Page 39 of Ghost

The escaping SUV vanished in a cloud of dust with one taillight broken and the rear panel hanging loose. We had the plate, damage, direction, and enough brothers in the area to start tracking once the shipment and our people were secure. Chasing one man while leaving controlled material exposed would have been anger making decisions.

“Road’s locked,” Smoke reported from behind us.

“Rear approach too,” Breach added, kicking the attacker’s dropped magazine away from the SUV’s tire marks. “Fucker shot wide and ran.”

“Hawkeye, check the Bellamy driver,” I ordered, putting one knee between the prisoner’s shoulders. “Smoke and Breach, hold both ends of the road. Wraith, inspect the truck and seals.”

The driver had clipped his temple against the cab frame when he braked, but Hawkeye confirmed his pupils were even and his answers made sense. Wraith checked the cargo doors, then gave me a nod when every seal remained intact. The shipment had not been breached, and every Black Crown on the road checked in without a serious injury.

Only after the route and cargo were controlled did the blood at my side become impossible to ignore. It had soaked through the black fabric and started dripping from the hem, while the cut across my shoulder pulled every time I moved my arm.

Hawkeye looked at the dark stain and gave me a flat stare. “You’re leaking all over Bellamy’s fucking truck.”

“Truck’ll wash,” I grunted, rolling my shoulder once with a grimace.

Smoke came up beside him and glanced at the wound. “You planning to mention that?”

“Eventually,” I replied.

“Tamsin’s gonna chew your ass off.” His mouth curved as he glanced toward the phone clipped to my belt.

“Search him before I break something you need,” I warned, nodding toward the man restrained beside the pickup. He had information we needed, and pain had already made him less confident than he had been five minutes earlier.

Trigger emptied the attacker’s pockets onto the pickup’s hood. A cheap burner phone landed beside a key stamped with a unit number, followed by two folded route sheets. One showed the approved Bellamy transfer; the second marked the unauthorized turn onto Quarry Cut and a secluded stop farther south.

“Dumb fuck brought the whole invitation,” Trigger snarled, opening the second page.

Wraith took the phone and route sheets while Breach hauled the prisoner upright. The last messages on the burner matched the dispatch change and warned that the truck had extra eyes, but nothing named the person inside Bellamy feeding them information. The key and route gave us another location, and the bleeding man between Trigger and Breach would tell us what it opened before the day ended.

I stepped far enough from him that Tamsin would not hear anything useful in the background, then called her. She answered before the first full ring finished, and the breath she drew told me she had been staring at the phone and waiting. I leaned one hand against the Bellamy truck while warmth continued spreading beneath my shirt.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded before I could speak.

“Scratched,” I answered, glancing down at the blood dripping near my belt.

“How badly?”

“Depends on who’s describing it,” I drawled, watching Wraith’s expression become openly amused.

“Come back,” Tamsin ordered.

I looked toward the brothers securing the vehicles while the company driver was checked again beside the truck. The scene was controlled, but we were not finished. “Still cleaning up this shit.”

“That was not a request,” she barked, enunciating each word with the same authority she used when a crew member tested her patience.

Despite the blood oozing down my side, I smiled.

“Developing a demanding streak, pretty girl,” I teased, pressing one hand near the wound when the movement pulled against it.

“You disarmed a bomb under my car and then rode into an ambush,” she shot back. “I think I’ve earned one.”

“They brought the ambush to me,” I pointed out, letting my smile deepen.

“You know what I mean.” Tamsin exhaled, and I heard the effort it took not to start issuing a full set of orders. “Is the cargo safe?”

“Truck’s sealed. Driver’s upright. We caught one asshole and found a key tied to a storage location,” I reported, watching Wraith bag the burner and route sheets.

When she spoke again, her voice had softened without losing its command. “Come back as soon as you can, Gavin.”