Page 71 of Frisco

“You want me to call them?” Heckler offered.

“Yeah. We’re going to need them moving forward.”

Heckler laughed and then sighed. “Maybe that was the point of shooting Max? Distracting us?”

“Maybe.” My phone was ringing again. “I gotta take this call. It’s Boise.”

“Keep us updated.”

“Will do.” I ended that call and switched over. “Yeah?”

“They’re coming. Three vehicles. I’ll text if anyone sets up outside the town.”

“Thanks.” We hung up, and I sent a text to all the others.

Me: Incoming.

A couple minutes later they rolled in exactly the way Boise had said they would: three SUVs.

A little while after that, everyone had settled in. Marco had five men who’d set up in the front of The Bonfire with assault rifles at the ready. Three more stood just inside the gate, and the rest of his men—the ten he’d told us to account for—were sitting, eating and drinking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

At my table sat Marco, Crow, and Crow’s sergeant at arms. One of the sweet butts was all over Crow, running her hand up and down his arm. He mostly ignored her, but when Marco’s gaze lingered on her, he pulled her into his lap.

Marco didn’t bat an eye, just went back to eating.

His men were drinking, and judging from the way they were throwing them back, they could handle their booze.

Our guys had non-alcoholic beer, because some of them couldn’t handle their booze.

I was so fucking stiff inside that I could’ve been the Oscar statue for all those awards. But on the outside, I was pretty sure no one could tell a thing. I wanted to kill this man. I knew that much.

“Ghost.”

It was always so odd when Marco used my biker name. He said it as if it were my given name, and we were the best of friends. He smiled. “How is your president? Have you been able to identify who shot him?”

This fucking asshole. To bring him up…

I didn’t blink. My smile never twitched. I responded casually, sitting back in my seat. “It’s still touch and go, and no. We haven’t found who did it yet.”

Marco nodded, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He switched to Crow. “And you, this is your club, correct?” He put his napkin away, and a smooth smile took its place. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not very knowledgeable on the biker culture.”

Crow shot me a look, leaning forward slowly. He spanked the girl’s ass and motioned for her to head back inside. She did, pouting as she went. Crow watched her go, watched her ass sway from side to side before turning to the cartel leader. “Our charter president isn’t here. He’s in Potomahmen actually.”

“That’s the prison here?”

“It is, yes.”

Marco glanced my way. “And you’re here to help them through this time?”

He was wading into Red Demon business, not his, and judging by the spark in his eyes, he knew it.

I gave him a blank stare. “We’ve covered this before. That’s our business, not yours. And I say that with no disrespect intended.”

Marco grinned, apparently not offended. “I like you, Ghost.”

He shouldn’t.

I grinned back. “I’m relieved.”

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