Ghost

Ghost

Ashton Grove M.C.

Jessica Coulter Smith

Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Coulter Smith

All rights reserved.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Chapter One

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby!” Crimson pounded into Shelly like he hadn’t just fucked her a half hour ago. She made all the appropriate noises, squeezed his cock as hard as she could, but in the end it was just a job. A really fucked up job. He finished with a groan, then pulled out of her. With a slap on her ass, he trudged into the bathroom.

Shelly pulled down her dress and watched him, waiting for the right moment.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” he said as he pulled off the condom. “And while I’m in here taking a shower, you’re going to get your ass out of my room.”

Once upon a time, she’d have felt dirty if she’d been discarded so easily. Felt used. But those emotions had been closed down a long time ago. She might as well have been a sex doll for all that it affected her. The last time she’d had an orgasm was…hell, she couldn’t even remember. She wasn’t sure she’d recognize an orgasm if she had one at this point. Sex was a means to an end. Mostly it kept her alive and fed.

With his back turned to her, Shelly knew she had precious seconds for the next part of her job. She snagged his wallet out of his discarded jeans and opened it up. Her heart sank when she saw it was only a few hundred, but she palmed it just the same. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as sneaky as she’d thought.

Crimson wrapped his hand around her throat and slammed her into the wall. “You’re going to fucking steal from me? You’re a dumber bitch than I thought. I knew there was something off, but I never thought you were a thief.”

She dropped the money and clawed at the hand holding her hostage as black dots swam before her. Shelly gasped for air as her lungs protested. Clawing at his hand, his arm, even reaching for his face, she kicked her feet as she tried to find purchase on the carpeted floor. Would he really kill her over such a small sum? She knew the bikers could be hardcore, but so could she.

“Just how many others have you stolen from since you’ve been here?” He sneered. “You’re nothing but a fucking whore.”

She couldn’t deny his words. They were true. But it wasn’t the money she got from the M.C. that made her the whore. Well, not the money she stole at any rate. It seemed the big, bad bikers weren’t aware that their Pres paid her pimp good money every month to send a handful of girls to the clubhouse every day so there would always be willing pussy available. Sure, there were some women who showed up on their own from the small town of Ashton Grove, but Shelly and the other whores were a sure thing, a guaranteed release for the men in the Loup Garous M.C., Ashton Grove chapter.

Crimson let her go and she fell to her knees.

“Get the fuck out, and if I ever catch you stealing again, I’ll haul your ass before the Pres, and you won’t like what happens. I can guaran-fucking-tee it.”

She blinked back tears as she nodded, scrambled to her feet, and took off. Head down, she charged through the clubhouse, avoiding the other bikers as she pushed through the doors and out into the night air. Shelly had caught a ride with the other girls so she resigned herself to the fact she was walking home.

Her high heels clicked on the pavement as she walked down the street. The darkness swallowed her and a feeling of unease crept down her spine. As far as she knew, Ashton Grove was a perfectly safe place to live. But there was something about the stillness of the night that put her on edge. It was quiet. Too quiet. No crickets. No cicadas. Nothing.

The crunch of gravel behind her was enough to send her scurrying faster down the sidewalk. There was the scuff of a boot against the concrete and Shelly tried to swallow down her fear. It was pitch black, not a street light for blocks, and she realized that if someone was out here with her, someone intending her harm, she would die a horrible death before anyone was the wiser. Perhaps it was what she deserved, living the life she did, but she wasn’t ready to go lights out just yet. There were too many things she wanted to experience.

The roar of a motorcycle engine made her pause. She looked over her shoulder and saw a headlight coming closer. The only men she’d seen riding Harley’s around town were the M.C. and the alpha of the local pack. Shelly knew she’d be safe with either of them and stepped into the street, hoping it would be enough to make the rider stop. The bike pulled to a halt in front of her, the beam of the light too bright for her to see who was riding.

“What the hell are you doing walking home?”

Relief flooded her as she recognized Ghost’s voice. He was one of the few males who had never taken her to bed. She flirted shamelessly with guys, like Whisper and Crimson, but there was something about Ghost that was off-putting. He wasn’t flirtatious like Crimson, didn’t have an easy, open expression like Whisper. Hell, Axel, the Sergeant at Arms, was friendlier with everyone than Ghost was. And yet, she’d felt drawn to him from the beginning. Maybe she was a chicken shit, but she’d never made a move on him, and didn’t plan to start now.

“I asked you a question,” he said. “What the fuck are you doing walking home?”

“I-I rode with the girls, but they weren’t ready to leave.”

“And you couldn’t nurse a beer and wait on them?”

She dropped her gaze. “I needed to leave.”

She couldn’t very well tell him that Crimson had threatened her for trying to steal from him. She had no doubt that Ghost would haul her ass back to the clubhouse and take her before Preacher, the President of the club. And Shelly wasn’t sure she wanted to know what happened to women who stole from the brothers. Something told her they wouldn’t believe her if she blamed her pimp, and really, how healthy would that be? The moment Richard heard that she’d sold him out to the M.C., he’d be hunting for her, and when he found her, he’d kill her. Slowly.

“I just need to get home,” she said.

“You’re not walking, doll. Hop on.”

She hesitantly skirted the bike, took Ghost’s proffered hand, and slid onto the back of the bike. Her arms went around his waist as she snuggled against his back, the leather of his cut cool against her skin.

“Where to?”

