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

The shed wasn’t very big, maybe eight by ten. There were no windows, but there were a couple pieces of boards missing on one side that let the fading daylight in. The roof was about eight feet high and rain leaked through in a couple of places, but at least it had a wooden floor, so they wouldn’t have to sit in the dirt.

She leaned against one wall and slid down to sit with her back against it. Her eyes moved to Ghost.

Ghost.
His club name. Not the one she knew him by. He would always be Billy to her. He came into her life when she was eight, and her mother married his father, the man who was her second stepfather.

Her father died when she was six. She barely remembered the man. After Daddy, there was her first stepfather; he’d been her father’s business partner. That only lasted long enough for him to weasel her dad’s half of the business away.

That’s when Billy came into her life. They’d moved in with him and his dad. She was eight and Tommy was twelve. Billy was thirteen, a year older than Tommy and so instantly became Tommy’s idol, hers, too.

He was older, cooler, and worldlier. Just everything about him drew them into his aura. And what an aura it was.

She instantly fell in love with him. Well, perhaps love was a strong word for an eight-year-old girl. But she’d crushed,
hard
. And that never changed.

Billy’s was the hand that was reaching for theirs even before they had to ask. He always made them feel safer, feel braver. He was always there when they needed him most. There were a multitude of times he came to her aid without her even having to ask.

Tommy and she both knew, as did most kids on the block, if they were with Billy, they were gonna be okay. He watched over all of them. They were always under his wing.

And he always carried their secrets. They could unburden themselves to Billy knowing he was never going to break their trust.

He was the most fiercely loyal and protective person she’d ever known. And he’d come into her life at a time when she’d needed him most.

CHAPTER THREE

“Do you have a phone?”

Ghost turned to look back at Jessie when she asked the question. “Yeah, but my battery died about an hour ago.”

“Mine, too.”

She was shivering with cold, running her hands up and down her arms. The sleeves of the flannel shirt he’d given her were soaking wet from their ride. The skin of her legs were also wet, her fishnets, soaking.

Ghost watched her, his eyes sliding over her legs, noticing her shiver. “You should get out of that wet shirt.”

She wiped her wet face with the sleeve. “Well, my shirt’s in the trashcan, so this is all I’ve got.”

“You’ve got a bra on. And I’ve already seen it, remember?”

She rolled her eyes.

“At least take those wet fishnets off.”

She glanced down at her legs, seeming to consider his words, and then climbed to her feet. She glared at him. “Turn around.”

“Already seen that, too.”

“Turn around!” she practically growled, her hands landing on her hips.

Ghost grinned, thinking she was fucking cute when she was pissed off, but he did as she asked.

A few moments later, something wet slapped against his shoulder. He glanced down, pulling her stockings from his shoulder. The little brat had flung them at him. He turned back to her, raising a brow.

“There. Happy?” she snapped.

“Gee, a memento of our lovely day together,” he bit out sarcastically with a grin. Already shoving them in his pocket.

Her eyes got big. “You’re not keeping those, are you? I was only being…”

“A brat?”

That shut her up, a feeling he had to admit he enjoyed the hell out of. He moved to his bike and bent down to dig through his saddlebag. A moment later he pulled out a pair of chaps and tossed them at her. “Here, put these on. At least they’ll keep your legs warm.”

She caught them to her. “Thanks.”

Holding them out, she looked at the strange looking garment, and he could tell she had no clue how to put them on. He blew out a breath. “Come here.”

She did, and he squatted down in front of her. He wrapped the belt around her hips and buckled it across her pelvis. Then he wrapped each leg in leather and zipped each side up from ankle to thigh. They were too long for her, but at least they’d keep her warm.

They framed her crotch, drawing his attention to it, and thoughts of how her pretty naked ass had looked swam before his eyes. He glanced up and found her staring at him, wide-eyed, and he knew she’d caught him looking, knew exactly where his eyes had been aimed, maybe even knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Shit, he shouldn’t have thoughts like that about her. She thought of him as a big brother, and he couldn’t destroy her trust like that.

He looked away uncomfortably and mumbled, “Better?”

“Just peachy.”

He rose to his feet and made a move to step toward the door, but the touch of her hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back to see her looking up at him with big eyes, looking at him like she used to look at him when she was a child. Like he was her knight in shining armor. Like he could do no wrong. Like he could fix anything.

He remembered that look on her face when she was nine, and he was fourteen. She’d been walking home from school, and some bullies were teasing her. They’d cornered her by ol’ Man Walker’s picket fence. They’d knocked her book bag to the ground, and its contents had scattered all over the sidewalk. He’d come up and bloodied the biggest bully’s nose, threatening him with worse if he ever dared bother her again or if he ever told who’d hit him.

The boys had run off, scared shitless.

He’d bent down, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. She’d looked up at him then with those same big eyes. Thinking he was her hero.

Up until that point, she’d always been Tommy’s bratty little sister, the one who pestered them to no end, the one who was always tagging along, always being a nuisance.

But after that day, things changed, he was more tolerant with her, more patient. He’d begun to look out for her, to care for her like a real big brother would. It was a responsibility he took seriously.

He’d known she’d idolized him back then. Maybe even had a crush on him. But she was always just a little kid to him.

That is, until she grew up, and he began to take notice.

“Are we going to be okay?” she asked softly, shaking him from his memories.

