jumped out the moment he’d laid eyes on it. Yield. Maggie called him paranoid, but he’d been in the club long enough to know that sometimes the wildest option was the truest.
He glanced over to get a read on Eden’s expression.
She was frowning, arms crossed, one thumb tap-tap-tapping in the crook of her leather-clad elbow. “Part of me thinks that’s exactly what it is. But another part of me thinks disappearing Allie Henderson is really convoluted as far as sending a message to the club goes.” She turned toward him, brows lifting. “It’s an obscure message, at best.”
He nodded and glanced back toward the triangle. Yield. It would be a rare, strong individual to challenge the club this way. And someone more devious and insidious than the enemies they’d faced in the past.
Like Luis Cantrell, an unhelpful voice chimed in the back of his head. He’d never met him, hadn’t seen him for himself, but he trusted Candy. Trusted that if Candy was properly spooked, and insistent that an enemy would strike again, then it would happen.
“Ghost,” Fox said, behind them, in the threshold. They turned. “You’ll want to see this.”
~*~
Reese had found it. Snagged on a serrated stalk of seed-heavy grass, blowing in the wind like a pennant. A shirt. A girl’s shirt. Size small. An airy, embroidered bit of white cotton and silk. A three-quarter sleeve and a belled hem. Like something a girl would wear to a party, under a light jacket.
Ghost stood just beyond its reach, as it rippled and pulled at the stalk to which it was affixed. He couldn’t see any blood, but that didn’t mean anything. Looking at the sheer fabric, he would have guessed she wore another shirt under it.
And there was a chance she hadn’t had her skin broken at all. At least here.
Eden stepped forward, and snapped a picture with the camera slung around her neck. “Good find,” she said. “Axe and I didn’t range this far.” She took several photos, then snapped on a glove, and took the shirt between careful fingers. Tucked it away in a plastic bag.
Ghost had already told her Ratchet had a backdoor lab contact. No sense calling out the boys in blue and complicating things.
He looked toward Reese. “Anything else?”
He gave a single shake of his head, pale hair flaring around his ears before he tucked it back. “No, sir.”
Behind him, Tenny stood with hands on his hips, surveying the area from behind the lenses of his shades. Seemingly unbothered.
Ghost hated his indifferent act, but, like with Mercy, he knew that idiosyncrasies that hid true talent were best tolerated.
Beside him, Fox said, “CSIs could come through here and comb for every fiber. Tell us the exact brand of the paint.”
Ghost looked at him. “Do we need them to do that?”
Fox grinned without humor. “Nope.”
Eden said, “I want to talk to Jimmy Connors.”
Ghost nodded. “Get the parents to sign off on you taking the case. Officially, and then we can make that happen.”
~*~
“Does her dad owe you money or something?” Vince couldn’t have sounded less interested; he didn’t lift his head from the report he was scanning when Ghost dropped into the chair opposite and asked him about Allie Henderson.
“That’s a cynical thing to wonder.”
He finally glanced up. “I’m a cynical guy these days. Allie Henderson is none of your business, Ghost, and I’ve got shit to do.”
“So do I. Only, unlike you, I’m planning on actually finding this girl. You can share what you know, and make my job easier, or you can keep wasting my time being bitchy. Your choice.”
Vince stilled, and the edge of the report slipped off his finger and fluttered shut. “Did I miss something? Are the Lean Dogs in law enforcement now?”
Ghost offered a tight smile. “Did I say anything about enforcing the law?”
“Ah, Jesus, what are you–”
Ghost held up a hand, and Vince went silent. He looked like he wished he hadn’t, brows lowering in outward frustration. But there was no denying the balance of power between them at this point.
“The family’s hired a PI. A friend of ours.”
“Shit.”
“She’s good. Better than this local bunch. No offense.”
Vince blew out a breath. “And you expect me to, what, help her?”
“I expect you, as a concerned citizen of Knoxville, to want Allie Henderson found – no matter who does the finding.”
How could anyone argue with that? Many would, simply because Ghost had been the one to say it. But Vince hadn’t had that luxury for years.