Page 46 of Frisco

He gave a small nod. “Muchas gracias, Señor Ghost.”

Señor Ghost. That was a trip, but fuck. I couldn’t do anything here except play my part.

I stepped back and motioned for the local VP of the Frisco charter to come over. He’d been waiting outside the line of Red Demons. He came forward at my signal.

He was an older member, a little grizzly and rough around the edges, but he was smart.

“This is Crow. Crow, this is Señor Marco Estrada. He’s up for a short visit. Do you think we could get some of the old ladies to help with a cookout?”

I had to give him props. He didn’t miss a beat, holding his hand out immediately for Marco to shake. “We sure can. My missus will send out the call. We’ll have a big roast tomorrow night. You like pork, Mr. Estrada?”

Marco smiled. “I love a good roast.”

I ignored the double meaning and clipped a nod. “It’s settled. You’ll stay the night then, Marco?”

“I have men in the area. I can stay with them.”

“Will your men be joining us tomorrow night?”

“Just myself and perhaps plan for ten of my men, for the food. The rest will have eaten.”

Jesus. A fucking roast with the head of a Mexican cartel. This had happened before. A surprise visit from someone as powerful as Marco also had happened before, and I remembered. It was always a reminder of the ramifications and implications of this life, this world I was in. I knew when I’d signed up to ride next to Maxwell that he was going to take the Red Demons far, and he had.

Crow turned back toward his bike, but Marco called out, “Ghost. A word.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve told you why I’m here, but I’m wondering why the national vice president of the Red Demons is in the area as well. Since your president is in Texas.”

Crow froze.

I heard it, though I didn’t see it. His feet sliding over the gravel came to an abrupt halt. I looked back, and he was watching me. I nodded for him to keep going.

Once he’d gone a few more feet, I answered.

“With all due respect, Señor Estrada, that’s internal Red Demon business, and I’d like it to remain that way.” I hadn’t a clue if he bought what I said. At this point, I was starting not to care. But my spine was itching, and when that happened, I paid attention. I just needed to suss out what was making my spine itch.

As soon as we went our separate ways, with a plan worked out for Marco’s arrival and where to go for the cookout, I called Heckler back.

I’d need any and all Red Demons he could muster up. There was nothing coincidental about Marco Estrada being here. He knew our plans, and because Crow froze the way he did, it made me wonder if he did too.

Heckler picked up after the first ring. “What’s he there for?”

“He knows.” I ignored Heckler’s sigh. “What’s the plan with Prez?”

“He’s here. We’ve got security around him, but until the doc says he can move or he’s in the clear, he’s here. We don’t know anything else. They won’t tell us.”

“I want you here.”

“You sure? Max was just shot.”

Damn. I still needed time to process that.

I shook my head. “Wait until he’s in the clear. I’m moving forward on the belief that he will be, because Maxwell is a stubborn asshole. If he’s going down, it won’t be that way. Once you get the clear, and he’s hidden and safe, come. Send half your men now. The head of the cartel is here.”

“I know. The guys will be on the road in an hour.” He sighed. “They’ll ride all night.”

“I’ll bring everyone up to date here.” Goddamn, that was going to be a bitch to explain.

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