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

by Nicole James

  “Right.” She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. “Okay, okay. Thanks.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were walking into the clubhouse. Jessie had a crisp new twenty tucked in her pocket. She was relieved that Ghost had taken it all in stride, laughing at the bet they’d made and being the fun-loving guy she remembered.

  He had a tight grip on her hand as he led her over to the bar, sat her on a stool, ordered her a drink, and then kissed her on the forehead.

  “Sit tight, brat. This shouldn’t take too long, okay?”

  She looked up at him and made a silly face. “Okie-dokie.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Goofball.” Then his eyes moved over her to connect with the prospect behind the bar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Yammer this time. Ghost lifted his chin at the man. “Yo, keep an eye on her.”

  The man nodded. “Sure thing, Ghost.”

  Jessie watched Ghost head down a hallway with the other patched members and disappear out of sight.

  The prospect set a glass filled with cola in front of her. He held up a bottle of rum. “You want me to add a little something to that, darlin’?”

  She smiled and pushed her drink forward. “God, yes.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

  She glanced around her. With all the men in the meeting, there were only a few people in the room. An old Rolling Stones song played quietly in the background. Mick declaring he couldn’t get no satisfaction.

  Two drinks later, Jessie felt a presence at her side and turned to see little Ashley scooting her ass onto the stool next to her, dropping a pack of cigarettes on the bar, along with a pink rhinestone covered cell phone.

  The prospect came over, his palms on the bar. “Ashley. You want a drink?”

  She nodded over at Jessie’s drink and gave the prospect a big smile. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  He set a glass in front of her, filled it with cola and tipped a bottle up, adding some rum.

  Jessie sat quietly next to her, sipping her third drink, now listening to the muted sounds of Eric Clapton and Cream’s Layla coming through the speakers, and wishing the club’s meeting would wrap up soon.

  Ashley shook out a cigarette from her pack. “You got a light, Boo?”

  The prospect dug a silver Zippo out of his hip pocket and extended his tattoo-covered arm, flicking the cover open, the flame flaring up.

  Ashley stood on the foot-rung and perched over, her ass in the air as she dipped her head toward the flame. She sucked on the smoke, until it flared to life, the smell of tobacco drifting out.

  “Thanks, doll.” She winked at the man named Boo, who flipped his Zippo closed and shoved it back in his pocket, then moved off to stock a cooler with cases of beer.

  Ashley turned toward Jessie, offering her pack of smokes. “You want one, honey?”

  “No, thanks. I quit.”

  Ashley nodded, tossing them on the bar top. “I tried that once.” She blew out a stream of smoke toward the nicotine stained ceiling tiles. “It lasted about a week.”

  She smiled over at Jessie, who nodded, not really in the mood to make friendly chitchat with the girl who’d been so cozy with Ghost last night.

  She could feel Ashley’s eyes on her, studying her.

  “You don’t like me, do you?” she asked.

  Jessie turned toward her, shrugging. “Not particularly, no.”

  “That’s okay. We don’t have to be friends. Just so you understand your place.”

  “My place?” Jessie repeated, giving Ashley a look that could kill.

  Ashley just grinned. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just want you to know the way things are here.”

  “The way things are here? And how is that?”

  “Never mind. You’ll be gone soon anyway,” Ashley commented, her eyes on the mirror behind the bar.

  Jessie met her eyes in the reflection. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”

  Ashley tapped her cigarette in the ashtray. “Way I heard it, sweetie, they’re taking you to the DK’s. Making some deal with the Death Heads.”

  Jessie’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  Ashley shrugged. “You’re part of the deal, least that’s what JJ told me last night in bed.”

  Jessie felt a chill run down her skin. Her mind racing with thoughts, she lifted her glass to her mouth and drained it. Ghost wasn’t going to turn her over to the DKs. It wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let his club do that, would he? But if that was their plan, could he stop them? If they did hand her over to the DKs, there’d be only one reason for it. So she could be handed over to the Death Heads. She felt her stomach drop, the rum roiling inside as panic overwhelmed her, and the fight or flight instinct took over. Her eyes moved to the prospect behind the bar, the man Ghost had instructed to watch her. He was busy stacking cases, and then her eyes flicked to the entrance reflected in the mirror, and she wondered if she could make it out the door without him seeing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ghost sat at the table with his club. He looked toward the head, where his chapter President sat eying him.

  “Talked to the DKs last night.” Butcher’s voice was gruff. “They want her brought to the meet. Want to hear it straight from her mouth.”

  “No way.” Ghost’s voice was firm as he shook his head.

  “Afraid so, Ghost. They insisted. Those are serious accusations she’s makin’. They’re not turnin’ their club inside out lookin’ for some rat unless they believe this ain’t some bullshit some chick made up to get a ride across country.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Maybe I do. What I believe isn’t important. We need them to believe it. Only way we make this deal.”

  “Fuck,” Ghost murmured, his eyes moving to the scarred wooden table, his jaw clenching.

  “You got a problem with this, you better say so right now.”

