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“Can you hand them to me?”

His brows went up. “That how you ask?”

She rolled her eyes and gritted out, “Please.”

He grinned, his arms coming unfolded as he rose to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

He scooped up her clothes minus the chaps and strolled over to her. But instead of handing them over when she reached for them, he held them just out of her grasp.

She glared at him as she tried to grab them.

“Uh, uh, uh. Say thank you.”

She huffed out a breath. “Fine. Thank you.”

“Nicely.”

She rolled her eyes, and then batted her lashes up at him with a sugary sweet smile, turning on the southern charm. “Why thank you, sugar. Aren’t you just sweet as pie.”

He smirked down at her. “Darlin’, sweet is the last thing I am. And don’t try that game you were just playin’ with me again, understand?”

“What game?” she played dumb, frowning.

He lifted his chin toward the stall.

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, sugar.” Then he gave her a cocky grin, kissed her on the nose and handed over her clothes. “And you’re welcome, you little smartass.”

***

After getting Jess set up with a bunk and his sleeping bag from the gear he’d stashed in the shed earlier in the week, Ghost headed out to talk to his brothers.

As he approached, Shades held out a beer toward him. “You get her fed, bathed and all tucked in?”

Ghost glared at his VP’s smiling face. He knew the man was teasing him, so he let it slide.

“Were those your chores when she was a little squirt?” Hammer added.

Now, Hammer, on the other hand got a punch in the arm, which probably hurt Ghost more than it did Hammer, since the man was built like a brick-house with tattoo covered biceps as thick around as a Christmas ham. That wasn’t how he got his name though. No, he got the name Hammer because he nailed everything in sight. ‘Everything’, meaning any woman with tits and ass.

“Oww. What, too close to home?” Hammer grinned.

“Can we quit the juvenile fucking jokes now?” Ghost asked with a scowl.

“Probably not,” Griz added with a grin. The man was six four, forty-eight years old and with his wavy blonde hair and beard, he looked like the lead character in the seventies TV show, Grizzly Adams. Which was how he got his nickname.

“Okay, boys, cut the shit,” Shades admonished, taking a hit off his b

eer. Then his eyes swung to Ghost. “You want to fill us in on what information little sister could possibly have that’s of use to us?”

Ghost nodded across the fire to where his chapter President, Butcher stood in what looked like deep conversations with the VP of the San Jose Chapter, a brother named, Cole Austin.

“You sure you don’t want to wait until Butcher is free, so I only gotta tell this story once?”

Shades growled, “Butcher’s got his hands full right now. Shit went down with one of Cole’s men while you were gone. In fact, I was worried it was somehow connected with you being MIA.”

Ghost frowned. “What shit? With who?”

“Wolf.”

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