Page 45 of Ghost

I don’t fucking know.

I wasn’t raised in church like he was.

January 24, 2024, Diamond Creek, Nebraska.

Jesus Christ, this place was a fucking madhouse today. We didn’t have parties during the week ’cause most of the guys held jobs at the businesses the club owned. We didn’t need hungover cranky ass brothers spreading ill will around town ’cause they couldn’t hold their liquor.

But Beck said tonight was special because a new brother was joining our ranks. King tried to convince her he didn’t need the fanfare. But Beck was Beck and didn’t listen to a word he said.

Her and the girls had been in the kitchen all damn day making food. It pissed Hash off that someone had taken over his space, but like Beck said, he was welcome to help.

He refused.

Hash was a prospect when Freeway got sent up. Freeway had made Hash’s life hell. The Mother Chapter were assholes to prospects. I remembered how Angel, the enforcer, beat the shit out of me teaching me how to fight.

Well, how to fight dirty. I already knew how to fight. I could hold my own against guys that were bigger than me. But Angel taught me to get the upper hand fast, and he taught me how to hold on to it.

I was thankful for everything I learned, but fuck if I had a single day of that year where I wasn’t bruised and busted up.

The front doors slammed open and the first words out of the big bald bastard’s mouth proved the warning from Jingles in church the other night and that scripture Colt was always spewing. I had to ask him about it ’cause it was bugging the shit out of me.

It is better to be silent and thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

He said it was a proverb or some shit.

Like those fortune cookies they give out at the Chinese restaurants.

Well, Freeway removed all fucking doubt whatsoever if he was a fool or not.

“What the fuck is this? Where are the strippers?” He looked around and focused on Ellie. “Bitch, come here. You’re first!”

Freeway made a beeline for Ellie, and the terror in her eyes broke my fucking heart. Ryder stepped in his path, preventing him from getting any closer.

Ryder was new to the club, but we’d all known him since we set up the chapter here. He grew up with Beck and Blade.

King wanted him to join, but Blade blocked it. None of us knew the real reason why but he finally let his shit go and now Ryder wore a cut.

Jingles moved quickly to back up Ryder, but he didn’t need it. We all thought of Ryder as a little… not soft exactly, but he didn’t grow up in the club like some of us who joined as soon as we turned eighteen.

Ryder was a peacemaker. A jokester like Jack. What we didn’t know was that Ryder had a mean fucking right hook when his family was threatened.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but we don’t cockblock a brother. Move your ass so I can get me some of hers.”

Ryder didn’t say a word. He didn’t push Freeway back and tell him Ellie was his old lady. He didn’t need to; she had her goddamn cut on. He didn’t make a show of pulling his arm back to throw a punch, like guys who don’t really know how to fight.

His arm shot around before any of us realized what was happening, and Freeway hit the floor out cold.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was a fucking haymaker!

“Party’s fucking over,” King yelled.

The women stood in shock. Banshee tasked Tank and Big Ben with delivering Freeway to a room.

“We’re going home,” Ryder announced. He gathered up his wife and kids and left. He didn’t come to the clubhouse often because of the strain between him and Cash. Now this shit would make it worse.

“What the fuck did I say? Why the fuck is he here?” Jingles bellowed.

“I’ll talk to him,” King growled and walked down the hallway.

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