GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5)

by Nicole James

  She shrugged out of the jacket Ghost had given her, dropping it down to the bed. Ghost grabbed it and tossed it aside; thankful she’d had it on. It had saved her from a far worse injury, protecting her tender skin from the asphalt.

  He knelt down in front of her and began removing her boots, cursing silently to himself that he should have seen the Cadillac sooner. She moaned as he pulled off her left boot. His eyes flashed up to hers. “Jess, are you hurt worse than you’re lettin’ on?”

  “I’m okay, just banged up a bit. That’s all, I swear.”

  He took her small foot in his hand and rotated her ankle gently, watching for any sign in her reaction that maybe she’d broken it. “Does that hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine, Ghost.”

  He nodded, pulling off the other boot, and then rising to his feet awkwardly. When she saw him favoring his leg, she asked, “Ghost, you’re the one that’s hurt. Your leg—”

  “I’m okay. Just got it hung up under the bike. It’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, now let’s get these chaps off you, darlin’,” he said in a low voice, his hands already moving to the zippers that ran up the outside of each leg. He gently removed them, taking care not to brush against the scraped area. “We need to get you out of those short, too. Lie back.”

  She did, giving him no lip for once. He unzipped the shorts and carefully eased them down, studying her face and watching for pain as he did so. He could tell the effects of the alcohol she’d drunk at the clubhouse were still dulling her senses, and he was glad for it. It may actually have done some good, keeping her body loose when they went down, otherwise, if she’d tensed up, she may have hurt herself worse, perhaps even broken a bone.

  Shit, he’d like to catch up with that old man and kick his motherfucking car door in. He blew out a breath, letting go of the anger. It wouldn’t do her any good for him to get riled up right now.

  She lie back against the pillows in nothing but his flannel shirt, and her bra and panties. Ghost swallowed and reached for the first aid kit as he sat on the bed next to her.

  “Roll on your side, Jessie. Let me have a look,” he instructed softly. She complied, rolling to face him. He examined the scrape. It was bleeding a bit, but not too bad. “How much does it hurt?”

  “It stings a little.”

  He grinned. “I’ll bet. Don’t worry; I’ll fix you up. Stay right there while I go wash my hands first.”

  “Okay, Doc,” she teased. He smiled and headed into the bathroom to scrub his hands. When he returned to sit beside her, her eyes were closed.

  “You with me, brat?” he asked as he opened the kit and dug around for an antiseptic wipe. Her eyes opened, and she tried to smile.

  “I’m still here.”

  “I know you’ve had a lot to drink, but stay with me okay.” He tore open the packet and took out the wipe. “This may sting a little, sweetheart.”

  She hissed when he gently cleaned the area.

  “Sorry, Jess. I’m trying to be careful.”

  “I know you are, it’s okay,” she whispered, and his eyes flicked up to hers.

  He winked at her. “Your first case of road rash.”

  “Is this some type of initiation?”

  Ghost chuckled. “Maybe. But I didn’t lay the bike down on purpose.”

  “I guess I dozed off. Last I remember we were pulling away from the clubhouse. I’m lucky you didn’t lose me back on the road somewhere.”

  “I felt your weight against my back, I had one hand clamped around your forearm. I wouldn’t have let you fall, brat.”

  “What happened?”

  “Guy almost hit us. Old man in a Caddy. He came barreling out and clipped the back of my tire as we pulled in the lot. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt more seriously.” He shook his head. “I’d have never forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

  “I’m okay, Ghost. It’s just a scrape.”

  “You were on the back of my bike. I take that shit seriously, Jess.”

  “I know you do.”

  He tossed the antiseptic wipe in the trash and dug out a packet of antibiotic ointment. He squeezed some out on his finger and dabbed it tenderly across her scrape, his eyes again watching hers for signs he was hurting her. “This has an analgesic in it, so it should help with the pain.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes as he finished.

  “Okay, babe. I’m done. You can open your eyes again.” She did, and he grinned at her. “I think you’ll survive. You want me to cover it with a bandage or leave it exposed to the air?”

  “Leave it.”

  “Okay, but you’ll need to sleep on your side.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  He dug some pain meds out of the kit and moved to the dresser. Picking up one of the plastic cups next to the ice bucket, he pulled the paper wrapping off it. Then he moved to the bathroom and filled it half way with water. He returned to the bed, and stood beside it as he held the pills and glass out to her.

  “Here, take these.”

  She went up on an elbow and took the pills, tossing them back then reaching for the glass and chasing the pills down with water. She gave him back the glass, and he set it down on the nightstand

  It was then he noticed for the first time that the room only had one bed. Fuck.

  She lifted her hand to him. “Lie with me.”

  He shrugged off his cut and tossed it over a chair, then he sat on the side of the bed to pull his boots off. They landed with a thud on the carpet. He stood. “I’m gonna take a shower. Wash some of this road grime off.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  His eyes slid over her bare legs, and he swallowed, thinking he might make that a cold shower.

  Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom, his jeans pulled back on, the top button undone. His eyes swept over Jessie as he moved toward the bed. Her eyes were closed, her hands tucked under her cheek. He smiled. In sleep, she looked like the young girl he remembered. He slid on the bed next to her, his back to the pillow and headboard and put his arm around her. She snuggled closer, her head moving onto his chest and her leg sliding over his thighs. Her arm stole across his bare abs.

  He kissed the top of her head, his hand coming up and his fingers sliding through her hair, over and over. His eyes couldn’t help but drift down to her ass that was revealed as the flannel shirt rode up. He fought the urge to take his hand from where it played with her hair and move it down to stroke and squeeze that cute ass cheek. His jaw clenched as he tried to tamp down the desire he felt swelling. He couldn’t have thoughts like that. Not about her. Then his eyes moved along her hip to the red scraped skin, and he closed his eyes, again thanking God that things hadn’t been worse.

  He’d promised Tommy he’d look out for her; take care of her if something ever happened to him. It was a promise he intended to keep. She hadn’t made it easy, running off like she had, disappearing from his life, but he’d understood it, understood why. And with the way things had been before he’d moved out, maybe distance was the best thing between them. But now she’d come back into his life, in typical Jess fashion, bursting upon him with all the drama of a chase scene. Jess couldn’t do anything simple or the easy way. No, it always came with drama and flair.

  Question was, what the hell was he going to do with her? When they got back to Birmingham, the trouble she was running from would follow. Which meant he’d need to keep her safe, and that meant he’d need to keep her close.

  And there was the rub of it. The two of them together, how long would it be before he couldn’t fight the attraction that flared up every time he was near her, the desire that right now was clawing at his gut?

  As if she read his thoughts or maybe felt the sexual energy vibrating through his body, her hand began to move across his abs, her palm gliding over his skin, lighting him up like a fucking Christmas tree, a trail of static electricity shooting straight to his gr
oin.

  The hand that still toyed with her hair froze. Her head lifted, her big eyes coming to his before dropping to his mouth. Ah, hell. Don’t look at me like that, babe.

  She only had to move a couple of inches, sliding up ever so slightly, and their lips met. Soft at first, just a touch, and then her mouth opened, and the tip of her tongue traced along his lips.

  And fuck, that’s all it took.

  His hand in her hair tightened, holding her head as his tipped to the side to fit their mouths together, and he opened and took her kiss, taking over control, taking the lead. His other palm came up and cupped her face, holding her head immobile as his tongue swept inside her mouth.

  Jesus Christ, he’d forgotten how sweet her kiss was. No, that was wrong. He remembered. He remembered every blessed moment of that kiss they’d shared so long ago. But she wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was a woman now. And her half naked body was pressed against his in a soft warm bed. A situation that could test the will of a saint, and he was no saint.

  He couldn’t stop his hand from straying down her throat to the opening of that soft flannel shirt of his she still wore, his fingers curling around the first button, popping it free, then the second, which was all she had buttoned. The edges fell free, and his hand slid inside. He’d been expecting to find her lacy bra underneath, but when his hand closed over warm silky skin, he broke the kiss, staring down at her.

  “Where’s your bra?”

  She looked up at him dazed and confused, a little frown creasing her brow as she answered, “I took it off.”

  He hadn’t meant to go this far, hell he hadn’t meant to do any of this. And he could tell, looking down into her eyes that she was still a little tipsy. He pulled his hand away, but not before realizing just how perfect her breasts were, soft and warm in his hand, how perfectly they fit. He gritted his teeth, pushing her away, his hand closing over her upper arm to do so.

  “Jess, you should get some sleep.”

  She looked up at him with those big eyes, confused again. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth and apparently she’d thought better of that idea, deciding she didn’t want to sleep, because she moved in to take his mouth again.

  He pushed her back.

  “Jess, stop it. We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t. You know why.”

  “Don’t you want me?”

  Right, like that was the problem. “You know that’s not it.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  “Jess.”

  She curled further into him, that thigh of hers sliding back and forth across his crotch driving him to distraction. Fuck, did she even know what she was doing to him? Of course she did. “Brat, we can’t do this.”

  His use of the nickname he’d always called her must have gotten to her.

  “I’m not a child anymore, Ghost.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit. That’s part of the problem.”

  Her hands slid up his chest, cupping his neck, his jaw. “We’re both adults. We both want this. I know you want me.”

  His hands clamped over her wrists, pulling her hands off him before he succumbed to her touch. “Jess, we can’t. Not you and me. That’s not what we have. We can’t ever go there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because its you. I can’t go there with you and then…”

  “And then what?”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t have a fling with her. It couldn’t lead anywhere, how could it? Not with the life he led, not with the things he’d done. Things he knew the moment she found out, she’d be done with him. There was no way in hell, if she ever found that shit out, if he ever told her, and he knew damn well he’d eventually have to tell her, because it would eat at him, hell it was already eating at him, tearing him inside out. But when she found out, she’d leave. She walk out that door so fast, it’d make his head spin. And then where would he be? How could he have her, taste her, take everything she had to give and then let her go? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to, he knew himself well enough to know that it would be the straw that broke him. After losing Tommy, after pulling away from her because he knew it was what was best for her, then to finally go there with her after all these years, only to have to let her go all over again? No way. He couldn’t do it.

