Page 29 of Ghost's Obsession

Tusk says, “I agree. It’s got good range and the battery lasts weeks.”

I swallow hard and my palms get sweaty.

“I thought he might do something like this, which is why I installed a tracking app on my phone. The app picked it up now, but not before. Maybe he’s only just put it on?”

“It’s a knock off. It might have been on for longer and it’s only now that it’s synched to your phone,” Ghost says grimly.

Tusk says, “That doesn’t make much sense. Why would your ex need to track you if he already knew where you were?”

My hands start to shake, and I clench them into fists at my sides.

“Because he’s unhinged?” I offer by way of an explanation.

“Hey,” Ghost says, voice softer now but no less intense. “Look at me.”

He steps in front of me, blocking my view of the woods. Of the open road. Of everything else. That’s when I realize that I’m looking around, half expecting my ex, Jerry, to be lurking behind every tree.

I force my eyes up to his. His brown gaze is steady, solid, and fierce.

“You’re safe right now. We’re gonna handle this. You hear me?”

I nod, but it’s small and shaky.

Ghost shoves the small disk into his pocket and lays his hand against my back. He’s not pushing, just being there for me, trying to make me feel safe. His touch is the only thing that’s keeping me from freaking out right now, spiraling into a well of fear.

“Come on,” he says gently. “We need to talk to Zen about this. If anyone can help us find this fucker, it’s Zen.”

“Who’s Zen?” I ask.

“Our IT guy. He’ll crack open this device and help us find out for sure who planted this. Maybe it’s your ex or maybe it’s some other unhinged lunatic. Whoever it is, he’s about to have me on his ass.”

I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood but nod again.

Ghost’s hand stays light against my back, as we head towards his bike.

And even though the tracking device is in Ghost’s pocket right now, the real danger could be lurking around any corner. Or it could be a hundred miles away. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s already here, watching, waiting, and ready to finish what he started.

***

The ride to the clubhouse is a blur for me. I don’t remember climbing onto Ghost’s bike. I don’t remember sliding my arms around his waist or the moment he kicked the engine to life. All I remember is feeling the pounding of my heart against my ribs, the raw scrape of fear up my spine, the way Ghost’s body stayed solid and unmoving between me and the rest of the world.

Ghost doesn’t say anything as we pull onto the road, gravel spitting out behind us. He just rides. He’s an experienced biker who maintains expert control of his bike. Our ride is fast, steady, and our bodies lean as he takes the sharp curves. Ghost is my rock, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.

The clubhouse comes into view, tucked behind a line of trees and a fence. I noticed on my first visit that the fence looks more decorative than defensive, until you notice the cameras tucked into the corners, the reinforced gates, the brothers hanging out front with easy smiles and probably guns hidden under their cuts like Ghost has. Something about this situation makes me feel safe, rather than scared.

Ghost rolls straight down the driveway with Tusk and Bear at his back without slowing down.

One of the prospects swings the gate open the second he sees us coming. Ghost doesn’t even have to ask. When a brother pulls up, the gate opens without question.

We pull up to the front entrance, where a handful of bikes are lined up like sentries. Ghost kills the engine, and I slide off the seat, boots hitting the ground harder than I mean to.

He glances at me, brows low over his dark eyes. “Are you holding it together?”

I want to say yes. I want to lie. But I just nod, because the truth is, I’m holding it together by a thread.

“How’s your stomach?”

“It’s still good,” I tell him, trying to sound casual. To be honest, my stomach is churning again, though this time it’s not from sickness, but anxiety.

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