He shook his head. "Unbelievable. How the hell did you get here if you had no car?"

"I hitchhiked."

"You what?" The words almost exploded from him. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"A long haul trucker brought me most of the way. It wasn't so bad, Ghost."

He took a step towards her. "You're lucky you weren't raped or murdered. That was incredibly stupid, Jess."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But I'm okay."

"And when in this stupid plan of yours did you end up crossing paths with the Death Heads? Why are they looking for you?"

"I overheard something I wasn't supposed to."

"And what was that?"

"It's complicated."

He folded his arms and stared at her. "Un-complicate it."

"They were talking about a man they had planted in some other gang."

"You mean another MC?"

She shrugged. "I guess so, if that's what you call it."

Ghost studied her. She may be clueless about the MC world, but she was far from stupid. "You catch the name of that other club by chance?"

"Devil something, I think. But then they used an acronym."

"The Devil Kings? The DKs?"

"Yes. That was it."

"What about them?"

"This guy they planted, they were talking about how they were going to use him to get all the information they needed to take that club out of Georgia. They want the state. Not just that state. If this works, they plan to do the same thing in Alabama and Louisiana."

His arms came unfolded at this news. "Those are Evil Dead states."

She nodded, shrugging. "I guess so. I don't really know about all that. I just know what I heard. They want the entire Gulf Coast under their control. I heard them say that the only thing standing in their way were the DKs in Georgia and the Evil Dead in Alabama and Louisiana."

"You overheard all that?"

She nodded.

"Jessie, nobody just 'overhears' MC business."

"I did."

"How? Where?"

"I...I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, okay?"

"Jessie." He glared at her. "Tell me."

She blew out a breath. "I just happened to wander into the back of this bar in Sturgis. I was looking for the restroom, and I overheard a few of them talking."

Ghost knew there were holes in this story. MCs were not known for discussing business just anywhere, unless perhaps they thought of the bar as their territory. Clubs were known to stake claim to bars while they were in town. And if that were the case, it was possible they would feel comfortable talking in a back room. But hell, there'd be guards. Someone making sure no civilians got close. No. Something was off about this story. "You just happened upon a meeting and got close enough to hear every word?"

"Well..."

"Jess."

"I was hiding, actually."

"From who?"

"Um, well, this guy was hitting on me, wouldn't leave me alone. I dashed in the back, but instead of going in the restroom, I went down a hall and hid when he followed. I was going to come out when suddenly all these Death Heads trouped down the hall and I was trapped. I was in a tiny broom closet, but it shared a wall with some office behind it. I could hear everything through the wall."

"They found you?"

She nodded. "I got away. But they've been hunting me ever since."

"Jesus Christ." His eyes slid over her, taking in her words. "They're not gonna just give up and go away, Jess." He turned then, moving to the door, his arm on the frame and his eyes scanning the horizon as the ramifications of it all rolled through him. "Holy fuck."

"Ghost." He heard her soft voice whisper behind him. She had no clue. No fucking clue just how deep this shit was. It wasn't just that they were after her. It was what she knew. That was some damning information. They'd stop at nothing to silence her.

He turned, his hand dropping from the doorframe as he shook his head. "Jessie, I don't think you realize-"

She cut him off. "How much trouble I'm in? I know, Ghost. I know those are dangerous men."

"They'll kill you." He couldn't be any more blunt than that.

She swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I understand if you don't want any part of it, if you don't want to get involved."

"Christ, babe, you really think I'd walk away from this? From you?" he asked, stunned. "You really think that low of me? That I'd just throw you to the wolves and not look back?" He watched her eyes fill.

"No," she whispered. "But I'd understand if you did."

He clenched his jaw, looking away and shaking his head. "I need to know something, Jess." His eyes hit hers, boring into them. "This story. Are you telling me the truth?"

She nodded, but there was a hesitation that had him doubting her. He turned in frustration and moved back to the door. Leaning his shoulder against the frame, he stared out at the rain wondering how his life could turn on a dime like this. One minute everything was copasetic, the next, it was totally fucked. Fucking hell.

Jessie watched the firm set of his shoulders. She knew he wanted details. Details she wasn't prepared to tell him. There were things she couldn't trust him with. Not yet. She could tell that he didn't buy her story, at least not all of it. Ghost was a smart man. Very little got past him. He'd always been quick to pick up on the little things. And now he picked up on the telltale signs she inadvertently gave off, and he knew she wasn't being honest with him, at least not with all of it. But he didn't push her on it. For that she was grateful. Maybe he believed in her enough to trust in most of what she'd said or maybe he knew he'd get the truth out of her eventually.

She hoped she'd never have to tell him all of it. He'd never look at her the same, if he knew. She blew out a breath and closed her eyes a moment, letting the sound of the rain on the roof calm her for a moment. Then she opened them and took in her surroundings.

The shed wasn't very big, maybe eight by ten. There were no windows, but there were a couple pieces of boards missing on one side that let the fading daylight in. The roof was about eight feet high and rain leaked through in a couple of places, but at least it had a wooden floor, so they wouldn't have to sit in the dirt.

