GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5) (16 page)

Hammer grinned at Shades as he raised his hand. “High-five, bro.”

Ghost stared in stunned disbelief as they slapped palms, then he glared at Shades. “You
both
bet on this shit? Hammer, I’m not surprised. But, you?”

Shades just grinned. “Easiest ten bucks I ever made.”

Griz ambled over to their booth and leaned his palms on the table, his eyes on Ghost. “Dude,” he shook his head. “You let me down, man.”

Shades lifted his hand palm up, two fingers waggling. “Pay up, Griz.”

Griz straightened, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and glared at Ghost as he pulled two tens out and slapped them on the table. “Shoulda known
Romeo
, here, couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Just then Jessie walked up, and Ghost straightened in his seat, running his hand over his mouth.
Fucking hell.

Griz glared at her. “You just cost me twenty bucks, sweet cheeks.” And then he strolled back to his table.

“What was that about?” she asked, eyeing the money.

“Nothing,” Ghost snapped rising from his seat and grabbing her by the upper arm to turn her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, your bill,” Hammer said.

Ghost turned his head, not stopping. “You can pick up this one, Mr. Moneybags.”

“Fucking hell.”

Once they were back at the Saint Louis clubhouse, the different chapters took a few moments to say goodbye to each other. At each stop along the way the line of bikes got shorter as the various chapters broke off. And now some were splitting off toward Memphis, some toward Louisiana.

They posed to take a photo. A bunch of leather clad men with beards and dark shades all grinning at the camera. And Jessie noticed they all held their arms crossed over their chests, five fingers extended on one hand and four on the other. She frowned, wondering what that meant. She’d seen the number fifty-four up on the wall here and also at the clubhouse in Omaha, now that she thought about it. What was up with that?

After they were finished and said their goodbyes, pounding each other’s backs the way men do, Jessie asked Ghost about it.

“Why did everyone hold up nine fingers like that?”

Ghost grinned. “Not nine. Five and four.”

She shook her head. “Okay, so five and four then, what does that mean?”

“It means Evil Dead…E is the fifth letter in the alphabet and D is the fourth. So, five, four or fifty-four.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You ready, pretty girl?”

She grinned at his endearment. Apparently his earlier surly mood had shifted back to his usual happy self. “I’m ready. Am I on the back of your bike today?”

His eyes searched hers, his smile fading and his face turning serious. “That where you want to be?”

She nodded, mesmerized by the way he looked at her, like there wasn’t anyone else around. “Yes.”

“Because you want on the back of my bike or because you just want out of that van?”

She bit her lip, trying not to grin. “Maybe a little of both.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Least you’re honest. Okay, brat, let’s rock and roll.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.
Yes! She was going to get to ride today!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The line of bikes roared southbound on I-65; eventually rolling down through Nashville, and then crossing the Alabama border an hour after that. They continued on past Huntsville and ultimately hit the exit, rolling through Birmingham toward the clubhouse.

Jessie took in the sights of the hometown she’d left years ago when she’d run away at the age of seventeen. Something’s had changed, but the feeling was the same. This was home. Always had been. Always would be.

Her arms tightened around Ghost, and she felt his hand drop to her forearm, giving it a pat and a squeeze. He knew. He understood what she was feeling. Somehow he always knew what she was feeling, had always been able to tap into her moods. Sometimes that was a good thing. Other times, not so much. She’d never been able to bullshit him.

And that worried her. Because that was exactly what she was doing now. Not all of it, not even most of it. But she hadn’t been completely honest with him, and she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep up the lies for long before he saw right through them.

And she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when he learned the truth.

Twenty minutes later, they rolled up to the clubhouse of the Birmingham Chapter of the Evil Dead MC. It was buried back in the poor neighborhoods that bordered the old U.S. Steel plant. They rolled up several side streets coming to a huge old two-story clapboard house that sat, looming large, on a big corner lot. Next to it was an empty lot with overgrown grass. The two properties consumed the entire short block that ran between two side streets. The back of the clubhouse was surrounded by a six-foot privacy fence and backed up to an alley that faced a junkyard on the other side. Across the street was a burned out house, next to that an abandoned house. Obviously, the neighborhood was not primo real estate, and Jessie imagined they liked it that way. The fewer people and neighbors to fuck with them, the better.

The front yard was overgrown, the sides overrun with tall bamboo and kudzu vines. There was a waist-high chain link fence around the front yard and a rusty gate no one ever used. The metal mailbox out on the street was painted black with Evil Dead MC in white stencil across it. Up on the front porch in a chair by the door sat a skeleton holding a scythe like some leftover Halloween decoration, except for the Evil Dead support tee shirt it wore.

