Ghost
Not until Angel walked into Monster’s Madhouse and turned their worlds upside down.
But when she walked in—Angel—he felt the air shift, and it felt like a sucker punch to the gut.
He leaned against the bar, watching her. And he wondered if someone like her would ever give him the time of day. All he could do was try to get her attention, because he knew that if he failed, there would be ten other guys lined up behind him to take their chances with the beauty.
“Maybe I do,” she said. “But my stories aren’t any of your business.” Ouch, that one stung a bit, but his best friend was standing on the other side of her, ready to take his turn up at bat.
Jackhammer slid up beside her, steady as always. “Then maybe you’re in the wrong place. We don’t run from stories here. We drink to them.”
Her gaze moved between the two of them. Bold. Curious. Like she saw something under their cuts and, under their scars. Ghost almost laughed at her inspection of him. If she thought she could read him so easily, she was dead wrong.
He pushed off the bar, closing the space just enough to make her feel his presence. “Name’s Ghost. That’s Jackhammer. And you are?”
She hesitated, and he wondered if she’d actually give them her name. She had already blown him off when Ghost asked to hear her story. She seemed like she’d be a handful, and Ghost’s hands were itching to find out if that was true or not. “Angel,” she breathed.
The name coiled in his chest like smoke. Angel. It was a good name, but it didn’t seem to fit her. He had a feeling that she was anything but an angel. For the first time in years, the ice in him cracked—just a little, not that he’d admit that to anyone.
He was about to ask Angel if he and Hammer could buy her another drink when the front door burst open. A prospect stumbled in, blood on his shirt. “Hammer, Ghost—we’ve got trouble!”
Ghost’s hand went to his piece without thinking.
Adrenaline hit, sharp and electric. “It’s a rival crew,” the kid stammered.
“North road going into town. They have two trucks and are armed.” Shit—that was the last thing that the Toxic Monsters needed right now.
They were trying to lay low and play by the rules for a while, but something like this wouldn’t allow them to do that.
The room shifted instantly—brothers grabbing guns, boots pounding against the floor, the hum of violence in the air.
Ghost thrived on that hum. He was born for it, shaped by it.
But his eyes didn’t leave Angel. Most women would’ve bolted.
Screamed. At the very least, gone pale. But she stood there—jaw tight, eyes lit, her hand curling into a fist on the bar. Ready, steady. Like she’d seen worse.
“She doesn’t flinch,” Ghost muttered, almost to himself. Jackhammer’s jaw ticked, seeming to catch the same thing.
Ghost slung his cut on, loaded his weapon. His body was already humming with the need to ride, to bleed, to end whoever thought they could touch his club. But the thought that threaded through his mind, louder than the chaos, was one he hadn’t felt in years. Don’t let her go.
Angel had walked into their world, into his shadows, and she hadn’t blinked or been scared off by him or Hammer.
Ghost didn’t believe in fate, even though he lied to Hammer and told him that he did.
How could he believe in something that he had no power to control?
He couldn’t—not anymore. Ghost had decided once he left foster care that he’d never give up his control ever again.
But for the first time since Levi died, he felt the old hunger—for something permanent, something worth fighting for.
And tonight, with blood about to spill, Ghost knew one truth—Angel was already his.
“Do me a favor and stick around,” he whispered into her ear. Angel gifted him with a smile, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.
“And why would I do that?” she asked.
“Because you’re the best thing to happen to me—to us,” he said, nodding over to where Hammer stood waiting for him. “Just hang out here, Angel. My friend and I will make it worth your while,” he promised. She smiled again and shook her head. Ghost’s heart sank.
“Fine,” she whispered, “I’ll stick around for an hour, but no longer.” Ghost nodded his agreement. He could kill some mother fuckers in less than an hour and get back to the bar in time to convince Angel to give him and Hammer a chance—he was sure of it.