The bartender noticed him. “Colonel, what can I get you?”
“A beer would be good, Josie. Thank you.” He probably had some of his Scottish ale still there.
She moved to the fridge.
He eyed the row of bottles and notepad on the bar. “What are you working on?”
Handing him a bottle of Dark Island, she scowled. “Last night, I poured Edward a shot from his private bottle of Balvenie 21, and he said his bottle had gone down faster than it should, considering he’d only had one shot from it.”
She pointed at the wall behind her. The sadist’s bottle was barely half full.
“There’s quite a bit more than a shot missing.” And it was an expensive alcohol.
“Exactly.” Her lips quirked. “I happen to know Edward keeps a rather close eye on his Balvenie. I wanted to see if his Balvenie was the only one coming up short, so I’ve been asking anyone else who keeps a bottle here.”
To avoid selling alcohol, drinks were included with a membership. If someone wanted more expensive alcohol, they’d bring in their own, and the bottle would be reserved for their use only.
Josie scowled. “I know Master Z’s bottle of Glenlivet was mostly full, and now it’s down to a quarter. He certainly hasn’t been here drinking it.”
Damn. “Someone’s stealing the private stock.”
“So, it seems. I haven’t been here for a month, so I don’t know what’s been poured. However, none of the Masters were here while I was gone, so their bottles are the ones I’m checking.”
She caught his raised eyebrow and held up his Elijah Craig. Half full.
“I bought it after New Years when everything was on sale.” He tapped his fingers on the bar. “I had, at most, two shots from it.”
Aside from the open house, he hadn’t been in the club at all in February, and not in March until tonight.
The notepad in front of her was almost full, and he frowned. “It seems I have a lot of company.”
“Most of the private bottles are down at least half of what they should be.
Ghost rubbed his neck. Another problem. The club was a mess, dammit. “Who has access to the alcohol when no one is around?”
She frowned. “When the bartender leaves, the club closes, and Wrecker locks up. He said his friends took over bartending while I was gone. Aside from them… Well, it used to be Andrea and her cleaning crew who came in during the week, but she’s proud of her work and keeps a close eye on her people.”
Andrea was Cullen’s submissive, and Josie nailed her sense of honor. “Used to be?”
“Wrecker fired Andrea right after I went on vacation, so we have a new cleaning crew.”
“Fired her?” What the hell? “Did Cullen know?”
How was Wrecker even still alive?
Josie moved her shoulders. “I don’t know who knows what. I only found out because I called her today.”
“Ghost, I’m glad I caught you.” Saxon walked up to the bar. “Z wants a meeting tomorrow afternoon in his office here. You good for then?”
Hell of a way to spend a Sunday. “I’ll be there.” Ghost tilted his head at Josie. “Are you planning to tell Z about the missing alcohol?”
“I hate to add to his problems, but yes. I’ll call sometime before your meeting. He needs to know.”
Ghost rose and clapped Saxon on the arm. “Tomorrow looks to be a regular clusterfuck of a day.”
Chapter Seven
The next afternoon, Ghost shut off his pickup in the Shadowlands parking lot. As he swung his legs out, he was once again grateful it was his left lower leg he’d lost and not his right. At least his driving hadn’t been impacted by the amputation.
No whining, Colonel. Two men had died during the extraction in Afghanistan. He could have stayed at the base like the rear-echelon motherfuckers he’d despised as a young grunt. Not about to be one of the REMFs, he’d jumped on the transport. During the firefight, he’d carried two injured onto the helicopter before getting shot himself.
A foot was a small price to pay for two young men’s lives.
Striding up the sidewalk, he pushed the memory away and grounded himself with the scent of freshly mowed grass. A freshening breeze rustled the palms lining the long drive. The sky was a heady blue with bright white, round clouds. Everything around him felt like a celebration of life.
Sure, his days were more complicated, what with lacking a lower leg. The loss was why he’d left the military after the twenty-two