GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5) (10 page)

Shades gaze swung back to his.

It was Ghost’s turn to shift his eyes to the horizon. He had to be honest with Shades. “Not sure she’s tellin’ me everything, but I believe the information she’s givin’ us is true. She wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Hope not. It won’t go well if she is,” Shades gave him the warning he didn’t need, and then took a swig of his beer. “You want to tell me about her?”

Ghost took a long pull off his own beer. “Not really.”

Shades gave him a look.

Ghost grinned. “But I guess I will.”

“What I can’t figure is why I’ve never heard about her in all this time. Not once, brother. What the hell? Thought I knew you.”

“You know me, bro.”

“Then how is it you have a stepsister I never knew about?”

“My dad’s second wife. She had two kids, Jessie and her brother, Tommy. They moved in with us when I was thirteen.”

Shades nodded, but remained quiet waiting for Ghost to continue.

“By the time I was hanging around the MC, I’d already moved out of the house. Tommy joined the military. My father divorced Collette not long after that.” He took a sip of beer. “Tommy was killed by an IED, and they shipped his body home. I was in lockup awaiting trial on that bullshit assault charge, and I missed the funeral. When I got out, I visited his grave, and Jessie was there. She barely would look at me though.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “She was devastated. Pissed at the world. Next I heard she’d dropped out of school. Two months before graduation, can you believe that? Then she left town with some loser. Anyway, I lost touch with her after that.”

Shades studied him, his eyes narrowed. “And?”

“And what?”

“What aren’t you tellin’ me?”

Ghost blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Let it go, man.”

Shades grinned. “I see. So that’s how it is.”

“We had a moment. Once. A long fuckin’ time ago. It shouldn’t have happened, and it never happened again.”

“By ‘a long fuckin’ time ago’ you mean when?”

Ghost tossed his beer bottle in a nearby oil drum. It shattered with a loud crash. “She was sixteen, I was twenty-one. And before you say anything, it wasn’t much more than a kiss.”

Shades grinned. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Yeah, but you were thinkin’ it.”

“She ain’t sixteen anymore, bro.”

“No, she’s not.” Ghost sure didn’t need Shades to point that out. He was well aware.

“I see you’ve noticed.” Shades chuckled. “Half the club’s noticed, too, just so you know.”

“Fuck.”

“I take it you’re putting her off limits.”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

Shades grinned. “Noted. I’ll pass the word.”

“I’m gonna take a hot fuckin’ shower and hit the sack.”

“Enjoy it, bro, cause I see a bunch of cold showers in your future.”

Ghost could hear Shades laughter as he walked away.
Fuck if that wasn’t the truth
.

Ghost stood beside the empty bunk next to the one where he’d put Jessie at the end of the row. She was sound asleep. He pulled off his cut and tossed it up on the top bunk. Then he collapsed on the bottom bunk, exhausted. There were a couple of old-timers crashed on the other side, snoring away, but for the most part the shed was empty. And he could see why, with the rain burned off, the shed was hot as hell.

He turned his head and looked over at Jess. She had her back to him, but he could see the outline of her body. She’d kicked off the cover of the sleeping bag in the heat, and his eyes strayed down over the curve of her hip.

Shit
.

He turned his head and locked his eyes on the underside of the top bunk. He couldn’t allow himself to get any ideas about her and that sweet body of hers. He needed to remember how much she was going to hate him when she found out his club was going to put her in the middle of an alliance with the DKs.

It was a long time before he finally fell asleep.

CHAPTER SIX

Jess awoke when the bunk shook. She opened her eyes to see Ghost standing over her.

“Wake up, Jess. Roll-out’s in ten minutes.”

She frowned up at him, squinting her eyes. “Roll-out?”

“The club is pulling out. Heading home.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven.”

She groaned.

He grinned. “Not a morning person?”

She sat up, rubbing her face. “I need coffee.”

He held out a Styrofoam cup. “Saved you the last of it.”

She looked up at him as she took it. “Oh, God. Thank you.”

He leaned against the top bunk.

“We’re gonna be ridin’ hard today. I want you in the chase van with the prospect.”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Why can’t I ride with you?”

He shook his head. “Can’t take the chance of you being seen on the back of my bike as the club rolls out of town, brat.”

Oh. Right.

“You mean by the Death Heads?” For a moment she’d forgotten that just because Ghost made her feel safe, it didn’t mean she wasn’t still in danger.

“Exactly. You ridin’ in the van is the safest place for you.”

She blew out a breath knowing he was right.

Ghost grinned. “I see you get my point.”

“I get it.”

“Good, then we won’t have any trouble, will we?”

She shook her head. “Nope. You want me in the van, I’m in the van.”

“You always this agreeable in the morning?” he asked with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “No, but you brought me coffee, so I’m being nice.”

