Vindication: A Motorcycle Club Romance (8 page)

“Our men will handle that,” said
Lucero, pointing his own finger at his chest. “The merch is plenty light enough
for us to handle carrying ourselves. We already sent out a heads-up that we’d
have strange faces with us, but you four just stay put with the vehicles and
don’t interfere.”

Ghost and Tommy exchanged wide-eyed
glances and muffled smiles. Ghost didn’t know why he couldn’t take Lucero
seriously. Not that he took anything seriously, really, but he especially
didn’t take dudes who tried too hard to be tough very seriously. And that thick
Kentucky drawl wasn’t helping matters. It didn’t make Lucero sound stupid, but
it made him sound even more dramatic than his words did.

“Not a problem,” said Jase. When
Ghost looked over, Jase was giving him that look. Ghost pursed his lips and
blew Jase a kiss, and his friend just rolled his eyes and shoved an eggroll in his
mouth.

Scott worked with Ghost and Tommy to
get the walkie-talkie headsets set up in their helmets after dinner. It was
just a simple Bluetooth-style earpiece that linked to a wire, which clipped
onto their cuts, and held the switch for the talk button. They would be able to
hear all the chatter passively and only had to flip the switch to be heard by
everyone in both vans. This way, if anyone ran into trouble, the entire cavalry
could work to respond together instead of leaving half the convoy stranded.

The Eagleton Dogs left for home
early, and it was strange for the LeBeau Dogs to be in such an empty, quiet
clubhouse setting. Their own clubhouse was rarely empty for long; someone was
always around to have a beer or shoot some pool with. The wooden décor was warm
and inviting, and the house mouses… well, they could make any man feel welcome.
The Eagleton clubhouse had modern cleanness, sharp-angled furniture, and big
ceilings where the shadows could gather. But without the boisterous laughter
and shenanigans of the men who belonged in it, there was nothing to chase them
away. It probably felt like a much better, brighter place when they were at
full strength. But right now, it was a graveyard.

As he sat on the edge of the cot that
would serve as his bed for the night, Ghost listened to the silence and felt
sad. He didn’t realize it before, how much different the clubhouse at home
might feel without all the men and women who made it what it was. It’d feel
much like this place: empty, cold, haunted. This was what it felt like without
caring people around.

“This place is creepy,” said Tommy,
echoing his feelings. The young gun was standing at the small sink of the
auxiliary kitchen upstairs, shirtless, filling up a kettle so he could make
some tea. Tommy didn’t sleep well in unfamiliar places.

Ghost laughed to himself. “Just let
your worries drift away on the soothing sounds of Jase’s snoring.” He thumbed
behind him to the dark bedroom where Will and Jase had already crashed,
claiming the actual beds for themselves as senior Dogs and leaving Tommy and
Ghost to the cots.

Tommy laughed hard. “Does Maggie
really put up with that?”

“He’s gotta have a magic wang or
something,” said Ghost. “ ‘Cause otherwise, I don’t get it.”

Tommy waited patiently for the kettle
to boil while Ghost slowly made himself ready for the night, setting his boots
neatly near the end of the cot, and folding his clothes in a pile next to them.
He removed both his firearms, and all five of his blades, and set them in a
straight line just beneath his cot, close enough that he could lean over the
edge and reach any of them.

He lay back on the cot in his boxers
and flipped through his phone, bored. His thoughts began to drift to Bridget,
and Ghost made a groaning sound and adjusted his legs. Fuck, it sure didn’t
take much to get him going when it came to her.

“What’s that?” said Tommy, pouring
his steeped tea into an ugly brown mug.

“Nothing, dear,” said Ghost. “Don’t
forget to take your blood pressure medication.”

Tommy just snickered and shook his
head. Ghost loved the hell out of Tommy. He never gave him a hard time about
his jokes.

Attention falling back to his phone,
Ghost got an urge. For a moment, he resisted, but his resistance couldn’t last
long. He pulled up a new text message to Bridget.

I just wanted you to know
that even in a room full of snoring, ugly, hairy dudes, I can get my engine
revved just thinking of you.

Ghost waited a few anxious minutes, waiting
for her smartass response, but it didn’t come. He frowned and realized maybe
that wasn’t the best first text to send to a woman who didn’t actually have his
phone number until now. He probably looked like some sort of Craigslist serial
killer.

