"Let's go," the second man growled as he moved from the stalls to the door.

A moment later they both stomped out. Jessie lifted her head in time to see Ghost stretch his arm out to slam the door shut again. The moment it was closed, he backed off, buckling his pants.

Twisting to face him, she didn't miss when his eyes traveled over her naked ass just before she yanked her clothes back up, her face flaming red.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I really don't think we've got time for that now, do we?" she bit out sarcastically.

"Maybe not, but as soon as I get you the hell out of here, you're gonna tell me what the fuck the Death Heads want with you, babe."

She nodded. What else could she do? She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover herself. "My shirt."

"Leave it," he ordered. "They spot that bright fucking pink, you're done for."

"But I can't go out there like this."

"Why not? It matches the rest of the look you've got goin' on," he smirked.

"Don't be an ass." She glared at him.

The corner of his mouth lifted as if he was enjoying her discomfort, but a moment later he yanked his flannel shirt off and tossed it to her. "Here, put this on."

She slid into it quickly, knotting the tails across her stomach as the scent of him enveloped her along with the soft flannel, immediately calming her as she took a deep steadying breath.

She watched as Ghost opened the door a crack and peeked out. It must have been all clear, because a moment later he had her by the hand and was dragging her out into the hall. He silently opened the back door and peered outside. She could hear the patter of rain as it picked back up. He hesitated only a moment before he was dragging her outside and off to the side of the building to what she presumed was his bike. He threw his leg over, quickly firing it up, and she wasted no time scrambling on behind him.

He turned his head, saying over his shoulder, "Wrap your arms around me and stay pressed tight to my back. I don't want them to get a look at my patch. And hold the fuck on."

She nodded, and he gunned the throttle. They tore across the gravel lot toward the highway. As they hit the blacktop, she saw the Death Heads running for their bikes, one of them pointing frantically toward them. Apparently, they'd fooled no one.

She tucked in behind Ghost, pressing her face against his leather and hanging on for dear life as the bike surged forward, and she knew he was gunning it for all it had, winding out every gear for all it was worth. They raced on into the open country between Sturgis and Deadwood. The rain picked up and stung her face whenever she dared to peek over Ghost's shoulder. Her arms and legs got so cold and wet that she soon couldn't feel the sting anymore. And she knew Ghost was taking the brunt of it.

She was afraid to look back, but she knew the Death Heads wouldn't be too far behind them. They flew over a rise, and it almost felt like the bike went airborne for a split second. They raced on, Ghost flying around curves, weaving in and out of traffic. Bikes, oncoming tractor-trailers, it didn't seem to matter, nor did the treacherous wet pavement. Fortunately, weaving in and out kept the bikes chasing them from catching up. On the other hand, they were still in sight.

As they went around a bend, Ghost slowed to take a turn onto a dirt side road. Jessie couldn't help but wonder what his strategy was, but she trusted him. Perhaps he knew they couldn't outrun them for long and it was best to hide while they were out of sight around the bend. She hung on as they tore up the road, disappearing into the foliage of bushes and trees along the way. Her hopes that perhaps they'd slipped away were soon dashed as she heard in the distance behind her the roar of several bikes.

Ghost made another turn, going off road across the wet grass into the trees. She couldn't imagine what he was doing as they bumped across the ground, knowing his bike wasn't made for riding off road. Then she saw where he was heading. There was a shed, barely visible in the bushes. It was falling apart, leaning to one side and she couldn't even imagine how old the thing was or how it stayed standing. Perhaps the overgrown vines that wrapped around it were holding it up.

They slammed into a hidden ditch and Jessie felt the left side of the bike jar against something hard. Ghost cut the engine, and they coasted to a stop. She scrambled off into grass that came to her knees as Ghost jumped off, pushing the bike with his hands on the grips. The 600 lb. bike wasn't easy to move in the foot high overgrowth, but he was able to get it to the shed.

Jessie dashed ahead to get the door open, yanking and tugging until she got it far enough for the bike to fit through. Ghost hurriedly pushed the bike inside. She closed the door, leaving an inch gap to peer through as they heard the distant rumble of a pack of Harleys.

She heard Ghost drop the kickstand on his bike, and then she felt his heat at her back as he, too, peered through the crack.

