"He didn't survive," Hammer said.
"Anyone else talkative in your club?" Czar asked.
"The men in this room are men I trust implicitly. The ones in my chapter, same thing. The other chapters wear our colors and I'll fight for them and with them, but I don't know them as well as I do my own brothers."
That was an honest answer. No one could know every man in every chapter of a club.
"They all in on the counterfeiting?"
He nodded. "Distribution. We have the plates. They're good plates. I've got a good man who knows what he's doing. We play it safe and don't get greedy, we can make it work, make it untraceable back to us. This other club wants to get greedy."
"How big are they?" Czar asked.
"That's the thing. They're Ghosts. They call themselves Ghosts."
Reaper stirred then, something he never did. That called attention to him and the Demon's enforcer nearly came out of his seat. Reaper ignored him. "A word, Czar."
That was never done either, especially by one of Czar's men. They always allowed Czar to make his play. They talked it over after.
Czar didn't give anything away as he rose and jerked his chin toward the only other door in the room. Reaper let him come across the room and then stepped so his body was between his president's and the Demons.
Czar closed the door and turned to him, his eyebrow raised but concern on his face.
"The bastards going after the Mayhem president's wife and child, the one we saved, it was the Ghosts after them. They weren't wearing colors, but they referred to themselves as 'Ghosts,' as in, I'd never see it coming because his friends are Ghosts. Last words out of his fuckin' mouth."
"You think the Demons are setting us up?" Czar asked.
Reaper loved his brother. Czar believed in him, in his ability to protect not only him, but his family and the others. He believed in Reaper's instincts, his gut. Right now his gut was telling him the Demons were in trouble with this new "Ghost" club.
Reaper shook his head. "Got a bad feelin' in there. They don't want to be, but they're scared. Somethin' more is going on than they're tellin' us."
Czar clapped him on the shoulder. "Never think for one minute that I don't need you, Reaper. It's always been you and me. We lived in hell. Now we're not, we're calling our own shots. Don't let the newness, the difference, fuck with your head."
Reaper knew he'd been taking chances with his life. Czar knew it too. Now, with his brother looking him in the eye, he nodded curtly, not wanting to talk about it. It was the damn woman. The bartender. That hair. That laughter. Her fuckin' skin. It looked so soft he'd been tempted to actually touch her. He didn't touch anyone unless he planned to kill them--then they were dead. No one touched him unless they planned to get dead--then they were. Not unless they were one of his brothers--he'd had to learn to tolerate that.
"Let me go in first, Czar," he cautioned. "Stay behind me. I'll get you to your seat and then slide back into position. Question him after I'm where I need to be."
Czar didn't argue as he often was prone to do when it came to matters of his safety. He detested the others putting their lives on the line for him, but as far as Reaper was concerned, it was the one thing Czar had no say in.
Reaper led him back in and over to the table without seeming to. He was casual about approaching the table, leaning in to snag some peanuts that were sitting in a can toward the middle. If they'd been at Czar's home, his old lady, Blythe, would have put those peanuts in a bowl. He sauntered back to the wall.
Czar waited until Reaper was nothing more than a blur, just as he'd asked him to. "This club you call the 'Ghosts,' are they an actual club? They ride? They have colors?"
The Demons president nodded. "They came to us with respect. We have no idea of their numbers. They're up by the Oregon border. We don't have much intel on them." He rubbed his jaw. "My fault. I should have looked into them more, but at the time my old lady was . . ." He shook his head. "No excuses. We did what we did. I need to be able to run my product through this territory. I need you to do it."
"You haven't said why. How did they get you to come to us? Did they specify us?"
Hammer shook his head again. "No, don't know if you're even on their radar. I think they're looking to get their hooks into the Diamondback club. A club that big must have gamblers. You and I both know, if they start a war with them, the Diamondbacks will swallow us."
"Even so, why not tell them to go fuck themselves? You don't know their size. They have no reputation. Why not just kill them?" Czar's voice was mild.
"They have my wife." Hammer dropped the truth right into the middle of the room and the tension went up a thousand percent. Suddenly there was no air.
Czar looked up to meet Reaper's eyes. Who the hell made war on women and children? Who had the balls to kidnap the wife of the president of the Demons and hold her until the club did what they were told?
"How long have they had her?" Czar asked, suddenly all business. He went from mildly interested to total concentration.
Reaper loved the man, the way his brain kicked into high gear and he was aware of every detail, absorbing it, coming up with ideas and sorting through them for pros and cons until he knew exactly what to do.
"They took her two nights ago. Gave me a week to get it done. Came to you first. Her health . . ." He shook his head. "She had cancer. Just finished her last treatment. Immune system is down. She's only twenty-six. Young. Damn it, I don't know where she is, but she's a good old lady. She'll keep her shit together and she'll know I'm coming for her. I just need to buy some time to find her."
"These people don't play nice," Czar said. "This isn't the first time they've used a man's family against him. In that case, they were there to kill the wife and daughter. I don't think you have a whole hell of a lot of time."
"You willing to help?"
CHRISTINE FEEHAN
I live on the beautiful Northern California coast. I have always loved hiking, whale watching and being outdoors. My camping days are over but I might consider glamping. LOL! I am surrounded by my family, my beloved grandchildren and my pack of dogs. Please visit me online at christinefeehan.com and facebook.com/christinefeehanauthor.
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Christine Feehan, Leopard's Blood
(Series: Leopard People # 9)
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