She gave him the address, then held on tight as he pulled away. The unsettled feeling of before still clung to her. She would have sworn someone was watching from the shadows, and she couldn’t help but look back. The glow of a cigarette told her there was someone standing very near the place she’d just been standing and fear skittered down her spine. She didn’t know why he was watching, but she knew it couldn’t be for good reasons.

Her arms tightened around Ghost and she rested her cheek against his back. When they reached the house she shared with her pimp and the other girls, she slid off the bike on rubbery legs and chewed on her lower lip.

“Thank you. For the ride, I mean.”

Ghost nodded. “You coming back tomorrow?”

“As far as I know. I think Preacher has requested my presence at the clubhouse every day this week.”

His lips twitched and one corner kicked up. “Then I guess I’ll see you around. Be safe, Shelly. And don’t try to walk home in the dark again. There are too many bad things in the night.”

Like you?
But that wasn’t fair. He’d helped her and had never harmed her. Waving to him one last time, she mounted the steps and let herself into the house. The door had barely closed before Richard was in her face.

“What the fuck are you doing home? You’re supposed to be partying and picking pockets.”

She swallowed hard. “I was caught. Crimson told me to get out and that if he caught me steeling again, he’d hand me over to Preacher.”

Richard backhanded her across the face. “Bitch! Stupid fucking cunt! Can’t you do anything right?”

Shelly pressed a hand to her throbbing cheek and watched him warily. He wrapped his hands around her throat and pressed her against the door. With his nose practically touching hers, he glared at her with an unholy light in his eyes, and Shelly knew it was going to be one of those nights. He slammed her against the door, her head bouncing off the wood. When he released her, she tried to edge away from him, but she wasn’t quick enough.

Richard punched her in the ribs twice before hitting her in the face again. She wasn’t certain, but she thought he’d loosened a few teeth and spit out the blood pooling in her mouth. He sneered and hit her again, right below her right eye, then tossed her on the floor. Kick after kick landed against her abdomen and ribs, until it hurt to breathe. Panting for breath, he finally stopped and spit on the floor near her face.

“Get up and get your ass to your room. I don’t want to see your sorry ass unless I call you to service a customer. Some aren’t so picky that a few bruises would deter them.”

Bruises? Hell, she was almost positive he’d cracked a rib or two. Somehow, she managed to pull herself up off the floor and practically crawled up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She shared it at the moment with Tamara, but her roommate would be busy well into the night. Shelly pulled off her dress, kicked off her shoes, and went into the bathroom to take a hot shower. Once she was clean, she pulled on her favorite tee and a pair of panties before crawling into bed.

As she stared into the darkness, she wondered what she’d ever done to deserve the hell she was living in. She’d been under Richard’s control since she was seventeen. It was her own damn fault. When he’d told her of a great party where she could score some booze and drugs, she’d been only too happy to climb into his car. And there had been a party, but not the kind she’d thought she was going to. No, at this party, she’d been the entertainment. That was the first night he had drugged her and sold her to whoever wanted a turn. The first night of hell. Now she was twenty-two and had no way of escaping. The last girl who tried to run out on Richard was lying in a ditch somewhere. Although, there were days that Shelly wasn’t so sure that being dead wasn’t better than being a whore.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep, thinking surely tomorrow would be a better day. But how many times had she thought that before, only to be proven wrong? It felt like hours later that Tamara came home, showered, and slipped into her bed. The other woman didn’t say a word to her, and it wasn’t surprising. They’d never been close, even though they’d been picked up around the same time.

“I don’t know what you did to Crimson, but he never came back out of his room,” Tamara said harshly. It was no secret that she had a thing for him.

“He caught me stealing from him. Threatened to turn me in to Preacher if I did it again, so I bailed.”

Tamara flicked on the lamp and stared at her, a sneer on her face. “You got what you deserved. I don’t know why Richard even keeps you around.” She flicked the light back off and turned to face the other way.

Tears burned Shelly’s eyes, but she fought them back. They wouldn’t ease the torment in her soul; they wouldn’t make her heart whole. The only thing tears would do was soak her pillow and make her eyes puffy. There was no point in wishing that her life was different because it never would be. There had been no white knight riding to her rescue five years ago, and she doubted she’d see one now.

Chapter Two

Ghost looked around the clubhouse the next night, but he didn’t see Shelly anywhere. The girls she usually arrived with were already partying hard. Crimson sat at his elbow swilling whiskey straight from the bottle.

“You looking for someone?” Crimson asked. “I swear you’ve scanned the room a hundred times.”

“I don’t see Shelly tonight.”

Crimson snorted. “Yeah, and if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll never show her face around here again.”

Ghost’s gaze sharpened on his brother. “What the hell does that mean? I saw the two of you disappear down the hall last night, so don’t tell me you didn’t go at it like bunnies.”

Crimson shrugged. “She’s a two-faced bitch.”

That didn’t match what he’d seen of Shelly so far. True, he’d never fucked her, but not because he didn’t want to. He hadn’t because he’d wanted her too much. Ghost had watched first Viper, then Axel fall under the spell of beautiful women, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to travel that road. Something told him that once he had Shelly, he’d want her again. And again. The beauty called to him unlike any woman ever had before. Watching her fuck one of his brothers after another, knowing she was just easy pussy to them, ate at him.

“I caught her walking home in the dark last night. Alone. That your doing?” Ghost asked.