by Nicole James
So she got back to what she was doing.
“Damn, that’s twice in one night the girl’s done what she was told.” He grinned. “Miracles do happen.”
She smacked her palm on his belly, causing his gut to tighten as he burst out laughing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next day they were back at the clubhouse. There was some type of annual party going on to raise money for some charity that was important to Butcher’s ol’ lady. Some of the members had taken part in a poker run that had been put on for the charity earlier in the day, but since Ghost was suppose to technically have Jessie on lockdown, they’d slept in.
Now it was late in the afternoon. Most of the club were sitting around outside, when Butcher’s ol’ lady approached.
“We’re about three hundred dollars short.”
“Short of what?” Butcher asked her.
“Our goal.”
“Then I guess we’re short.”
Her hands landed on her hips. “Butcher.”
“What do you want me to do about it? And I ain’t dumping no bucket of ice water over my head, so don’t even think it, woman.”
Blood, who was kicked back in a chair, asked, “How about we play a little game? I’ll show you how we do an ice bucket challenge at the New Orleans clubhouse.”
“If it involves me dumpin’ a bucket over my head, forget it,” Butcher complained.
“Nope. I promise.”
Butcher frowned, suspiciously.
“You’ll like it, I guarantee.” Blood turned and looked at Undertaker. “Am I right?”
He chuckled. “You’ll definitely enjoy this game, Butcher.”
“Okay, fine. How do we play?”
Blood whistled for one of the prospects and whispered some instructions in his ear. The man trotted off to do his bidding. Then Blood looked around the crowd. When his eyes hit Jessie’s, he winked and said, “I’ll need a volunteer.” He turned and curled a finger at Ashley, who’d been trying to get the good-looking man’s attention all week.
She happily trotted over, all smug smiles.
The prospect came back with an empty plastic beer pitcher found in any pizza joint, and he tossed what looked like an old purple Crown Royal bag with gold drawstrings on the table along with three poker chips, one red, one white, one blue.
“Okay, guys, we need the ol’ ladies for this one. If you haven’t got one, grab a girl.” Then he got up and walked over to a big square cooler that was mostly empty now and dunked the plastic pitcher into it coming up with a mix of melting ice and water.
He walked back over to the picnic table they were gathered around, dropped the three poker chips in the bag and shook them up.
“White is $20, Blue is $50, and Red is $100. You’re lady draws a chip, guys. You either have that amount in your pocket to donate, or your lady gets iced.” He grabbed Ashley from behind, hooking one arm around her neck to hold her still, and with his other hand he dumped the pitcher of ice down her chest.
She didn’t realize what he was about to do until it was too late, and she shrieked, both with the shock of the cold ice water and with rage. To make maters worse, she had a push up bra on, and all that ice got lodged in her bra, so she began jumping around, trying to get it out.
As the rest of the guys were laughing their asses off at Ashley’s discomfort, Blood connected eyes with Jessie, and he winked, letting her know he’d just gotten a little payback for her.
She mouthed the word ‘thank you’ to him, and he lifted his chin.
“Hell, I’m in,” Butcher declared, grabbing his ol’ lady’s arm as she tried to make a getaway, shrieking.
Jessie, who’d been sitting on the ground between Ghost’s legs, his hands running through her hair, was suddenly pulled up on his lap.
“You ready for an ice bath?” he teased.
She twisted and whispered in his ear, “You’d better have a hundred bucks in your pocket.”
She felt his body shake with his laughter. “I would if you hadn’t wanted that Starbucks on the way over here.”
“Damn,” she murmured. “I don’t want to get wet.”
He chuckled. “Then you’d better pray you pick a white or blue chip, babe.”
They sat and watched one brother after another either ante up the money or with more gusto, dump ice water on their ol’ ladies, until finally it was Ghost and Jessie’s turn. Blood held the bag over her head, grinning down at her. She dug her hand in and pulled out a blue chip.
“Fifty bucks, Ghost,” Blood announced.
Ghost dug in his pocket and peeled off a fifty, leaving him about forty remaining. Unfortunately, when Butcher saw money going back into the pockets of some of his men, he insisted they go around the circle one more time.
“Trying to clean us out, Prez?” Shades asked, laughing.
Tink shrieked when Hammer, who’d lassoed her into playing the game with him, dumped ice water down her shirt.
“Hold still, woman. There still more in the pitcher,” Hammer teased her.
Ghost leaned to whisper in Jessie’s ear, “You pick anything other than white, you’re getting an ice bath, babe.”
She gave him a stricken look.
When it was her turn again, she picked a red chip, and there were hoots and hollers as Ghost stood and grabbed up the pitcher, dunking it in the cooler.
“Come here, babe,” he said with a grin crooking his finger at her.
Jessie bit her lip and moved to stand in front of him. He stood against her back, hooking an arm around her shoulders and holding her tight. Then he poured the ice water down her front, taking his sweet time, teasing her until the last drop.
Surprising him, Jessie grabbed some of the ice chunks and whirled around shoving them down his pants.
