Chapter 11
ELEVEN
GHOST
I’ve been staying away from her. Not because I want to. Mostly because I don’t trust what’s happening in my own head when she’s around.
Rae has a way of getting under my skin that I’m not used to dealing with.
She talks too much, pushes too hard, and looks at me like she’s constantly waiting to see if I’m going to say something stupid she can laugh at.
Most women either avoid me or try too hard to impress me.
Rae does neither. She just exists exactly the way she wants to, and somehow that’s worse.
Because it means I notice everything. The way her mouth tilts when she’s about to say something sarcastic. The way she leans over the bar when she’s arguing with someone. The way she doesn’t look scared when she probably should be. That last part is the problem.
Because men like Voss don’t deal well with people who aren’t scared of them. Which is exactly why I’ve been keeping my distance the last few days while the club works the problem.
If Rae isn’t near me, then I don’t have to think about the way she keeps sliding into my head when I should be focused on something else. It’s a stupid strategy. But it’s the only one I’ve got.
The clubhouse is loud tonight in the way it usually is when the whole crew is around.
Music rolling low through the speakers, the sound of a pool game happening in the corner, and half a dozen conversations overlapping across the room.
Blade is leaning against the bar with a beer in his hand while Tank and Rev argue about something that probably started as a joke and turned into a full-blown debate about who could win in a fight between a bear and a gorilla.
Riot is sitting at one of the tables with his laptop open, digging through something that has his brow furrowed.
I’m leaning back in my chair, watching the room and pretending my brain isn’t wandering back to a mouthy bartender who should probably stay far away from the mess we’re dealing with right now.
My phone buzzes once on the table.
I glance at it.
Unknown number.
Before I can decide whether I care enough to answer it, Riot’s phone rings across the table.
He looks down at the screen, frowns slightly, then answers.
“Yeah.”
His expression changes almost immediately.
The room is loud enough that I can’t hear the voice on the other end, but whatever’s being said has Riot sitting up straighter in his chair.
“What?” he says.
A pause.
Then his jaw tightens.
“Where?”
Another pause.
Then Riot exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Now the room is quiet enough that a few heads have turned.
Riot looks at Mason across the room.
“Yeah,” he says into the phone. “We’ll be there in twenty.”
He hangs up.
Nobody speaks for a second.
Mason pushes away from the bar first.
“What is it?”
Riot looks around the table.
“The Rust Nail,” he says.
My stomach drops before he even finishes the sentence.
“What about it?” Blade asks.
Riot’s eyes shift to me for half a second before he answers.
“Someone just dumped Rae in the parking lot.”
The room goes completely silent.
My chair scrapes hard against the floor when I stand up.
“What?”
I’m moving before anyone else in the room even processes what Riot said.
The chair slams backward as I shove away from the table, my heart already pounding hard enough to make the room feel smaller. I don’t ask questions. I don’t wait for details. The only thing running through my head is one sentence on repeat.
Someone dumped Rae in the parking lot.
My boots hit the floor fast and hard as I head for the door.
Behind me I hear Mason bark something, but I’m already outside, already crossing the gravel lot toward my bike. The cool night air hits my face and does absolutely nothing to slow the anger building in my chest.
I swing onto the bike and fire it up.
The engine roars to life beneath me.
By the time I pull out of the clubhouse lot, Riot, Blade, Rev, and Switch are already moving behind me, engines ripping through the quiet night as they fall in line. No one says a word. No one needs to.
Everyone knows exactly where we’re going.
I open the throttle and the bike jumps forward.
The road between Jackson and Harlan blurs into nothing but dark pavement and wind. Normally the ride takes close to forty minutes if you’re pushing it.
Tonight I make it in barely half that.
Every mile my brain runs through worse possibilities.
Broken windows.
Blood.
Voss’s smile.
And Rae walking into trouble because she refuses to back down from anyone.
By the time The Rust Nail sign comes into view, my pulse is hammering so hard it feels like it’s shaking my ribs.
I pull into the parking lot too fast and slam the bike to a stop, gravel kicking out under the tires. The others roll in behind me seconds later, engines cutting off almost at the same time.
The bar lights are on.
The front door is open.
That alone makes my stomach drop.
I’m off the bike before it’s fully settled, already moving toward the entrance.
“Rae!” I shout as I push through the door.
The sound of my voice echoes through the bar.
The place still smells like fresh lumber and paint from the repairs, the new boards over the windows catching the light from inside. Chairs are stacked along the wall, tools sitting on the counter where the contractors left them.
But Rae isn’t behind the bar.
She isn’t sitting at one of the tables.
She isn’t anywhere I can see.
“Rae!” I yell again, my voice sharper this time.
Nothing.
The guys come in behind me.
“Ghost.” Riot starts.
“I don’t see her,” Blade says.
My chest tightens.
I scan the room again, faster this time, every shadow suddenly looking like a problem waiting to happen.
Then I see Wayne near the back hallway.
He’s standing there like he doesn’t know whether to move or stay where he is.
I cross the room in three strides.
“Where is she?” I demand.
Wayne’s face is pale.
“In the back,” he says quietly.
My stomach drops.
I don’t wait for anything else.
I’m already moving down the hallway.
“Rae!” I call again.
Still no answer.
Then I reach the office doorway.
And stop.
Because Rae is sitting on the floor against the wall.
And the second I see the bruise forming across her face, something inside my chest goes completely cold.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, my voice low enough that it barely carries past the doorway, but every word feels sharp enough to cut.
Rae looks up at me.
