GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5) (19 page)

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 carnage.

“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.”

She followed him out and through the club. It was deserted, but she did hear someone down a hall. They moved outside into the bright sunshine, and she breathed in the fresh air. It was wonderful after spending hours inhaling the spilled whiskey from the bottle she’d smashed.

Blood threw his leg over his bike. “Climb on.”

She did, and he handed her a helmet, waiting while she strapped it on. Then he fired up the bike, and they roared off.

Half an hour later they rode down a long dirt road back into the woods. Jessie was so lost she doubted she could find this place again if her life depended on it. He pulled up next to several parked bikes and a couple of pickup trucks. As soon as Blood shut his bike off, she could hear gunshots coming from further back in the woods somewhere.

They climbed off the bike, and she followed him down a dirt path, over a rise and through a thicket, until if finally opened up into a clearing.

There, standing in the dirt, were several men, all with guns raised and firing at targets which consisted mostly of bottles and cans.

As they moved down the line, Jessie spotted several guys with Evil Dead cuts on their backs. Three said Alabama. One said Louisiana.

“I see dumb people,” Blood teased.

“Ha ha ha, Blood. You’re hilarious.”

“Why is she here? I thought she was supposed to be in lock down.”

“What’s the matter, Slick? Afraid she’ll turn out to be a better shot than you?”

“Everybody’s a better shot than Slick,” one of the others teased.

“Go stand down there by the targets, fuckface. Bet you twenty bucks I hit you.”

They all laughed.

“I’ll put twenty on that one. Go on, Gator.”

“Fuck all you guys.”

They laughed harder.

Blood moved to an empty spot at the end next to the other man from his Louisiana Chapter.

“Will you get in trouble for bringing me here?” Jessie asked Blood.

“Suddenly worried about my well being, sweet cheeks?”

“No. And stop calling me that.”

He grinned. “Relax. I do shit like this all the time.”

He pulled a gun out from under his cut.

“Let’s start with the basics.”

“The basics?”

“Ever fire a gun?”

She shook her head.

“Ever hold a gun?”

She shook her head again.

“This is a 9mm. Let’s start with how to load it.” He pressed a button on the side of the handgrip, ejecting the magazine.

“You insert the ammo one at a time, with the rounded side forward until the magazine is full. You re-insert it by pushing upward into the handgrip until you hear a clicking noise indicating the magazine has locked in place.”

He handed her the gun.

“Now, you try it.”

She repeated the steps he’d shown her.

Then he stepped behind her, raising her arms toward the targets and whispered the rest of the instructions in her ear. She couldn’t help but be affected by his body pressed up against her back.

“Disengage the safety by pushing down on the safety lever at the top rear of the gun.”

“Blood, kiss her neck. Women love when you kiss their necks,” Sandman suggested.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
He fired at his target in rapid succession. “Just not when they’re driving,” he added.

Bam. Bam. Bam
.

“And you’re in the backseat.”

Bam. Bam. Bam.

“And they don’t know you.”

Bam. Bam.

Jessie tried to hold back the laughter, her body shaking. “He’s a good shot, isn’t he?”

Blood snorted. “His greatest talent is finding places to sit down.”

“Why you gotta be the worm in my tequila?”

“Ignore him. He ate paint chips when he was little,” Blood instructed.

Sandman lowered his gun, taking offense to that last comment, and objecting. “My mind is like lightning.”

“Yeah, one brilliant flash and its gone.”

He turned, looked at Jessie and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “He loves my ass. Don’t let him fool you.”

“I’ve stopped listening, why haven’t you stopped talking?” Blood asked him.

Jessie was giggling so hard, she could hardly keep her arms up and the gun on the target.

Blood lifted them back up. “There’s gonna be plenty of distractions when you’re shooting, you can’t let them get to you. Pay attention.”

She tried to pull it together.

“Chamber a round.”

“Do what?”

“Pull back on the slide on top of the barrel to load a bullet into the firing chamber.”

She did it.

“Now aim down the sight at the target.”

