neither Henry nor Shaun would have a say in the decision.
Lucero and Shaun mirrored Ghost and Henry’s position at the other table, and Ghost did his best to ignore them. The room buzzed with conversation until the six presidents of the tribunal were settled at the long table. Ghost had never met any of them before.
In the center right chair, a tall man with a silver pompadour and sideburns tapped a gavel on the table until the room fell quiet. When he spoke, he sounded like the reincarnation of Johnny Cash. “Thank you all for gathering here today. And we’d especially like to thank Mr. Henry Oliver, second generation founder and president of the LeBeau chapter, for making arrangements to have this tribunal in such a lovely place.” He gestured to the auditorium. “I’m Myron Daughtry, second-generation founder and president of the Williamsburg chapter. We haven’t had a chance—or, I guess, a reason—to gather like this in some time. I wish the reason today was more positive. We have two hospitalized Black Dogs and two charters trying to decide where the blame for this lies. Henry has asked for this tribunal in order that we can come to the fairest arrangement based on the facts available to us.”
Ghost shifted, already uncomfortable and bored. He did not like formal shit like this, even when his ass wasn’t on the line.
“What we’re going to do is hear testimony from the Dogs that were present for the accident that day, and some secondary testimony from members who were on the run but did not physically see the crash. The tribunal’s members will have the chance to ask questions of each witness, and the president of each witness’s charter will act as their protector to object if they feel a line of questioning is inappropriate. Once this is finished, the six of us will deliberate and make our decision, and our decision is final. Both charters must abide by the ruling to the letter, or face sanctions. Our brothers gathered here today will witness the testimony and ruling to ensure the integrity of the organization is upheld with our decision.”
Henry and Shaun both verbally agreed to the tribunal’s terms. First up, one of the other tribunal members read off a printed transcript of Tommy’s testimony, which the members had gathered alongside Henry earlier in the day at the hospital. In a monotone voice, the tribunal member read off what Tommy had remembered: that the drive was mostly boring; that he had followed Ghost around an old VW bus into the left lane just before the crash; and that the crash itself happened so fast, he wasn’t sure what caused it. He remembered hearing Ghost brake, and when he turned to look why, he saw the van bearing down on him at a sharp angle, headed for the highway median. Tommy knew he was too far up to try Ghost’s maneuver and brake; his only shot was to accelerate and try to out-run it, but he had been just a tick too late. He didn’t remember anything after that, and he didn’t remember seeing what was happening inside the van at all before or during the crash.
Next, they called Will up and offered him a polished wooden chair to sit on. He faced the tribunal, his back to the table where Ghost sat. His right arm was still posted up in a sling.
“Tell us what you remember from the accident,” asked Myron.
Will cleared his throat and, Ghost could tell, was working to raise the volume of his typically low, soothing voice. “The run had gone very smoothly up until the accident. We had no issues or red flags. I rode in the passenger seat while Harvey Lucero drove, and it was our vehicle that held the merchandise. I remember answering Ghost and Tommy on the radio about something incidental—I think we had been talking about food. The thought made me want to check exactly how far out we were from Burling, so I pulled up the GPS to get a look. From there, I just remember… Sounds, flashes.”
“Anything you can give us would be useful,” said Myron.
“Squealing tires. I heard metal crunching. The next thing, I was coming to, and my whole body felt like I’d been put in a blender. I heard Ghost tell me I was all right. I remember Jase Campbell speaking to me at one point. And then all I remember is the hospital room and my wife.”
Members of the tribunal scribbled. One of them asked, “Did you notice anything worrisome about Lucero’s behavior leading up to the crash?”
“I can’t say that I did,” said Will. “He was certainly a bit testy, but it was an early job and I figured he wasn’t a morning person. Honestly, we didn’t speak much on the drive.”
“Why is that?”
Will shrugged. “No reason. I figured we were both quiet men.”
“So you did not see Lucero pass out at the wheel?”
“Nor did I see the van’s mechanics malfunction, as Lucero claimed,” said Will.
Once Will was dismissed, they questioned Scott and Rick one after the other. Neither of them had seen the wreck; they only got in those chairs and spouted wonderful, glorious recommendations for Lucero and his work. They said there was no way he would endanger the run, and they’d never seen him take heroin or show any signs of shooting up. Jase followed after them, and as he and Ghost had worked out before, he said nothing to the tribunal about his conversation with Ghost or the fact that he had failed to stop Lucero from driving. As he passed by Ghost after his testimony, Jase put a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
Shaun forwent his testimony, since he was acting as Lucero’s defense, and hadn’t seen the wreck in the first place. That left only Ghost and Lucero to speak their pieces.
“Ghost McBride,” said Myron, and gestured twice for him to come forward. “If you please.”
Ghost got up from his chair and sat in the one facing the tribunal. He could feel the ocean of eyes on his back and tried to ignore it. In particular, he could feel the burning gaze of Lucero, like he was trying to kill Ghost with his mind.
“Ghost, tell us what happened the day of the accident,” said Myron. “From the beginning of the morning, if you would.”
With both Henry and Bridget’s words ringing in his brain, Ghost did everything he could to focus himself on being direct and dropping the smartass remarks. He would never admit it to anyone, but it felt like having his skin ripped off from the inside out—like he was burning his own identity out of his mind. He told himself it was the only way and took a deep breath.
“We woke up just after dawn, when the Dogs from Eagleton came back to the clubhouse where they’d put us up,” said Ghost. “We had breakfast, and after I ducked to the men’s room, and that’s where I ran into Lucero first that morning. He was just coming out, and I hit him with the door by accident. He got irrationally pissed about it.”
“Why do you say that?” asked one of the far end tribunal members.
Ghost shrugged. “He was instantly furious about a silly run-in. There’s only two types of people I’ve seen get so mad at the drop of a hat: addicts, and dudes who know they’re a waste of meat because they just sit aro
und and get fat and watch football all day.”
Some of the audience laughed, and Ghost scolded himself, except that he had sincerely not been trying to make a joke. It really was always those dudes who tried to pick fights with him at the bar after they got too drunk to remember they were fat and middle-aged. They contributed nothing and hated themselves, so they got angry to prove they were men.
“Anyway, he left, and when I was in the stall, I noticed two small, ripped heroin balloons lying on the floor, like maybe they had dropped out of the trash can. I checked out the bin and it was mostly clean. They couldn’t have been there long. I knew someone was using, and Lucero made the most sense. Shaun told us himself that only a couple active members were using the clubhouse. It had to be one of them.”
“Did you bring up your concerns to anyone?” asked Myron.
Ghost sighed. “No, I didn’t, not at the time.”
Vindication: A Motorcycle Club Romance Page 15