Page 13 of Monster Mania

Monster pointed at him. “You're the one sharing a woman with Casper over there.” Ghost gave him the finger, and Monster smiled. “What are you two thinking?”

“Nothing,” Ghost said.

“Looking into Angel,” Hammer said at the same time.

Ghost slowly turned his head, and Hammer shrugged. “What?”

“Traitor,” Ghost mumbled.

Monster's smile disappeared. “Why are you looking into her?”

“She's hiding something,” Hammer said. That got his Prez's attention.

Monster leaned against the desk. “Something that could bring trouble to my club?”

“Don't know yet,” Ghost said.

“Then find out,” Monster ordered.

“We're trying to,” Hammer said.

Monster nodded. “And Ghost?”

“Yeah,” Ghost breathed.

“If she's running from another club, I want to know before whatever she's running from shows up at my fucking gate,” he demanded. Ghost didn't need the warning because he'd already considered it. Trouble followed people—especially people with MC connections, and Angel had trouble written all over her. The problem was, Ghost didn't give a shit. If something was coming for her, he'd rather know what it was so he could kill it before it got close.

His phone rang, and Mouse’s number popped up on the screen. “That was fast,” Ghost answered.

“Because you got lucky,” Mouse said. Hammer moved closer, and Ghost put the phone on speaker.

“What'd you find?” he asked.

“There aren't many Angel Sanchez's connected to motorcycle clubs, assuming your hunch about her father being a Prez is right,” Mouse said.

“It is,” Ghost insisted.

“Then I think I found her,” Mouse said. Ghost sat up a bit straighter. Hammer put his coffee down.

“What did you find?” Ghost asked.

“Angelina Sanchez is thirty-four.” Her name was Angelina, and that made Ghost smile despite himself because Angel suited her better. “She was born in Ohio,” Mouse continued. “Spent most of her childhood outside a little town called Raven's Hollow.”

Ghost glanced at Hammer. “Never heard of it,” he breathed.

“You weren't supposed to. The population barely breaks two thousand,” Mouse said.

“What club?” Hammer asked.

Mouse hesitated, and Ghost didn't like that. “Mouse.”

“Says she’s linked to the Nomad Knights club.” The name hit him like a punch to the chest, and Hammer swore. Ghost sat back in his chair. Well, fuck. He knew the Nomad Knights. Hell, everybody knew who they were. They weren't huge, but they'd been around forever. They were an old-school club—very territorial and violent when necessary. Or whenever the fuck they felt like it.

“Who’s her father?” Ghost asked.

“Mateo Sanchez. Road name is Viper,” Mouse said. Ghost knew that name too, not personally, but by reputation. Viper Sanchez had been the kind of Prez men didn't fuck with unless they had a death wish.

“What happened to him?” Ghost asked.