Page 1 of Ghost's Obsession

Chapter 1

Ghost

Islam down the hood of the car I’m working on with a bang. Changing out the alternator takes me exactly one hour and thirteen minutes. I’ve done it a million times before, and on a Chevy Cavalier, it’s a straightforward job.

I wash up using GOJO to cut through the inevitable dirt and grease on my hands. I like everything about working in the Savage Legion’s garage, from the scent of motor oil, to the feeling of a job well done at the end of the day. Today’s been a busy day, and I’m looking forward to knocking back a cold beer with my club brothers.

Evan pokes his head into the garage, “Mr. Morgan’s here to pick up the Cavalier.”

I wipe my hands on my overalls. Jerking my chin to the sedan, I tell him, “Just finished up the job. I started a ticket earlier. It’s on the desk, in the office. The job took me an hour and thirteen minutes.”

“So, we round up to the nearest quarter of an hour, right?”

I give him an approving grin. “Yeah, you’re catching on fast, Evan. Don’t forget to add tax. Dutch got us a card with all the percentages already calculated. He even ordered us some wholesale merch that you can upsell.”

He smirks at that, “Yeah, those calendars with the club girls have been selling like hot cakes.”

I shrug and toss the shop towel into the laundry bin. “Every man likes pin-up girls, and our club’s got some beautiful ones.”

“I guess,” he says before turning towards the small office in the corner of the garage.

“The keys are in the ignition, Evan,” I shout after him.

Evan is one of the youngest prospects in the club and Rigs’ adopted son. It seems like he’s trying out every job our club has to offer. It’s a good strategy if he’s trying to prove his worth.

Once I’m finished up at our auto repair shop, I head on over to the clubhouse on the other side of the parking lot. A large bar runs down one side of the huge main room, and several arched openings run along the far wall, each with a pool table on the other side. The bar always smells like leather and beer, with a hint of whatever the prospects are cooking wafting in from the back patio. Tonight, it smells like steak.

It’s early, so there are only a handful of brothers and club girls. I walk over, put some coins in the jukebox, and hit a couple of my favorite tunes. Then I turn and head for the bar. Crow is on the other side of the bar. He likes to mix drinks and still does it for fun sometimes. He got a taste for it back when he was prospecting. I come out and slide onto one of the barstools.

“Your mom got the boys tonight, Crow?” He glances up at me and grins.

“Yeah, my twins are hell on wheels. She’s the only fuckin’ person they listen to. I’d give a lot to know her secret.”

“If you ever find out her secret, be sure to pass it along. It’s the kind of intel every brother’s gonna need some day.”

He just laughs and asks, “You drinkin’ beer tonight, Ghost?”

“You know it, brother. I like to keep it simple.”

He pours me an ice-cold draft and slides it across the bar to me. “Enjoy. And let me know if you need a refill.”

“Will do,” I tell him before turning around in my barstool to see who’s coming and going. As the overhead fan spins overhead, cooling me down, I take a long drink of my beer. My throat is parched, and it soothes the dryness away. My shirt is damp with sweat and sticks to my back a little. Truth be told, my muscles are sore from stretching over various vehicles all day. But I like a little ache to remind me that I’m alive and kicking.

I leave the barstool and head to a more comfortable chair with a cushioned seat at a scarred wooden table near the back of the room. This is one of my favorite tables because it gives me a decent vantage point to people-watch. I like seeing my club brothers happy and relaxed. They deserve it. And after spending eight hours on my feet, it is nice to stretch my legs out.

It doesn’t take me long to work my way through my beer. Just when I’m thinking about getting a refill, Patch comes over holding a tray.

“I grabbed you some steak and fries because you’re always hungry after your shift in the garage.”

“Damn, doc. They’ve got you running food now. Is there no end to your humiliation?”

Patch just laughs, a deep, genuine laugh. He’s actually our new club doctor, but he’s doing his time like a regular prospect. “Our club officers expect me to prove my worth, just like every other brother that joined this MC.”

“Yeah, I heard Rider was being especially strict about that,” I tell him empathetically.

“I don’t expect any special favors. I want to prospect just like anyone else. Besides, doing it this way I feel like I belong.”

I scratch the back of my neck, thinking they could’ve just given Patch duties better suited to his background, but I admire the man’s dedication. “I guess that makes sense. If you’ve got food for me, I’ll sure take it off your hands and be grateful for the offering.”

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