Page 44 of Ghost

Nomad photographed the plates and gate while Wraith tracked the men moving between the yard and building. I studied the narrow service road disappearing behind the property toward the north ridge. The rear route was rough but passable, giving anyone inside a second way out if the main drive closed.

“Rear road hooks east after the fence,” Nomad murmured, checking the terrain map on his phone. “Comes out near the old quarry spur.”

“Put eyes on both ends before daylight,” I instructed. “Nobody gets close enough to spook them.”

We held the first rotation until nearly four, long enough to see another vehicle arrive and one of the men carry out a small case, handling it with more care than the others. The distance kept me from identifying the contents, but caution from men who had been tossing heavy equipment around like luggage made the case worth remembering. Wraith took the last set of photographs before another surveillance team moved into place from the eastern ridge.

I returned to the compound just before dawn, showered the dust from my skin, and slid back into bed beside Tamsin. She turned toward me, pressing her face into my chest, and I spent several hard minutes staring at the ceiling while her thigh rested across an erection I did not have time to use properly.

The club kept an eye on the property throughout the morning while I moved between reports, short meetings, and my office. When I was trapped behind the desk, Tamsin usually occupied the couch along the wall, curled into one corner with Bellamy paperwork and her bare feet tucked beneath her. Every few pages, she would look up to make sure I was still there, and every time she did, I pictured shutting the door, pulling her across the desk, and making her read the same paragraph again with my hand between her thighs.

She caught me watching shortly before noon. “Are you doing any work?”

“Plenty,” I rumbled, letting my gaze move over the soft shirt hugging her breasts. “Some of it requires close observation.”

“That explanation would be more convincing if you were looking at the reports.”

A few minutes later, Jacqueline appeared in the doorway. “Want to help in the kitchen before Halo’s cooking poisons half the brothers?”

“Sure.”

Tamsin went with her, and I listened to her laughter drift down the hall while I reviewed the next surveillance update.

By midafternoon, the damaged SUV that had escaped the road interception had returned. At least six armed men rotated through the site, and the vehicles remained positioned for a fast exit rather than normal loading. Nothing about the place suggested a legitimate storage operation, and everything about their movements said they were preparing to relocate whatever the warehouse raid and road ambush had failed to secure.

The current surveillance team returned shortly before five, bringing clearer photographs and confirmation that Bellamy-marked cases were being staged near the trucks. Stryker called the final prep meeting shortly after, but my first stop after debriefing the returning brothers was the clubhouse lounge.

Tamsin sat on a stool beside the pool table while Bex leaned over a shot and Jacqueline accused her of inventing rules as she went. Tamsin’s head tipped back on a soft giggle, wild curls spilling down her back. She looked fucking fantastic relaxed inside my world.

She looked up the moment I entered, and the laughter in her face changed into warm relief before she crossed the room toward me. “You were gone longer this time.”

“Counting the minutes?”

“Maybe.”

I caught her around the waist and pulled her into me before she could pretend the answer had not pleased me. Her body settled against mine automatically, palms flattening over my chest as though that was where they belonged now. I kissed the corner of her mouth, and felt my cock harden when her lips chased mine by half an inch.

“Stryker needs your eyes on some pictures.” I kept my hand spread over her lower back as I took her to his office.

Hawkeye stood near the window, Cipher had surveillance photographs spread across one monitor, and Bishop, Judge, Wraith, and Nomad occupied the chairs and wall space around the table. Trigger, Breach, Skyfall, Smoke, and several other patched brothers filtered in behind us, their conversation rough but focused as they studied the property layout.

Stryker tipped his chin toward the open place beside Cipher. “Show her the cases.”

Tamsin moved to the screen while I stayed close enough that her arm brushed mine. Cipher brought up the clearest image from that afternoon, and she leaned forward, concentration replacing the warmth she had carried from the lounge. No one interrupted while she studied the markings, enlarged the damaged corners, and compared the containers against details only someone raised inside Bellamy Pyrotechnics would recognize.

“These three belong to us,” she determined, touching the screen carefully. “The yellow bands mark controlled pyrotechnic material, but the labels have been removed. This longer case should hold firing components, unless they repacked it.”

Judge slid a printed photograph closer. “What about this one?”

Tamsin studied the damaged container. “Don’t move this until Gavin checks it. That corner shouldn’t be bowed outward, and the latch looks newer than the rest of the case.”

“Anything else?” I asked, enjoying how seriously she considered the question.

Her gaze dropped toward the bandage beneath my shirt. “Try not to get stabbed again.”

Smoke coughed into his fist, Wraith looked toward the ceiling, and Judge’s mouth twitched before he hid it behind his coffee. I made no effort to conceal my grin. Tamsin noticed the reactions and blushed, but she held my gaze.

I kissed her temple before walking her to the kitchen, where Bex and Jacqueline were sitting at the island drinking from steaming mugs and talking with Dot and Mara—old ladies whose men had been with the club since before Stryker became president.