Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
I have no problem stepping up to the plate—if the money is right.
I do have rules. Main one being I don’t hurt children. Women, however, are not off limits. Being a woman myself, I can tell you a lot of bitches are much worse than any man ever thought about being. And men? I’ve only met one good man in my entire life and now he’s gone.
My brother’s death was senseless and cruel. It destroyed me in ways I still don’t understand and probably never will. It’s gutted me in a way that the burn is constant. I know the only way it will get better is avenging him—doing what he can’t do for himself.
That brings me to the prime specimen of man-meat right in front of me. He’s going to be my ticket into the Titan’s inner sanctum.
Ghost is a ride I’m going to enjoy taking—even if he is a means to an end.
Chapter 2
Ghost
I fucking hate club parties. To be fair, I never liked them much before I almost died. Now the loud music, the smoke, and the party lights they have up makes my head pound. There are times I wonder if I made the right choice to stay in the club life. E-Z is a good man. He’s a lot like Marcum and that’s not the reason I doubt my decision at all. There are parties almost every night and since I live here at the club, it’s a pain in my ass. Even when I go to my room and close the door, the deep slamming bass of the music jars my fucking windows.
“You okay, man?” Shadow asks.
I shake my head. “Good,” I lie, my voice little more than a grunt. It annoys me, but I don’t let it show. It has gotten better. There are times I can talk normally—although the sound is rougher than normal. It’s also deeper. Sometimes I don’t recognize it’s me and I’m the one doing the fucking talking.
“Yeah, right,” Shadow laughs, knowing I’m full of shit.
“Can’t handle parties anymore,” I finally confess. “It may be time for me to look for a place to stay away from the clubhouse.” I cough as I finish talking. I try to disguise it, but the smoke burns my throat and just makes it worse. The prospect minding the bar brings over a beer and I finally get it under control and take a swig to soothe my throat.
“Go check out the apartment above the garage outside. Liberty used it, but she’s staying at E-Z’s place now. He’s not going to let her leave. You could move in there easily.”
I nod. “Thanks. May check it out tomorrow.”
The two of us spin around on our stools and look over at the crowd. Rage has a woman on his lap and another by his side, with an arm around each of them. I shake my head. He reminds me of Train—my brother-in-law and a member of my old club. Train had women everywhere. He attracted the ladies like a magnet. That ended when he met my sister—if it hadn’t, the motherfucker would be dead. I find myself wondering if Rage will be as easily tamed as Train has proven to be.
E-Z and Liberty are missing as usual. Probably in her studio he had made and fucking. That’s always happening. Hell, the last time, the bastard came out with his hair stained in red, green, and blue paint. He wore that shit proudly for a month.
The club is full of visitors tonight. I don’t know what the celebration is for, but I’ve learned not to ask. Hell, sometimes they had a party because the day ended in the letter Y. As I look over the area, my gaze lights on one of our newest prospects. I don’t know him. Normally, we only address the pledges for the club by the title prospect. They have to earn a name, and that only happens when we patch a guy in. This guy, however, has been here a while. There’s still no movement to give him a cut. I get the feeling E-Z doesn’t like him. I know Shadow doesn’t. In fact, he gave this guy a name. Weasel. It’s not meant as a reward at all, although I think the guy thinks it is. He was crowing to the other prospects that he'll be patched in soon because he has a name now. The idiot actually thinks he has seniority here because he’s been trying to get a patch longer than any of the others. No one has the heart to tell the fool that seniority in being a prospect is a badge of honor. It’s merely a sign he’s an imbecile.
It's not really him I’m looking at. No, it’s the raven hair beauty with him. I’ve seen her with him a few times and I’ve never understood it. She’s so far out of Weasel’s league it’s not funny. Her body is a fucking masterpiece of curves. Her tits are full, yet perky as fuck. My hands have been itching to hold them for way too long. I haven’t acted on my hunger for her because she’s with another man. I don’t think it’s going to last long. She barely gives him the time of day. Her gaze moves all around the club. She looks at anyone other than the man she’s supposedly with. More to the point, she keeps looking at the patched members. Is she looking to be a club whore? That would be a shame—mainly because I want her, and I don’t fucking share. Finally, almost as if she can sense me staring at her, she looks over at me and her gaze locks with mine.