This is Ghost, by the
way. In case you have many men attracted to you who also sleep in rooms with
other men.

Minutes passed with no response, and
Ghost started to feel bummed. He didn’t know why he felt so eager to have her
spar with him, but he did. Her fiery tongue made him feel alive, and once he
started thinking about having an exchange with her, he couldn’t get it out of
his mind.

“Hey, here,” said Tommy as he came
across the tile floor with a second mug of tea. He held it out to Ghost with a
smile. “My
abuela
’s recipe.”

“I thought chamomile tea was, like,
the most British thing that existed,” said Ghost. He put his phone down and
accepted the hot mug in both hands.

“It’s not just chamomile tea,” said
Tommy with a sip.

Ghost followed suit and instantly
started coughing from the surprising mix of tea, alcohol, and spices he didn’t
have the palate to identify. Yet the warmth that cascaded down his chest was
heavenly. “Oh,
abuela
, you beautiful creature of heaven. This is what
she gives you to get you to sleep?”

“Not every night, but it helps,” said
Tommy. He was already halfway done with his.

“It’s pretty goddamn good. You’ll
have to share the recipe.”

“I can only do that if you kill a
wild, uncircumcised bull at dusk on the solstice.”

“
What?
”
said Ghost.
“Seriously?”

Tommy laughed so loud, Ghost was
surprised neither of the others woke up. “No, just fucking with you! Got you,
though.”

“Is this my Dr. Frankenstein moment,
when I regret the monster I’ve created?” said Ghost as Tommy sat down on the
cot next to him. A few minutes passed in silence as they enjoyed the warmth of
the brew.

Tommy took a big sip of his tea. “I
thought our job was going to be a little more exciting,” he said with a bit of
a frown.

“Eh, me too,” said Ghost. “But, let’s
be honest, the club probably wouldn’t last very long if we were having
shootouts every other week.”

“I’m not even that good of a shot
yet,” said Tommy. He was already yawning.

“We’ll get you there, don’t worry.
But tomorrow’s just gonna be a drive, some quick cash, and then back home for
some victory pussy,” said Ghost.

Tommy just laughed and shook his head
as he took Ghost’s empty mug with his own back to the sink. Ghost lay back on
his cot and got settled for sleep while Tommy cleaned up the kitchen.

He had almost started to nod off when
he remembered his text and decided to check his phone one last time.

There was a message from Bridget:

I’m all for adventure in
the bedroom, but can we just start with me getting used to your snoring, ugly,
hairy self before we bring in all your boyfriends?

Ghost laughed, but when Tommy tried
to see what was so funny on his phone, Ghost kept it away from him until Tommy finally
gave up trying to crawl all over him to see. Frustrated, Tommy huffed and shut
out the lights.

~
EIGHT ~

Ghost

The Eagleton Dogs arrived bright and early, a good
half-hour before the sun could be seen through the building spires. The smell
of greasy fast-food breakfast wafted like a tempting fog through the clubhouse
and up to the cots where Ghost and Tommy still hung on to the last gasps of
sleep, random limbs hanging off the sides. Once he started hearing the crinkle
of the paper bags, Ghost’s stomach rumbled too loudly for him to ignore
anymore. Tommy was the last to get up.

When Ghost came down the stairs and
saw Will already into the Arts section of the Eagleton Tribune and halfway
through an egg and cheese muffin, he shook his head accusingly. “You fucking
nerd.”

Will frowned at him, and then looked
at the front of the paper like he didn’t understand. Ghost sat across from him
at the stark white table in his boxers and t-shirt, rubbing the sleep out of
his eyes. Rick was making a giant pot of coffee at the kitchenette, and Shaun
paced near the front door on his cell phone.

Ghost nodded toward Shaun and asked
Rick, “Everything squared this morning?”

Rick glanced over at his boss as he
set out coffee mugs on the table. “Yeah, fine. Just last-minute checks on
things. Shit can change quickly around here.”

“I hear that. Where are your other
bros?”

“Lucero’s around here somewhere. I
think Scott is making his checks of the walkies for you and Castillo.”

