Chapter 18
Ghost
I’ve been chained to this goddamn spot for almost a week now.
Belladonna Brew stares back at me like the entire building is mocking my pain. I feel as if it’s laughing in my face every time the front door doesn’t open.
I keep telling myself I’ll stop. That I’ll leave. That it’s wrong — stalking her like this, creeping inside her space. But even when I pull away for an hour or two, I always end up right back here. Drawn in by a longing that I can’t cut loose.
I haven’t seen her. Not once. She hasn’t stepped foot outside, not even to come down to the shop.
It’s late now, the kind of late when only bad decisions and regret keep people awake. I know Tank’s due soon. He’s off Temperance duty tonight. Hellbat was the one watching Ria today.
Bones made it clear right from the start — no prospects watching the women. He doesn’t want to take any chances. So it’s all ranked brothers on rotation, and I’m the only one off the roster. Clearly a mercy call. My head’s not in the game, and everyone knows it.
“Want one?” Hellbat asks, stepping up beside me with a protein bar, shaking it in my face.
I don’t even turn my head. “No.”
He sighs, long and theatrical. “Dude, you’re fucked. Just take the L and move on already. What’s the point of freezing your balls off every night for nothing?”
That gets my attention. I turn and pin him with a glare. “I don’t run from my shit like a bat outta hell, Hellbat.”
His brow lifts, unbothered. “Oh, cute. Wordplay. Taking a dig at me for running from my Ol’ Lady when she was shooting at my ass?
And here I thought you were the brooding, poetic type.
” He takes a bite from the bar and chews like he’s got all the time in the world.
“You might not run from your messes now, but you sure sprinted from your past. That counts.”
The words feel like a slap.
I let out a breath. “You’re right. That was a dick move. Forget it.”
He nods, satisfied, making my fists itch. “If you’re serious about chasing her, though, you need a new plan. This stalker routine? Not working. Didn’t work for Bones, either. You should be taking notes instead of wasting time here.”
He keeps talking, his voice scratching at the insides of my skull. “Prez still isn’t getting anywhere with his girl either, is he?”
I clench my jaw as he turns to fully face me, eyes practically sparkling with nosiness.
“What’s the real story with you and this chick, anyway?
I heard whispers she sent you to the slammer, but that can’t be the full picture.
Half the club looked ready to faint when you brought her to the clubhouse.
And the other half looked like they were about to pull a gun. ”
“Eat your protein, Hellbat,” I mutter.
He snorts, but thankfully shuts up. A few minutes later, Tank pulls in beside me, his bike rumbling low.
Hellbat suddenly perks up like he’s about to be dismissed from detention. “Guess that’s my cue to bounce. One day, you’ll spill the tea. I’m dying to hear it.” He flashes a smile. Too damn cheerful for a guy whose road name sounds like a cartoon villain.
He waves at us both and peels off down the street without a care in the fucking world.
Tank cuts the engine, then hops off. “Spending the night again?”
I glance up at the sky, then at the front of the shop. There are no lights or movement, just silence and cold and her absence.
“Maybe.”
He nods. Says nothing.
Like clockwork, Ria swings the door open a minute later, all curls and attitude. She doesn’t even speak — just jerks her chin and waves him inside like all the other nights.
Tank doesn't hesitate. The big bastard moves quickly, disappearing through the door in a flash.
I shake my head, already seeing his future.
Early morning, and I’m still glued to the same fucking spot.
Tank took off about an hour ago — something about running late for I don’t know what. Asked me to wait until Fang shows up to take over watch duty. I just nodded. Like I’m going anywhere. Like I can.
I don’t even register the cold anymore. What I do register, though, is the door creaking open. My spine straightens on instinct.
It’s Ria. But she’s alone.
My chest caves a little at the sight. Figures Adora wouldn’t be with her. I don’t know why the fuck I’m still hoping.
I push off the bike and follow her. “Ria. Where are you going?”
She doesn’t even break stride. “Leave me the fuck alone, Haunt Solo.”
“I can’t, Small Fry. I’m your designated guard dog until Fang gets his ass here.”
She stops like I just spat in her face. Then she whirls around, arms crossed, face stormy.
“What?” Her voice is sharp enough to slice concrete. “You were never on my babysitter list. Did you ask for this?”
“No,” I answer slowly. She looks two seconds away from throwing something at me. “I’m just filling in for now. So… where are we going? Figured I could use the time to talk to you.”
“No. Fucking. Way.” She points her key ring at me like she’s wielding a sword. “You are not coming with me anywhere.”
