Page 11 of Ghost
“It’s so… remote,” she whispers, the fog catching in her hair like tiny pearls. “Why are you all the way out here? Wouldn’t it be easier to be closer to town?”
A dry, humorless chuckle escapes me. “It was. When I first met Stacks all those years ago, the clubhouse was right in the heart of it all.” The memory is a sharp contrast to the quiet here—the constant roar of bikes, the neon signs, the chaos that was both a shield and a statement. “Then Julian Carter became mayor.”
Her lips purse together. “I’ve met him before. He’s a really good guy.”
Sure, maybe to those he doesn’t target. Then again, after looking into him myself, I guess I can say he’s one of the very few people who aren’t corrupted.
“His idea of ‘cleaning up the town’ involved politely evicting the element he saw as a stain,” I continue, my voice flat. “Out here, we have less… attention. Fewer prying eyes. We still have businesses in town, an auto shop we fund, Diesel’s tattoo parlor, and a strip club. Thanks to Judge’s careful management, our income hasn’t been cut off. He makes sure the money finds its way home, even if we can’t.”
I look down at her, her face pale and beautiful in the diffused light. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, she feels both incredibly safe and terrifyingly exposed. Just like me.
“Judge is the key to all of it,” I murmur, my gaze scanning the fog for any sign of movement. “And right now, he’s going to be the one person who can guarantee your freedom. You justhave to let Steelwood take care of you. Even if our methods seem sketchy.”
Biting her lip, she nods. With the faintest pink on her cheeks, she looks ahead. “While I might not know what’s right or wrong anymore, I’m willing to trust you, Ghost.”
She’s got no clue what her words mean, or the way they settle in my chest. Trust is a big step toward something final, and I’m ready to race toward the finish line.
6
Eliza
My priorities are a tangled, shameful mess. While Ghost hunts for a man named Judge —a search that holds the key to my entire future —I am biting my lip to keep from begging for a taste of his.
For the last hour, my world has shrunk to the memory of his mouth.
In the shower, the steam swirling around me, I’d scrubbed my skin raw and imagined his tongue tracing the path of the water droplets. The spray between my thighs didn’t feel like water, but like the ghost of a touch that hadn’t happened, sending a shudder through me that had nothing to do with the temperature.
As I towel-dried my hair, the rough fabric against my neck made me think of the gentle scrape of his teeth there, and a full-body flush warmed me from the inside out.
And just now, watching him talk to the woman in the bar, I wasn’t listening to a word. I was only watching the shape of his lips as they formed sounds, wondering how they would feel as they formed a groan against my skin.
That first kiss had been an impulsive move on my part, lit by a sleep-fogged dream. Now, in the harsh light of day, the kindling has caught, and a slow, relentless fire is burning through all my better judgment.
There’s no more doubt. I know what I want, even if it’s absolutely crazy.
My dilemma comes to a halt when we find the man he’s looking for. Attached to the side of the clubhouse is a two-door garage. One door is open, inside, two men.
While one scowls at his bike, the other one notices us first and lets out a dramatic sigh. His vest has a patch with ‘Vice President’ in all caps. He must be pretty important, too.
“Wonderful timing,” he says, abandoning the scowling man to invade our space. His attention is on Ghost, but his presence feels like a bucket of cold water.
The intimate bubble I’ve been living in for the last hour pops. The world, with all its complications and dangerous men, comes rushing back in.
He claps a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, but his eyes flick to me with open curiosity. “Talk some sense into Prez for me. He’s in one of his moods, and my charm’s run dry. Our poor, sweet Pen—”
“Fuck off.” Behind him, Judge curses his name, all but snarling at him.Ripper.
Ghost’s hand, which had been a steady, warm pressure on my back, tenses. The shift is subtle, but I feel it—the protector snapping back into place, the lover receding. The man I’ve been fantasizing about is gone, replaced by another member of this club.
I’m left standing here, my skin still humming, aching with the sudden loss of his attention.
“Yeah, can’t do that. I’m here to make it worse.” He doesn’t bat an eye when Ripper’s smile fluctuates, revealing an expression that makes my skin prickle with fear. Something so quick, it’s gone in the blink of an eye, and I’m wondering if his smile actually disappeared to begin with.
Judge doesn’t look our way just yet. Instead, he snags a rag and wipes off his hand. “Let me guess. Has something to do with her?”
“I don’t recognize her.” Ripper puts his full attention on me, and I can say he’s an oddball compared to the biker’s I’ve already crossed paths with. As he tilts his head and takes me in like a puzzle, his eyes are assessing. “Where’d you find such a pretty face?”
Stepping closer to Ghost out of instinct, I feel the air around him change. It doesn’t get hotter with anger; it gets colder.