“Magical.” Ghost dug into one of the
paper bags and wrapped his hand around the first hot sandwich he felt. Jase and
Tommy came trudging down the stairs a few minutes later, fully dressed, just as
Rick poured the coffee.

“How’s everyone feeling this
morning?” asked Will of his collected brothers.

Jase and Tommy both grumbled, neither
of them big fans of early rising; Jase would get his shit together after his
coffee and some push-ups, and Tommy just needed food. Ghost hadn’t slept great,
but that was nothing new. It felt like a good night’s sleep was the unrequited
love of his life, but he’d mostly learned how to operate anyway. The plus side
was that he truly enjoyed the atmosphere of mornings, so being up this early
didn’t bother him a bit. The quiet of dawn felt exciting and hushed, a lot like
the quiet right before a bomb dropped.

“C’mon, lads, buck up!” said Ghost.
He nudged Jase with his elbow, but Jase’s bulkier form barely budged. He made a
noise like a growling bear. “Weather forecast looks great. We might even see
some hot co-eds in their convertibles up to no good.”

“Already done with the Viking chick,
huh?” said Will without looking up from his paper.

“I said
see
. Not touch, not
tickle, certainly not lick.”

Shaun came over to the table, his
call ended, and put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Morning, guys. Everyone sleep
okay?”

Answers rumbled from around the table.
Shaun said, “I’ve got green lights from all of my sources at the DOT and
Highway Patrol. We can get this show on the road as soon as everyone is prepped
and ready.”

“Scott’s still out with the walkies,”
said Rick.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” said
Shaun. He pointed at the food. “You boys have at that, get full. We’ve already
had ours.”

“Shit yeah,” said Tommy as he dove in
for seconds.

“I’m gonna hit the head,” said Ghost,
thumbing over his shoulder. “Can I get anyone anything?”

“From the
bathroom?”
said Rick.

“Just don’t engage,” said Will
without looking up.

Ghost shrugged and got up from the
table. He threw away his garbage and walked down the hallway until he found the
men’s room. He pushed the door open and felt it hit wobbly, but hard
resistance.

“Hey, fuck!” said a gruff, surprised
voice.

“Let’s not both push at the same
time,” said Ghost when the door didn’t budge. “Step back, Einstein.” It took a
few moments, but finally Lucero stumbled back from the doorway and Ghost was
able to enter.

“Fuck’s your problem?” said Lucero
with a bitter anger that seemed to erupt out of nowhere.

Ghost gave him a confused look.
“Physics, I guess? Maybe there needs to be an entrance and exit door on all
bathrooms.”

“You think you’re such a fucking
jokester, don’t you?” he said. When he took steps toward Ghost, there was
something mean and ugly on his face, in his eyes. Something that hadn’t been
there yesterday. Everything about the way he was standing, the way he was
staring Ghost down, was predatory and aggressive, like he wanted a fight.

Ghost wasn’t taking the bait. Why
would he? That egg muffin thing he had just eaten was delicious and he felt
great. “Among other things,” he said, studying Lucero’s face. “Are you all right,
man?”

“Just fuck off,” said Lucero. He
turned away from Ghost in a huff and left the bathroom.

“Some people’s children,” said Ghost
to himself, shaking his head.

The bathroom was small, a single
stall next to a wall-mounted sink and mirror; he shuffled inside and shut the
stall door. As he relieved himself, he saw something small and bright near his feet.
He kicked it out with his socked toe. It looked like the torn remnants of blue
and yellow plastic—balloons, maybe.

Ghost made a groaning noise as he
finished up and flushed. “Fuck,” he said to himself. He bent down a little
further to be sure of what he was looking at, but he already knew. Someone around
here was a heroin junkie, and it was probably that suddenly angry asshole that
just left the bathroom.

This was not good. He tried to tell
himself that he didn’t know Lucero that well, and maybe the guy was just not a
morning person. But he’d been around his share of junkies, heroin and
otherwise, and he knew irrational and sudden rage was part of the package. So were
desperate shoot-ups in public bathrooms, even after he’d probably already had a
fix at home before he left.

Ghost used a knuckle to open the tiny
metal trash bin on the wall of the stall. He was hoping the garbage was full
and hadn’t been taken out in a while—that could mean these balloons had fallen
out and were days or even weeks old, and he was probably worrying over nothing.
He peeked inside and only saw a few wadded-up pieces of toilet paper and a torn
condom wrapper.

