Page 236 of American Hellhound
But today, with the blinds open, his head pounding, painfully sober, he acknowledged that he couldn’t look at morality as two discreet categories. Good vs. Bad wasn’t a line, but a sliding scale, one on which he no longer knew his place. He knew from devils, though. In this case, the one he knew was the one to back. No matter how much he hated the sight of the bastard’s face.
His office door was flung open, startling him from his web search, revealing an equally-startled Officer Parsons.
“Sir, there’s something happening at the hospital.”
His phone rang on his hip, and it readLDMC. The clubhouse was calling.
~*~
The man holding a gun on Alec was tall and broad, padded with layers of fat, his beard going gray. A no-neck thug with ham hands and the blank look of someone who didn’t care about the outcome so long as he got the chance to shoot somebody.
He was one of fifteen, not counting Badger, all of them bristling with weapons and bulky with flak vests.
In their midst, Alec looked pale and fragile as china.
Ghost halted and propped his hands on his hips, his boys fanning out on either side of him. He knew they made a ridiculous tableau. LikeWest Side Storyor some shit.
Except his heart was pounding and his palms were clammy.
“Hey, Alec,” he said, tone gentle. “Hold on, okay? We got you.”
“Look at that,” Badger said. “You’re all worried about the little fairy. Do you and the redhead take turns?”
“You’re the one who’s been in lockup,” Ghost said. “Maybe you could gimme some pointers.”
Badger grinned. “Christ, you’re an asshole.”
“Yep. What’s with the Mexican standoff, Badger? You busted out just to come insult me?”
“You have something of mine and I want it back. You won’t give it back, so I thought I’d come pay your sugar daddy a visit. And look what we stumbled upon.” He jerked his head toward Alec. “Itold you,” he said, tone devolving, taking on a desperate edge. “All you had to do wascooperate.” Eyes flashing, white around the edges. Composure unraveling like old rope.
Shit, Ghost realized. This was a man who was out of options. Always the most dangerous kind.
But this wasn’t an area in which he was willing to negotiate. He’d wavered, once before, when Michael brought Holly into their midst. Maybe having another baby had softened him, but he knew he wouldn’t make the same decision, if he could go back and do it again. And he wouldn’t make it now, not when the stolen lives of innocents were at risk. If he was going to be the patron saint of the victims of the world, then so be it. He could live with that title.
“You’re not getting your pets back,” he told Badger. “That girl–”
“Fuck the girl,” Badger snarled. “She’s just the kill switch. Where’s Reese?”
Ghost shook his head. “No idea. I don’t have him on a leash like you did. Why would I? Has this whole stunt really been about one boy? You’d wreck your whole club just to get him back?”
“If you’d put him through his paces, you’d understand.”
Ghost said, “You started a war over a hit man?”
Badger coughed an ugly laugh. “Reese knows fifteen different ways to kill a man with his bare hands. He speaks fluent Spanish and French. He can break into any kind of lock. He’s not some thug with a sledgehammer” – derisive snort aimed at Mercy – “He’s James Bond and a trained sniper in a ninja’s body. The perfect operative.”
“Except for the part where instead of sniping terrorists, he does your dirty work.”
Badger took an aggressive step forward – collective tightening of the ranks on both sides in response – and leaned into his face. Ghost heard the rustles and clicks of guns being drawn.
“Get out of my face.”
A vein throbbed in Badger’s temple; his face colored. “I paid a hundred grand for that little monster.Give him back.”
“I don’t make deals with slaveowners,” Ghost said.
Badger nodded and stepped back. “Alright. Okay.” He exhaled loudly through his nose, shaking his head. “Remember this conversation. When this city – wheneverycity – turns on you? Remember you had a chance to stop this.”