The bikes turned the corner and circled around back to the alley, which led to the only entrance members used. There was a double wooden gate with the club name, Evil Dead painted, top-rocker style across it. One word on each portion of the swinging gate that when closed formed the name. Up on the backside of the house was painted a winged skeleton holding a scythe, looking down at the back of the property as if guarding it.

They rolled through the back gate and into a large gravel lot that took up over an acre.

As they climbed off the bike, Jessie glanced around the yard at all the women waiting to greet the men. Even though Ghost had assured her there was no ol’ lady waiting for him, she couldn’t help it when her gaze moved over each and every woman there.

Shades had pulled in next to them, and he hadn’t gotten two steps from his bike before a gorgeous girl with long dark hair ran to him and jumped in his arms. He laughed, catching her up in his arms, her ass in his hands, as her legs wrapped around his waist and they kissed passionately like newlyweds.

“Are they married?” she whispered to Ghost.

“Naw, not yet. But she’s wearin’ his ring. Don’t think they’ve set a date yet.”

When they finally broke apart, Jessie saw the love in Shades’ eyes as he looked at his woman. He set her down reluctantly, and she turned her eyes on Ghost and Jessie.

“Who’s your friend, Ghost?” she asked.

“Don’t I get a hug?” Ghost asked her, ignoring her question.

She went into his arms, and he briefly lifted her feet off the ground before setting her back down.

“How you doin’, Hotrod?”

She grinned up at him before shaking her head. “Uh-uh, no avoiding the question. Introduce us.”

Ghost grabbed Jessie by the hand and pulled her forward. “Skylar, this is Jessie. Jessie, this is Skylar, Shades’ ol’ lady.”

The pretty woman extended her hand, and Jessie took it, shaking it warmly. “Hi, nice to meet you.” Jessie couldn’t help but notice Skylar’s eyes. They were the most beautiful blue she’d ever seen, a light crystal blue that stood out starkly against her dark hair.

She turned her electric gaze to Ghost, her brows raised. “And you two know each other how?”

“He picked up a souvenir in Sturgis.” Shades filled his woman in with a teasing smile and a wink at Jessie.

Skylar’s brows shot up, and she giggled. “Is that so?”

Ghost let out a slight chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Interesting.” She eyed Jessie up and down, and then her eyes swung to Ghost in a considering, analyzing way.

As if Ghost could read her mind, he replied, “Don’t even go there, Sky.”

Her eyes got big, but her knowing grin stayed. “What? I didn’t say a word.”

Shades pulled her away, remarking, “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Oh, yes you most definitely will.”

Jessie watched them walk off, and then she turned on Ghost. “What was that about?”

He shook his head about to answer when another girl walked up, plastering herself against him and purring like a kitten. “I missed you, baby.”

Jessie’s eyes swept over her. She was a stacked blonde with a catty look on her face, her hands sliding up and down Ghost’s cut like she owned him. It had Jessie’s spine straightening as jealousy flared to life inside her.

Ghost took her by the upper arms and set her away. “Quit, Ash.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her eyes on Jessie and venom in her voice.

“Not your concern,” Ghost snapped, clamping his hand firmly around Jessie’s. Then before she could do much more than turn to watch the girl over her shoulder, Ghost was dragging her off through the crowd.

“Who was she?” she asked him quietly, her eyes still on the girl.

“That’s Ashley. Nobody for you to worry about.”

Jessie couldn’t help the feeling that crept up her spine and told her the exact opposite.

Ghost led her inside his clubhouse, and Jessie forgot all about Ashley as her eyes moved around the place. There were flags, pictures and club memorabilia all over the walls, even hanging from the ceiling. The place was crowded with the returning brothers, and Ghost shouldered his way through the leather-clad men, leading her to a bar against the back wall.

He jockeyed a position and leaned on his elbows, calling to a short woman behind the bar serving up drinks. She was petite, with white-blonde hair in a cute little super-short, spikey cut. It accented her long slender neck and big slanted green eyes.

“Hey, Tink. Be a sweetheart and grab me a couple bottles.”

The woman turned, her face lighting up as she saw him. “Sure thing, Ghost. Welcome home!”

“Good to be back, darlin’.”

A moment later she set two ice-cold bottles of beer in front of them. Her eyes briefly touching on Jessie as she gave her a slight nod.

