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

by Nicole James

  His touch was gentle, even though she knew he had to be a little irked with her right now. And with the tender way he ministered to her wound, another little piece of her heart became his. It took her right back to when she was a child and he would wipe her tears and tell her she was okay.

  Damn him. Why did she have to be so attracted to him and yet he seemed to be able to put her aside, to walk away from any desire he might feel for her? Was it just that easy for him?

  “That should help.” His eyes trailed up her body to her face before he slowly rose.

  She nodded. “Thanks.” Then she moved to the bathroom, closing the door and leaning back against it, closing her eyes. Oh God. Could he see what he did to her written on her face? Could he tell how her pulse quickened whenever he looked at her like that? How her breathing accelerated?

  Was it obvious how she felt about him? Mortification washed over her knowing he didn’t return the feeling. Yes, he’d kissed her last night, touched her, but then he’d stopped, pushed her away actually. So he couldn’t possibly feel what she felt. How pathetic could she be? She’d practically thrown herself at him last night.

  Pushing away from the door, she turned the shower on. She couldn’t think about that now, not with her head pounding like it was. She crossed to the door, opened it a crack to call out to Ghost, “Hey, are there anymore painkillers in that kit?”

  A moment later, he was passing a packet to her along with the cup she’d used last night.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem, brat. Headache?”

  “Yes, a doozy.”

  He nodded, as if that explained her foul mood. “I’m gonna run out for a couple minutes while you’re in the shower. When I get back, we’ll grab some breakfast, okay?”

  She nodded, wondering where he was going. Perhaps it was club business. She watched his retreating back a moment before closing the door and climbing in the shower.

  Twenty minutes later, she had a towel wrapped around her and was finishing applying her eye makeup in the mirror over the sink, when she heard the motel room door open and close. Setting the eyeliner on the counter, she opened the bathroom door to see Ghost tossing a plastic bag on the bed. His eyes lifted when the door opened, sweeping down her body to take in the towel.

  “You’re back,” she said, clutching it around her.

  He lifted his chin toward the bag. “Picked you up a change of clothes.”

  Her mouth parted. She’d had no idea that his errand involved shopping, for her, no less. She frowned, her curiosity drawing her out of the bathroom toward the bag. She hesitated, torn between excitement to have some different clothes and fear over what he’d picked out. What the hell did men know about these things?

  “You…got me clothes?” She stared at the bag like it contained a snake.

  The corner of his mouth pulled up. “You did need some, right?”

  Her eyes lifted to his, and she bit her lip, nodding. “Yes.”

  “We should bandage your scrape before you put ‘em on.” He lifted his chin to the bag.

  Her eyes moved to the first-aid kit. “Right.”

  “Sit,” he gestured toward the bed and moved to dig out a large square bandage.

  She sat and carefully lifted the edge of the towel higher at the side of her hip, embarrassingly aware that she was completely naked underneath. He squatted down in front of her, their eyes level, connecting momentarily before his fell to her hip. She leaned to the opposite side so he would have better access.

  “Looks better. Ointment seems to be working.”

  She nodded, her voice deserting her as his hand slid gently up her thigh as he examined it, the light touch sending tingles skittering across her skin.

  Did he even have a clue how much his slightest touch affected her?

  His eyes briefly connected with hers before he pressed the large square bandage over the spot. He used a tender touch to press around the adhesive edges, securing it in place.

  She watched as his palm softly cupped the bandage and applied light pressure.

  “You gonna be able to stand sliding pants on over it?”

  Her eyes connected with his. “I think it’ll be fine.”

  He nodded, reached for the bag and handed it to her. Then he stood. “Go get dressed then, brat. Guys are already at the diner. We hurry, we’ll have time to eat before they’re ready to roll out.”

  She stood, but then stared at him as if in a trance.

  He nodded toward the bathroom. “As much as I’m enjoyin’ the sight of you in nothin’ but a towel, we need to get a move on.”

  She blinked.

