Chapter 4 #3
He wasn’t crazy, right? He had noticed arousal on her face in her room before and just now on the back porch. Right? Maybe he was going insane. The woman was getting married tomorrow. He was so fucking sick of reminding himself of that.
And yet… He knew nothing about her fiancé. He was ‘working’ right now and would be coming to the Fremont house in the afternoon today, but then would be going straight to his bachelor party, which Ranger had graciously gotten Ghost an invite to.
Ghost hadn’t been with Becks all day, but he’d been around her.
She never talked about her fiancé, not like the other ol’ ladies talked about their men or vice versa.
Did Becks even like the guy? Miss him? Love him?
If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d think this was a Wedding of One.
He only knew the guy’s name because she’d mentioned it once at breakfast. Ritchie.
Ghost scoffed, could the guy have a douchier name?
“You okay, man?”
Ghost looked up to see Ranger was now sitting up in bed on his elbows staring at Ghost with a frown.
In that moment, Ghost hated his best friend. Because if he didn’t love and respect the guy so fucking much, Becks would already be on the back of his bike and they would be riding off together instead of her getting married to some douchebag named Ritchie.
Launching himself across the room, Ghost punched his fist right into Ranger’s nose.
“Holy fuck, dude! What the hell?” Ranger pushed Ghost off him before covering his face with his hands.
Ghost had no idea if he was bleeding. He’d just barely pulled back the force of his punch at the last second. He didn’t think he’d broken Ranger’s nose. At least, he couldn’t recall feeling or hearing the crack of cartilage.
Grabbing the pillow and blanket from the bed again, Ghost headed towards the door. “That’s for Becks. She was under your care, and she got hurt!”
“What the fuck, man! She fell out of her bed!” Ranger’s voice was muffled by his hands on his nose. Neither of them were even trying to keep their voices down now.
“And that is the only reason you’re not outside digging your own grave. She got hurt under your watch!” Ghost pointed an accusatory finger at him.
Ranger fought to stand up. Ghost paused by the closed door, his anger so high that he could taste it. When Ranger dropped a hand, Ghost saw a bit of red on it, but not too much.
“What the fuck has gotten into you? You’ve been acting weird since we arrived. Is this about making you leave home? If you want to go back so much, just go, asshole!” Ranger dabbed at his face with the heel of his hand. “Just fucking go!”
Fucking hell, he would if he could. He felt like he was stuck in a vat of quicksand between an oncoming train and a speeding bus. Having no response, though, Ghost turned to leave. He opened the door—and froze.
Becks was standing in her doorway, clearly coming to investigate the noises coming from her brother’s room across the hall. Her voice was low, shaky, as she asked, “Are you leaving?”
Ghost stared at her from across the hall, but it felt like barely a piece of paper separated them. How did she do it? How did she make him feel so warm and free while feeling the worst pain and torment he’d ever known?
Not caring who heard, he asked, “Do you want me to?”
Becks swallowed hard. Ghost had to give her credit, though; she didn’t look away, nor did she cower.
She also didn’t answer.
Ghost nodded once. “I’m staying the night. Beyond that, I make no promises.” Pillow and blanket in hand, he headed back down the stairs.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Ranger shouted after him.
Ghost said nothing as he continued down the stairs, because he sure as fuck did not know the answer to that question.
There was no going to sleep after that. Becks laid in her bed all night, just staring up at her dark ceiling while Libby slumbered beside her.
Was this another twisted dream? The porch and the hallway?
Was she being tested? Ritchie was going to be here this afternoon.
Things would get better after that. She would feel better after that.
It was wedding jitters. It had to be. The universe had just thrown an incredibly demanding, sexy as fuck man into her midst two days before her wedding to test her loyalty to Ritchie, whom she loved with all her heart.
But then, why did it feel like she was failing this test?
Her head ached, though it had nothing to do with her injury.
It was a minor scrape at best. Liam was just overreacting when he insisted she put a fucking bandage on it.
Reaching up now, she pulled the adhesive off her forehead, and unfortunately, ripped a hair or two out of her scalp when she did so.
“Ouch.”
Libby snorted, drawing Becks’ attention to her best friend. She’d gone back to sleep after Becks had returned the covers to the bed earlier. Slept right through the porch and the hallway. Which meant she didn’t know the answer to her query as to whether Ghost wanted to fuck or fight Becks.
Becks had the answer. Or Becks had an answer. It was fuck, definitely fuck. But now she was wondering if was it a fuck for one night or fuck forever more?
Except that shouldn’t matter. Because it wasn’t happening.
Becks was getting married tomorrow at her parents’ church.
The love of her life had proposed to her, and she had accepted.
With the amount of time and money she had put into this wedding, it was happening.
Liam was going to walk her down the aisle in their father’s stead tomorrow and she was going to get married.
Her grandma wanted to see her get married so badly, and it broke Becks’ heart that she’d died so close to the wedding. She hoped her grandma was looking down on her and smiling tomorrow. Same with her dad.
She’d met Ritchie almost two years ago, but they hadn’t started dating until about six months after that.
He was the youngest junior partner at his practicing law firm, a fact she was very proud of him for.
He was sweet and kind and he made her laugh.
Sure, he was driven at work, but so was she.
It was something they were both going to work on after the wedding.
