Ghost (Evil Dead MC 5)

“You don’t like me, do you?” she asked.

Jessie turned toward her, shrugging. “Not particularly, no.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have to be friends. Just so you understand your place.”

“My place?” Jessie repeated, giving Ashley a look that could kill.

Ashley just grinned. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just want you to know the way things are here.”

“The way things are here? And how is that?”

“Never mind. You’ll be gone soon anyway,” Ashley commented, her eyes on the mirror behind the bar.

Jessie met her eyes in the reflection. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”

Ashley tapped her cigarette in the ashtray. “Way I heard it, sweetie, they’re taking you to the DK’s. Making some deal with the Death Heads.”

Jessie’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Ashley shrugged. “You’re part of the deal, least that’s what JJ told me last night in bed.”

Jessie felt a chill run down her skin. Her mind racing with thoughts, she lifted her glass to her mouth and drained it. Ghost wasn’t going to turn her over to the DKs. It wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let his club do that, would he? But if that was their plan, could he stop them? If they did hand her over to the DKs, there’d be only one reason for it. So she could be handed over to the Death Heads. She felt her stomach drop, the rum roiling inside as panic overwhelmed her, and the fight or flight instinct took over. Her eyes moved to the prospect behind the bar, the man Ghost had instructed to watch her. He was busy stacking cases, and then her eyes flicked to the entrance reflected in the mirror, and she wondered if she could make it out the door without him seeing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ghost sat at the table with his club. He looked toward the head, where his chapter President sat eying him.

“Talked to the DKs last night.” Butcher’s voice was gruff. “They want her brought to the meet. Want to hear it straight from her mouth.”

“No way.” Ghost’s voice was firm as he shook his head.

“Afraid so, Ghost. They insisted. Those are serious accusations she’s makin’. They’re not turnin’ their club inside out lookin’ for some rat unless they believe this ain’t some bullshit some chick made up to get a ride across country.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Maybe I do. What I believe isn’t important. We need them to believe it. Only way we make this deal.”

“Fuck,” Ghost murmured, his eyes moving to the scarred wooden table, his jaw clenching.

“You got a problem with this, you better say so right now.”

Ghost glared at his President, and his VP stepped in. Leaning forward, Shades looked at Ghost.

“You brought this to the club. Coulda kept your mouth shut and put her on a bus.”

“I wouldn’t keep that from the club.” Ghost stared Shades down. “You know that.”

Shades nodded. “Damn right. So get right with this, Ghost.”

Ghost’s eyes moved from Shades back to Butcher. “And if they want more? If they want her?”

His President just stared at him with a cold expression that didn’t give Ghost a good feeling.

“Butcher, I gotta draw the line—”

“We draw the line where I say we draw the line,” Butcher barked, cutting him off with an arch look that brooked no argument. But Ghost had to argue his point.

“I’m not lettin’ you turn her over to the DKs. They’ll use her to make their own deal with the Death Heads.” He shook his head emphatically.