  Right. He was waiting for her to move, and here she stood like a complete moron.

  Nodding, she hurried to the bathroom, closing the door. Then she tore into the bag, setting the items down beside the sink. She pulled out a pair of low-rider jeans. They were a no-name brand, but she was surprised to find when she glanced at the tag that they were the correct size. Then she pulled out the rest, one black tank top, one white tank and two pairs of lace panties, one black and one red.

  She stared at the lacy scraps of fabric in her hand and couldn’t help but wonder what had gone through his mind as he’d picked these out.

  She shook her head telling herself not to read anything into it and hurried to dress.

  Fifteen minutes later they pulled up at a tiny brick storefront diner down on Fortieth Street. The sign read Pearl’s. There was already a line of shiny black bikes parked at the curb, their chrome pipes gleaming in the early morning light. Ghost backed into a spot and shut his bike off.

  As Jessie slowly climbed off, the muscles in her thighs and ass screamed in pain, reminding her of the hours of abuse they’d taken on the long ride yesterday. Between that and the still dull hangover headache, she whimpered.

  Ghost looked over at her as he stood unbuckling his helmet; his white teeth flashed with his grin, but his eyes remained hidden behind dark shades. “You sore, brat?”

  She couldn’t help but run her hands over her ass. “Yeah, a little.”

  He took her helmet from her and hung it on his handgrip, along with his. “How’s your head?”

  She pulled her riding glasses off, immediately squinting into the glaring sun. “Beating like a drum. It’d be helpful if it wasn’t so bright out here.”

  He grinned and took her hand, stepping up onto the sidewalk and leading her toward the door. “Maybe you’ll feel better with some food in your stomach.”

  As they moved toward the door, she saw one of his club brothers standing at a nearby car parked at the end of the line of bikes. The hood was up, and he was tinkering under it. Two young pretty girls stood by watching. It was obvious to Jessie that it was their car. The man had a beard and black wraparound glasses that made him look like a member of ZZTop. Full sleeves of tattoos decorated both arms. He glanced over and nodded to Ghost, who gave him a chin lift as they walked by.

  Then Ghost was holding the door open for her, and she stepped inside.

  It was a small place with a cozy down home feel. The floors were linoleum, the ceilings were pressed tin, and vinyl-coated green-checkered cloths covered the tables. Jessie couldn’t help smiling. It was a greasy spoon with old-school cool. She loved the place already and murmured, “This place is totally sweet!”

  The corner of Ghost’s mouth pulled up at her remark as he led her to some tables in the back that his leather-clad brothers had taken up. The men looked up at they approached.

  She recognized faces from the run and from the Omaha Clubhouse last night. As they walked up she noticed a couple of the patches. Some read Louisiana, some Alabama, and some Nebraska.

  Ghost glanced around the table, his eyes skating over every man. “A bunch of badasses,” he paused, his eyes landing on the last man, “and their friend, Sandman.”

  The men at the table chuckled at Ghost’s joke.

  The man he teased slumped his shoulders. “Aw, come on, man. Why you gotta be like that?”r />
  Ghost’s eyes moved from Sandman to the man in the chair in front of them and greeted him by name. “Blood.”

  Jessie watched the man as he twisted to look over his shoulder. He was a good-looking man with dark hair and a close beard. But it was his eyes that were stunning. The kind that could make you feel rooted to the floor, the kind that could see into yours all the way down to your soul. Those eyes skated past Ghost to her, and then ran down over her body slowly. “Heard you had some new pussy. This her?”

  Before she realized what she was doing, she slapped him. Crack, right across the face.

  The table suddenly got deadly quiet.

  He rose to his feet, staring down at her. “Is that all you got, pussycat?”

  “Blood,” Shades growled in a warning tone.

  Suddenly she felt a hand clamp around her upper arm, and Ghost pulled her behind him as he stepped nose to nose with the man.

  “We gonna have a problem, Blood?”

