Page 22 of Ghost's Angel

"You can't be serious." She forces a laugh that sounds more desperate than amused. “I’m the most popular club girl here. Ghost, baby, this is all just a misunderstanding?—"

"Don't." The single word carries enough menace to make her take a step back. "You knew exactly what you were doing. Mira is my ol’ lady."

"Ol’ lady?" Her face twists with ugly jealousy. “She’s not wearing your cut. She can’t be?—”

"The cut's already in my possession. I’ll be giving it to her today.” I lean in close, enjoying the way she shrinks away from me. "But that's not the point. You knew she was mine. You saw her ride on my bike."

Understanding dawns in her eyes. Everyone in the MC world knows what it means when a woman rides on the back of a president's bike. It's a claim, plain and simple.

"That's what this is really about, isn't it?" My lip curls in disgust. "You've been trying to get into my bed since you showed up here, and it burns your ass that I chose her."

"Her?" Crystal's voice rises shrilly. "Look at her! She dresses like a homeless person. She?—"

“Is worth more than every club whore who's ever walked through those doors combined.” I gesture toward the exit. "Two hours. If I find so much as a bobby pin of yours here after that, you won't like what happens next."

She opens her mouth again but something in my expression makes her think better of it. Smart. Finally.

"This is bullshit," she mutters, stomping toward the stairs. "Complete bullshit."

I watch her go, already mentally changing the security codes. Club girls come and go—it's part of the lifestyle—but no one, and I mean no one, disrespects my old lady.

Blade appears at my shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face. "Bout time you kicked that one to the curb. She's been stirring up drama since she got here."

I grunt in agreement as we saunter into the kitchen. My attention is instantly drawn to a table in the corner where my angel sits pushing her breakfast around her plate. Something's off. Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders.

Blade and I load up our own plates—I make sure to get extra bacon since y angel needs to eat more—and join her. She startles slightly when I slide onto the seat beside her, like she's a thousand miles away in her head.

"Morning, angel." I press a kiss to her temple, breathing in her sweet, fresh scent. “Feeling okay?"

"Mm-hmm." She offers a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Fine."

Blade drops into the seat across from us, immediately launching into a funny story about the last club party. I listenwith half an ear, most of my attention on my angel. She's quieter than usual, withdrawn. When I slide my extra bacon onto her plate, she just stares at it like she's never seen food before.

"You sure you’re feeling okay?" I interrupt Blade mid-sentence, turning to cup my angel’s face in my hand. Her skin feels cool to the touch, but there's a hint of fever in her eyes.

"I'm fine." Another not-quite-right smile. "Just tired, maybe."

She's lying. I can feel it in my gut. Something happened at that doctor's appointment yesterday, something she's not telling me.

"Ghost?" Blade's voice pulls me back to the conversation. "You calling church soon?"

"Yeah." I force myself to focus. “‘Bout twenty minutes.”

Blade nods and my angel stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I should..." She gestures vaguely toward the stairs. “I have things to do."

Before I can stop her, she's gone, practically running from the table. What the fuck?

"Brother." Blade's voice is serious now. "You sure everything's okay with your ol’ lady?”

I stare at her abandoned plate, food barely touched. "No," I admit. "Something's wrong."

"Want me to have Cipher look into the records from that doctor visit?"

I consider it. It would be easy enough to hack the medical records, find out exactly what the specialist said. But that feels like a violation of trust, and if there's one thing I want from my angel, it's her trust.

“Maybe…" I push back from the table. “But give me time to handle it my way first."

Blade nods, understanding.

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