GHOST (Lords of Carnage MC)

by Loveling, Daphne

  He’s not talking. And he’s not lying, either.

  Whoever he’s working for, this is a hell of a lot bigger than just Abe Fucking Abbott.

  I look down in disgust at the filthy fucker. Kneeling down, I get up in his face and grab him by the throat.

  “We found your bugs,” I tell him, keeping my voice low. He gasps as I begin to constrict his windpipe, clutching at my arm desperately. “I know you’ve been spying on Jenna. And I swear to God, if you ever come anywhere near her again — if you so much as look at her — I will fucking kill you.” With my other hand, I pull his head up by the hair until he’s looking at me. “You got that? I will fucking shoot you in the head.”

  He makes a strangled sound that I decide to take for a yes. I tighten my grip around his throat just a little more, for emphasis. When I let go, he lets out a loud sob and buries his head in his hands. I look down to see he’s wet himself.

  “Time to get that chair cleaned, I guess,” I snarl, and turn around to stomp out the way I came. The sounds of Charlie’s crying follow me out as the screen door slams behind me.

  I immediately head over to my bike and hop on. I need to talk to Angel. Now.

  I fire up the engine and kick it into gear, throttling up so fast my tires squeal and skid out from under me for a second. As I head out onto the road, I’m going easily twenty over the speed limit. I’m sure to make it to the clubhouse in less than five minutes, but then I feel the vibration of my phone in my back pocket. Swearing, I slow down a bit and take it out to look.

  It’s a text from Angel. With an address, and the code we use for “urgent.”

  “Fuck!” I shout. I throttle down, spin the bike around, and take off as fast as I can in the other direction.

  32

  Jenna

  After Cas leaves, I lock the door like he tells me to.

  “Mommy,” Noah says in a sleepy voice, holding his arms out to me. I slide onto the bed and wrap him in a hug. I take a moment to just breathe him in, love washing over me as I hold my little boy. I’ll keep you safe, I tell him silently in my head. I promise that no matter what, I’ll keep you safe.

  “I got scared of a loud noise,” he murmurs into my chest.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I tell him. “It was just Cas. He had to, uh, fix something, but it made a loud noise.”

  Noah sits up and looks toward the bedroom door. “Is Cas here?”

  “No, bug. He had to go somewhere.”

  “Oh.” His tone is disappointed. Noah looks up at me. “I like it when Cas is here,” he says.

  My heart constricts. “I do too, honey.”

  “Is Cas gonna be my daddy?”

  I freeze. Somehow, Noah has asked the one question that I have no idea how to answer. All my fears, all my hopes, all my regrets about the past are encapsulated in it.

  I sit there paralyzed, unable to answer, and Noah asks me again.

  Oh, God.

  “I don’t know, baby,” I finally whisper.

  “I want Cas to be my daddy,” he declares. “Can we ask him later?”

  “I’ll tell you what, Noah,” I say in a strangled voice. “Let’s not ask him just now. Okay?”

  Noah frowns, but thankfully he doesn’t argue. “Okay. But can we ask him later?”

  “We’ll see, bug.” I kiss him on the forehead and try to blink back tears. “We’ll see.”

  Noah’s wide awake now, and I don’t have the heart to tell him to just go back to sleep. Since I’m too antsy to sit and read with him, I settle him in with my computer and Chip-Chip and let him watch videos for a while. Then I go back out to the living room to pace and think.

  The nausea I’ve been fighting off and on for the past week is back, and I bow my head and close my eyes as a wave of it washes over me. With everything that’s happened today, I’d tried to push it to the back of my mind. But now that Cas is gone, and after Noah’s too-astute question, it’s harder to ignore. When the wave has passed, I stand up straight and open my eyes.

  It’s time to find out the answer to something I’ve been almost too afraid to contemplate.