Her eyes are glassy, red around the edges like she’s been trying not to cry for a while, and the second she sees me something in her expression cracks. Then, almost immediately, she looks away, her gaze dropping to the floor like she suddenly can’t hold eye contact anymore.
That’s when I see it clearly.
The bruise spreading across her cheek.
Anger hits so fast and hard it almost knocks the breath out of me.
I cross the room in two steps and crouch down in front of her, one hand already reaching out before I even think about it. She flinches slightly when I touch her arm, and that alone makes my jaw clench.
“Easy,” I murmur, my voice rough.
Then I slide an arm under her knees and another behind her back and lift her off the floor.
She lets out a soft sound of protest.
“Cole.”
“Don’t,” I say quietly.
The couch along the wall is only a few steps away, and I sit down with her still in my arms before pulling her onto my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’s light, but the tension in her body is obvious, her shoulders stiff and her hands fisted loosely in the front of my shirt.
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then I tilt my head slightly so I can see her face again.
“Tell me,” I say slowly, “you didn’t do what I told you not to do.”
Her mouth twitches.
Not quite a smile.
More like the ghost of one.
Fresh tears gather in her eyes and spill over before she can stop them.
“I was just trying to help,” she says quietly, her voice a little shaky. “I wanted him to know he was messing with the wrong person.”
A low sound rumbles in my chest before I can stop it.
“I told you I was handling it,” I growl, fighting to keep my voice low and controlled even though everything in me wants to tear something apart.
“I know,” she says quickly, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I know you did, but everyone keeps acting like I’m supposed to just sit around and wait while some guy wrecks the bar and threatens Wayne.”
“You weren’t supposed to walk into his office,” I snap.
Her shoulders hunch slightly.
“Well… when you say it like that.”
I stare at her.
“You went to him.”
She winces a little.
“Technically.”
“Rae.”
“I might have asked where he was,” she admits, her voice quieter now. “And then I might have… driven there.”
I close my eyes for a second and drag a slow breath through my nose.
“You drove,” I repeat slowly, “to the guy running an extortion racket… and walked into his office alone.”
“When you say it like that it sounds bad.”
“It is bad.”
She shifts slightly in my lap, clearly uncomfortable with the way I’m looking at her.
“I just wanted to scare him a little,” she mutters.
“You scared him?” I ask flatly.
Her lips press together.
“I broke something.”
“Of course you did.”
“He offered me a job,” she adds suddenly.
That makes my head snap up.
“What.”
She glances at me cautiously.
“He said he’d pay me three times what Wayne does.”
Something cold settles in my chest.
“And what did you say.”
Rae actually snorts a little.
“I told him to shove it.”
My jaw tightens.
“Then what happened.”
Her eyes drop again.
“He didn’t like that part,” she says quietly.
My hand moves almost on its own, gently lifting her chin so I can see the bruise again.
“He hit you.”
She swallows.
“Yeah.”
The word lands like a match in gasoline.
Behind me I hear Blade shift near the doorway, and I’m vaguely aware that the rest of the guys are still standing there, watching this unfold.
But my focus stays on Rae.
“You’re lucky,” I say softly, “that’s all he did.”
Her eyes flash slightly at that.
“Oh good,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I was worried you’d say I handled it well.”
“You walked into a lion’s den,” I reply.
“And now you’re mad at me.”
“I’m furious with you.”
Her shoulders slump a little.
“I figured.”
I run a hand down my face and exhale slowly, trying to get the rage sitting in my chest under control before it turns into something ugly.
Because the truth is…
I’m not just mad.
I’m scared.
And that feeling is one I’m a lot less comfortable with.
Finally I look back at her.
“Did he say anything else?” I ask.
Rae hesitates.
Then she nods once.
“He told the guy who dropped me off to give Wayne a message.”
My stomach tightens.
“What message?”
She meets my eyes again.
“That the price just went up.”
I breathe in slowly through my nose, forcing the air deep into my lungs like that alone might help me get my temper under control.
It doesn’t work very well. The anger is still there, sitting hot and heavy in my chest, and it takes every ounce of discipline I’ve got not to let it spill out all over the room.
Because I’m furious.
Furious at her for doing something so reckless.
Furious at myself for not realizing she’d try something like this.
And most of all… furious at Voss.
The image of his hand hitting her flashes through my mind again, and something dark twists hard in my gut. My jaw tightens as I look down at the bruise forming across her cheek, and it takes everything in me not to walk straight back out the door, get on my bike, and handle the problem tonight.
Because the truth clawing its way through my chest is simple.
She’s not his to touch.
She’s mine.
And nobody touches what’s mine.
I push that thought down before it shows on my face, but it’s still there, burning under the surface while I shift my grip and stand up with her still in my arms. Rae lets out a quiet little sound of surprise when I lift her again, but she doesn’t fight it this time.
Instead she automatically loops one arm around my neck, her fingers curling into the back of my shirt as she steadies herself.
The room goes quiet again as I turn toward the door.
“Wayne,” I say.
He’s standing near the bar watching all of this with a look that’s somewhere between worried and exhausted.
“Give me your keys.”
Wayne blinks.
“My keys?”
“Yeah.”
He reaches into his pocket automatically and tosses them to me, though his expression is still confused.
“Where are we going?” Rae asks quietly from where she’s tucked against me.
I glance down at her.
“I’m taking you home.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly.
“My home?”
“Your farmhouse.”
She studies my face for a second like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on in my head.
“And then what?”
I push the bar door open with my shoulder and step out into the night air.
“And then,” I say calmly, “I’m staying there until this whole thing is handled.”
She shifts slightly in my arms.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” I interrupt.
Behind us I hear the guys starting to move again, boots on wood, low voices.
“But I’m going to.”