  The corner of Blood’s mouth pulled up in what she supposed could pass for a grin. “Nope. I like a woman with spunk and sass.”

  Ghost nodded with a brow raised. “Good to know. Cause she’s got plenty of that.”

  And then Blood’s teeth flashed as his smile widened at Ghost. A second later those eyes shifted from him to her. “Sorry, sweetness. No offense meant.” And then he was pulling his chair out and waving her into it with a flourish.

  She stared at him suspiciously as if he might just pull it out from under her to have her land on the floor on her ass.

  His brow arched. “What? Chivalry isn’t dead.”

  She bit her lip and moved cautiously to sit on it.

  He scooted the chair in a few inches causing her to grab at its base nervously, and he leaned in close, his hands still gripping tightly on the back of her chair and added, “Guys just get tired of ungrateful bitches.”

  She sucked in a breath and felt Ghost sit in the chair next to her, squeezing her between him and Shades. He leaned over and half whispered, “That’s code for ‘say thank you’, sweetheart.”

  She glanced up at Blood who still stood over her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m not an ungrateful bitch.”

  “Good to know.” And she swore the man almost smiled before moving to another seat on the other side of the table.

  Ghost leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes hitting one of the men from the Omaha Chapter that sat the end of the table. “Heard you were knee deep in some Sexcapades last night, Skunk.”

  The man grinned back. “You know my motto. Two blondes are better than one.”

  Ghost grinned. “Were they twins? You workin’ through some kind of sexual bucket list?”

  “Nope. Had twins, never triplets, though. That’s the holy grail.”

  “You got that list all printed up and everything, Skunk?”

  He grinned as he lifted his coffee mug to his mouth. “There’s an app on my phone.”

  “You’re not right in the head, dude.”

  “It’s an interesting list. I’ve seen it,” another man at the table added.

  “Want to see it?” Skunk offered.

  “Does it include farm animals?” Ghost asked with a grin.

  One of the brothers almost spewed coffee all over the table.

  Shades looked over at him. “You missed all the fun last night. Cops came and everything.”

  “Really.”

  One of the Omaha men added, “Well, hell, it ain’t a party till there’s gunfire, right?”

  More chuckles.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Marlene gave me the third degree last night about who the new girl was.” His eyes slid to Jessie for a moment.

  “A jealous woman does better research than the FBI, man,” the brother next to him added, forking food into his mouth.

  “You got that right.”

  The man that had been outside helping the women with their car ambled in. He glanced over at a nearby tableful of young teenage boys and tossed them a nugget of advice as he made his way to the table. “Fellas, learn how to fix shit. It will get you blowjobs. You’re welcome.”

  His brothers all grinned as he yanked out a chair and sat down.

  “I take it that went well,” one of them commented, chuckling.

  “Absolutely.”

  A waitress arrived, passing out plates of food to the men who had ordered earlier. Jessie’s eyes swept around the table, taking in the various plates of heaping food. They were all piled high with different items that all smelled terrific. She looked over at Shades’ plate. It was a smothered rib eye, and she practically drooled. “Sweet merciful mother of…”

  Shades grinned over at her. “Get you one.”

  “No way. I couldn’t eat all that.”

  He nodded toward the man across from him. “How about that?”

  She looked over to see a stack of pancakes that took up the entire plate. Her eyes got big as she looked back at a grinning Shades. “That pancake is the size of my face.”

  “You’re a goof,” he replied.

  Ghost handed her a menu.

  Mugs of piping hot coffee were brought out quickly and set in front of the two new arrivals.

  One of the guys looked over at her. “If you’re one of those hippy-dippy coffee snobs, this ain’t the place for you.”

  “I’m not,” she replied. But she had spent the last few years in Seattle, the coffee mecca of the world, so, yes, she was spoiled with some superb product. She sipped the coffee, surprised to find it was really good.

  Sandman’s plate was set before him, and he immediately reached for packets of grape jelly, mixing them in with his scrambled eggs and making a big purple mucky mess.