  I remember the first time I used one of these pregnancy tests. At the time, the humiliation of buying the thing was almost more traumatizing than actually taking the test itself. I put it off for weeks, and worked myself into such a frenzy of worry that by the time I actually saw the twin pink lines in the little window, it was almost a relief just to have it over with. Just to have an answer.

  This time I’m older, so buying the test was less embarrassing. Even so, I made sure ahead of time that the cashier at the drug store in Tanner Springs wasn’t someone I knew before I checked out. Now, as I lock myself in the bathroom and pee on the strip, I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. Twice in my life, I’ve been worried I was pregnant. And both times, it was from being with the same guy.

  I stare at a tiny hole in the shower curtain, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, and count three and a half minutes in my head, just to be safe. Then I take a deep breath and look at the little stick.

  And, both times, the answer was ‘yes.’

  * * *

  I spend the next half-hour wandering around the apartment in a daze. How could this have happened? I’ve been on the pill for the last two years. Wishful thinking, since I hadn’t had sex in much longer than that before I came back to Tanner Springs and started up again with Cas. I guess it’s true what they say about the pill working only ninety-nine percent of the time. But, I mean, ninety-nine percent… that’s practically always. How the hell did this happen?

  If it could happen to anyone, it would happen to you.

  Just one more damn mistake. God, even when I’m trying to be responsible, I still can’t manage to keep my life sorted out. It’s so damn discouraging.

  I’m going out of my mind being here without Cas. I’m waiting anxiously for him to call me, but I’m dreading it, too. Because once he does, he’s going to come back here, and I’m going to have to tell him everything. I’ve screwed this up too many times. I can’t keep all of this from him for one second longer.

  A thump at the door jars me from my reverie. I almost go to open it, thinking it’s Cal. But then I realize he definitely would have texted or called me to tell me he was coming back.

  Another pound, then banging. My heart starts to race as I consider that whoever is behind the door isn’t here for a social call.

  And then, as I stare in horror, I see the knob jiggle and hear the sound of a key turning.

  Without thinking, I fly to the closet and grab for the high cubbyhole, my hand flailing around until it finds the gun. I had completely forgotten about moving it, and I’m almost dizzy with relief that it’s still there. I try to shout, to warn whoever is coming in to stop, but my voice leaves me at the critical moment and all that comes out is a harsh wheeze of terror.

  When the door opens, I’m pointing the gun straight at the opening, trying not to shake uncontrollably.

  It’s Charlie Hurt. His face is bloated and bandaged, bits of dried blood under an obviously broken nose. He looks absolutely horrific. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I’m so shocked at his appearance I almost start to lower the gun.

  Then he laughs.

  It’s a chilling sound. His broken nose means his breathing is altered, and the laugh is guttural, deep and almost animal. His face — what I can see of it — twists into an ugly leer. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he snarls.

  “Get out of my house, Charlie,” I shout. “My dad is not going to like that you broke in here and scared me half to death.”

  “You stupid bitch.” His eyes narrowing in disgust. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. It ain’t your dad who sent me. Your dad’s got a price on his head, did you know that?” He snarls and spits pink on the ground. “He’s, fucked, little lady. When the people I work for get their hands on him, he’s done.”

  My heart starts to race as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. Charlie’s not
working for my dad? He’s working for someone who’s looking for my dad — someone who wants to hurt him — to kill him!

  A sob of terror rises in my throat, but I fight to swallow it down. If they’re looking for my father, then why is Charlie here? “I don’t know where my dad is,” I stammer. “He’s not here! Please leave!” My voice starts to rise. “Please!”

  Charlie chuckles and shakes his head, as if he’s amazed at how stupid I am.

  “I know he’s not here, you dumb cunt,” he spits out. “He’s not the one I’m here for.” He takes a heavy step toward me.

  “Stay back!” I cry. Blood rushes in my ears as I tell myself that I may really have to do this. I thought seeing the gun would stop him in his tracks, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t believe for a second that I’ll shoot him.

  Or else, I think crazily, he doesn’t care.