“Okay.” She focused in on a blue wine bottle.

“Place your index finger on the trigger when you’re sure you have a target and are ready to shoot.”

“Okay.”

“You pull the trigger one time for each shot you fire.”

“Okay.”

“Breath in, exhale and squeeze the trigger, darlin’.”

She breathed in, exhaled and squeezed. She wasn’t ready for either the deafening sound or the recoil the gun made when it went off. Luckily, Blood was there, still at her back, steadying her. When she saw that the bottle was still there, her shoulders slumped.

“I missed.”

“First time you’ve ever held a gun. Did you think you’d be Annie Oakley with the first shot?”

“I hate to fail. In anything.”

“Competitive bitch, are you?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. That I can work with. You’re high and to the right. Try again.”

She aimed at the target, breathed in, exhaled and fired.

Nothing.

“Again.”

She repeated her steps.

And missed.

“Again.”

She missed again.

“Focus, babe, or we’ll be here all day if we have to, ‘til you hit the damn thing.”

He knew just what buttons to push to make her determined to make the shot. She steadied her arm, breathed in, exhaled and squeezed the trigger.

This time the bottle exploded.

Blood grabbed the gun from her hand as she swung around, excitedly.

“I hit it!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She jumped up and down.

“Good job. Now shoot the shit out of those cans like they’re Ashley.”

“How do you know about Ashley?”

“Lucky guess.”

He handed the gun back to her. She took aim and fired.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam
.

When she was empty, he took the gun from her as she turned to him.

“Thank you. That felt so good.”

“You’re welcome. So, what’d Ashley do this time?”

She hesitated to tell him all of the reasons she disliked the girl, so she just shrugged. “I just find it hard to be nice to her, and I’m a nice person.”

“Yeah, well, some people suck the nice right out of you.”

“How do you know Ashley?”

“For about five minutes, I thought about fucking her. Thankfully, I had the good sense to drown that kitten in the river.”

That brought a smile to Jessie’s face. “Well, thank you for this. I needed it.”

“I could tell.”

“Now what?”

He nodded toward the targets. “Now you practice until it comes natural and easy. Never know when trouble might come callin’, sweet cheeks. And you need to be able to defend yourself.”

And then she knew he must have heard her story and knew all about the danger she was in. And she wondered if the reason he’d brought her out here had less to do with Ashley and stress relief, and more to do with the trouble that followed her. And that said a lot about the man. That he cared enough to take his time with her like this, preparing her like he was.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she blurted, before she could stop the words.

He studied her a long moment, and then began reloading his gun. “Let me put it to you this way. I’ll try being nicer, if you try being smarter.”

She frowned. “Smarter? What do you mean?”

His eyes met hers.

“Look, I know Ghost. He’s a good guy. And for reasons I haven’t figured out yet, unless it’s your sweet ass, he’s taken on your shit. All of it. And from what I hear, it’s a lot.”

Jessie swallowed. She couldn’t deny it, any of it.

Blood continued.

“He’s taken your back. That means something. You need to trust he’s got this. That he isn’t going to let anything happen to you. So, I guess what I’m saying is, wise up and quit giving him grief. Deal?”

She looked off at the horizon, contemplating his words. They were true. Everything he said was true. So she did the only thing she could do. She nodded. “Deal.”

He handed her back the gun, his chin lifting toward the targets. “Have at it, Annie Oakley.”

She grinned and took aim.

An hour later, they pulled back up at the clubhouse. Blood led her through the common room, catching the eye of Boo, who was behind the bar, mopping. His mouth dropped open when he saw she wasn’t still in the room that he and everyone else knew she was supposed to be locked in. But apparently he knew better than to question a full-patched member, so his mouth clamped shut.

Blood led her down the hall and deposited her in the room, sitting her down on the bed. He reached for the handcuff still hanging from the bedpost and held out his hand, waggling two fingers for her to lift her wrist.

“Please, Blood. Don’t handcuff me. I promise I won’t go anywhere.”