  Jessie arched a brow. “That’s grape jelly.”

  He looked over at her with a conspiratorial look and put the side of his index finger to his lips. “Shh. There’s not enough for everybody.”

  “You’re weird,” she replied, grinning at him.

  “What? That’s normal.”

  Ghost chuckled. “Normal is a destination you ain’t ever gonna reach, bro.”

  Sandman shoveled a big forkful into his mouth and spoke around it. “Ask me if I give a fuck.”

  One of the men, who she recognized as one of the Omaha Chapter members looked up from his plate. “Menu has all the good stuff. This is our go-to place the morning after a night of general debauchery. Nothing fancy about the place, just good comfort food. You name it, they got it, and the best part, it won’t break the bank.”

  “Home-style on the cheap, bro,” Shades said over her head to Ghost.

  Sandman shoved a forkful into his mouth and spoke around it. “Food’s nothing to complain about.”

  The man across from him snorted. “You always got something to complain about, Sandman.”

  Sandman spoke around his mouthful, “Not this, bro. Its as if some wizard cast a spell and created a singularly awesome breakfast.”

  “Don’t mind him. He’s stoned,” Blood teased.

  “I am not,” Sandman insisted. “Just hungry.”

  Jessie couldn’t help but giggle.

  The waitress came to stand behind her and Ghost. “What’ll you two have?”

  Jessie looked up to find the woman’s eyes on her. She quickly glanced down at the menu and picked something. “Um, toast, bacon and fresh fruit.

  Ghost grabbed it out of her hand and handed it to the waitress. “She’ll have the Stuffed French Toast. I’ll have the Chicken Fried Steak.”

  After the waitress walked away, Jessie turned to Ghost. “Why did you do that? I’m not that hungry.”

  “You need to eat. We got a long day of riding ahead of us. And I seem to recall you love strawberries,” he added with a grin.

  He remembered! Why did that make her want to grin from ear to ear? She sucked her lips into her mouth to keep from doing just that and having the whole table see her reaction.

  Shades grinned
over at her. “Strawberries, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help grinning back. “I like strawberries. What of it?”

  His brows shot up, and he looked over her head to Ghost. “She’s a feisty one, ain’t she?”

  “Yup,” she heard Ghost reply, and her head whipped around to him.

  “I am not!”

  “Oh hell yeah, you are.” He grinned, taking a sip of his coffee.

  The men continued shoveling food in their faces, occasionally pausing long enough to talk, or more accurately make smartass comments back and forth to each other.

  It wasn’t long before their plates arrived. Her eyes got big when her order was plopped down in front of her. French toast stuffed with strawberries, and topped with whipped cream and powdered sugar.

  She didn’t waste anytime digging in. At the first bite, she moaned in delight. “Hmm. It’s super yummy.”

  “Did she just say super yummy?” the man called Hammer asked.

  “Why yes she did, and I agree,” Shades replied with a grin.

  When they’d finished with their food and were relaxing over cups of coffee, Ghost turned to her, suggesting, “Maybe you should ride in the chase van with the prospect.”

  “I’m fine to ride.”

  “Bullshit. You’re hung over, scraped and your ass is sore.”

  That brought grins out all around the table.

  “Oh, really? Why’s her ass sore?” Blood asked.

  “Yeah, what’d you do to her last night?” Sandman added.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Then he swung his gaze back to her. “You’re in the van.”

  She huffed out a breath.

  “Ooo, the ‘woman huff’. Which, in my experience, is never a good thing,” Griz teased.

  Ghost arched a brow at her, ignoring his brother. “Don’t give me any lip.”

  “Fine!” she snapped.

  “Ooo, that’s even worse. When a chick says fine, ain’t nobody gonna be fine.”

  Shades got up, chuckling. “Let’s go, boys.”

  They all moved out to the bikes at the curb. The men started mounting up. Ghost stopped next to his bike and held her helmet out to her. She took it, staring up at him.