  Hurt takes another step toward me. I resist the urge to shriek, and level the gun at him, crouching slightly into a shooting stance.

  “I mean it, Charlie!” I tell him. My voice comes out high and reedy. “I’m prepared to shoot you.”

  “You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into,” Charlie Hurt rasps. “You can’t fuckin’ scare me. You’ve got nothing on how scary the people who sent me are.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but just then a sound to my left stops me.

  “Mommy?” Noah says in a small, questioning voice. “Why are you yelling?” He looks from me to Hurt, confusion clear on his face.

  “Honey, you go back in the bedroom,” I say in a quavering voice. “Okay, baby?”

  Hurt cuts me off. “No. You stay, kid.” Noah stops in his tracks, not knowing who to obey.

  “Noah!” I say more sharply. “Go to my bedroom and lock the door!”

  Hurt barks, “Noah! If you want your mom to be okay, you’ll stay right here.” He turns to me with a terrible, inhuman gleam in his eye. “This is even better. I was going to bring the Spiders Abe’s daughter for leverage. But Abe’s grandson is even better.”

  No! An almost blinding flash of terror threatens to knock me off my feet. But it’s followed by a wave of pure, maternal rage. I have to protect Noah. I have to protect this baby. I have to keep us safe for Cas.

  “Don’t touch him!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

  Hurt lurches forward toward Noah and I know what’s going to happen next. “Noah, RUN!” I scream. His little pajama’ed feet squeak as he darts off down the hallway. Oh, God, don’t let Noah see this, I pray.

  The gun goes off. The noise is deafening.

  But the sight of what I’ve done is even worse.

  33

  Cas

  When I pull up to the address Angel sent me, every nerve ending is on high alert. I’ve got my piece tucked into the back of my waistband, and I’m scanning the terrain for any sign of danger.

  A couple of the brothers are already here, judging from the bikes parked out front, but I don’t see Angel’s yet. As I pull up next to the others and stop the bike, I realize with a shock of recognition where I am.

  This is Abe Abbott’s house.

  And the front door’s wide open.

  As I walk cautiously toward the place, I see it’s been broken into. A couple of the small front windows next to the door are smashed in. When I walk through the front doorway, I see the place has been tossed. Inside, Rock is standing in the living room with Hawk and Skid.

  “Looks like a home invasion," Rock says dismissively when he sees I’ve arrived.

  “Jesus,” I swear. Tanner Springs doesn’t normally see this kind of shit. Especially not at the mayor’s house. “Does Abe know about this yet?”

  “Abe’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” I ask. “Like, left? Or like disappeared?”

  Rock shrugs. “Dunno. He’s AWOL. I haven’t talked to him.”

  Something feels off to me. Rock and Abe aren’t exactly best buddies, but they’ve been business associates for years. The number of deals they’ve done under the table with each other alone ought to make Rock more concerned about him than he seems to be. I’m not expecting Rock to shed any tears here, exactly, but his indifference makes me suddenly sure something bigger’s going on that I don’t know about.

  A few of the other brothers arrive as we’re talking, and wander into the front room with us. “Where’s Angel?” I ask.

  “He’s coming. I sent him on a run up north this morning. He should be back here pretty soon.” Rock turns away from me and addresses the others. “Why don’t you men go upstairs and look around. See what you can see. Grab anything interesting and report back. We’re gonna want to get this place cleaned up before the cops show.”

  Fucking A. So we’re cleaning up evidence. Goddamn it. My mind goes immediately to Jenna. Her dad is out there somewhere, and it’s looking like he’s in danger. And Rock’s not telling me something.

  “How did you find out about this?” I ask him as we watch the brothers walk upstairs.

  “Anonymous tip,” he tells me, his tone short. “A friend of the club.”

  I can tell just by the way he says it he’s not about to tell me who the ‘friend’ is.