She leaned against one wall and slid down to sit with her back against it. Her eyes moved to Ghost.

Ghost. His club name. Not the one she knew him by. He would always be Billy to her. He came into her life when she was eight, and her mother married his father, the man who was her second stepfather.

Her father died when she was six. She barely remembered the man. After Daddy, there was her first stepfather; he'd been her father's business partner. That only lasted long enough for him to weasel her dad's half of the business away.

That's when Billy came into her life. They'd moved in with him and his dad. She was eight and Tommy was twelve. Billy was thirteen, a year older than Tommy and so instantly became Tommy's idol, hers, too.

He was older, cooler, and worldlier. Just everything about him drew them into his aura. And what an aura it was.

She instantly fell in love with him. Well, perhaps love was a strong word for an eight-year-old girl. But she'd crushed, hard. And that never changed.

Billy's was the hand that was reaching for theirs even before they had to ask. He always made them feel safer, feel braver. He was always there when they needed him most. There were a multitude of times he came to her aid without her even having to ask.

Tommy and she both knew, as did most kids on the block, if they were with Billy, they were gonna be okay. He watched over all of them. They were always under his wing.

And he always carried their secrets. They could unburden themselves to Billy knowing he was never going to break their trust.

He was the most fiercely loyal and protective person she'd ever known. And he'd come into her life at a time when she'd needed him most.

CHAPTER THREE.

"Do you have a phone?"

Ghost turned to look back at Jessie when she asked the question. "Yeah, but my battery died about an hour ago."

"Mine, too."

She was shivering with cold, running her hands up and down her arms. The sleeves of the flannel shirt he'd given her were soaking wet from their ride. The skin of her legs were also wet, her fishnets, soaking.

Ghost watched her, his eyes sliding over her legs, noticing her shiver. "You should get out of that wet shirt."

She wiped her wet face with the sleeve. "Well, my shirt's in the trashcan, so this is all I've got."

"You've got a bra on. And I've already seen it, remember?"

She rolled her eyes.

"At least take those wet fishnets off."

She glanced down at her legs, seeming to consider his words, and then climbed to her feet. She glared at him. "Turn around."

"Already seen that, too."

"Turn around!" she practically growled, her hands landing on her hips.

Ghost grinned, thinking she was fucking cute when she was pissed off, but he did as she asked.

A few moments later, something wet slapped against his shoulder. He glanced down, pulling her stockings from his shoulder. The little brat had flung them at him. He turned back to her, raising a brow.

"There. Happy?" she snapped.

"Gee, a memento of our lovely day together," he bit out sarcastically with a grin. Already shoving them in his pocket.

Her eyes got big. "You're not keeping those, are you? I was only being..."

"A brat?"

That shut her up, a feeling he had to admit he enjoyed the hell out of. He moved to his bike and bent down to dig through his saddlebag. A moment later he pulled out a pair of chaps and tossed them at her. "Here, put these on. At least they'll keep your legs warm."

She caught them to her. "Thanks."

Holding them out, she looked at the strange looking garment, and he could tell she had no clue how to put them on. He blew out a breath. "Come here."

She did, and he squatted down in front of her. He wrapped the belt around her hips and buckled it across her pelvis. Then he wrapped each leg in leather and zipped each side up from ankle to thigh. They were too long for her, but at least they'd keep her warm.

They framed her crotch, drawing his attention to it, and thoughts of how her pretty naked ass had looked swam before his eyes. He glanced up and found her staring at him, wide-eyed, and he knew she'd caught him looking, knew exactly where his eyes had been aimed, maybe even knew exactly what he'd been thinking. Shit, he shouldn't have thoughts like that about her. She thought of him as a big brother, and he couldn't destroy her trust like that.

He looked away uncomfortably and mumbled, "Better?"

"Just peachy."

He rose to his feet and made a move to step toward the door, but the touch of her hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back to see her looking up at him with big eyes, looking at him like she used to look at him when she was a child. Like he was her knight in shining armor. Like he could do no wrong. Like he could fix anything.

He remembered that look on her face when she was nine, and he was fourteen. She'd been walking home from school, and some bullies were teasing her. They'd cornered her by ol' Man Walker's picket fence. They'd knocked her book bag to the ground, and its contents had scattered all over the sidewalk. He'd come up and bloodied the biggest bully's nose, threatening him with worse if he ever dared bother her again or if he ever told who'd hit him.

The boys had run off, scared shitless.

He'd bent down, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. She'd looked up at him then with those same big eyes. Thinking he was her hero.

Up until that point, she'd always been Tommy's bratty little sister, the one who pestered them to no end, the one who was always tagging along, always being a nuisance.

But after that day, things changed, he was more tolerant with her, more patient. He'd begun to look out for her, to care for her like a real big brother would. It was a responsibility he took seriously.

He'd known she'd idolized him back then. Maybe even had a crush on him. But she was always just a little kid to him.

That is, until she grew up, and he began to take notice.

"Are we going to be okay?" she asked softly, shaking him from his memories.