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 s
trong 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?”