Page 30 of Ethan's Sky

“As good as I’m gonna get for now.” He studies my face for a minute then turns his attention back to the head of the table.

I watch as Ghost gives Gabe and Caleb both a nod of his head telling them he’s good.

It’s bullshit. We can all see it, but no one is going to challenge him. He got his nickname for his ability to make people vanish into thin air. None of us are going to call him out any time soon. Not while he’s so tightly wound. Everyone’s going to give him a wide berth and let him deal with this in his own way.

He lost his sister to cancer. George and Skyler were all the blood he had left. Ghost has had his brothers in the MC for over twenty years. He has everything he needs right here in this room to help him get through this. I know because it’s what they did for me when I lost my sister. I may be pissed, but I wouldn’t deny a brother if he needed my help.

I wasn’t part of the Kings when Emily died. I tried to get space, to deal with my grief by myself, but Hawk wasn’t having it. We grew up together, though my family wasn’t part of the club like his. His father was a member at one point. I don’t know what happened to his dad and it’s not discussed by anyone in the club, ever.

Hawk and Jake attended Emily’s funeral and kept close tabs on me for a while. They watched me drowning my sorrows night after night. Wasn’t hard when my mother was doped up on antidepressants and pain pills. She left her stocked liquor cabinet unguarded, and I took full advantage.

The guys came and made themselves comfortable wherever I was and kept watch. They didn’t stop me from drinking, but they didn’t let me do anything too stupid either, like land my ass in jail. They became my self-imposed guardians whether I wanted them or not.

They were the ones who called Caleb. I’ll forever be grateful for the night he took my drunk ass back to his house. He and Liz let me stay with them for a while after Mom left to live with her sister. She listed our house for sale and never looked back as if she forgot I even existed.

I owe all of them for taking me in and saving my ass from my own self destruction.

After that first morning, Hawk started showing up at Caleb’s door. I was surprised he waited a day to show up. His ass would be there at ungodly hours of the morning, not caring what state I was in. He’d wake me up from whatever hellish hangover I had put myself in banging on the door until I finally let his ass in. I prayed Liz or Caleb would get pissed enough to tell him to fuck off, but most mornings they were sitting at the table drinking coffee, smiling sadistically, waiting for me to answer the fucking door.

Hawk found out I left an MMA fighting camp to come home for Emily’s funeral and to help my mother. In doing so, I forfeit my spot and any future I had with the team. I had no home, no job, and a piss poor attitude.

Hawk wasn’t phased in the least. He made it his personal mission to drive me to Knock Out’s Gym every morning and get me training again, introducing me to Kieran O’Rourke the owner and a mixed martial arts master. Over the last couple of years, Kieran went from not only being my friend and trainer, to my business partner and shared owner of the gym.

After a few months, I moved into the apartment above the gym. Shortly after, I got my shit together Caleb sponsored me as a prospect with the Kings. Meeting with Kieran, getting back in the cage, and becoming a part of the Kings of Fury saved me.

“All right! Sit your asses down so we can get this shit started and over with as soon as possible.” Gabe yells ratcheting up the tension in the room. “I don’t know about you, assholes, but I’ve got work to do, family shit to take care of, and at some point, I’d like to get some fucking sleep. First thing’s first.” He turns his attention to the Mountain Heights members. “Welcome back to Oak Ridge, brothers. Glad to have you. Wish it was under better circumstances but appreciate you making the ride to be here.”

There’s a ruckus of hands beating on the table. It’s somewhat subdued due to all the animosity filling the room. Everyone’s still amped up.

Eli gives a nod to Ghost. “George was a good friend. He deserves our respect. Whatever you or Skyler need, we got you brother.”

My body stiffens at his mentioning Skyler’s name.

Ghost tips his chin in thanks.

“Mack,” Gabe starts, “What do we know about George’s death?”

Mack pulls himself off the wall and stands with his arms crossed as he addresses the room.

“The cops got the call around 2:26 in the morning from George’s phone. He was on the second leg of his trip, headed back to Baron’s Edge after dropping his load in Montana. He told the police he was being forced all over the road by a group of motorcyclists. George was found shot on the side of the road, execution style not long after the call was made.” Mack pauses, looking around the room at each of us. It’s not the first truck jacking made on a West International Freight company. It is, however the first one with a death.

The last two were intercepted by the police. The other drivers called Garrison Security, per protocol, and they alerted the cops to the threat. The drivers were both beaten and banged up but they’re both alive. The dash cams on both trucks showed two mustangs with no plates, swerving, and dodging each other in front of the big rig. Apparently, whoever we’re dealing with changed tactics from cars to bikes.

“Cops said they’ll have dashcam footage in the next day or so along with the autopsy report. We should officially have it off the cloud in a few days along with their report. It’s police protocol to verify if the driver exuded any kind of reckless behavior contributing to any kind of incident.”

Hawk opens his laptop and starts tapping the keys rapidly.

“Hawk can access the dash cam records and George’s cell phone records through Garrison Security.”

“The driver of the truck is executed, and the cops want to see ifhewas behaving recklessly enough to cause someone to run him off the road and kill him?” Jake grumbles. “Becausethatmakes perfect fucking sense.”

Mack glares at his son with disapproval, a warning to shut the fuck up.

“It’s called road rage asshole.”

“It’s called bullshit.” Jake says shaking his head. “There’s no reason to believe George was behaving recklessly when he’s the one calling for help. They just don’t want to do their fucking job."

“You sound like Sadie, bitching because the old bastards in blacked out SUVs don’t give a fuck about anyone but their own.” Hawk taunts.

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