GHOST (Devil's Disciples MC Book 3)

by Scott Hildreth

  Kelvin wouldn’t have hurt a fly, nor would he have stuck up for me in a similar situation. Having someone who was willing and able to do so, even if they didn’t ever do it, was a good feeling.

  “I like these guys,” I said. “They’re all pretty nice.”

  “They’re basically brothers,” she said. “They all moved here from Montana after high school. They’re inseparable.”

  “I like it. It’s like a big family.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “That’s exactly what it’s like. A huge family. Barbeques. Trips on the motorcycles together. Racing cars at the racetrack. Just hanging out. Now, you’re part of it. Do you like to ride?”

  “On the motorcycle?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I love it,” I said. “Love, love, love it.”

  “Me, too.”

  It was crazy. My life had gone from great to awesome after meeting Porter. I was in love, which I never thought was going to happen. I had a new girlfriend who wasn’t an attention whore, and the possibility of having another who had a nursery and a funny Irish mother-in-law.

  I’d spoken to my parents about Porter, but not at length. I needed to do just that, and to schedule a time for Porter and I to go visit them.

  “Have you met Baker’s parents?” I asked.

  “They’re not alive any longer,” she said.

  “Oh. Has he met yours?”

  Her face went solemn. “They’re both deceased. I was raised by my aunt.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  She put on a slight smile. “Has Ghost met yours?”

  I’d talked to my mother at length about Porter, but not my father. I suspected my mother may have mentioned him to my father, but she hadn’t said one way or another. I remained nervous about revealing the news to my father, as I knew he’d react unfavorably.

  “Not yet,” I said. “But he’s going to.”

  “They’ll like him,” she said. “He’s pretty to look at. Parents like pretty boys.”

  I’d never really thought of him that way, but he was pretty. My mother would love him. My father? Well, that was a different story altogether.

  28

  Ghost

  George sat down across from me and looked at me like I’d forgotten to bring the turkey to the Thanksgiving dinner. “Where’s your better half?”

  “She’s not feeling good. It’s either a bad piece of sushi, or a rotten oyster. We had seafood on Sunday and on Monday she ate raw fish with one of the girls.”

  “One of what girls?”

  “One of my friend’s wives.”

  “She needs more women in her life.” He looked me over. “You’re not here to eat, are you?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you answering a question with a question?”

  I shrugged. “I planned on eating, yeah.”

  “What’s troubling you?” he asked.

  “Who says something’s bothering--”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m like the know-it-all bartender. Except I’m not a bartender.”

  I chuckled. “So, you’re just a know-it-all?”

  “The all-knowing diner owner.” He leaned against the back of the booth and crossed his arms. “I know there’s something you want to talk about. I guess that leaves the only question as being what is it?”

  It wasn’t going to be easy to talk about no matter how long I waited, so I decided to do what Abby often did, and just blurt my thoughts out onto the table.

  I wished I was all-knowing like George, but I wasn’t. All I knew was that I loved Abby, and that the love I felt for her had me wanting to commit to spend the rest of my life with her.

  I drew a long breath and spit out the entire sentence as I exhaled. “I want to ask Abby to marry me, and I don’t want to do it without talking to you about it first.”

  He pressed his clenched fist into his open palm and rested his chin on top of his hands. “Marry her, huh?”

  He took it better than I imagined he would. Relieved that he didn’t give argument, I continued spewing my thoughts. “Yes, Sir. I mean, yes, George. Yes, I want to marry her.”

  “Why do you want to marry her?”

  “Because I love her.”

  “A man doesn’t marry every woman he falls in love with.” He raised both brows. “What makes her special?”

  “Everything about her is special.”

  “You want to marry her because of everything about her?”

  “I want to marry her because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with her. It’s hard to explain, but I know it. Every day. Forever. I can’t imagine life any other way. And, if I know that, truly know it, asking her to marry me is the only way to express to her how I feel. We can wait as long as she wants to get married, but I want to put a ring on her finger. I want to make that commitment to her.”

  He looked over his shoulder.

  “Lawson!” he yelled. “Turn around the sign and lock the door. We’re closed of the rest of the night.”

  “Closed?” Lawson asked.

  “Closed,” George said.

  “Aye-aye, Top,” Lawson said.

  George faced me. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Right now? Sitting here? I’m worried about leaving her at home. I want to take care of her. Hell, she’s not even sick, she just feels crappy. And, I can’t think of leaving her alone.” I laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  He pursed his lips and studied me for a few seconds. “So, you’re asking my permission?”

  “Kind of. She says she has two fathers, you and her dad. I’m asking you first, and then I’m going to ask you if you know how to get ahold of him.”

  He grinned. “She said that?”

  “Said what?”

  “That she has two dads?”

  “She’s said it more than once.”

