Ghost
Buck stared at the photograph in complete silence while the entire clubhouse seemed smart enough not to breathe too loudly around him. That was the thing about Buck—he didn’t explode like most men. He got cold, quiet, and deadly, and that was always worse.
“You sure this came from our southern contact?” Buck asked finally.
Wren swallowed hard beside Buck. “Why would they want me alive?”
Buck stood abruptly from the table, chair scraping harshly across the floor.
“Church. Now,” he growled. Every patched member in the clubhouse moved instantly.
Wren blinked as men disappeared toward the back hallway, grabbing weapons and radios on the way.
The easy fluidity of it all seemed to unsettle her again.
These men followed Buck without hesitation.
Not because they feared him, but because they trusted him.
Ghost stood slowly and looked toward Wren. “You should head upstairs.”
“No,” she breathed.
Buck turned to stare her down. “Wren.”
“I’m not hiding in a room while everyone talks about me like I’m cargo,” she insisted. Ghost nearly smiled at that. Jesus Christ, he loved her fire.
Buck pinched the bridge of his nose once like she was giving him a headache. “This isn’t a discussion.”
“Seems like it should be, considering I’m the one in danger,” she spat.
“You’re in danger because you keep arguing with me,” Buck said.
“And you keep trying to control me when I’m capable of making my own decisions,” Wren countered.
The temperature in the room shifted instantly, and a few prospects suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting.
Ghost took another sip of beer to hide his grin.
This woman was either fearless or suicidal—maybe both.
Buck stepped closer to Wren slowly. “You think I’m controlling?” he asked quietly. Oh, that voice was dangerous. Wren must’ve realized it, too, because her pulse visibly jumped in her throat.
Still, she lifted her chin stubbornly. “I think you’re used to everyone obeying you.”
Buck stared at her for a long second before something darkly amused flickered across his face.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “if I were really controlling you, you wouldn’t still be arguing with me.
” Ghost choked on his beer, laughing. Wren looked momentarily stunned, and Buck took advantage of her silence.
“Upstairs,” he ordered again, voice rougher now. “Lock the door behind you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not your property.
” The second the words left her mouth, the room went silent.
Ghost actually winced because even he knew that was the wrong thing to say.
Buck’s expression changed instantly. He didn’t look angry.
It was worse than that because he looked possessive.
Buck moved close enough that Wren had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“No,” Buck said quietly. “Not yet.” Well, fuck. Ghost stared openly now because there it was. Buck had crossed the line from protective to territorial, and judging by the shock on Wren’s face, she heard it too.
The chemistry between them hit the room like gasoline finding fire.
Wren’s breath caught slightly when Buck’s gaze dropped to her mouth again.
And suddenly, Ghost realized something ugly and inconvenient—he wanted in.
Not to steal her from Buck—never that, but the thought of both of them touching her, protecting her, and watching her come apart between them did dangerous things to his head.
Ghost dragged a hand down his jaw and muttered, “We are so fucked.”
Buck’s eyes snapped toward him. “What.”
Ghost smirked slowly. “You know exactly what.”
Buck’s expression darkened immediately. “Don’t.”
Wren blinked between them, confused. “Don’t what?” Ghost ignored Buck completely because he’d never been smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“You really don’t see it?” he asked her. “He wants to lock you in his room and threaten anybody who looks at you too long.”
Buck growled low in his throat. “Ghost.”
“And me?” Ghost continued lazily, eyes sliding over Wren in a way that made her cheeks flush.
“I just wanna see if you taste as sweet as you argue.” The entire room froze.
Buck moved so fast that Ghost barely had time to grin before the VP slammed him hard against the nearest wall. The clubhouse erupted instantly.
“Jesus Christ,” someone muttered. Wren gasped.
Buck’s fist curled in Ghost’s kutte while murder burned in his eyes. “You don’t talk about her like that.” Ghost didn’t fight back. He didn’t even try. Instead, he looked Buck dead in the eye and said the one thing guaranteed to piss him off more.
“You think I’m touching what’s yours without permission?
” Ghost asked softly. “Brother, I’m offering to share.
” Buck looked ready to kill him, and Wren looked seconds away from combusting.
But Ghost couldn’t stop grinning because for the first time in years, something actually felt alive inside him again.
Buck shoved him hard before stepping back. “She’s not some club toy.”
“I didn’t say she was,” Ghost said.
“Then stop acting like it,” Buck shouted.
Ghost straightened his kutte slowly. “I’m acting like I want her too.
” Wren stared at both of them with wide eyes while Buck’s breathing roughened visibly.
Ghost knew his brother better than anyone.
He knew Buck’s anger wasn’t really about jealousy.
It was about fear, because deep down, Buck was tempted to share Wren, and that was the problem.
Ghost stepped closer carefully this time, lowering his voice.
“You know damn well neither of us has looked at a woman twice in years.” Buck said nothing.
Ghost smirked faintly. “Then she walks in looking like trouble wrapped in snowflakes, and suddenly you remember how to breathe again.” Buck’s jaw flexed hard.
Wren looked completely overwhelmed now, as her gaze darted between them.
Ghost softened his tone slightly when he looked at her again. “Relax, pretty thing. Nobody’s forcing anything on you.” His grin returned slowly. “Yet.”
Buck shoved him again. “You’re an asshole.” He backed him against the wall and punched him in the face—just once. Ghost knew that he probably deserved it on some level, but it still stung like hell.
“Yeah,” Ghost agreed easily. “But I’m an honest asshole.” His expression turned serious for the first time all night. “They’re coming after her either way,” he said quietly. “Which means whether you like it or not?—”
Ghost looked directly at Buck. “She belongs to both of us now.”