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Truth was normally a quiet man—unless you tried to give him his flu shot. Tall, with dark brown hair, model good looks and a beard women declared as ‘to die for,’ he looked more like a man suited for the cover of GQ rather than a high school teacher.
One, this man was about to be in a world of hurt. Two, the rest of the police department was, too. Because the man who was shot, and just pronounced dead by Tommy Tom, was a police officer. One of the oldest and most experienced on the entire force. And three, The Dixie Wardens MC, all two thousand strong, were about to go fucking berserk. Because the police officer who’d just died was none other than our president, Stone Conner.
Stone had changed my life. He’d pulled me back from the dark hole I’d been in when I’d arrived here a year and a half ago. He’d done so much for me, that I trusted him as one of the few men who I could count on for anything. Truth walked up, his face mutinous, and I did the only thing I could do at the time. I surrendered the poor stupid man to the wrath of Truth.
My eyes traveled that way, and Tank was sitting at the back of the hearse, his front paws planted on the bumper of the black vehicle, as his eyes peered into the back glass.
Tank had been laying across Stone’s feet, head hung. Grief was written all over the dog’s body. If you said to me that dogs didn’t feel the way people felt, I’d have shown you that photo and called you a liar.
“You’re one to talk,” Truth shot back. “How’s the chick that you stalk?” Ghost ignored the question.
“It has to do with the fact that I find men in uniforms sexy, and if we do this once, we’ll be doing it again,” I snapped at him. “And you better be sure, because I’m a grade A clinger. You put that big wiener in me, and I’m going to not be responsible for what I do next.”
“Though she looks like a little hobbit, she’s actually quite feisty,” Truth said as he fell into step beside us. Imogen turned only her head to glare at him. “That’s right. Don’t you forget it.”
“I see the ring you wear. I just thought she had left you.” Blunt, as always. “No,” Ghost grunted. “She didn’t leave me, I left her. It’s for the best.” “Why?” Imogen pushed.
“Because my parents are sick motherfuckers,” Ghost took another shot. “Both alive and kicking, ready to do one bad deed after another. Can’t do a goddamned thing about it, either. If I could, I’d get her back. Get my kid back. But if I didn’t, they’d just force me to leave them again like they did the last time.” I looked at Big Papa, who shook his head. He didn’t know any more than I did. Any more than anyone of the men did. Ghost was seriously that secretive.
“We have a kid. She needs to stay alive for her,” Ghost countered. “Yeah?” Imogen asked. “But, what if, after all this time, your parents hadn’t kept their word? What if she’s in just as much danger now as she was when you were there? Have you thought about that?” Ghost looked thoughtful for a moment. “I concede that you have a point, but I’ve already pulled that trigger.” He touched his scarred face. “Can’t unpull it.”
“Dazzle me with a story,” she ordered. “You probably have plenty of them. And I deserve it. You shot me.” “I didn’t shoot you,” Tommy Tom denied almost immediately. “I gave you a shot, which is totally different than shooting you.”
“That was pretty impressive,” Ghost drawled from behind us. “It was like Crouching Tiger Hidden Doctor.”
