Page 103 of The Wild Charge

Vince gave him a cursory once-over before turning to Ghost. “This is him?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t look like much, does he?”

The chair was an old, overly ornate, velvet-seated affair Maggie had found at an estate sale, and Maddox gripped its arms with white knuckles, scared as a horse about to bolt. His voice was firm, though, when he said, “What’s going on? Are you collecting law enforcement?”

“Maybe,” Ghost said with a shrug, and lit a fresh cigarette – his third of the morning; sorry, Mags. “Your friends are coming,” he said, without preamble. “They’re at the crime scene now, and Fielding says they’ll be headed this way next.”

Maddox looked between then, frowning. “Crime scene?”

“There was a drive-by at Smokey’s Restaurant last night,” Fielding said. “Civilians were killed. A half-dozen are in the hospital.”

“Jesus.” His gaze snapped back and forth, back and forth, searching their faces. “Who? Why? Club rivalry shit?”

“No,” Ghost said. “This was someone connected to Abacus sending a message, and making us look like assholes in the process.”

He tipped his head toward Fielding. “He knows about Abacus?”

“Yeah, try to keep up.”

“Keep up? No one’s told me shit!”

“That’s ‘cause Vince is someone we can trust, but I don’t know shit about you.”

Belatedly, Ghost realized his mistake, when Fielding’s brows shot up in surprise. He’d never said a kind word about him before, much less expressed his trust in the man. Vince’s mouth twitched, and Ghost thought he’d suppressed a smile. Shit.

Taking pity on Maddox, he added, “One of our guys was meeting with one of Luis’s contacts last night at Smokey’s. The drive-by happened, and now the feds are in town investigating it. They could show up here any minute.”

Maddox’s brows scaled his forehead. “The FBI?”

“I said your friends, didn’t I?”

For the first time, his face relaxed a bit, and the jaded, run-down factory worker he’d been forced to become bled through to the fore. “They’re not my friends. They’re nobody’s friends.”

“I think we can all three agree on that,” Fielding said, sitting back with his arms folded.

“Why are you telling me about it?” Maddox asked.

Ghost gestured toward him. “You may not be one anymore, but you’re the only suit we know. Why would they already be down here? Why would the FBI be on the scene here before the Tennessee Bureau boys even got to it? Local PD hasn’t even held a presser yet, and we’ve got the feds beating down our door? Why are they reacting so quickly?”

Maddox’s expression went grim. “It’s just like in Amarillo: they had advance warning.”

“They’re working with these Abacus people?” Vince asked.

“They have to be,” Ghost said. “That’s the only explanation. And you’re here” – he aimed the end of a pen at Maddox – “to help us expose them.”

Maddox swallowed, throat bobbing. “That’s a tall order.”

“There’s no other kind in my house.”

Someone rapped at the door, and Deacon stuck his head in, energy fractious and palpable from across the office. “We got black SUVs, boss. Ten of them.”

Ghost nodded. “Alright, we’re ready. Go pick up a broom or something, look busy. When they knock, let them in, be polite. If they’re nasty, help Ava and Whitney get the kids outside and down to the nursery, got it?”

He nodded and withdrew.

“Kids?” Maddox asked, incredulous.

Ghost stood. “We’re under lockdown. That means all the families are on the property. If these assholes are willing to hit a restaurant,” he moved to the safe behind his desk and spun the dial, “they won’t think twice about hitting one of our houses.”

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