“Fuck,” he said again, dropping the
lid with a loud clank. It still didn’t mean for sure the balloons belonged to
Lucero—but they very likely belonged to someone at the MC right now who was
about to go on this run.

Ghost finished up in the restroom and
headed upstairs without engaging anyone. He took a quick, cool shower and got
dressed as he tried to decide what to do. As he pulled on his boots, he thought
he should say something to Jase. He pulled him upstairs and into the spare
bedroom as the others got prepared.

“I don’t know, man,” said Jase after
Ghost was finished. He was clearly uncomfortable at the news. “Did you see him
shooting up?”

“No, because then we wouldn’t be
talking, because I wouldn’t need advice,” said Ghost. “But the stalls are
pretty clean, man, and there aren’t that many dudes spending time here right
now.”

“Could have been one of their
ladies.”

“In the men’s room?”

“That’s not that weird.”

“Not that weird, but why are we
looking for zebras instead of horses? Haven’t women been blamed for enough of
men’s mistakes?” said Ghost with a dramatic hand gesture. Jase shook his head
and laughed as he folded his arms.

“Okay, so if I believe you, then
what?”

“Then…” Ghost sputtered and shrugged.
“Then, I don’t know, get him off the run? Do we really want a heroin junkie
calling any shots, even on a simple run?”

“I’m not sure we have that kind of
authority,” said Jase. “And anyway, I’m not going to bring this to Shaun right
now, right before we’re supposed to leave. Not when the only proof we have is
some balloon trash and your gut feeling. We need everyone calm and focused.”

Something in Jase’s words stung
Ghost. He blinked a few times at the unfamiliar sensation. “But what if I’m
right?”

Jase was looking around now, making
sure no one was hanging out by the slightly ajar bedroom door. “What if you are?
This run doesn’t even have any stops, so it’s not like Lucero’s going to just
disappear to shoot up in the middle of it. We finish it up and he can go back
to his drugs or whatever, and we go home. It’s not our problem.”

Ghost was silent. Jase had a point,
but it didn’t settle his instincts.

“And hell, we don’t know it wasn’t
one of the house mouses. Just relax. Let’s get this done and get home and get
you laid by your Viking chick; the lack of sex is making you paranoid,” said
Jase with a smile. He clapped Ghost on the arm and turned to leave the bedroom.

Ghost lingered there, overcome with a
bitterness he recognized, but had never felt so strongly before. He didn’t know
why, but he just knew deep down that if he saw Jase’s face again in the next
thirty seconds, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from punching it. So he
waited there alone in the dark until the feeling passed.

Ghost clicked the button hanging on a wire attached to
his cut. He yelled to be heard over the wind and the engine of his bike.
“Shaun, you really undersold the excitement of this drive! You could sell
tickets!”

He couldn’t hear anyone’s laughter,
since they had to purposely press their own walkie buttons to be heard, but
Ghost just imagined they were all cracking up, anyway.

They were twenty miles outside of
Burling, the last leg of the run, and Ghost thought he was going to die of
boredom before they would make it. He’d never been to this western sliver of
the state, and had no idea it was going to be a flat desert wasteland that
stretched over the horizon without end. Traffic flowed smoothly with little
clumping, mostly eighteen-wheelers or vehicles from nearby mining and
industrial plants, caked with glittering white dirt. Ghost and Tommy rode
side-by-side, a few car lengths back from the white panel van with Lucero and
Will—as well as the guns—inside. The second half of the convoy carrying Jase
and the Eagleton Dogs was back about ten miles behind.

Even Ghost’s secret hope of seeing
co-eds was shattered. This highway was a bridge between nothing and nowhere,
its only tenants gross, hairy truck drivers and mine workers and one group of
sexy bikers running illegal market gear. Every now and again they would pass
some family packed into a fuel-efficient car on their way to God-knew-where,
but otherwise, the highway was dull as dishwater.

“Seriously, I’m gonna fall asleep at
the helm.” Tommy’s laughing voice cut through the static and noise and sounded
in Ghost’s ear.

Will piped calmly on the line. “That would
definitely not be advisable.”