  I can’t figure out what to do. It’s like I’m paralyzed, and it’s driving me crazy. I need to know what’s happening, but Rock’s a closed book, and I know better than to push him on it. I want to call Jenna, but I can’t until I at least have some information for her. And I have to talk to Angel, most of all, but he’s not here yet, and until he shows, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to get enough pieces of this puzzle to put it together.

  About fifteen minutes later, Angel finally pulls up outside. I’m about to go out and meet him when my phone buzzes. It’s Jenna. I almost shut it off, not wanting to talk to her until I have more information. But then the hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle: Jenna wouldn’t be calling me right now unless something important was up.

  I press answer and step out into the hallway. “Hey.”

  “Cas!” Jenna’s voice is frantic on the other end of the line. “Oh my God, Cas. Something’s happened. I need help.”

  Shit. “Okay, okay. Calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I listen in disbelief and mounting rage as Jenna tells me her asshole landlord broke into her place when she and Noah were there.

  “He had his key,” she says breathlessly, her voice high and strained. “He opened the door before I could do anything to stop him. His nose was broken, and his face was all bandaged up.” Jenna stops talking for a second, and I can hear her take a few deep breaths. I can tell she’s working hard to stay calm. “He… he told me that my dad has a price on his head, Cas! He said he was going to bring me to the Iron Spiders for leverage… but then Noah…” Her voice breaks, and it takes all the control I have to wait for her to continue. Finally she calms down enough to keep going. “Then Noah came out, and he said he was going to take Noah instead!” Jenna starts to cry. “He started to go toward Noah, and… I shot him… Cas, he’s dead! He’s here, lying out there on the living room floor. I don’t know what to do!”

  Holy shit.

  The Iron Spiders. They’re involved in this. Some of the missing pieces appear and try to assemble themselves in my mind. The Spiders were the ones behind Charlie Hurt being so scared he was willing to risk anything not to give me their names.

  But Hurt was working for Jenna’s dad, too. Wasn’t he?

  Or were the bugs in Jenna’s apartment the Spiders’ work, too?

  Jesus. This is all much bigger than I could have realized. I think back to what Hurt said when I tried to get information out of him.

  “You think it’s Abe I’m scared of? It’s not Abe, man. There’s nothing you can do to me that’s as bad as what they’ll do if I tell you. Nothing.”

  On the other end of the line, Jenna continues to sob. “Okay, baby,” I soothe her. “It’s gonna be okay. Trust me, okay? Jen?”

  “Okay,” she say
s in a small, trembling voice.

  I try to think. “Tell me, has anyone downstairs at the tattoo parlor come up to investigate the noise?”

  “No,” she whispers. “I think they must be closed.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. The guys at Rebel Ink are geniuses as artists, but they’re shitty businessmen. This is the first time I’ve ever been glad they have a tendency to close whenever the mood hits them.

  “Okay, Jen, look baby, hold tight,” I tell her. “I’ll be there really soon, with the MC. Just keep Noah away from the body and don’t answer the door until I text you it’s me.”

  I get her to agree, and then I hang up the phone. For a second I feel guilty that I didn’t tell her about her dad, but I don’t want to risk pushing her over the edge. Not until I can be there to catch her if she falls.

  Angel is just walking in as I slide the phone back into my pocket.

  “Brother,” I greet him, giving him a quick embrace and a clap on the back.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” he asks, looking around at the devastation.

  “Break-in,” I tell him. “Your dad’s gone.”

  “Who has him?” Angel demands. Rock walks up in time to hear the question.

  “Hard to say,” he answers evenly.

  “Angel,” I say, “I think this might have been the Iron Spiders.”

  “The Spiders?” Angel repeats, not comprehending. Then his face changes. “Was he in business with them?”

  I nod. “I think so.”

  I tell him what I know, piecing what I can together and trying to guess at the rest. When I’m finished, Angel is looking at me in amazement.

  “God damn,” he says, looking at Rock. “Did you know this?”

  Rock snorts. “No, I didn’t fucking know it,” he spits. “Not for sure. Not until now. Goddamn piece of shit is lucky to be alive.”