Wraith (Ebook)

It’s fucking cold. The kind of cold that rips through your leathers and bites into your bones. Occasionally, I ride through a warm spot, but it’s fleeting, and it makes the cold worse. I hit the city limits and slow my bike down. I don’t need the police on my ass for a bullshit offense like speeding. I’m headed to the only diner in this town worth eating at, and it’s also the place that we, the Harbingers of Death MC, conduct most of our business. I park at the side of the building. I get off my bike, groaning as I straighten my frozen limbs.
“It’s fucking cold, hey?”
I pull down the bandanna that covers the bottom half of my face and turn toward the voice. It’s a man who’s a little taller than me and maybe a little older. I cast a look around the carpark. There’s another bike parked at the other end of the lot. The Harbingers don’t pay me to consort with strangers, so I nod and keep going. Footsteps sound behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. The stranger is following me in, his eyes are fastened to the ground. I pay him no more attention as I enter the diner.
“Declan! What the fuck are you doing out in this cold?” asks Lucy, the diner’s owner and trusted friend to the club.
“You know, same old, same old. How’re things?”
“Business is good. How’s Ham?”
I smirk. Ham is Hammer, our President, and Lucy has held a torch for him as long as I can remember. She means nothing to him. She’s just another in a long line of hopefuls.
“He’s good. Can I have my regular? And a large cup of coffee, the biggest you have.”
I watch as the man walks past me and takes a seat in the back. Whoever he is, he’s positioned himself so that his back is covered, and he can see trouble coming. Smart. It also means he’s either wanted or used to trouble. I take the booth opposite him, but I’m sitting in the window. It’s not as safe as his position, but I have nothing to fear here.
“Tell me, what brings you to Medina?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just passing through. Needed a place to warm up before I move on.” He holds out his hand across the aisle. “Gordon Barnes.”
I shake his hand. “Declan Jones.”
He smiles, nods, and looks up at Lucy as she draws near with two cups and a pot of coffee. She places one in front of me and fills it.
“Mister, you want a cup?” Barnes nods, and she does the same for him. “Know what you want?”
“Special of the day.”
I chuckle, and both of them look at me. “Trust me, you don’t want the special.”
“Fuck you, Declan. You don’t even know what the special is,” replies Lucy sassily.
“I’d bet my last dollar whatever it is, it’s a day or more old and eating it might just kill him. Do you want to commit murder, Lucy?”
Lucy frowns at me, then looks back to him. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s funny.”
I nod and spread my hands wide. “It’s your funeral.”
“What would you recommend?” Barnes asks.
“Lucy, give him what I’m having.”
“Whatever!” replies Lucy as she stomps away.
“You always torment her like that?”
“Lucy is used to me,” I say loudly, then I lower my voice. “The special is for suckers.”
Gordon Barnes smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I’ve seen that look in more than one man’s eyes—the eyes of a man who’s killed before because he’s liked it. I reach down and touch the gun in my waistband, assuring myself it’s there.
“You affiliated?” I ask.
“Nope, didn’t take. You?”
I frown. He walked behind me, so he had to have seen my cut.
“Harbingers of Death MC,” I state.
“Interesting name. Do you live up to your reputation?”
“Fuck with us and find out,” I say, flatly.
Barnes smirks, spreads his fingers wide onto the tabletop, and nods. “Fair enough.”
I sit staring at him for a while, and he stares straight ahead. I only turn my head when Lucy reappears and puts our meals in front of us. The food here is always good, but this guy, this Gordon Barnes, has made my stomach turn sour. The meal is tasteless as I analyze our conversation in my mind. Whoever he is, he met me here on purpose, and to what end, I don’t know.