  “I’m glad she looks at me like a dad, because I look at her as a daughter.” He exhaled a heavy breath and looked me in the eyes. “I can’t imagine her being with anyone but you, Porter. I remember the day she came in here telling me she loved you. I was pretty damned happy for both of you. Her wedding day will be a day that I’ll cherish for ever and ever, I can tell you that much. She’s like the daughter I’ll never have. If you’re seeking my blessing, you’ve got it. I’m convinced this can’t be anything but right. ”

  “She thinks the world of you,” I said.

  “You need help with money for the ring?” he asked.

  “Appreciate it, but I’ve got it covered.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “What are your thoughts about kids?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Three months ago, I couldn’t imagine a life with kids in it. Now? Hell, it’s always on my mind. I want to have kids with her and give our children the family life that I never had a chance of having. A mother and a father, both at home, both taking part in everything. I lay in bed at night and think about it.”

  “What about the club?”

  I sighed. “I’m thinking when we decide to have kids that I’m going to walk away from it. There was a time and a place for it, and those men will always be brothers to me, but I can’t imagine having kids and staying in the club will be a good thing. I want our children to be my only focus other than her.”

  “I like the way you think, Porter.”

  “Do you know how to get ahold of her father?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “Mind telling me?”

  “For this occasion, I don’t mind at all.”

  As nervous a virgin at a prison rodeo, I held the phone to my ear and hoped he answered. If he didn’t, I doubted I’d have the courage to call him again for some time. After losing count of how many times it rang, he answered.

  “This is Anderson,” he said.

  “Mister Northrop?”

  “This is Anderson, yes.”

  “Sir, m
y name is Porter Reeves. This might seem like an odd telephone call, but if you’ve got a moment, I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Is Abby alright?”

  I was surprised that he’d made the connection. “Yes, Sir. She’s fine. She’s got a little bit of a stomach ache, and she’s at home. I’m away from there right now. Actually, I’m at George’s diner. I got your number from him.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir. Everything’s just fine. I uhhm. Well, I’m calling for your permission.”

  “My permission?” He chuckled. “She already told us she rides on that motorcycle of yours. I guess I’ll tell you I’m pleased that California’s a state that requires the use of helmets.”

  “Not for that, Sir. For something else.”

  “She speaks highly of you, Porter. What can I help you with?”

  “Sir, I’d like to marry your daughter. Not right away, but whenever she’s comfortable with it. Maybe a year down the road, maybe two. Heck, it might be six months. Whatever she, and you, Sir, are comfortable with. But I’d like your permission to ask her to marry me. I guess I’d like to propose to her. You know, give her a ring.”

  The phone fell silent for a moment.

  “Hold on a moment, will you, Porter?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I heard muffled voices for a moment, and then he returned.

  “Porter?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Anna and I would be thrilled if you’d like to ask Abby to marry you. When are you planning on doing it?”

  “In the next few days, I think. I need to get a ring and everything.”

  “Well, you certainly have our blessing on the matter. Don’t rush. Things like this take time and planning.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Porter?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “We’re pleased with her decision to see you. I’d like for you to know that. She speaks highly of you, as does George. In fact, George said you’re one of the finest men he’s ever had the opportunity to meet, and he’s met a few.”

  I was shocked that he had talked to George about me, but it didn’t last long. If I had a daughter a special as Abby, I’d want to know everything abou the man who was seeing her as well.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “When the two of you get time, you need to come see us. Connecticut’s only a few hours by plane.”

  I laughed to myself. “Actually, we’re planning a trip up there this fall.”

  “Well, we look forward to meeting you. Keep us posted on the engagement, will you?”

  “Yes, Sir. I will.”

  “I’m sure Abby will call her mother as soon as she settles down.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Have a nice evening, Porter. Keep this number. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thank you, Sir. Same to you.”

  After hanging up, I peered over the top of the booth and searched the restaurant for George. Helping a couple to a few menus, he glanced in my direction. He gave me the thumbs up, and then the thumbs down. A shrug followed.

  I gave the thumbs up.

  He grinned and returned the gesture.

  I had one more task to resolve. Well, two, actually.

  I looked at the salesman in disbelief. “You either take cash, or you don’t. Which is it? If you don’t, I can make other arrangements, I just need some time.”

  “We do take cash, Sir. I am not, however, certain that we can take that much cash.”

  “Who do you need to ask to find out?”

  He raised his index finger. “Hold on one moment, please.”

  A gray-haired man who walked like he’d taken a college course on the subject paraded down the corridor in front of my thirty-something salesman.

  After reaching the counter’s edge, he extended his hand. “Gilthrop Wilshire, Mister Reeves. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure. I was telling…”

  I looked at the salesman, who was standing behind him.

  “Winston,” he said.

  “I was telling Winston I expected to pay cash for the ring. He said last night that you took cash, and I said I’d be back tonight. He either didn’t believe me, or he misunderstood that I’d be returning with cash.”

