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“Any word from Kase about Mick?”
Rourke shook his head, engrossed in the bike, but answered him. “Nothing yet. He thinks your girl is the key, though.”
Trax didn’t bother correcting him when he referred to Cheyenne as his. She may not realize it, but everyone around him did. Cheyenne was very much his.
“He’s not gonna let up, thinks she knows more than she’s saying.” Rourke stood to face Trax. “I agree with him.”
Trax was onboard with their assessment also, but pushing her last night was not an option. When she’d made mention that Mick had called out for Meg, it was new information, something she hadn’t shared with them. Cheyenne hadn’t given the whole story, and he needed her to. He circled the bike, grabbing a wrench from his toolbox.
“Kase send ya out here to give me a push on it?”
Rourke snorted. “Nah, haven’t seen him today, but we both know him. It’s coming.”
Trax was well aware when Kase wanted something done, it got done. It was what made him a great leader to the club. It also made him a relentless hardass when shit wasn’t done on his timeline. He’d give ample thought on how to proceed with Cheyenne. They needed the information, but for now, there was a more pressing issue.
“I’m going tonight. You in?” He didn’t bother explaining. After last night’s debacle with Cheyenne, everyone knew it would be handled by him as soon as possible. It was a priority over everything else.
“Yep. Gage is coming too.” He sighed and chuckled. “Saint offered up his services if we need a fourth.”
Trax bent down in front of the bike and slowly glanced up at Rourke, who was obviously amused. “Really?”
While all members participated in club issues, and most enjoyed the frequent brawls, Saint rarely participated. He had a lot to lose if shit went south. Saint was a scary and deadly motherfucker but never flaunted it. He was surprised by the offer.
Rourke cocked his brow. “He didn’t like how shit went down with Cheyenne. Made it known last night after you went to your room. Not often ya see the president knocked down a peg, but Saint was all over Kase’s ass about fucking up with the prospects.”
Trax would have liked to have been there. Kase was president. Everyone followed his orders, with the exception of Saint. The man did what he wanted, when he wanted, and answered to no one, including the club president. There was an unspoken respect between Kase and Saint that allowed it. It was rare for Saint not to back Kase, but it seemed he’d missed the show last night.
“Made it clear he wants it done tonight, and asked me to pass along he’d be around if we needed him.”
“It’ll be done tonight. If they don’t show, I’ll wait there every fucking night until they do.” He tossed the wrench into the box and then wiped his hands down his grease-stained jeans. “I think we should be good, just the three of us. We’ll meet up around nine at the clubhouse.”
“All right. Kase wants everyone in tonight. He’s got the final word on the move.”
Trax snorted and shook his head. “We’re really doing this, huh?”
“Looks like it. A few brothers already scouted out which properties they want.” Rourke cocked a brow. “Heard Saint called dibs on one.”
Years ago, Kase brought to the table the idea of moving the clubhouse and all their business out of county lines. It was a step back to where the club originated. Ghosttown. There was a reason for the name. The current population was about forty-six people at last count. It was set about twenty miles from Turnersville, leaving it accessible to civilization but far enough away to fly under the radar.
The club had more of a criminal element years back. Most members had done time, some longer than others. Saint and a few others were the only ones who hadn’t. Unfortunately, Trax couldn’t say the same. He’d done eighteen months and made it his life’s mission to never go back. Kase turned the club around, moving to more legit jobs and businesses. Not to say all things were on the right side of the law, but nothing that would catch any of the guys hard time.
Their new endeavor had been five years in the making. For it all to work out, patience was a necessity. The club was always being watched by the law and rival clubs. They needed to fly under the radar, which meant taking their time. With so much time passed, not many believed it would actually happen. Even Trax had had his doubts. Not to say he didn’t believe in Kase’s vision, but as each year passed, his doubt grew. But Kase lived up to his word.
Going legit didn’t necessarily mean the club had to show their cards. Aside from their meeting, not a word was spoken about what they were doing. Wives, friends, and family were kept in the dark. With the exception of two key players outside the club, no one knew a thing.
“You gonna make the move?”
Rourke shrugged. “Maybe. Got my sister and niece, so I need to see where they’re at, but I’ll keep a room at the clubhouse. You?” He lit a cigarette.
“Don’t know yet.” The idea of Ghosttown appealed to Trax, but he hadn’t committed to moving just yet.
“Well, it ain’t set yet anyway. The plans Kase’s got for the compound gotta be approved. He’s planning a run up there.” Rourke smirked. “Town meeting, introduce ourselves to Ghosttown.”
Trax laughed. “Wouldn’t miss the Mayberry shit show for anything.” He could only imagine what the small, tight-knit town would think of the club taking up residency.
He spent the next hour bullshitting with Rourke before he took off to go check on Meg. They’d taken turns checking in on her.
He made his way inside his house and washed up in the bathroom. In a few hours, he’d meet up with the guys and then head over to Cheyenne’s place. Thinking of her only intensified his anger, setting him up for what would go down tonight. It also set him up for making his move with her. Never, since he’d ended it with his ex, could he envision himself settling down again. He’d resigned himself to the idea of being on his own. Cheyenne had him rethinking everything. His incessant need to protect and his desire to curl up with her in his bed again was changing his view.
