Page 54 of Hounds Ascend
“Who?”.
Ghost has the table’s undivided attention, which he took advantage of for a few beats longer than normal while he took another gulp from his cup. Setting it down, his eyes meet mine.
“Their VP. The one that likes to get messy.”
Scott eyes him curiously. “Keith?’ he asks, his voice laced with disbelief. “I didn’t think he was smart enough to be in charge ofanything.”
“Wait, what about Asher?” I ask.
Ghost cocked his head. “Who?”
“Their president…?”
“Ahh. I was wondering about him, myself. He’s nowhere to be found. Word on the street is he hasn’t been seen nor heard from in quite some time.”
“Something’s not right there.” Clayton’s voice is filled with conviction. It isn’t an opinion, it’s fact.
“What makes you say that?” Scott asks.
“Would Cass let Gater run shit and disappear in the middle of a war?”
“Good point.”
I look back at Ghost. “Then, that’s your target.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that. That’s why I’ve already run surveillance on him over the past few days and figured out his routine. I may have taken out a few of his throw-aways in the process. Nasty little fuckers. Got in my way, but they were too strung out to even realize what hit them.”
I grin as Ghost’s words register in my mind. This guy was the real deal. Good thing he’s on our side.
“Where’s he going to be tonight?” Clayton asks.
I can tell Clayton is antsy, ready to be part of the action. He used to do this kind of thing for the club regularly when he met my mom, but he’d thrown the towel in after I was a few years old, and he almost got caught tossing a body. Not by the police, but by me. Clayton told me about it when I was older. Somethings had gotten messy, and he was dragging a body wrapped up in a rug behind him when I spoke and scared the shit out of him.
Clayton had run and put himself between me and the rug and scooped me up, bringing me back toward our farmhouse.
“Cass?” Scott is staring at me, snapping me out of the memory.
“Yeah?”
“Where do you want to start? Keith is going to be at their makeshift clubhouse. The ghetto, rinky-dink bar that they are rumored to have strong armed from the owner.”
I look to Clayton, waiting for his instruction…an old habit that I didn’t realize would make its way back with his presence.
“Let’s start there,” I say, and Clayton nods his approval. That’s something that always let me know I was doing right when I made decisions and they were the same ones my father would’ve made.
“Saddle up, then, boys. I’ll be there before you can say bullshit,” Ghost snickers, leaving us alone as he walks through a door on the other side of the living room.
Just as we’re about to turn out of the driveway, I look at the other two.
“Anybody got an address on this place?” I ask.
“Yeah. Already put it in the GPS,” Scott shouts over the roar of the engines.
“We’re following you.” I wave my hand forward, letting them know we’re ready. We take off, Scott to my left and Claytondirectly behind us. The bar we’re in route to is a little ways outside of town. There’s an abandoned gas station about a quarter mile before the bar, where we decide to park at, hoping to still have the element of surprise. I don’t think they’ll be on guard since to their knowledge, the Hounds have no idea where they’re staying. Where we’re parked at is hidden well in the dark, giving us shelter from passersby on the highway.
I’m first to step off my bike and walk around the store, looking for anything suspicious. It’s dark, but not dark enough where I can’t see. After a thorough walk-through of the premises, I make my way back around to where Scott and Clayton stand. They’re looking down the street toward the bar. The sound of a motorcycle accompanied by a single headlight headed in our direction has us on edge, myself included.
It flies past us, never checking up. Whoever it was, was oblivious to our presence. I rest a hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “Ready to fuck some shit up, Pops?”
