“I’m assuming you know who we are.”
Silence which was taken as a “yes.”
“I want to extend an apology,” Ghost said, “for your lost opportunity. I know you and your people were hoping to turn Briar Hall Stables into a condo development, and obviously” – sharp grin – “that didn’t go so well for you.”
Gannon’s face compressed with obvious anger, but his voice remained calm. “I’ve been in the development game for a long time, Mr. Teague” – ah, so he knew a good bit about them – “and disappointment is part of the process. Something always needs to be built, and we always land on our feet.”
Ghost felt Walsh’s elbow at his ribs, a light touch, one Gannon couldn’t have seen. It was both a request and a warning. The solid, unshakeable VP was running scared after what happened to Emmie.Don’t rile them up about the farm, his elbow said.Don’t bring them back to my doorstep.
Fair enough.
“Who are you building this for?”
Gannon shrugged. “Dr. Murphy. He’s a podiatrist.”
“Does he have any idea who backs you financially?”
Gannon’s frown deepened.
“Does he know Don Ellison gave you your start?”
“No, obviously,” the man said, tightly.
“Here’s my personal question, though: Ellison didn’t just give you a start, did he? He’s still got you by the short hairs, and he’s wanting a foothold in Knoxville. This isn’t a simple case of you building a doctor’s office, is it?”
“Mr. Teague, you have a very vivid imagination.”
“No, that’d be other members of my family.” His writer daughter; his book geek torture-artist son-in-law; Mags with her home reno ideas. “Me – I like to stick to the facts. And the fact is, you and your crew are creating a pathway for a major dealer to worm his way into my city. Gotta say I don’t take kindly to that.”
Gannon stared at him a moment, then said, “What happened to Amy Richards?”
Ghost shrugged. “No idea. Maybe the dumbass decided to skip town after she and her son killed her old man.”
“You–”
“Noyouneed to listen to what I have to say. Tell Ellison I got his message. Loud and clear. And tell him to back the hell off. ‘Cause I don’t care how hot shit he thinks he is – he doesn’t want to mess with this club. We clear? You can deliver that message, or I can. But I’ll be way less nice about it than you.”
The air pulsed with snide things that wanted to be said, bristled with the strain of the circumstances.
Finally, Gannon nodded.
Ghost gestured for their leave-taking, and the three of them trooped out of the office and back to the bikes without salutation.
“Posturing isn’t gonna register with Ellison,” Michael said, voice sharp with anger, “not when he’s already pushing back into our turf.”
“I know,” Ghost said with a sigh, “but I have to posture anyway.”
~*~
Holly always ran her index finger down the computer screen when she was totaling up invoice figures. She didn’t actually touch the glass, just hovered her fingertip, beautiful face screwed up with concentration as she ran the numbers in her head without benefit of a calculator.
Michael lingered in the trucking office doorway, letting her finish, watching the way his shadow fell across her and the playpen behind her, where Lucy was taking her afternoon nap.
He’d saved Holly, hadn’t he? Pulled her out of the nightmare of her family.
Only to do what – subject her to the nightmare of his club life?
Pain grabbed in his chest, made it hard to breathe. His beautiful, wonderful girl, who loved him better than anyone ever had, who made it worth waking up each morning.