  Ghost glared at his President, and his VP stepped in. Leaning forward, Shades looked at Ghost.

  “You brought this to the club. Coulda kept your mouth shut and put her on a bus.”

  “I wouldn’t keep that from the club.” Ghost stared Shades down. “You know that.”

  Shades nodded. “Damn right. So get right with this, Ghost.”

  Ghost’s eyes moved from Shades back to Butcher. “And if they want more? If they want her?”

  His President just stared at him with a cold expression that didn’t give Ghost a good feeling.

  “Butcher, I gotta draw the line—”

  “We draw the line where I say we draw the line,” Butcher barked, cutting him off with an arch look that brooked no argument. But Ghost had to argue his point.

  “I’m not lettin’ you turn her over to the DKs. They’ll use her to make their own deal with the Death Heads.” He shook his head emphatically.

  “And maybe we let them think that’s a possibility,” Butcher growled.

  Ghost surged to his feet. “Is it?”

  Shades was on his feet just as fast, his fist in Ghost chest, pushing him back down. “Sit the fuck down!”

  Ghost fell back in his chair; Hammer grabbing his shoulders to keep him down.

  Butcher remained calm, glaring at Ghost. “You keep your shit straight, son. And you keep her locked down until the meet. You understand?”

  Shades turned to Butcher. “He understands, Prez.”

  Butcher glared at his VP. “I didn’t fuckin’ ask you.” His eyes moved back to Ghost. “Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” Ghost growled back.

  Butcher slammed the gavel down. “Meeting fucking adjourned.”

  Boot and Slick accompanied Butcher down the hall to his office, and the rest of the club all shuffled out. Shades hung back with Ghost, who still sat in his chair wondering how this had all gotten so fucked up.

  Ghost looked over at Shades. “You with him? You afraid she’ll run, too?”

  Shades stared him in the eyes and asked, “You tell me. Will
she?”

  Ghost rubbed his face and grudgingly admitted, “There’s a damn good possibility.”

  “Then don’t fuckin’ tell her. She doesn’t need to know shit till we’re rollin’ towards the Georgia State line.”

  Ghost rubbed his hand back and forth across his mouth for a long time, then finally looked over at Shades. “How far you think Butcher’s gonna take this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I fucking mean, Brother. Do you think he’d actually hand her over?”

  Shades shook his head. “No way.” His brows rose. “Now, he might let them think that, just like he stood at that back gate with you and me, and lied to the DKs about Skylar for me. But he ain’t gonna hand over your girl. You know that, Ghost.”

  He nodded. He wanted to believe it. But this was Jessie they were talking about, and he just couldn’t put her at risk.

  Shades patted his shoulder. “Come on, man. It’ll be fine.”

  They both stood and headed down the hall toward the common room.

  When Ghost entered the room, the first thing he saw was the look on Jessie’s face. She was pissed off, royally. The second thing he noticed was that the prospect he’d put in charge of keeping an eye on her was now standing behind her, one hand on the bar, one on the back of her barstool.

  Then his eyes slid down the bar to see Ashley sitting a couple seats over looking too happy with herself, and a bad feeling snaked down his spine. If he were a betting man, he’d bet that Ashley had something to do with the look on Jessie’s face.

  He walked up to Boo. The man had a full, dark beard and tattoo sleeves that ran up both arms. He was a man Ghost felt he could count on, having passed every test the club had thrown his way so far. They connected eyes.

  “Talk,” Ghost snapped.

  Boo stepped away from Jessie, and they moved away a couple of paces. He leaned in close to Ghost and said in a low voice. “Ashley said something to her, not sure what it was, but it rattled her enough to have her bolting for the door. I caught her in the yard. Been keeping ‘em separated.”

  Ghost nodded, his eyes moving from Jessie’s rigid back to Ashley.

  “Who’d she take up with last night?” he asked Boo.

  “JJ.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Boo nodded and went back behind the bar.

  Shades stepped over to Ghost. “Problem?”

  “Apparently. Can you tell JJ to get Ashley out of here?”

  “I can take care of her. Be my pleasure.”

  “Let JJ handle her. He fucked her last night.”

  Shades nodded, and Ghost moved in behind Jessie, taking up the position Boo had been in, one hand on the bar, one on the back of her barstool. “We need to talk.”

  She whirled on him and bit out, “You’re turning me over to them? I’m part of a deal?”

  Ghost’s eyes lifted over Jessie’s head for a split second to touch on Ashley. Just then JJ walked past, and Ghost knew he’d heard what Jessie had just said. Hell, half the damn room had heard her.

  And Ghost knew exactly where that shit had come from. Ashley. And she had to have heard it from someone, most likely last night in bed with JJ. That fucking pillow talk was going to get his ass beat. But Ghost couldn’t deal with him now. He had a pissed off woman he was supposed to get under control and locked down.

  Fucking hell.

  Ghost grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her off the stool. “Let’s go.”

  “Let me go. I’m not going anywhere with you. Go to hell.”

  Too late, sweetheart, he was already there.

