Page 1 of The Ghost of Rage's War

Part One –

Ghost.

Prologue.

Ghost - March 2007

Ghost stared at Anderson and shook his head. “What part of ‘I’m not a snitch,’ don’t you get, brother?”

“What part of ‘I can fucking arrest you right now,’ didn’t you understand?” Anderson sneered in return.

“Nope, I ain’t snitching on Rage. That’s my club, my brothers.” Ghost paced back and forth in front of the window.

“A dirty president manages Rage MC, and you’re all killing each other,” Anderson snapped.

“Bullshit. Rage is run by Drake Michaelson and he’s clean. Anderson, you’re after Bulldog, and he don’t run Rage anymore,” Ghost angrily retorted.

Bulldog had finally committed the worst sin ever. He’d drawn a weapon in church and harmed a brother. Ace had borne that wound, and it had given Drake the vote.

“Brock, I can take you in,” Anderson threatened, his hand going to his waist and touching his cuffs.

“Do it. I won’t talk. And you have fuck all to hold me on. Go ahead, big bro, we’ll see who wins this one,” Ghost sneered.

“Damn it, Brock—”

“It’s Ghost, Anderson. I’ve been Ghost for a very long time,” Ghost retorted.

“The actions of Rage are drawing a lot of attention right now. If we find a body, we’ll detain everyone and—”

“Shut up. You’ll arrest everybody, so what? Jesus, brother, we’ll deal with our business and cut the illegal shit out. Bulldog yanked Rage into dark places. We are going to get clean, and we’re gonna be legal. Don’t come here making threats because I’ll walk,” Ghost snapped.

“Fuck you,” Anderson hissed and headed for Ghost’s bathroom.

Ghost glowered after his brother. Anderson always had it easy. Smug bastard. He was their parent’s favourite child, the one they raved about. Anderson was going places in the FBI. Ghost was the black sheep, the one they didn’t mention unless they had to. Ghost had learned long ago not to let it bother him.

He also wasn’t rivals with Anderson, well, not anymore. His parents tried everything with Ghost tomould him into the son they wanted. And Ghost had bucked all efforts. When he’d been younger, he’d bought into their bullshit, but not now.

Ghost jumped, his hand going for his gun, when his front door was kicked in. He growled as Skill, Mayhem, and Prof walked in and began shooting.

Ghost shot back, but he was falling when he did so. He cursed as his body jolted twice more, and then the three assholes ran for it.

Ghost collapsed, facing the bathroom as Anderson came out, weapon hot.

He snorted. So, this was how it ended?

Anderson rushed to him, his mouth moving, but Ghost couldn’t hear anything. He was tumbling into the blackness waiting for him.

Chapter One.

Anderson

He watched as Drake Michaelson paced back and forth. Anderson wanted to ask how the man knew his brother had been shot but observed instead. There was more happening behind the scenes than Ghost or Michaelson realised.

Two more bikers arrived, and Anderson recognised them from their file photographs. Ace and Apache. A father and son duo. Ace was VP for Michaelson and Apache, an enforcer. None of them so far even looked in his direction, apart from recognising him as law enforcement.

An hour had elapsed since his brother had been rushed here and forty-five minutes since Ghost had been whisked away for life-saving surgery. As Anderson waited, more of Rage, those who’d sided with Michaelson, arrived. Amongst them were two women. One an old lady, Marsha, who belonged toFish, and the other was a woman called Silvie.

Anderson was unsure what Silvie’s role was in the MC. Silvie certainly wasn’t an old lady, but neither was she a whore. None of his team had discovered what she meant to the club, other than the fact the brothers considered her theirs.

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