“Coffee’s the golden ticket, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

“It is this morning,” she murmured with her lips to the rim of the cup. She pushed the sleeping bag aside and stood up, catching Ghost’s eyes as they swept down her to take in the outfit she was still wearing. She stood barefoot in her same shorts and his flannel shirt. Her boots sat at the side of the bed.

“Maybe somewhere along the line we can pick you up a pair of jeans.”

She nodded. “That would be good.”

He rolled up his sleeping bag and tied it up while she drank down the last of the coffee and slid her boots back on. When he was finished knotting the last knot, he tucked the roll under his arm.

“Ready?”

She nodded and followed him out.

As they passed the bonfire that one of the men was pouring water on, Jessie noticed a big biker that looked like a Viking, and had
California
on his bottom rocker, kick the leg of another who was still sound asleep in his bedroll, snoring away.

The passed out man sat bolt upright, mumbling, “Fuck your mother.”

The other biker snorted, “Yeah, in your dreams is the only place that’s gonna happen, Green. Get up, bro.”

“You save me some coffee, Red Dog.”

“No, I didn’t save you any fuckin’ coffee, you dumbass. Get up.”

Jessie couldn’t help but smile at their banter.

“Green?” she asked Ghost as he pulled her along.

He glanced back at the man, then replied to her, “He’s Irish. It’s a long story. Don’t ask.”

Ghost continued on, pulling her toward the field where lines and lines of motorcycles sat gleaming in the early morning sunlight. He moved through the maze of bikes to his and strapped on his sleeping bag. She saw his pack was already tied on the back. Everywhere she looked, men were doing the same thing, some already sitting astride their motorcycles, waiting patiently.

When he was finished, he walked her over to a dark van. A young guy sat behind the wheel, his window rolled down and his arm hanging out, a cigarette in his hand.

“Yammer, this is Jessie. She’ll be riding shotgun with you,” Ghost informed the kid. “Jess, Yammer.”

“Hey,” she said lamely.

The kid was her age, early twenties maybe, with sandy blonde hair and an eager to please grin. “Climb in, darlin’. Hope you don’t mind if I smoke. I’m tryin’ to quit, but it’s a bitch, ya know. You smoke? Don’t matter; I can toss it out if you want me to. I’ve only got a couple left in the pack, but I’ll share if you want one. You want one?”

Jessie’s eyes slid to Ghost as she shook her head in the negative.

Ghost grinned at her like he knew her time in the van with Yammer was going to be a trip.

“Don’t mind him. He’s wired,” Ghost said by way of explanation. Then he walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She climbed in, and he braced his hands on the frame and leaned in, his eyes on Yammer.

“You fix my shifter?”

“Yeah, man. Took care of it. You’re good to go. Ingenious temporary fix you came up with, by the way.”

“That’d be Jessie who came up with that idea.”

The prospect’s eyes moved to her. “Really?
Damn
.”

Ghost’s expression hardened, not liking the kid’s sudden interest. “Keep your hands to yourself, Prospect, you hear me? Or you and I are gonna have a problem.”

Yammer nodded, raising his hands in the air. “Hands off. I got it. No problem.”

Jessie lifted her eyes to Ghost’s, and he grinned. “We’ll stop at a truck plaza east of town to gas up. I’ll try to get you something else to wear there. And maybe, just maybe, you can get back on my bike there.”

She nodded, making a silly face she hoped told him how thrilled she was to be stuck in the van with a wired up prospect. “Gee, thanks, that would be lovely.”

He made a face back at her, then reached in and ruffled her hair before slamming the door and walking off towards his bike.

The sound of a hundred bikes roaring to life reverberated across the field.

Yammer sat forward with his forearms resting on the top of the steering wheel watching as the bikes all lined up and rolled out, two by two.

“It’s a sight, ain’t it?”

Jessie had to admit, it
was
quite a sight.

She noticed several different states listed on the bottom rockers that passed them by,
Alabama
,
Louisiana
,
Mississippi
,
Missouri, California,
and
Nebraska.

“All the state chapters, they’re all traveling together?”

“Yup. Except for the California brothers. They got a man in the hospital they’re waitin’ on. So they’ll be breaking off and relocating to a motel in town, way I heard it.”

When the end of the line passed by, Yammer put the van in gear and pulled out onto the blacktop behind them. It was then Jessie noticed two guys; their bikes parked on the shoulder, holding up traffic so the entire MC could pull out together in one unbroken line. After Yammer pulled out, she saw one of the guys run back and lock a swinging iron gate with a chain as big around as her wrist, effectively closing up the property until the next rally, she supposed.

She watched in her side mirror as the man ran to his bike, and he and the other biker gunned their throttles speeding to catch up with the line. A moment later they zoomed around them to take their places up ahead.

