Four sets of bloodshot eyes lifted toward him, one of which was full of fatherly disapproval.
It was six-twenty-six in the morning and Aidan was running off coffee and the Waffle House hash browns and sausage he’d choked down on the way over. Waffle House made him think of Sam – changing her tire in the parking lot – and thoughts of Sam made him feel tall, capable, and in need of a major life readjustment. Whatever was coming at him, bring it. Including his dad. Including this stupid fucking problem with the money.
Ghost, Ratchet, Jinx, and Candy were at a table in the clubhouse common room, reams of paper spread out before them, ash trays full of butts.
Candy took a long swallow out of a glass of Scotch and said, “We’re up to a hundred kay.”
“What?” Aidan demanded.
Ghost made a face he wouldn’t normally. The exhaustion was getting to him. “Nobody’s liquid. After buying the horse farm, all the chapters are strapped.” He picked his cig off the edge of the ashtray, took a drag fraught with unhappiness.
Fortified by coffee, and the sonogram picture in his wallet, Aidan huffed an annoyed breath and said, “So we don’t have the money. Okay. We find another way.”
Candy rolled his eyes and downed more Scotch.
Ratchet and Jinx studied their hands.
“Another way?” Ghost asked, sneering. “And what would that be, Einstein? We take one step toward Ellison or any of his properties, and they’ll put the screws to Tango.”
“Haven’t they already?” Aidan shot back. “If they know his history, they’ll know how to use it against him.”
Ghost’s eyes flared, like he was afraid Aidan would say too much.
How fucking insulting. “We need to get him out now,” Aidan said. He thought he might be snarling, and didn’t care. “And if you won’t think about other options, then I will.”
“Yeah?” Ghost said. “You gonna take some initiative for once in your damn life?”
“I–”
Aidan didn’t get to finish. The front door banged open and a lean shadow preceded the lean shape of Ian Byron as he marched into the common room, backlit by the dawn, tailed by his usual bodyguard, Bruce.
Aidan took one look at the Englishman’s harsh face and stepped back. Let Ghost facethisa moment.
“Guys,” Ghost said. “Give us a minute.”
Ratchet, Candy and Jinx seemed glad of the chance to get up and stretch their legs. They left down the back hall, heading no doubt toward dorms and bathrooms, and maybe even pillows if they weren’t called to return.
A door closed with a soft thump, and then they were alone. Bruce dragged out a chair and sat.
Ian hauled in a deep breath and said, “Where is he?” His crisp English voice was venomous, furious, impressive in its darkness. This was the reason, Aidan reflected dimly, as the man’s eyes flashed, they always cast Brits as villains in movies.
Ghost folded his hands together on the table. “I don’t discuss the whereabouts of my members with outsiders.”
“Youfuckingasshole! This is on your head,” Ian roared. “I told you to turn him loose.I told you!You owed me that, after what I did for yourfuckingclub, and all I wanted in return was Kevin’s freedom. None of this would be happening if you’d given him to me!” He breathed through his mouth, teeth bared. “I will burn your club to the ground for this.”
With a dramatic spin, long black coat flaring around him like a cape, he stormed for the door, Bruce struggling to keep up with his long legs.
In his wake, Ghost dropped his face in his hands.
Aidan stared at his father, the man angry and helpless as he sat hunched over all that useless paperwork. His president, his leader…and right now, part of the problem. He made a lightning-fast decision; he chased after Ian.
Out in the parking lot, Bruce was holding open the rear door of the black Jag and Ian was folding his considerable lean height down onto the red leather seat.
“Ian. Hold up.”
Bruce glanced at his master, curious.
Ian gave Aidan a cold stare, eyes flicking down and then back up the length of him, then nodded stiffly. Bruce stepped back, giving them at least a sense of privacy.
