Page 3 of Ghost's Angel

So much so that I wonder if I'm imagining it. Seeing only what I want to see. Am I?

But I don’t need to be thinking about that right now. Don’t need to be thinking about the way his brief but memorable touch both soothed and aroused me simultaneously.Or how for that short-lived moment, I felt...safe.

He returns to his booth without a word, leaving me trembling for entirely new reasons.

Chapter 2

Ghost

My fingers tighten around my coffee cup as I watch Mira, my sweet, innocent angel, move among the fluorescent-lit mediocrity of this shithole.

She presses a hand to her chest and pastes on that radiant smile of hers. The one that makes me want to murder every dickhead who's ever looked cross-eyed at her.

"Never seen you moon over a woman like that before." Blade's eyes gleam with amusement.

I shoot him a glower that would make most men piss themselves, but my VP just grins. Fucker knows me too well after all these years.

"Fuck off," I growl, but there's no real heat behind it. He's right—I've been watching her for weeks now, unable to stay away. Every night I tell myself it's the last time, that tomorrow I'll send a couple of the prospects to keep an eye on her instead. But every night, I'm back in this booth, drinking coffee that tastes like tar, watching my angel as she handles endless waves of assholery from customers with a dignity and grace that's too good for this world.

She helps an elderly customer count out change for her meal and when the old lady comes up short, Mira subtly slips two quarters from her own tips into the pile.

Yeah, she's too fucking good for this world. And way, WAY too good formyworld.

She stumbles slightly as she passes our table, her hand pressing against her chest in that way that makes my gut clench. I noticed weeks ago that she sometimes has difficulty catching her breath. And sometimes she'll pause and steady herself when she thinks no one's watching.

But I'm always watching.

“Prez.” Blade's voice is serious now. "Damn, brother, you've got it bad."

Again, I don't bother denying it. "Just looking out for her."

"That what we're calling it?" Blade asks. "Because from where I'm sitting, looks more like you're ready to gut any fucker who looks at her sideways."

"She don’t belong in this shithole," I say finally, but Blade's not wrong. I've been coming here every night for weeks, telling myself I'm just making sure she's safe. Lying to myself that I can keep my distance, protect her from afar. But lately when that sleazebag manager says anything to her and I see exhaustion dim the light in those gorgeous eyes, my control slips a little more.

"I think she got herself a second job," I say quietly, watching Mira hurry past our table, her ugly polyester uniform hanging loosely on her too-thin frame. "Night cleaning at some law office."

Blade's eyebrows shoot up. "You're tailing her? Jesus Christ, Ghost. Just fuck her and be done with it already if you're that into her."

Fuck her? I’d like nothing more. If only it were that simple. A woman like Mira deserves better than a scarred, blood-soaked monster like me.

I shake my head at Blade. "Look at her—she's fucking perfect." She is, too. Clean and pure as fresh fallen snow yet strong in all the ways that matter. "Our world would destroy an angel like her."

"So...you're what? Planning to lurk in the shadows and watch her forever? ‘Cause that's not creepy at all." Blade's voice drips sarcasm.

He has a point. This has to stop. I have to stop. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager instead of the feared president of an outlaw biker club. There's just something about Mira that gets under my skin, makes me forget who and what I am.

"Fuck." I drain my coffee, needing something stronger. "I know I should stay away from her."

“But since when do you do what you should?" Blade asks. His attention shifts to something behind me. "Heads up. Manager's making a move."

I turn just enough to see that slimy rat bastard cornering Mira by the register, saying something about a "meeting" in his office. My grip tightens until the ceramic mug in my hand cracks. The wariness in her eyes makes my trigger finger itch.

"Easy, brother," Blade murmurs. "Can't kill him in front of witnesses."

He's right, but that doesn't stop me from standing, letting my size and reputation do the talking.

Sure enough, a couple words from me and the manager—pussy that he is—scurries away like a cockroach. Relief shows on Mira's face but it's quickly replaced by worry as she glances at the clock.

---