But—and she was going to hell for just thinking this—he’d never set her body on fire the way Ghost did. They’d never had sex outside of missionary, and sure it was a dream, but there was something about Ghost that made Becks believe that sex with him would never be boring.
Jesus, what was she even doing? Why was she having these thoughts?
She wasn’t a cheater! She despised cheaters.
Lost all respect for them. She’d been cheated on before by an ex, and it had been awful.
She’d never do that to someone else, especially Ritchie.
So whatever it was she was feeling, it was moot.
There was no reason to lose sleep over it, because it didn’t matter.
She loved Ritchie.
She was marrying Ritchie.
And she would never have to think, speak, or look at Ghost again.
Ever.
Ghost gave up on sleeping, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was still fully dressed.
When he’d first come downstairs, he’d tossed all the tuxes that had been laid out on the couch into a pile in the corner.
His head had barely touched the pillow before he was getting back up and straightening them out.
He might be pissed and frustrated, but he wouldn’t disrespect Loretta or Becks like that.
After laying back down, he cursed his sense of honor.
Becks felt something. He wasn’t projecting, or whatever the fuck psychologists called it.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she felt something brewing between them.
But even that didn’t spark the hope it should, because she was still engaged, still planning a wedding for tomorrow. And as much as he wanted to set those tuxes on fire and dance over their ashes, he couldn’t do it.
Because it would hurt Becks.
Fuck his honor! What was so great about honor anyway?
From where he stood—or laid down—honor was keeping him from the person he wanted most in the world.
He might be pissed at Ranger right now for allowing Becks to get hurt while under his watch, but he still respected the guy, both as a fellow officer and as his best friend. Because he had fucking honor.
What would Becks do if he went up into her bedroom right now and whisked her away on the back of his bike? Maybe it was a pipedream, but something told Ghost she wouldn’t fight him as hard as she should.
His eyes landed on the dark pile of stacked garment bags in the corner of the living room.
He hadn’t destroyed them or let them get ruined out of a desire to see Becks happy, but he had to wonder if she actually was.
Why wasn’t her fiancé here with her? How could the man stand being apart from her for so long?
Ghost couldn’t even stand the fact that she was upstairs right now while he was down here on this couch.
Was she happy?
And if the answer was ‘yes’, could Ghost really sit in a church pew tomorrow and watch her marry another man? Even if that man made her smile, made her laugh, loved her with every fiber of his being, and cherished her like the incredible princess she was, could he?
Getting his cell out of the pocket of his jeans, Ghost pulled up his phone app. He nearly called Lucky before he remembered it was the middle of the night and the man had young kids. Instead, he called Keys.
The young tech and Ghost had an interesting history.
Ghost had met Keys when Keys was only seventeen.
The brilliant teenager had been emancipated and working for Navy Intelligence as a programmer and defense analyst. Rumor had it that he even built a facial recognition program that rivaled the NSAs, and he’d been brought to the Navy’s attention when he’d hacked the Pentagon at fifteen.
He’d gotten away with it, but unfortunately, not all his college friends were geniuses too.
One posted on social media what Keys had done, and Keys was arrested within a day.
Rather than tossing him in jail and throwing away the key, though, the Navy recruited him. A strategic move for them certainly—until one fateful day when they couldn’t control him anymore.
A sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”
Ghost frowned. “Keys, why are you asleep?”
“Because it’s,” there was some rustling, “two o’clock in the morning.” Ghost heard something else that made him think Keys was reaching for his glasses. “Why, what’s up? How’s the wedding?”
A muscle in Ghost’s jaw ticked. He was not discussing the wedding. “Fine,” he snapped. “What’s happening at home? Is everything okay? Do you need me to come back?”
Keys snorted. “Not sure if I should be amused that the lovey-dovey atmosphere is too much for you to handle or offended that you think we can’t run the club for four whole days while you’re taking a break.”
Ghost glared at nothing in particular. “Watch it, kid. You might be all grown up now, but I can still kick your ass.”
Keys had been the youngest member the club had ever taken on.
He’d been nineteen, lost and alone in the world, and fresh out of the Navy he’d basically blackmailed to leave.
If Ghost hadn’t tracked him down and brought him to Mount Grove, Ghost had no idea where the kid would be.
‘Kid’ though was now a loose term for the twenty-five year old, but old habits die hard, and most of the club still thought of him as their teenage little brother.
Even though Keys owned his own security business and had been making strides to be more ‘grown up’ in the club’s eyes, it was hard for some of the older club members to not remember him as the scrawny, wide-eyed, scared kid Ghost had brought to the clubhouse.
Hell, Ghost had even taught him how to drive not only a motorcycle, but also a cage.
Keys didn’t know a lot of basic things that a father should have taught his son.
Ghost wasn’t the only one who took it upon himself to watch over Keys.
“Hey, I’m just saying. You’re the one calling me in the middle of the night to see if there’s an excuse for you to come back.”
Ghost stifled a groan, feeling a headache coming on. “Go back to bed, you little shit.” Then for some unknown reason, added, “But call me if you need me to come back.” Jesus, he sounded like a little girl with her first boyfriend, just hoping for some attention.
“Sure thing, boss. Hey, real quick, did Ranger’s sister really get you in the balls? I’ve looked her up and I’ve seen the heels she wears. I mean, after that, I can understand why you want to run away—”
Ghost hung up the phone. Yeah, it was official. If he didn’t go to jail this weekend for kidnapping, he would for murdering his best friend.