That got his brothers to roar with laughter. After that, the other women all joined in, and it was soon a big food fight, only with ice and cups of water being thrown every which way. People began slipping on the wet grass, and soon they were all in a big pile on the lawn, laughing hysterically.
***
That night in bed, Ghost held Jessie in his arms. When they’d gotten home they’d taken a hot shower together, warming up after the chilly ride across town with wet clothes on.
Ghost rolled over, half on top of Jessie, one leg sliding between hers, gliding up and down her inner thigh as he kissed her long and deep.
She could feel his erection pressing long and hard against her belly as his mouth moved over her jaw to her neck where he latched on, sucking and making her writhe and moan.
“Ghost?”
“Hmm.” He continued sucking, licking and kissing her neck, collarbone and cleavage.
“When is the meeting with the DKs?”
That brought his head up. He stared down at her, studying her eyes. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Jessie. Told you that.”
“I know, but when is it?”
The way he studied her, she knew he must have been contemplating whether or not it was wise to tell her or keep her in the dark. In the end, he must have decided he could trust her not to run off.
“Day after tomorrow. Why?”
She shrugged, her hand coming up, her fingers absently twirling a lock of hair. “I just wondered.”
He brushed the hair back from her face. “You trust me to keep you safe, don’t you?”
She studied his eyes. “Yes, I trust you, Ghost.”
He put his hand over hers, stilling the twirling motion and kissed the tip of her nose. “Then quit worrying about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He returned to her neck, picking up where he’d left off. Her arms went around his shoulders, stroking his skin, but her eyes were on the ceiling, and she couldn’t get the thought out of her head that she needed to tell him everything, the parts she’d left out of her story. And she needed to do it before the meeting. She dreaded it, worrying that his feelings for her would change. At least she had one more day. She’d tell him t
omorrow, she promised herself. And then she closed her eyes and lost herself to the erotic touch of Ghost’s mouth as it moved over her skin.
***
The next morning Ghost got a call. Jessie watched as he walked outside on the terrace to take it. When he came back inside, he had a serious expression on his face.
“Get your jacket and boots, Jess. We’re leaving in a couple minutes.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the clubhouse.”
When they got to the clubhouse, Jessie could tell that something was up. All of the club members were there, and it looked like they were all business. No one was drinking. No one was cutting up.
After all of them went off in a huddle, Ghost came back to her side and took her hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“They moved the meeting up. We’re leaving now.”
The only thought that ran through Jessie’s head was that she still needed to talk to Ghost. She hadn’t told him everything yet. And now, as he was pulling her toward his bike, she didn’t know if she was going to get the chance.
“Ghost, I need to talk to you.”
“Ain’t got time now, babe. It’ll have to wait.”
The group pulled out not five minutes later, heading east toward the Georgia border.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jessie clung to Ghost’s back as the Evil Dead MC rolled up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse in a decaying industrial section of Atlanta. There was a tall chain-link fence surrounding the property, and several members of the Devil Kings MC stood guard as the group of five bikes stopped. Shades, Griz, Hammer, and Heavy were with them.
Jessie’s eyes moved over the scary men at the gate, as well as the creepy building behind them, and she must have unconsciously tightened her grip on Ghost, because he reached down his left hand and rubbed the top of hers where it clung to his waist. He was obviously trying to reassure her, and it worked.
They cut their bikes off, and she climbed off as the men all dropped their kickstands and dismounted.
The DKs approached, and one spoke.
“No weapons.”
The guys all held their cuts open, showing they wore no shoulder holsters.
The DK who’d spoken, lifted his chin, and a couple of his guys approached to pat them down. When one of them moved to Jessie, Ghost pushed her behind him.
“You don’t fuckin’ touch her,” he growled.
The man looked back questioningly at the DK who was obviously in charge. After a long tense moment in which he and Ghost stared each other down, he finally relented with a nod.
Ghost took hold of her hand and led her inside the gate with the rest of his brothers. They walked across the lot and into the warehouse.
Jessie’s eyes immediately glanced around, taking in the big space with its high ceilings and concrete floor revealed in the dim light that appeared to come only from the few skylights high up in the metal roof.
There were a group of more men waiting in a half circle, their arms all folded across their chests, and their stances wide, giving them a very intimidating look.
Shades, being the VP, took charge for the Evil Dead, moving to stand in front of the rest of his men, taking up the same posture as the DKs. His eyes moved over the line of men, past the man with the President’s patch, past the man with the VP patch, to land on another man standing to his right. He was younger than both the President and VP, and he was much better looking.
Shades lifted his chin to the man.
“Rusty.”
The man lifted his chin in response.
“Shades.”
Then Shades eyes moved back to the President.
“Growler.”
The President, whom Shades had identified as Growler, unfolded his arms and stepped forward.
“You had some information for us.”
Shades nodded once. “We do. First we make a deal.”
“First we hear what the bitch has to say,” Growler countered.
Shades shook his head. “You hear me out first.”
Growler stared him down, finally relenting.
