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“Aren’t you worried that they saw you do that?” I whispered in a shaky voice, casting one last glance back at the dark basement as we climbed the stairs. Though I’d known they would capture the guys who came for me, I didn’t expect one to be killed in front of me. My brain was having a hard time processing that it had been Ghost who did it.

“No.” His answer was abrupt and unconcerned.

“O-Okay.” I chose not to think about why he didn’t think it was a big deal.

He helped me in the SUV we’d taken over there and drove from the farm full of pigs back to the clubhouse.

When we went inside, we went to the bar. There wasn’t anyone behind it, so Ghost sat me at a stool and went behind to grab a bottle of whiskey. “Want some?” he asked as he held the bottle up.

“No, thank you,” I said, knowing if I drank it, I might puke it up.

He grabbed a glass, set it on the bar top, then poured a little in the bottom. He drank it in damn near one swallow, then poured another. It went back as fast. After a third, he set the glass down and dropped his head.

After a moment, he raised his head, and the anguish in his eyes made my chest cave.

“Ghost?” I asked, unable to verbalize my thoughts.

“He was going to hit you. They could’ve killed you—right in front of my eyes. You were supposed to play along, Laila.”

“I know, but you don’t understand what was going through my head,” I argued.

“I killed a man in front of you!” he shouted.

An older man I’d been introduced to as Hawk, Voodoo’s dad, came from the room behind the bar, followed by a prospect carrying a crate of liquor. “What’s going on?”

His gaze darted from mine to Ghost’s, who wouldn’t make eye contact. He placed a hand on Ghost’s forearm, and the tension in my man’s shoulders immediately eased.

“I fucking hate it when you do that,” he said pleasantly, causing Hawk to smirk. Initially, I was confused, then the light bulb went off and I realized the man must have some type of empathic ability. More of those “special abilities” Ghost talked about.

Hawk rested a hand over mine that was twisting a napkin. An instant calm washed through me, and it made me almost sleepy.

Blade came out of the hallway to the members’ rooms and cocked a brow.

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking from me to Ghost, to Hawk, to the prospect.

“Just great” was Ghost’s chill reply.

“Time for me to go to work?” he asked Ghost.

“Yep.”

“Cool. Later,” he said and left the building.

“Wanna take a nap?” Ghost asked me with a sleepy smile.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied.

He rounded the bar, picked me up, and tossed me over his shoulder.

“Ohhhh, you have a nice ass,” I said, since it was right in front of me. Both hands cupped the perfect cheeks encased in denim. “Bet I could bounce quarters off it.”

Hawk chuckled, and I looked up through my curtain of pink hair in time to see the prospect duck his head. I happily waved at them as I bounced along over Ghost’s broad shoulder.

When we got to the room, we didn’t nap.

At least, not right away.


Tags: Kristine Allen Royal Bastards MC: Ankeny, IA Fantasy