"Do you think they'll find us?" she whispered nervously.

"I don't know, babe."

At his honest answer, she turned her head looking over her shoulder and up at his face. His golden eyes remained focused like a hawk on the distance. Her eyes slid down his neck to his shoulder and down his arm. It was then she noticed the gun he now held in his hand. She didn't know where it had come from. It didn't matter. She was just glad he had it. It may be all that stood between her and them. He was all that stood between her and them.

They waited, the sound of the rain pattering on the roof, and the howling wind drowning out anything else.

"Maybe they didn't follow us?" Jessie asked hopefully, beginning to wonder if the bikes she'd thought she'd heard following them down the dirt road were really just the sound of bikes out on the highway.

"Maybe," Ghost muttered, then his hand closed over her upper arm, and he pulled her from the door, stepping in front of her. "Stay away from the door until we're sure."

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and almost immediately the thunder cracked over their heads. They both flinched at the deafening sound. A moment later, the skies opened up, and the rain became a torrential downpour. Ghost eyed the sky and kept his vigil by the door. But his thoughts were half on the girl behind him.

Jessie, his bratty little stepsister. At least that's how he'd always thought of her years ago. He still couldn't believe she'd turned up here, out of the blue, in Sturgis of all places. She was so out-of-place it wasn't even funny.

His mind went back to the last time he'd seen her...

Rosewood Cemetery Seven years ago- Ghost approached the gravesite. His stepbrother, Tommy, younger by only a year, had been dead two months, but this was the first time Ghost had gotten to visit the grave to pay his respects. He'd missed the funeral, unable to attend courtesy of the Jefferson County Correctional Facility. He'd been awaiting trial for some bogus assault charges at the time, unable to post bail.

Tommy had chosen the military. Ghost had chosen the MC. And their lives had taken very different paths.

The girl stood forlornly, staring down at the headstone. His stepsister, Tommy's younger sister.

His eyes swept over her. She was seventeen, way too young to have lost the big brother she'd adored, no, not adored, worshipped.

When Ghost had been thirteen, his widowed father had remarried. Collette had been the woman's name. And as if having a new stepmother wasn't bad enough, she'd brought two children with her when she moved in. A son named Tommy, who was twelve, and a daughter named Jessie.

He and Tommy took to each other like two peas in a pod. They were close in age and just fell into an easy friendship, bonding almost immediately.

Jessie was a different story. He supposed it was because she was only eight. Which made her the perfect age to be nothing more than a tagalong pest to the two boys. Still, Ghost had looked out for her, taking her under his wing just the same. Even though she could be a little brat, pestering the fuck out of both Tommy and himself, she'd grown on him over time.

His eyes moved past her to land on the boy waiting by the car, leaning back against it in a bored manner. Some punk kid that Ghost could tell in one glance wasn't anyone she should be hanging around with. He had 'bad influence' written all over him. Tommy would have run his ass off within five minutes. But Tommy wasn't here to do that anymore, was he?

His eyes swept over her. She looked different. He wouldn't exactly call her new look Goth, but it certainly had a dark, wild and reckless edge to it, so totally opposite of her. And he knew right away that her brother's death had hit her hard and had left lasting scars. Collateral damage. That's what she was. That fucking IED had taken out more than the four men in the Humvee. It had taken out their loved ones as well. Destroying lives and causing pain that was long lasting and far-reaching.

"Hey, Jessie."

She turned at his soft-spoken greeting. She'd always been a brat, always a pain in the ass. Always getting in their hair. Always smarting off with more backbone than anyone he'd ever known. Now she just looked sad. No, not sad. Devastated.

"You okay?" What a stupid question he realized the moment the words left his mouth. How could she possibly be okay?

"I'm fine," she whispered, turning back to the headstone. And then she let a bit of that backbone shine through, along with that snarky attitude he always remembered, "Just peachy."

In reality he hadn't seen much of her the last year and a half since he and Tommy had gone their separate ways. In fact, he couldn't remember seeing her a single time since he'd joined the MC. She'd just turned sixteen the last time he'd seen her.

"Jess-" he broke off. What the hell did he say to her? His eyes moved to the headstone and the small bunch of wildflowers that she must have just laid on the grave. "He loved you."

