Page 95 of American Hellhound
“He kept me on a chain,” Kristin said, touching her throat. Ghost saw the faint scar there. “It was the only way he could control Reese. My brother. He was Badger’s attack dog.”
“Like arealdog,” one of the other boys said. The fussy one who’d challenged them when they first stepped onto the boat. The VP, Ghost remembered, Deacon. He still needed sleeves; still looked ready to shiver right out of his skin.
Ghost turned his attention back to Roman, studied his old adversary. Noted the stress etched into the lines of his face. And he felt an impossible softening. “You got them out.”
Roman nodded. “These guys. The Saints. If I didn’t bring ‘em here, they woulda come on their own. They don’t just want to be a major club in the game – they want to be the only one.”
“And we’re at the top of the pile,” Ghost said.
“Yeah.”
Mercy said, “Whoever said it’s good to be king was a damn liar.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
~*~
The campground was no less busy at night. The sounds of laughter and snapping flames carried on the breeze. From the cabin’s porch, Ghost could see the dart and flicker of flames down the hill at the fire pits. The air smelled strongly of smoked meat and leaf mold. Autumnal, vital outdoor smells.
Ghost lit a cigarette and leaned his hip against the porch rail. Beside him, Roman was a coin-worthy silhouette.
“You’re a real asshole,” Ghost said, without rancor. “You were gonna start a club war and light outta here while Badger and I were at each other’s throats, weren’t you?”
He shrugged. “It’s not what I wanted to do. But I’m trying to look after these kids. They’re my priority.”
“What about the dead dog? The trashed office? One of your kids do that?”
Roman heaved a deep sigh. “That was Reese. I needed you guys to be spooked, have some grievances, you know. He took it too far with the dog.”
Way, way too far. Ghost still got a stomach ache when he thought of that poor starving mutt. He said, “What about Kristin? You see her as a kid?”
No answer.
“Ah. The asshole fell in love with the damsel.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Enlighten me.”
He didn’t.
“You should have just told me what was going on.”
“You would have helped me?”
“Meh. Probably not. You’re an asshole.”
“So are you,” Roman fired back, a smile in his voice. And then, quietly, “You’re not Duane. Your guys love you.”
“I’m not sure why. Being prez involves a lot of shitty decisions.”
They acknowledged that truth with a beat of silence. A hunting dog bayed, a low, mournful note. Ghost felt a shiver threaten.
Roman turned toward him, his face lost in shadow. “So what do we do now?”
“There’s not a choice at this point. We go to war.”
~*~