“All right. Fucking talk. And it better be something I want to hear.”
“You will,” Shades assured him. “It’ll benefit both our clubs.”
“Don’t much give a shit if anything benefits your club.”
A slight grin pulled at the corner of Shades’ mouth. “Understood.”
“Well?” Growler’s brow lifted. “You got somethin’ to say, get to it.”
“We’ve got some information for you. Information that you’ll find very valuable.”
“That remains to be seen,” the man countered.
“In exchange for this information, you and I work out an arrangement where both our clubs make an alliance for one purpose and one purpose only. Doesn’t affect anything we got now. We keep our own territories, nothing changes.”
The President let out a long-suffering breath. “And what exactly is the purpose of this alliance you’re askin’ for?”
“To keep the Death Heads from pushing into the Gulf Coast. They want Georgia, and they want Alabama. And they’ve got a plan for getting both. You’re up first on their list. We’re next. The plan to take you down is already in motion.”
He lifted a brow with a doubtful expression. “Take us down? Really? And what’s this fucking plan?”
Shades lifted his chin to the members standing behind the President of the DKs. “These your most trusted guys? ‘Cause you’ve got a rat.”
His VP’s arms came unfolded. “Who the hell are you to come in here and tell us our fucking business?”
Jessie studied the man. His face was hard and spoke of years of callous violence and disregard for anything that threatened his club. His long scraggly hair and beard were both solid gray. He wore small wire-rimmed glasses on his long thin nose and when he spoke, he revealed teeth yellowed with age.
The President lifted his arm, silencing his VP with no more than that single gesture.
“Tell me what the fuck you think you know, before I let Rat run his knife through you,” he growled at Shades, his patience obviously dwindling.
But Shades held his ground. “We got a deal?”
After a tense moment, the man barked back, “Yeah, we got a fucking deal. Now talk!”
“Death Heads planted a man in your chapter.” Shades shrugged. “Possibly a prospect. More likely one of that bunch you just patched over.”
Growler’s eyes narrowed. “And you know this fucking shit, how?”
“That’s where the girl comes in,” Shades replied.
Jessie watched as their President’s eyes moved from Shades to her, sweeping up and down.
“How’s she know this shit?” He addressed his question to Shades, as if his answer carried more weight than anything that would come out of her mouth.
“She was in Sturgis. Overheard Florida talking to his men.”
The President’s brows shot up. “Right. She just fucking overheard that, huh? What do you take me for? Do I look stupid to you?”
“She was there, Prez,” one of his guys said, and Jessie’s eyes moved to the man. He was a big man, six three at least and muscled. But it wasn’t just his size that made him stand out; it was his demeanor. He took badass to a whole different level. Aside from the fact that he was a terrifyingly scary dude, he was also very good looking, with dark hair that hung past his jaw and brows that slashed low, giving him a stern look. But it was his piercing light eyes that caught one’s attention. They practically burned a hole in you when he turned them on you. And right now they were turned on her.
Growler looked back at him. “You sure?”
The man nodded, his eyes boring into hers a long moment before they swung to Shades. “You don’t know who she is, do you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Reno?” his President barked at him.
“She’s Florida’s.”
“The hell s
he is,” Ghost snapped taking a step forward, but Shades arm came up, holding him back with the silent reprimand.
Reno’s eyes swung to Ghost, then ignored him, moving to his President. “Saw her with him. She was cuddled up on his lap all nice and cozy, his hand rubbing her ass.”
“And you saw this where?” Growler snapped.
“Scooter’s Bar.”
Ghost twisted, his eyes swinging to her with an expression of disbelief. She could tell he wanted to ask her about what had to be a startling revelation for him, but he knew he couldn’t look surprised by any of this, not in front of the DKs.
Shades covered for them all, by pretending as if he knew all this.
“Gives what she says that much more credibility. You want to hear what she has to say, or not?”
“Yeah, I want to hear what she fucking has to say,” Growler snapped.
Shades’ eyes swung to Ghost, and he stared him down until he stepped out of her way, and then Shades lifted his chin at her. “Tell him what happened.”
She raised her chin, determined to not cower in front of these men. She met Growler’s eyes. “I overheard Florida say they were going to take you down from the inside. He said they’d planted a man in your chapter. Knew your every move. They plan to take Georgia from you.”
“You overheard this? How?” Growler asked.
“I was in a closet. The walls were thin, and they were in an office on the other side talking.”
“And what were you doing in the closet?”
“Hiding.”
“From who?”
“From the Death Heads.”
“Why were you hiding if you were with Florida?”
“I wasn’t with Florida.”
“Bullshit,” Reno snapped. “From what I saw, you were definitely with him.”
Shades shoved her behind him. “Don’t matter what she was doing there. Bottom line, you’ve got a rat. We’ve got no reason to come here and tell you this shit if it weren’t true. We’re up next on their list. We band together now, we save both our states. We don’t, you know it’s gonna be a fight to the death. And we both know the Death Heads can take us down separately. We team up, we got a shot at holding ‘em off.”