GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5) Read Free Page A

pink tee shirt that proclaimed in big block letters, Punk Rock Rules to the pair of black leather hot pants with the fishnet stocking under them and cute little high heeled ankle boots. She may be wearing black leather, but she looked more like something off a London runway than blending in with any of this crowd. His eyes returned to her face. She had long dark hair and the heavily lined and shadowed eyes that also could be found straight out of some fashion magazine. But there was something else… something about her rang familiar to Ghost. He just couldn’t quite place it.
    That feeling was quickly pushed aside by the expression on her face. She looked frantic, terrified, and maybe even desperate. Ghost frowned.
    What the fuck?
    She jerked to a stop when her eyes hit him, sliding down and taking in his cut and the patch on his back.
    Ghost had seen that reaction in women before, the ones that saw the cut and backed away. But this was different. This was downright terror.
    She stood beyond the doorway, still in the back hall, just out of sight from the crowd in the bar.
    Ghost’s frown deepened, and he straightened from the bar, but before he could react, his attention was drawn to a commotion at the front door. The crowd had suddenly gone quiet, and he saw the reason. Four members of the Death Heads MC had just come through the door. They stood there, just inside the entrance, their eyes sweeping over the crowd. And then they began moving, their eyes traveling slowly and painstakingly over every person at every table.
    They were searching for someone, Ghost realized.
    And then the terror he’d seen on the girl that had come through the back door clicked, and his head jerked back to look. She had her back to him now as she stood at an old pay phone, her shaking hand punching at the buttons, oblivious to the danger that had just come through the front door.
    Ghost glanced back to the Death Heads moving through the bar. If he was going to get involved, he had only seconds to do it. If he had any sense, he’d stay the fuck out of this shit. But something about the terrified look on that girl’s face wouldn’t let him leave it alone.
    “Fuck,” he cursed as he pushed off the bar.
     
    ***
     
    Jessie held the receiver tightly to her ear, relief flooding through her when she heard the dial tone. Thanking God the old pay phone was still functional, she punched in 911 with trembling fingers hoping the call would go through even though she had no coins to feed into the slot.
    Suddenly, she felt a presence at her back and the smell of leather enveloped her. She sucked in a breath as a muscular arm reached over her shoulder, two fingers pressing down on the cradle, disconnecting the call, the other hand yanking the phone out of her hand and hanging it up. Then, before she could react or spin around, the man grabbed her by the upper arms and was herding her into the women’s restroom. The flimsy door banged against the wall as he shouldered his way through, pushing her ahead of him.
    It was a small room with only two stalls and a low counter with double sinks and a cracked mirror on the wall above.
    She whirled as the man turned and locked the door before turning back to face her. Her mouth fell open when she realized she was staring into the face of the man she’d come to Sturgis to find. Her shoulders slumped in relief. Thank God.
    And then she watched his shocked expression as he got a good look at her face. It had been years, but something in her looks must have registered. She’d been seventeen the last time he’d seen her, and she could tell he was struggling in his mind to place her.
    “Hey, Billy,” she whispered. Her eyes moved over him. In the seven years since she’d last seen him, he’d matured. His brown hair was longer now, brushing his now much broader shoulders, with the top half pulled back in a band. He had a close cut beard now, too. And there were a few more lines radiating out from the outer