Page 5 of Ghost

A few minutes later, Laredo strolls through the door, scans the room, and finds me at the back, sitting at a corner table. I did the club a favor a short time ago, gathering intel on a rival MC. Just one of many ways I’ve become involved with the club over the past few years. I’m good at what I do and have an array of resources at my disposal for gathering information on people. Those connections produced nothing in my search for Mejia, where Laredo has stepped in and helped.

Laredo stops by the bar and leans over the counter, speaking to the female bartender before continuing in my direction. “How’s it goin’?” he asks while pulling out a chair, then takes a seat.

“I’m breathing,” I say, detached from the world around me and down what remains of my whiskey. “What you got for me?” I’m eager to get my hands on anything he is here to give.

Laredo scrubs his hands over his face and down his beard and leans back, letting out a heavy breath. “Not to piss on your already sour mood, brother, but I just drove an hour after a long ass day to meet you here. I’m going to relax and have a fuckin’ beer before diving into business.”

I don’t respond and only nod with understanding. The man deserves to unwind, after all. A waitress arrives at our table and sits a cold beer in front of Laredo. She smiles at him. “Hey, handsome. I haven’t seen your face in here before.”

“Not from around here, darlin’.” His Texas drawl hooks her instantly.

“Are you a cowboy or something?” she asks.

He grins. “Somethin’ like that.”

Her eyes linger on Laredo for a moment, then turns her attention toward me. “Hey again, stranger.” She notices the empty glass in front of me and reaches across the table. In the process, the waitress’s tits, barely contained by the small crop top she’s wearing, are in my face, front, and center.” She notices my glance downward and gives a flirty smile. “Would you like a refill?”

“I’m good.”

She gives off serious fuck-me vibes. “You men need anything, just let me know.” She winks, then slowly retreats, sashaying toward the other side of the bar.

Laredo whistles. “Damn, brother. That pretty lady wants a taste of somethin’.”

“Not interested,” I tell him, and he gives me ayou’ve got to be out of your fucking mindlook.

He shakes his head. “Shit, if you don’t leave here with her tonight, I just might.” He turns in his seat, setting his unwanted attention on me, and downs some of his beer.

We sit in silence for a beat until I can’t take him eyeballing me anymore. “Spit it out,” I grumble, knowing by the way Laredo’s stare is searing a fucking hole through my head that he has something to say.

“I get that you’ve embraced this lone wolf lifestyle, but have you given any more thought to Salem’s offer?” Laredo is referring to becoming a brother and riding with Fallen Ravens MC. I like the club and the brotherhood they offer, but I like my solitude more. At least for now. What Fallen Ravens does and how they operate isn’t much different than what I do. They rid the world of unwanted gutter trash for a price. I scrub the palm of my hand down my face and sigh, not knowing if I should turn the club’s offer down or stew on it longer.

“I’m not ready to give you an answer.” I keep it real with Laredo.

“Fair.” He nods. “It’s fuckin hard for a man to move forward when he has unfinished business.” Laredo reaches into his cut, producing a folded envelope. “Hopefully, this sets you on the path to doing just that.” He slides it across the table.

I lean forward, pick the envelope up and open it. Papers inside reveal the alias Russ Blackwell that Mejia has been hiding behind, along with an address and three photographs. The man in these pictures has an altered appearance from the only images I have of Mejia. His hair is shorter and dyed a different color. However, time and effort have done nothing to hide who he is. Behind those brown-colored contacts are the eyes of a murderer. Edges of the paper crinkle as my grip tightens around the edges while staring at the image of my wife’s killer.

“You want backup on this one?” Laredo asks.

“No.” I push from the table, causing the chair’s feet to scrub loudly against the bar’s hardwood floor, and I stand. “I owe you.” I set my attention on Laredo.

“You don’t owe me shit. A word of advice—wisdom—whatever you want to fuckin' call it. Vengeance is a deceitful and bloodthirsty motherfucker, and he’ll always want more unless you learn to have the strength to let him go. Don’t let him destroy you.” His jaw ticks and I can see in his eyes that he connects with what he is saying. “I hope killing the man finally gives you some peace.”

His words are a jagged pill to swallow, so, for now, I don’t. I need vengeance and his greedy thirst to finish what I started. Not giving Laredo a response, I walk out of the bar to my truck and head home to prepare to mark off the last name on my list.

4

BEATRIX

"Daddy, I don't think I can do it."

"Sure you can. Just hold on to the handlebars and put your feet on the pedals," Daddy says. "Go on, Bea. You got this."

Taking a deep breath, I tighten my grip on the handlebars. "You promise not to let go?"

"I promise. I won't let go until you're ready."

Daddy always keeps his promises, so I know he won't let me fall. "Okay, I'm ready."

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