He had no clue what the hell was going to happen with the Death Heads, but he’d die before he’d let them get their hands on her. He lifted his hand and cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, brat. Understand?”

She just stared up at him.

“You trust me?” he asked when she didn’t reply.

She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for him.

“Say it.”

“I trust you, Billy.”

“Ghost,” he corrected. “I go by Ghost now.”

“Ghost.”

He studied her a long moment, and then nodded. Dropping his hand, he lifted his chin toward the wall she’d been sitting against earlier. “Get some rest.”

She sat as he moved toward the half opened door, dropping down on the floor next to it, leaning back against the wall to keep watch.

“When it stops raining will we be able to leave?” she asked.

He kept his eyes on the landscape. “Not until I fix my bike.”

“Fix your bike?”

He turned back in time to see her frown.

“What’s wrong with your bike?”

“Did you feel when we jarred against something right before I shut it off?”

She nodded.

“We hit something. Broke the shifter.”

“The shifter?”

He nodded, pointing toward a metal piece that was flopping down on the bottom left of the bike. “The shift linkage. Can’t ride if I can’t shift gears. Hopefully, I can fix it when we’ve got daylight tomorrow and I can get a better look at it.”

“So we’re stuck here tonight?”

“Looks that way.”

As hours passed, the rain slacked off. Eventually Jessie put her head back against the wall and drifted off. Ghost kept his vigil by the door, determined to stay awake and make sure the Death Heads didn’t return searching for them.

As night fell, the temperature dropped, and Ghost cursed the fact that he’d left his leather jacket back at camp. Not for him, but for Jessie. He knew she was cold.

As if his thoughts communicated to her, she came awake, shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. Her eyes moved to him. He could see them in the dim moonlight that shone through a hole in the ceiling.

“Why don’t you sit over here? Isn’t it cold over by the door?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe our body heat would help keep each other warm,” she suggested.

“Then come over here.”

“Ghost.”

He knew she thought he was being difficult. That wasn’t it at all. He might as well admit it. “I have a problem with small spaces.”

He watched her frown.

“You do? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I do.”

He felt her studying him, like she was trying to figure him out. And then she tilted her head to the side as if something had just dawned on her.

“Is
that
why you always took the stairs instead of the elevator?”

He grinned, wondering how she’d never put it together before now. But then he had to remind himself she’d just been a child. “Yeah, brat. That’s why.”

His use of the nickname he’d had for her back then made her smile and roll her eyes. Then he watched her stand up. His eyes followed her in the dim light as she moved toward him and sat next to him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his body. “Might also explain why I prefer riding a bike to being closed up in a car.”

She laughed. “Probably.”

They were quiet for a few minutes.

“Do you remember the year we came to live with you and your dad?” she asked.

“Of course. I was thirteen. And Tommy was twelve. And you were, what? Eight?”

“Um hmm. I remember when we walked inside for the first time. You were sitting on the couch, all sullen and pissed off, looking like it was the last place you wanted to be.”

“I tried to take off, sneak out the back. Dad caught me. Threatened to ground me if I didn’t stay and meet you.”

“No wonder you looked so pissed off when you looked at us.”

“Sorry, brat. I was an adolescent boy that had lost his mother and didn’t want a new one.”

“I know. I didn’t want a new father, either,
or
a new brother. Until I met you, that is.”

He gave her a squeeze.

“Do you remember what you used to call me?”

“Brat?”

“No, before that.”

“What did I call you?” he asked with a frown, struggling to recall.

“When we met I had on a polka dot dress, and all that summer you called me Polka Dot.”

He grinned. “I did, didn’t I? Hell, I’d forgotten that.”

“I hated that dress.”

“You hated all dresses back then. You were a little Tomboy, always wanting to tagalong with us. Remember when you wanted to enroll in Little League with us?”

“Yeah, Mom made me take ballet class instead.”

“You hated it.”

“Want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I really didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot. I just hated that I couldn’t play baseball, too.”

“Really?” He dragged the word out. “Interesting.”

“I used to love when you’d let me play ball with you in the neighborhood.”

“Well, you were the best third baseman we had,” he admitted in a teasing voice.

She grinned, lifting her chin proudly. “I was, wasn’t I?”

“Yup.”

“We had some fun times, didn’t we?”

“Sure did.” He pushed her head down on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, brat.”

She eventually drifted off. He could tell when her breathing changed, deepening, and her weight settled heavily against his side. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and continued to stroke her hair, his fingers sifting through the silkiness.

The curves of her warm body, soft against his side, reminded him that she was no longer a child. She was a grown woman now, and his body reacted to hers accordingly. He tried to tamp those feelings down, knowing the last thing he should be feeling toward her was desire. Somehow it felt wrong. He’d always been more like a big brother to her. And he was sure that wasn’t the type of relationship she’d sought him out for. She needed protection, someone to look out for her, someone to fill the role of the big brother she’d lost. And he was fine with filling that role. He’d be whatever she needed. It was the least he could do for her. The least he could do in Tommy’s memory.

His mind drifted to the trouble Jessie was now in, going over in his head everything she’d told him about the Death Heads and the plans she’d overheard. If it were true, it was damned valuable information. Information his club could use. Information the DKs would also find valuable. And there was the rub of it. His club would use her and that information to make a deal with the DKs.

Question was, would he be comfortable with that? Using her like that didn’t sit well with him. It put her smack in the middle of an escalating biker war. Could he live with that?