Page 18 of Her Outlaw Biker
Another pause. Then he says, “You ever wonder why the Iron Vultures left you alive, Ghost? After what happened in Mexico?”
I clench my jaw. “I figured I went ghost before they could decide.”
“No. They let you go. Fed your name to the Feds behind your back. Made you the fall guy for that botched op—guns, cash, two dead agents. You remember that?”
My stomach turns. “They pinned that shit on me?”
“Yeah. You were the cleanup man. The only one who knew how to disappear. They figured if the Feds ever came knocking, they’d point at you and keep their hands clean.”
“Fucking bastards,” I mutter, pacing in the dirt. “And the girl?”
“Bait,” Rafe says flatly. “To flush you out. Rigs didn’t think you’d come back on your own, so he sent someone you couldn’t ignore. She’s probably got no clue what’s really going on.”
“She doesn’t,” I say, voice rough. “She’s just a scared kid trying to save her old man.”
“Then get her the fuck away from them. Fast.”
“Too late,” I mutter. “They already came for us. Looked like a rival MC. But it was too clean. Too surgical.”
“You ever hear of the Ted Devils?” Rafe asks.
“Yeah. But they don’t operate out here.”
“They do now. Or at least, the Iron Vultures want people to think that. It was them wearing Devils cuts. Meant to muddy the waters and keep their hands clean.”
My fingers twitch around the phone. “So they want me dead and buried before the truth leaks?”
“Exactly. There’s chatter about a hit going down tonight. Quiet. Precise. No survivors. You and the girl both.”
My blood turns to ice. “She didn’t sign up for this.”
“They don’t care. She’s a loose end now. You both are.”
I grip the phone so tight I hear the casing creak. “How many?”
“At least six men. Maybe more. Rigs is not taking chances.”
I look toward the trailer. Clover’s silhouette is just barely visible through the window, curled up in my bed. Still sleeping. Still innocent, even after everything.
“I won’t let them touch her,” I growl.
“Then you gotta move fast, Ghost. You’re sitting on a goddamn landmine.”
“I owe you.”
“You owe me a bottle of whiskey and to stop being a stubborn son of a bitch. Now go.”
I hang up. Every part of me is buzzing now, instincts flaring like they used to overseas, before the club, before the chaos. Just pure, lethal clarity.
The call left a bitter taste in my mouth. I stand there a minute longer, staring at the dead phone like it might say something else…something better.
But it doesn’t.
The Iron Vultures. Those bastards faked a rival ambush just to get a shot at me. And Clover…she was just the bait. A pretty decoy tossed into the fire. They knew I wouldn’t be able to resist saving her. They were counting on it.
And now they’re coming.
Tonight.
