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“Fuck if I know.” Cash shrugs.
“Surely you should fucking know. They are your in-laws, after all,” I point out.
“Yeah, from a rival fucking club. It’s not like we sit around sipping cups of tea while we discuss our club’s details. They’ve accepted me as Maggie’s, and that’s where it ends,” Cash explains.
“Fair enough. Where are we meeting them?” I ask.
“Sycamore,” he answers.
I frown. “The old train graveyard?”
Cash nods. “That’s the one,” he answers.
I drive the 40 miles to the train graveyard. After spotting Ghost and the rest of the brothers stood by their bikes waiting, I park the truck and Cash and I jump out.
“All good?” Ghost asks as we approach.
“Yeah, it was like the damn 4th of July.” Cash snorts.
“I told you it would work,” Spider states, holding out his arms.
I look around and notice that most of the club are here. “Why are we all here?” I ask.
“Relax, brother. I left Scar and Buzz with the prospects at the house. Plus, the women are armed. There ain’t no way anyone will be causing them any harm,” he assures me.
I nod. He has a point. I’ve seen Star handle herself on a few occasions, and Maggie was born and raised in a biker club. She isn’t stupid.
“So, why the meet?” Cash asks.
Ghost shrugs. “No idea. Rip called and said we needed a meet. Said it was urgent and that it couldn’t wait, so here we fucking are, and they are late.”
Within a minute of Ghost saying those words, a low rumble sounds in the distance. We turn and see them approaching. “Must be important for most of the club to be here,” I mutter as they come to a stop and get off their bikes.
Rip approaches Ghost and they both greet and shake hands, while the rest of us stand there, waiting and wondering what the fuck is going on. “You going to tell me why I’ve dragged my men out here in the middle of the night?” Ghost asks.
Rip lights a cigarette before he inhales and sighs on an exhale. “We want Bobby’s trade,” he states.
Ghost raises a brow. “What makes you think I have any authority over who gets his trade?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because you’ve been hiding him, because he has been your friend and longest ally, and because he is now out of the picture on his jet after faking his own death,” Rip says, smirking.
I look at Cash and he sighs. “Maggie.”
Ghost pins Cash with a threatening stare. Rip smiles. “We are family, after all.”
“When did she call and tell you?” Ghost asks.
Rip shakes his head. “Women fucking talk. Now, I know that technically that is a breach of club rules, but she is yours after all, and I won’t see any comebacks for this. Just like how there wasn’t any comeback for your increase in earnings from the weapons in Charlton,” Rip counters.
“Fucking Maggie,” Cash sighs.
“And no brother, it wasn’t actually your woman. It appears your ol’ lady and mine have formed a friendship,” Rip states, looking at Ghost.
Ghost pinches the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god, that fucking woman will be the death of me.” He sighs.
“So, back to business. We want at least half of Bobby’s trade. You know as well as I do, that once word gets out that he’s dead, the vultures will be circling for that business. They may have respected and feared Bobby, but I mean no disrespect when I say this, but they won’t give a shit about taking on an MC,” Rip points out.
Ghost is pissed at his remark. His jaw is set tight and instantly, the mood has shifted. “Do you not think we can’t handle Bobby’s trade? Are we not to be feared?” Ghost snarls, sizing Rip up like he’s an animal about to attack.