  It gave him the strength to push her back.

  “Not gonna happen, brat. Now go to fucking sleep.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended, probably because of all that pent up desire surging through his body. She looked hurt, but maybe that was for the best. Hurt and a little pissed. Yep, that would probably be enough to keep her from pulling this shit again. She’d be mortified in the morning, embarrassed she’d come on to him and he’d turned her down, rejected her flat. And that would be enough to keep her from trying this shit again.

  And that was best for both of them.

  She pulled away, moving across the bed, putting a good foot between them. She flounced onto her stomach, turning her face to the opposite wall, her back rigid. His eyes stayed on her. Hell, he hated having to hurt her like that, especially when it was all bullshit lies. He wanted her. Hell, he’d wanted her since she’d come of age, maybe even before that. But he couldn’t go there. Not with her. That was a line he couldn’t allow himself to cross. She trusted him, she always had. She’d always looked up to him with big eyes filled with worship. He’d seen it, right from the beginning. With Jess it was hard to miss. But his job had always been to protect her. A job he took seriously. And he’d do that now, even if it meant protecting her from himself.

  He turned his head, his eyes to the ceiling. Fuck, it was gonna be a long night, and an even longer trip. They had another stop before they got home. Another night of this torture, trapped in a room with her, forced to keep his hands off her. His jaw tightened. And then what? What the fuck was he going to do with her when they got back home? Her mom was living in Daytona now, Death Head territory. He sure as hell couldn’t ship her off there. Not that Butcher would let him. Not with what she knew. Nope, Butcher would use her to make a deal with the DKs. A deal the club needed. Butcher wanted an alliance with them. Needed one to keep the Death Heads from pushing into both their territories. Hell, it was an alliance that benefited both clubs. It was just a matter of talking the DKs into seeing it that way that was the problem. But with the information Jessie had, it could make the difference.

  Fuck, he was exhausted. He felt the long miles of road they’d traveled catching up with him, and his eyes slid closed. He’d worry about dealing with a pissed off Jess tomorrow. Tonight he just needed sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jessie felt the bed move and cracked one bloodshot eye open to see Ghost get up and go into the bathroom. When the door shut, she rolled to her back and squinted at the crack of light coming in the curtains, groaning as a hangover headache throbbed in her head. Swinging her legs over the side, she slowly sat up, her tongue thick with cottonmouth, and her body aching from yesterday’s long ride.

  The sound of the toilet flushing carried through the door, drawing her eyes to it. A moment later, the door swung open and Ghost walked out. He stopped when he saw she was awake, his head coming up.

  “Morning,” she whispered. She watched his eyes sweep down her and stop on her chest. She glanced down and realized the flannel shirt was unbuttoned and hung open, exposing a three-inch wide gap from her throat to her panties. She quickly pulled the plackets together and buttoned two buttons.

  “Morning,” he said finally finding his voice.

  She watched him move to the nightstand and pick up his cell phone, glancing at it. She stood and made to move toward the bathroom, but he caught her hand. She turned back to find him shoving his phone in his pocket, his eyes on her.

  “How’s your hip?” he asked, lifting his chin toward it.

  “It’s fine,” she replied, her eyes cast down, embarrassed that she’d gotten drunk last night. Mortified that not only had s
he come on to him, but that he’d rejected her attempt.

  “Let me see.”

  “It’s fine.”

  His brows rose, and his voice deepened. “Let me see."

  She exhaled a breath and gave in, knowing he’d insist anyway. Turning, she pulled the tail of the shirt up, exposing the scrape.

  “Satisfied?” she bit out in a sharp voice.

  Ignoring her snarky attitude, he dipped his head and examined the wound. She also dipped to look, bringing their heads close together. When she did, his eyes lifted and connected with hers. And for a long moment neither said anything, they just stared at each other.

  Finally Ghost broke the spell, straightening.

  “Were you wanting to take a shower?”

  “I’d planned on it, yes. If that’s okay with you?” she ground out. God, why were these antagonistic words just jumping out of her mouth? Because she was hung-over and more likely because she was embarrassed and humiliated over what had happened between them last night. Or correction, what hadn’t happened. She watched his jaw tick as he appeared to hold back a retort.

  “That’s fine with me, brat. I was just going to suggest we coat it in ointment again first to protect it from the water. That okay with you?”

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  “Fine,” he snapped back, lifting his chin toward the bed. “Sit down.”

  She flounced down on the bed like a recalcitrant child, crossing her arms and sticking out her chin. She was fully aware she was being a bitch, but something in her couldn’t help it. She could cut the tension smoldering between them with a knife, and she knew it was sexual tension. And damn him for not admitting it.

  He moved to the dresser to get another packet of ointment out of the first-aid kit. Then he walked back over and squatted down in front of her, tearing it open. Squeezing some out, he smeared it over her skin, covering the wound completely.