Page 13 of Eternally Ginger

7

Ghoul

Since we’d been in North Carolina, it was almost as if Ginger’s spirits had been lifted, but I wondered if she was just polite for my aunt’s benefit. Hell, we were all on our best behavior because of Aunt Hadley, if I was honest. Because we were at my aunt’s house, Sleeper and Sledgehammer were two of the luckiest prospects to ever be in a motorcycle club as far as it concerned me. However, once we left, those assholes were going to go through Hell and back.

My hand stretched across the mattress, searching for Ginger’s perfect body. When I didn’t find anything except a cold sheet, my eyelids popped open. “Ginger?” I called, surely she hadn’t gone far. She was probably downstairs drinking coffee or gossiping with my aunt. Over the past few days, when we weren’t asking around the area for Ginger’s mom, or she wasn’t with me, the two of them were together. There was no real need to worry.

Thus far, our search was pretty damn useless. One man at the grocery store was a promising lead, but it turned out he was a local drunk and wasn’t credible. None of us called Agent McFaye, mostly because we didn’t have shit to tell her other than she should have her ass here doing this herself. I kept that thought mostly to myself. Ginger was proud of the footwork we were doing to find her mom, and I wouldn’t dare say a word to prove otherwise. Who knew we could stumble on a lead by sheer accident. I was not holding my breath, though.

“You seen Ginger?” My fingertips mindlessly ran over my chest, and I yawned.

“Yeah, she borrowed Sleeper’s van to pick up food for dinner tonight.” Sledgehammer mindlessly responded, not bothering to pry his attention away from the infomercial on the T.V.

“How long ago was that?” I asked, kicking Sledge’s feet off the coffee table, and he lunged forward from the couch. I was acting like a dick intentionally. I might not have been able to make him scrub the bathroom floor of the clubhouse right now like Spider would have done to one of us when we prospected, but I could do subtle things until we rode back to Cleveland.

“About an hour and a half ago,” he promptly answered.

“Someone should have gone with her,” I grumbled, pouring a cup of coffee for myself, and inhaled the glorious scent. I wasn’t awake enough for this shit. She could take care of herself, but knowing that sick fuck was around here somewhere and probably had her mom, was enough for me to justify being overprotective.

Me: Hey, you good?

I dropped into the rocking chair on the porch and stared at the ellipsis appearing and then disappearing. Concern sped through my body, and I set the mug of black coffee down onto the porch, just in case I needed to leave in a hurry.

Ginger: Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be back soon. <3

I wanted to demand she come back at once or hop on my motorcycle and go to get her ass, but I wouldn’t allow myself to be a controlling asshole with her. We hadn’t spent much time apart since she moved into the clubhouse with me. When we had, I always knew where she was. I was getting too old for this shit, and I wasn’t an old person.

Me: Please be careful

Ginger: Always

Staring at her name on the screen, I smiled, knowing I didn’t deserve her, and breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t a mushy son of a bitch but wanted to do something nice for her on Valentine’s Day. A grand gesture of sorts. I hadn’t figured out my plan yet, but I had a little bit of time before February fourteenth arrived. Plucking a cigar from the inside of my cut, I put it to my mouth and struck a match on the arm of the chair, puffing four times until the end of it caught fire.

Sitting in the silence, it was easy to get lost in the peacefulness. I rested my head on the back of the rocking chair and enjoyed the moment. However, I jumped, on high alert, when something whizzing through the air broke my concentration. My cigar busted in half, and hot embers dropped onto my stomach. “Fuck. Shit. Fucking hell!” I swatted them away and pulled my gun out of my jeans.

“Who the fuck is there? I’ll put a bullet between your fucking coward eyes.” I scanned the area surrounding me, and at first, found absolutely nothing out of place. The bush separating this yard from the neighbor’s shook, rustling the leaves. I didn’t plan to kill anyone today, but I never imagined someone would attack us at my aunt’s house. I had to give it to whoever it was; they had huge balls following us to her home. Ones I would fillet right off their body for them.

Leading with my piece, I glided across the lawn and hoped to catch the idiot off guard. A wicked smile spreads across my face. Got the fucker now.

“Don’t move!” I shouted, rounding the side, and my heart slammed against my ribcage.

A kid, no more than thirteen, stood and arched his brow, puffing his chest toward me as he faced me, and white-knuckled his BB gun.

“For fucks sake! I almost killed you, you little shit! And you ruined my Cuban!”

“I was aiming for your sorry head.” He spat on the ground and straightened his posture. I bit my top lip to keep from laughing at him. I was right about one thing; the little bastard had a steel set between his legs. They might have been even bigger than Sac’s.

“You got a name, kid?”

“Bryan Micheals.” He beamed with a nod of his head.

“Name’s Ghoul.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

The screen door of his house squeaked, and he tossed his BB gun into the bush and took off across his yard like he was in a marathon.

“I’m going to whoop your ass,” I snapped, chasing after him, grabbing the back of his shirt in my fingers when I caught up to him.

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