Page 66 of The Wild Charge

Ghost’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “At least he doesn’t smell like shit anymore.”

A few chuckles moved through the room. Luis’s gaze followed the sound, shifting from Dog, to Dog, to Dog, to Dog. He hitched himself up straighter in his chair, but Reese could read the fear in his eyes. There were a lot of outlaws with guns on their belts between him and every avenue of escape. And the three closest to him – Mercy, Tenny, Reese himself – were the most likely to kill him. He knew that. It was why he looked up at Ghost without any of his former venom and said, “Why am I in here?”

Ghost motioned, and Deacon stepped forward, face tweaked with disgust, to set a plate of leftover barbecue and a steaming cup of coffee on the table before Luis. “Do us all a favor and choke on that, asshole,” he hissed.

Ghost snapped his fingers, once, and Deacon retreated – only to be cuffed upside the head by Roman. “Ow, man!”

“Shut up.”

The room settled.

Ghost leaned a hip against the edge of the table, cool and unbothered, and nodded toward Luis’s plate. “You better eat that while it’s hot.”

Luis’s throat jumped as he swallowed – Reese imagined his belly was tight and jumpy with nerves – but he reached for his silverware.

Ghost said, “It turns out that at least some of your intel proved true. Or, it looks that way, right now.”

Luis shoved pulled pork into his mouth and nodded vigorously. “I told you,” he said, when he could.

“I saidsome,” Ghost stressed. “We’ve got a long way to go before I actually believe you.”

Luis sipped his coffee, expression guarded.

“We’ve been looking into the list of names you gave us. Dennis and Paula Kelly. What do you know about them?”

Luis shrugged. “They’re high-up. On the board.”

“Abacus has aboard?” Walsh asked from his perch on the neighboring table. He snorted cigarette smoke.

“Why not? You have a president.” Luis gestured to Ghost with his fork.

“Their place for kids,” Ghost said, tone sharp enough to recapture Luis’s attention and have him shrinking down over his plate. “Is it just a front to get hold of girls?”

“They use it for that, sure. It’s easy enough to pick out the ones you want, the ones with junkie parents who don’t care if they ever come home, and put them into the trade.”

Reese saw grimaces on more than one face.

“But they offer legitimate after-school services, too. They have to. A good front has to be convincing – just like all of your fronts, Ghost. Your garages, and nursery, and your–”

“Yeah, point taken,” Ghost said. “But three sets of parents tried to bring charges against Dennis with the Chicago PD. Why didn’t that go anywhere? The cops up there on the payroll?”

“A few locals, I’m sure, same as you. But.” He stirred his coleslaw, a sly glint edging into his gaze. No matter how nervous he was, he couldn’t help but lean toward smug. “It wasn’t the PD that had the charges disappeared. It was the feds.”

“Your dad?”

Luis’s lashes lowered, and a muscle clenched in his jaw. “No. But his kind.”

Ghost shared a look with Fox, who nodded.

“You’re looking at this too small,” Luis went on. “And with an adorable amount of naivete.” He grinned, wide and sharp. “They have more money and resources than you can imagine, and a wider reach than you can dream of. They have a gift, all of them, for ingratiating themselves. They have hundreds of spies and rats: they find things out about people. They pay them or threaten them, whichever is most effective, until they have them by the balls and otherwise ordinary, decent people have no choice but to go along with them.”

Ghost didn’t look impressed, expression flat. “Everyone has weaknesses I can exploit. You leave the difficult shit to us. Right now, your job is to keep proving yourself.”

Mercy cracked his knuckles, loudly, for emphasis.

Luis’s gaze darted to him, seemingly unbidden. “What – what do you need me to do?”

Ghost pulled a prepaid cellphone from his cut pocket and slid it across the table toward Luis. “You’re gonna call whoever’s next up the food chain from the mayor.”

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