Ghost (Evil Dead MC 5)

“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.”