“Seen Hammer, yet?” Ghost asked her with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “No, and don’t start, Ghost. I was in a good mood.”

Ghost chuckled, putting the bottle to his mouth and taking a long drink.

The girl was soon called away to serve up the crowd, and Ghost twisted, leaning against the bar to face Jessie.

“Tink?” she asked.

“Short for Tinker Bell.” He shrugged. “I think the nickname is self-explanatory.”

Jessie’s eyes moved back to the pretty, petite woman. She supposed it did at that.

“Why did you ask her about Hammer?”

He eyed her, his smile fading slightly. “Why? Jealous you might have some competition for your new boyfriend?”

“Stop teasing me. You know that was all just fun.”

“Um hmm. It better be.”

“So, what’s the deal with them? She his ol’ lady?”

Ghost snorted. “Not hardly. But it ain’t from lack of tryin’ on his part. She won’t have anything to do with him, though.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Cause she’s a smart girl. Hell, I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?”

Her chin came up. “Maybe I will.”

“Oh, Lord.” He rolled his eyes.

“So, tell me more about this Ashley chick.”

Ghost took a hit off his beer bottle, his eyes on her. “Told you, nothin’ to tell.”

“She said she missed you. That’s not nothing, Ghost.”

He shook his head. “Drop it, Jess. She’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Good. Then we can stop talking about her.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. If only it were that easy. Is that really how men thought women’s minds worked?
Nope. Not even a little.

One of his brothers walked up and leaned into Ghost’s ear, telling him something she couldn’t hear. He listened intently, their eyes connecting as the man pulled back. Ghost nodded, and the guy glanced to her before walking away.

When he was gone, Jess asked, “What was that about?”

Ghost looked at her and shook his head. “You don’t get to question everything, Jess. Not anything that has to do with the club. Understand?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

It was Ghost’s turn to roll his eyes. “There’s that word again.”

“Well, what do you want me to say? It’s not fine? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Just shut up and let’s go.”

“Fine,” she bit out just to be antagonistic.

Of course it didn’t work with Ghost. He just huffed out a laugh and led her out the door.

“Where are we going?”

“My place. You’re tired, right?”

She nodded. “Where’s your place? I thought maybe you stayed here.”

“At the clubhouse? Hell no. I’d never get any sleep. I got a place over near the airport.”

At that, she frowned. “The airport?”

“Yeah, the airport, Jess. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

They mounted up and pulled out.

Twenty minutes later, true to his word, Ghost rolled down some backstreets near the airport. They were over on the southeast side, off to the side of the end of one of the runways. He turned down an old driveway that was overgrown with shrubbery. It looked like at one time it had been the entrance to some type of restaurant, judging by the signs that were now partially grown over with vines.

It was back in an area that obviously got very little traffic; in fact it was the last place on the dead end. The drive in was maybe a hundred yards in from the turn off. It opened to what once must have been the parking lot, but grass and vegetation were now starting to break through. The place looked like it could have been the setting for a scene from a zombie or apocalypse movie. That’s how abandoned and deserted it felt.

Ghost pulled to a stop in front of the doors and they both climbed off. Pulling her helmet off, Jessie got her first up close look at the building that was glooming in the dark of night.

It looked like an old French farmhouse from the turn of the century with white stonewalls and turret towers with shingled conical tops.

She noticed an old WWII era jeep parked in the overgrown grass at the front like some kind of weird statue.

“What is this place?”

Ghost paused beside her, one booted foot up on the curb, and he tipped his head back, admiring the place with her. “It used to be a themed restaurant. It was designed as a replica of a 1917 French farmhouse. It was called Flying Aces for the fighter pilots that flew in WWI and WWII. It was filled with tons of military and aviation memorabilia. Some of it was left behind.”

“Left behind?”

“The place never really took off, and the owner died of a heart attack. It sat empty for years. His widow finally put it up for sale for what was owed in back taxes. I happened to have an in with someone in the family, and she sold it to me.”

“No other restaurant company wanted it?”

“Naw. The location was great for the idea…letting customers look out over the airport, watch planes land, but the neighborhoods you have to drive through to get here are not the best, and it kept a lot of people away. It was a cool idea, though. You want to see inside?”

“Yes, but, you bought this place? You own it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But, why?”

He shrugged. “At first I just thought it would be a cool place to live. I got it dirt-cheap. But times have changed, and the neighborhoods around here aren’t as bad as they once were. I think it might just make it as a nightclub now or maybe an event location.” He shrugged again. “Just a dream, really. Come on, I’ll show you the inside.”