"Right. That's why he left."

There was anger in her tone, and that confused him. "You're pissed at him."

She looked at him then. "Yes. I'm pissed at him."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I'm pissed he left. Pissed he ever joined up. Pissed he had to go and fight and die."

"Sweetheart-"

"Don't call me that. I'm not your sweetheart. Thank fucking God."

"Christ, babe," Ghost said in a stunned whisper.

She'd stalked off then, almost as if she was embarrassed by her childish outburst. Even in her grief, she knew she was out of line, knew he hadn't deserved that.

Ghost shook the memory free, keeping up his vigil, watching the horizon.

He'd lost track of her after that. There'd been a few phone calls here and there, but for the most part, they'd lost touch. Until that one phone call that night months ago. He'd tried to call her back, but the number had gone straight to a generic voice mail. He'd left messages, but she'd never called back. He'd even called his father trying to get her mother's number, thinking maybe he could track her down that way. But his father didn't keep in touch with any of his ex-wives and didn't have her phone number.

And now the fucking Death Heads were after her. How in the hell was that possible?

After about twenty minutes of standing guard, the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, and he turned from the door, satisfied that they were out of danger. His eyes met hers, drilling into them as he tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back.

"Time for that talk."

She looked at him with wide 'deer-in-the-headlight' eyes.

"Why are they after you, Jessie?" He watched her swallow. Not a good sign, at least not if he expected to hear the truth come out of her mouth.

"I heard some things I wasn't supposed to hear."

His chin lifted. "What things? And why the hell are you in Sturgis of all places?"

"It's a long story."

Ghost looked at the ceiling as another boom of thunder shook the building. "Yeah, well it seems we're gonna be here awhile, so we've got time."

"I don't even know where to start."

"How about you start at the last time I saw you."

"You mean at the cemetery? At Tommy's grave?"

Ghost nodded, studying the woman before him now. She was no longer a girl. No longer a bratty little child getting into trouble, no longer even the teenage girl she'd been the last time he'd laid eyes on her. Now she was a grown woman, and the trouble she was in now was so much bigger.

"Tell me, Jessie."

"I'm in a bit of trouble, Ghost."

"No shit. Explain it to me."

She swallowed, dropping her eyes. "I've been in Seattle."

His brows shot up. "Seattle? Doing what?"

"I followed Kyle out there."

Kyle, the asshole. That's how Ghost thought of him anyway. He was the punk who'd been at the cemetery that day, the son-of-a-bitch that talked her into dropping out of school. He was also the jerk who, Ghost knew, did not give one fuck about Jessie.

"You remember Kyle?" she whispered.

"Yeah. I remember Kyle," he bit out. "What the fuck's in Seattle?"

"He's a musician, Ghost. I told you that."

Yeah, she'd told him that. She'd called him a couple of times over the years. He always tried to talk her into dumping the asshole and coming home. But she never had, at least not until now. "So he's a musician, what of it?"

"He said Seattle was the place to be. They have an amazing music scene there."

"Right. So you dropped out of school and followed him all over the fucking country?" Ghost couldn't help but think Kyle was a bum that wanted to play music while he dragged Jessie along to support them both. "Let me guess. You worked and he played music."

She looked at him with wide guilty eyes.

"Right. Don't bother denying it. You finally wake up and figure out he was using you?"

She rolled her eyes and grudgingly admitted, "Sort of."

"And you thought you'd try Sturgis?" He let out a huff that was half disbelief, half sarcasm.

"Not exactly."

"Then what, exactly?"

"I knew you'd be here."

That threw him. Ghost frowned. "Say what?"

"I knew you were still with that club you'd joined." She lifted a hand toward him, her eyes dropping to his cut. "Knew you were still in Birmingham."

"And?"

"That's a long way, and I was broke. And Kyle had the only car. I wanted to get home. But then I remembered Sturgis was coming up, and I knew you'd be here. I thought if I could just get as far as Sturgis and find you..."

"You are shitting me, right? You really thought you'd come to Sturgis and be able to find me in half a million bikers?"

"I suppose I didn't really think it through."

"Ya think?"

"All right, it was a stupid plan," she snapped at him. "You don't have to rub it in and be a dick about it. And anyway, I found you, didn't I?"