Page 5 of Ghost
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh. Okay.”
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“Um… Have you filled out the form with the agency?”
She shakes her head. “This would be an off the books job.” When I stare at her with confusion, she continues. “One of Crow’s MC brothers needs a nurse for his mom. He asked if I could help him with that, and I immediately thought of you.”
I’d heard something about Addison marrying a biker. It was hard to miss that info because the gossip spread like wildfire in our small town.
Interesting choice as the police chief’s daughter, but to each their own.
“Do you have any specifics about the patient?” I ask, curious.
She scrunches her nose. “Some. But I can have the son give you a call later if that’s okay. He’d be better to talk to about it.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“Oh, and heads up,” she says. “His mom needs a full-time nurse who can be with her twenty-four-seven. You’d becompensated appropriately, of course.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls out her cell, and hands it to me. “Here, put your cell number in there so I can pass it along.”
I do as she says as I try to process the conversation. As soon as I return her phone to her, she smiles and says to expect a call later, and then she’s gone.
What. The. Hell?
CHAPTER 3
GHOST
Or at least I used to.
“I’m getting bored.”
I smirk at Poker, the club’s Enforcer, and shake my head. We’ve been in the Nightmare Room with Sonny, a low-level drug dealer who somehow got his hands on our product and thought it would be okay to sell it for his own profit. Fucking idiot.
“Where’d you get the powder?” I demand, shifting my attention back to Sonny.
“I told you,” the prick sneers like he’s not about to lose his life any second. “I work for Limitless Throttle.”
I haul my fist back and crack him in the nose for the tenth time. “Ya know, I might stop doing that if you’d tell the fucking truth.”
Soulless Kings MC and Limitless Throttle MC haven’t been enemies for a while, not since Shuffle became president. Hell, they even helped us eradicate the Wingless Angels.
Sonny spits blood onto the concrete floor as his body sways from the chains hanging him from the ceiling.
“Dude, he’s goin’ easy on you,” Poker tells him, his bored expression morphing into a sinister grin as he stalks toward the man. “I won’t be so nice.”
For a piece of shit dealer, Sonny’s got balls, I’ll give him that. Normally, this would be the point where our captive is begging for mercy, not tempting the devil.
“Gimme whatever you got,” Sonny taunts. “I can take it.”
Poker and I exchange a look before he walks to the wall and snags the fire poker from its perch. Next, he grabs the torch and hands it to me.
“Make it glow,” he snarls.
I open the fuel valve, and a blue flame shoots out of the nozzle. Poker sticks the tip of the iron into the heat, and both of us stare at Sonny for several minutes while we let the tool get hot.
“W-what are you doing?” Sonny asks, fear finally entering his voice.
Poker walks toward him, the glowing tip of the stoker a promise of what’s to come. When he reaches the swaying man, he taunts him by holding the fire poker centimeters from his skin, careful not to touch him.
