Page 116 of American Hellhound
“That redneck family?” James’s brows went up. He dabbed some more; it burned like a mother.
“Yeah – shit.Damn. Yeah, they were waiting at the drop-off point. It was shady as hell. Roman moved in with the stuff, and they started firing on us.”
“You handle it?”
“Yeah. Three dead, one running, one on the way back to the clubhouse.” Roman had packed an unconscious and duct-taped Neil into the back of the Caddy and was taking him back for questioning. Ghost was grateful he wasn’t involved for the moment.
“Hmm. That guy you shot out in the woods – was he a part of their crew?”
“Dunno. But it wouldn’t surprise me.”
James frowned in concentration as he worked. The alcohol felt like acid. “What did Duane say?”
“No idea. I haven’t talked to him yet.”
James flicked a glance to his face. “You didn’t just come to get patched up.”
“I didn’t realize I was bleeding this bad,” Ghost admitted. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Sure.” James kept dabbing and frowning. “What do you think’s happening?”
Ghost was surprised. No one asked for his opinion, least of all his president. Most of the time, James kept out of club politics, but every once in a while the VP proved he wasn’t blind and deaf. Like now.
“I think it’s one of Duane’s sick games. No president could be this calm about someone shooting at his guys. Either he’s setting this up just to fuck with me…” Blood for blood, Ryder had said. Duane had promised them a body. Ghost? Roman? Justin? All disturbing possibilities to contemplate.
“Duane’s got a sick streak, I’ll give you that,” James said. “But people are dying. He ain’t that sick.”
“Then why did our buyers seem to think he was okay with three of us walking into that factory, and two walking out?”
“The guy was lying.”
“Let’s say he was. Why didn’t Duane react to that first guy, the one I shot out in the woods?”
James shrugged. “I figure he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
“James, that’s not good enough. Shit, that hurts.”
“Sorry.”
Bonita returned, humming under her breath, glass of bourbon in one hand, pill in the other. “Here you go,bebé.”
He reached obediently for the pill. “What is this?”
“Oxy,” James said.
It went down with a warm swallow of Jim Beam.
“I called your apartment,” Bonita said, and Ghost jackknifed upright.
Big mistake.
“Shit!”
James pushed him back down.
Bonita said, “You’re hurt and someone needs to come pick you up.”
“I could have driven him,” James said, but it wasn’t really a chastisement.