  She tried to pull back, but that barely slowed him down as he hauled her down the hall. He threw open the second door on the right and shoved her inside.

  It was a room he sometimes used when he stayed at the clubhouse, which was rarely. It was barebones with just a twin bed against the wall, a small table next to it with a lamp and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on it.

  There was one window, and the decorating consisted of one lone, framed photo of himself and Robert. It was a shot he’d always liked, from back when they were in High School. They’d both had their arms around each other, laughing.

  Jessie whirled to look at him as he slammed the door.

  “You’re going to turn me over to them, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up, and listen to me for one goddamn minute!”

  “You’re just using me. How could you? I came to you for help. God, I never should have trusted you!”

  That cut him, deeper than he cared to admit. And it pissed him off.

  “Yeah, Jess, you came to me for help. And you were dragging a shit ton of trouble with you. And I took that on. No fucking hesitation. I said I’d help you. I told you I keep you safe. But you don’t get a say in how I do that or how that happens.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not the man I thought you were.”

  “You’re right, babe. I’m not. Maybe I never was. But it’s time to grow up, little girl. And yes, you are going to do whatever the fuck I tell you.”

  “I don’t have to stay and listen to this. I’m leaving. I’m going to my mom’s.” She made to move past him to the door. He yanked her back with a hand clamped around her arm.

  “Your mom lives in fucking Daytona, Jess. That’s Death Heads territory. That’s the last fucking place you’re going.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Ghost strode out into the common room and took a seat at the bar next to Shades.

  Shades brows rose as he looked over at Ghost. “Everything okay?”

  “Yup.”

  They could hear screaming and yelling coming from down the hall.

  “Don’t sound like it.”

  Ghost tipped his head down to light up a smoke, then he tossed the lighter on the bar, blew out a pissed off stream of smoke and admitted, “I cuffed her to the bed.”

  Shades cocked a brow. “You what?”

  “Only way to keep her in the room.”

  They heard a crash.

  “What was that?” Shades asked him.

  Ghost took a sip of his drink. “Probably a half empty bottle of Jack.”

  Shades nodded. “Well, as long as it was half empty and all.”

  Ghost grinned. “Shut up.”

  “She scare you, Ghost? ‘Cause if she doesn’t scare the hell out of you a little, she’s not the one.”

  “She scares the shit out of me.”

  Shades laughed.

  “Skylar scare you?”

  “Every damn day, bro.”

  “Women.”

  “Yup. We got some business to take care of. You gonna leave her in there?”

  “Yup.”

  Shades laughed. “Somehow I don’t think Butcher’s gonna like hearing all that caterwaulin’ going on all day.”

  “Guess it sucks to be him, then. He wanted her locked down. She’s locked down.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s roll.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Hours passed as Jessie lie on the bed, one wrist cuffed to the bedpost, silently fuming.

  She’d broken just about everything in sight. The bottle of booze she’d smashed against the door. The lamp, she’d thrown at the window, cracking it. She’d even flung the rickety table across the room. The only thing she hadn’t smashed was the framed photo of Ghost and Robert. Partly because she couldn’t reach it and partly because she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to smash it.

  She stared at it now as she lie there. It must have been taken back in High School, but by whom, she wondered. They looked so happy, the best of buds.

  She was shaken from her musing by the sound of the doorknob rattling. A moment later, it was flung open, and there stood Blood, of all people.

  Jessie instinctively scooted back against the headboard as fear shot through her. She watched as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the ca
rnage.

  “Heard you were down here raisin’ all kinds of hell. Thought I’d come see for myself.”

  “I was pissed off,” she found herself making the lame excuse.

  “I’ve known lots of pissed off women. They go shopping and eat ice cream. Ever try that?”

  She rattled the handcuff. “Little hard to do Mall therapy when I’m cuffed to a bed.”

  His eyes took in the handcuffs as if he were just noticing them. Then the corner of his mouth pulled up. “I see. All stressed out and no one to choke, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Who cuffed you to the bed?”

  “Who do you think? Ghost.”

  A barely there smile appeared on his face. “So, you’re sitting here on death row waiting for him to come back, huh?”

  She smirked at him. “If I had something, I’d throw it at you.”

  “If it’s stress relief you need,” he paused, lifting his chin to the destroyed room, “and judging by the destruction, I’d say you do. Then I’ve got just the thing for that.”

  He pushed off the doorframe and moved toward her.

  She shrank back. If he was talking about sex, he’d better think again.

  He stopped next to the bed, one hand digging in his hip pocket and pulling out a key ring. Then he was unlocking the handcuffs. A moment later she was free and rubbing her wrist.

  “Ghost gave you the key?”

  “Ghost doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  “But you have the key.”

  “A handcuff key works on any set.”

  “You just happen to have one on your key ring?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why?”

  “Comes in handy. More often than you’d think.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He chuckled. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Gun range for a little firearms therapy. Get all that aggression out. Works like a charm.”

  That sounded like fun actually, and anything was better than being locked up in this hot room. So she found herself nodding. “Okay.”