As they rolled over hills and valleys, Jessie could see the long line of bikes riding two-by-two strung out at least a mile long. As their speed picked up, she was amazed at how perfectly they rode in such tight formation, mere feet between the back tire of the bike in front of them and their front wheel.

“They ride so close together,” she couldn’t help observing.

Yammer responded, glancing over to her, “Yeah, yeah, I know, right? MCs know how to ride, and they ride together in pack formation daily. These guys know their brother’s riding style better than they know their own.”

“It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, pretty cool, right? They know what they’re doin’, know exactly how to approach a corner or dodge a vehicle while remaining only a foot or two of distance from each other. Each of ‘em watching the riders five rows ahead. You smash into your brother’s bike, you’re gonna meet his fist personally.”

He glanced over at her, his wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel; he lifted just his finger to point to the bikes. “Ridin’ shoulder to shoulder like that, darlin’, it’s an intimate thing. Mastering tight turns in formation like that, it’s a rush.

“The bikes up in the front are really starting to pull away.”

“Yeah, those are the club’s officers up there. Those guys at the front and the ones right behind them, they’re some of the best riders in the club.”

Jessie nodded, taking it all in.

“Yeah, when you’re riding in a pack, there’s nothing like it. You don’t worry about those guys hauling ass in the front of the pack.”

“How do they know when the front is stopping or someone’s having trouble with their bike?”

“We got our own form of sign language. Different signals for a lot of different shit like if they point at the gas tank, it means they’re low on gas. If they tap the top of their helmet it means slow the fuck down. Signals for if the law’s up ahead or if there’s debris in the road. Shit like that.”

“Fascinating.”

“You gotta make sure your bike is dialed in and can take the abuse of the pack ride, too. One thing you don’t want to be is
that guy
.

“That guy?”

“The guy that slows the pack up because his bike is running like shit. Nobody wants to be
that guy
, least of all a prospect.”

About an hour later, they followed the line of bikes taking an exit ramp that led to a big truck plaza.

The roar of bikes was tremendous as the multitude jockeyed for position to form a dozen lines at the various pumps. Yammer pulled off to the side, pulling behind a blue pickup truck. He looked through the windshield and chuckled. Jess turned to see what it was he found so funny. She saw a bumper sticker in the back window of the cab that read,
Foreplay in Texas: Get in the truck.

“That’s a good one. You like cowboys? What is it with women and cowboys?”

Jessie just gave him a mystified shrug, hoping he wasn’t actually expecting her to explain it to him. He just grinned at her and winked.

“Bikers are better.”

He might be right about that, she had to admit silently in her head.

The van rocked as Yammer climbed out to fill the tank. She heard him unscrew the gas cap and then the nozzle clank as he jammed it into the tank.

Jess slowly undid her seatbelt and climbed out looking around, trying to find Ghost in all the bikes. She needed to go inside and pee.

She told Yammer where she was going, then headed across the lot. Halfway to the building she heard a sharp piercing whistle and looked to the right.

Ghost waved his arm in the air, motioning her over. She felt the eyes of a dozens bikers follow her as she made her way to him, still wearing her leather shorts and high-heeled ankle boots. She heard some catcalls and whistles, but she ignored them.

Ghost’s eyes skated down her as she reached him. He pushed his shades up on his head.

“Already checked inside. Only option in there are some pink sweatpants with
Bootylicious
written across the ass.” He shrugged with a grin. “Your call.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh, no.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He glanced around at the area. “Maybe there’s a Farm and Fleet around we could check out.”

Shades, who was one pump over, hung his nozzle up and recapped his tank. “Not happening, bro. We’re not holding up a hundred bikes while you take your girl shopping.”

“She needs some jeans, Shades,” Ghost replied.

Shades eyes skated down her bare legs. “It’s seventy degrees. She’ll be fine. Won’t ya, darlin’?”

“I guess,” she answered.

“That’s the spirit,” Shades replied with a grin as he passed them on his way inside.

Ghost looked at her with a resigned expression. “Guess it’s back in the chaps for you.”

“I need to pee.”

He lifted his chin toward the building. “Make it quick, brat.”

She hurried inside.

When she came back out he held the chaps out to her and waited while she put them on, then he tossed her his leather jacket and a pair of riding glasses. “Here, take my extra pair. And the jacket will keep the wind off you if you need it or I can put it back in the saddlebag. But we probably won’t stop again for hours. Up to you.”

“I’ll take it.”

She slid it on.

“You should probably braid your hair,” he suggested, holding out a hair tie that he’d pulled off his handle bar.

She took it, shoved the arm of the sunglasses between her teeth and began to braid her hair while he stood there patiently waiting. When she was finished, he handed her a spare helmet he’d pulled out of his saddlebag and strapped it on her head.