I don’t stretch this any longer. I just snatch the keys from her hand and head toward the cage.
Predictably, she charges after me, trying to yank them back.
She’s tiny. Fierce. But so tiny.
With a sigh, I drop my palm on top of her head and hold her in place like an unruly toddler. She freezes and I swear there’s scorching lava coming out of her eyes.
“Give it up, Powerpuff,” I mutter. “I’m driving. We talk on the way.”
She glares up at me, cheeks red from rage or cold — or both. Definitely both. Then that wicked little smirk of hers curls across her lips.
“Oh, you’re so dead. You were already on my shit list, but congrats — your dumb ass just passed your boss and took the number one spot. Hope it’s everything you ever dreamed of.”
I tilt my head. Huh. First time I’ve felt even mildly entertained in over a week.
“Then I might as well go for it,” I say, and walk toward the cage without looking back. “Where to?”
She grumbles behind me, her feathers completely ruffled. “Groceries.”
We’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes. I’m trying to gather my thoughts when the gremlin in the passenger seat opens her mouth.
“So… no lecture about how it’s not safe to keep my legs on the dash?” she asks, all snark and sass.
I smirk, eyes on the road. “I’m an outlaw biker, Bubbles.
Car safety isn’t exactly my gospel. Keep your legs wherever the hell you want.
” I shrug. “But if we crash and the impact hits right? Might shear ‘em clean off. You’ll bleed out before an ambulance even gets here. Or better yet — you’ll survive.
But with jelly legs. Every bone inside ‘em pulverized. Or maybe your femur will snap in half. Tear through muscle and skin and the bone will end up ripping your stomach open. Pretty picture, huh? All your insides spilling out right onto this cage’s floor. ”
Her jaw drops. I don’t even have to look at her to know. I hear the way she slowly pulls her legs off the dashboard.
“What the actual fuck, Gloomy Gus,” she mutters.
I shrug again. “Just keeping it educational.”
Silence stretches. Then I get to what I actually care about.
“How’s Adora?”
“Nope.” She crosses her arms. “Not telling you shit. If she wanted you to know how she’s doing, you’d know. But she doesn’t. So you don’t.”
The words hit like a punch. But I don’t let it show. I breathe through it. Swallow the ache. I asked for it.
But she’s not done. She twists toward me fully, fury blazing in those deceptively innocent eyes.
“And while we’re at it, let me remind you of something real quick. The woman you supposedly love so goddamn much? I’m the one who saved her. You keep being a pain in my ass, but you need to check yourself. You sent her to her death and I pulled her out of it.”
She gestures sharply. “And yeah, Kitten, too. Stop playing the tortured husband card. Remember that I’m the reason you still get to wonder how she’s doing.
And be grateful, Booyonce. What did you think would happen?
That she’d come home with you? Newsflash, Ghoulbert — if she had to choose between you and sleeping on the streets? She’d pick the goddamn pavement.”
Fuck. She really knows how to cut someone open, doesn’t she? My fingers curl tighter around the steering wheel. My jaw grinds.
“You’re right,” I mutter. “I’m pissed. Frustrated. Desperate. All of it, all the damn time. And I took it out on you.” I glance her way. “Thank you for saving her, Ria. For giving her somewhere to land. She deserves someone in her corner.”
“That’s better,” she mumbles, leaning back like a merciful queen.
I can’t say another word for the rest of the ride. Not at the store either. My throat’s locked up. Ria’s words keep echoing in my head over and over again. Guilt’s clawing up my spine, shame sitting right beside it.
It’s not until we’re halfway back to her place that I can breathe again. And even then, barely.
There’s still shit I need to say. Important shit. I force the words out and get right into it.
“Ria… I want to give you some money. For food. Clothes. Whatever she needs. I know your shop doesn’t bring in much. That’s not an insult, just facts. Boutique coffee in a quiet mountain town isn’t exactly printing money. And Adora… she doesn’t have any savings. They left her with nothing.”
She crosses her arms slowly, face murderous. “You left her with nothing too. So what now? You throw money at the problem to buy your way out of guilt? Or maybe you want her to find out and feel like she owes you something?”
“No,” I answer, voice low. “You can tell her or not. Doesn’t matter. I’m not expecting a damn thing in return. Believe me… nothing could ever patch up my guilt.”
My voice thins out near the end, rough around the edges. Because it’s true. Even if she teleported into this car right now and told me she forgave me, the damage inside me still wouldn’t ease. The pain’s already spread too far.
Her next words snap me back.
“How’d you know I like money?” she asks, scandalized.