Page 394 of Devil’s Disciples

“What happened? Did you get everything resolved?” I asked. “Everything?”

“Cleaned up one mess, and Cash made another.”

I was starting to not like this Cash guy so much. I walked up to Goose and gave him a light kiss, being careful not to get any of the filth that was all over him on me. “Seriously?”

He forced a sigh and then rubbed his hand over the top of his closely-cropped hair. “He’s a stupid fuck.”

“I was defending him the other day,” I said. “Now, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re right.”

He laughed. “I’m right.”

“What did he do?”

He shuffled to the bench, sat down, and patted the seat beside him. “Have a seat.”

I sat down at his side. He smelled like sweat and adrenaline. Like my father did after a big job.

“I guess I can tell you,” he said. “Not specifics, but some basic stuff on why he’s so fucking frustrating.”

“Okay.”

“Everyone in our little group has a specific strength. I’m good with guns. We’ve got a guy that’s good with computers. We’ve got another guy that’s former military—he’s good with tactics, making bombs, and all kinds of cool military-type shit. Anyway, we each gave our strengths.”

I looked at him and widened my eyes dramatically. “And Cash is good at being brave.”

He laughed. “He wasn’t very fucking brave last night. Or this morning. Whenever the fuck it was. Sunrise. Whatever time that falls into. He was screaming like a little bitch.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, he damned near hit a tree.”

“On his motorcycle?”

“No, in a car. Truck. Whatever you want to call it. An SUV.”

“Cash was driving an SUV?”

He nodded. “Kind of. As best he could, anyway.”

“Were you behind him?”

“No, I was in the SUV with him.”

It surprised me that Goose was riding in a car. He hated cars. “Was Cash drunk?”

“No, just stupid.”

“Why’d he almost hit a tree?”

“Because he can’t fucking drive,” he said, his tone elevated. “And, it was dark.”

“Were the headlights off?”

He chuckled. “No. They were on. He’s just. Fuck, I don’t know. Ghost was our driver, and with him gone, there’s nobody left to drive. Not like Ghost did, anyway.”

I had no idea what a bunch of bikers were doing in an SUV, but whatever it was it looked like it was dirty work. My guess was they were burying a body in the dark.

It was almost ten am. If it took him six hours to get home, they were a hell of a long distance from San Diego doing whatever it was they were doing.