  “Which ring do you have your eye on?” he asked.

  I pointed to it. “The custom ring at the corner of the upper case.”

  He smiled. “All of our rings are custom. Let me get it.”

  He removed the ring and set it on top of the counter. “Is this the one?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Would you like to look at it?” he asked.

  “I’ve looked at it. I’ve held it. I slipped it onto the tip of my pinkie finger. I’d like to take it home.”

  He inspected the ring, and then blinked a few times. “Mister Reeves, this example is a four-carat, VVS one clarity, D color, that’s a brilliant cut with excellent table, depth, and girdle. It’s four forty-three. That’s four hundred forty-three thousand. Call it four hundred forty for arguments sake.”

  “Will you take four hundred and forty for it?”

  He nodded. “We certainly would.”

  I tossed my backpack onto the display case. “I’ll need to get three grand out of there, then.”

  He looked at the backpack, and then at me. “Would you like to come into my office?”

  “Sure.”

  He lifted a wooden pass-through gate, and I followed him to his office. Thirty minutes later, I was preparing to leave with the ring.

  “I’ll come back for all the certificate paperwork tomorrow. I’m on my motorcycle, and I don’t want it to get bent. She might want to do something with it, frame it or whatever. I don’t know,” I said excitedly.

  “No rush,” he said with a smile. “We’ll keep it under lock and key.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

  “I’m sure she will,” he agreed. “Let us know how the engagement goes, will you?”

  After she agreed to marry me, I’d be so proud I’d feel like telling the world, Gilthrop Wilshire included.

  I admired the ring one last time, and then closed the box. “I sure will.”

  29

  Abby

  Over my shoulder, I stared at the watery horizon and waited. When the next swell was fifty yards behind me, and approaching fast, Porter shouted.

  “Paddle, Abby. Paddle like fuck!”

  I looked at him, at the swell, and then did just as he’d taught me. With my eyes fixed on the shore, I paddled with my hands, attempting to match the wave’s speed. As the board started to rise, I pushed my chest off the board and quickly rose to my feet.

  Ho-lee-shit.

  I glanced to my left. Porter was beside me, twenty yards away, with my GoPro attached to some goofy piece of elastic that was strapped to his head.

  “I’m surfing!” I screamed. “I’m F-ing surfing!”

  “Looking good, baby!” he shouted.

  As quickly as it began, it was over. The wave diminished to nothing. The board, and I, came to a stop in the shallow water.

  After getting to a depth where I could stand up, I looked at Porter. “I want to do it again.”

  “We can do it all day,” he said. “If you want.”

  “Will you take that stupid thing off your head?”

  “Nope. I’m recording our life together.” He gestured toward the horizon. “Let’s catch another.”

  We surfed until I was no longer capable of standing. I couldn’t believe it was so easy, or that I’d waited as long as I had to attempt it. I found it humorous that it took Porter getting a handy in front of the UPS man to convince me to finally do it.

  After successfully getting up on a board, I suspected my future days would be filled with nothing more than binge watc
hing Netflix, eating, having sex with Porter, watching the sunset, and surfing.

  “I’m famished,” I said as I walked ashore. “We need to eat.”

  “We need to get these boards back,” he said.

  “You can return that one,” I said. “I’m keeping this bad boy.”

  “It’s a rental, you have to return it.”

  I poked the nose of the board into the sand like I’d seen surfers do from my deck. “I’ll buy it from him. He’s not getting it back. It’s my lucky board.”

  Porter did the same with his. “Buy a better board.”

  I slapped my hand against the rag-tag looking piece of rental shit. “There is no better board than mine.”

  He shook his head. “Fine. If it works, keep it.”

  “I intend to.”

  He peeled the GoPro off his head and rested it on top of the board. “Is your stomach better?”

  I flopped onto the sand and let out a sigh. “It’s good enough to eat non-seafood. I swear, I felt like shit for a week. I still feel weak, but not that bad.”

  Either the oysters at Goose’s or the sashimi at my favorite sushi place made me so sick I couldn’t get out of bed for five days. I was doing much better but still felt tired. The thought of anything seafood related made me feel nauseous.

  “The diner?” he asked.

  The Devil Dog Diner was comfort food if there ever was any.

  “Pancakes sound good,” I said. “Those would be easy to digest.”

  He reached for his board. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to George’s then.”

  I glared. “Hold on a minute, Mister fast hands. Give me a minute to get up. Jeez. I’m worn out. It’s not every day I surf for six hours.”

  He looked at his watch. “Five.”

  “Six since we rented these piece of shit boards.”

  He gestured toward the chipped piece of fiberglass. “The piece of shit board you’re keeping?”

  I laughed. “I’m not keeping this piece of shit. If you’ve got good footage of me riding it, that’s enough. I am buying a board, though.”