Page 43 of Ghost's Obsession

My blood turns to ice. Because this level of psychological manipulation is how truly psychotic people act. They get off on terrorizing others.

“It took me forever to realize that he was taking photos of everything—the inside of my house, my balcony. He even had photos of me sleeping in my own bed. They were from before I moved in with him. I think he started taking them through the window at first. Then he somehow started getting inside my apartment.”

“That’s really terrifying, Heather.”

“Yeah, it was. I even found pictures he’d taken from under my car.”

“What the everlovin’ fuck was that about?”

Shaking her head, she says, “I don’t know. I only found them when I started packing to leave. He never meant for me to see them.”

“Do you still have them?”

Her voice is barely a whisper. “No. I burned them. I didn’t want evidence. I was just desperate to be gone and free of him.”

That hits me harder than I expect. This poor woman has survived a relationship with an unhinged lunatic.

She starts rambling, “I should’ve told the police, but I couldn’t stand the idea of some guy at a desk passing them around. Besides, if I’d gone to the police it would have meant I’d have to stick around.”

“You did what you had to do to survive,” I say, voice low. “You don’t have to explain that to me.”

She exhales like she’s been holding her breath this whole time. “I don’t want to be scared anymore, Ghost.”

“You won’t be,” I promise her.

“You say that like it’s easy. You don’t know how crazy he can make a person. I started to question if I was losing my mind.”

“Those pictures were proof that you weren’t. I never knew him, but my club brothers who did said he was a nasty piece of work. You managed to get free of him. None of us know how strong we are until we’ve been tested.”

She finally looks at me full-on, eyes rimmed red. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

I don’t answer right away. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, let her see that I’m not playing mind games, and tell her, “Because I like you, and now you’re mine to protect. And I don’t take that lightly.”

Heather blinks once, then nods. Tears begin to fall, and she wipes them away with the sleeve of my pajama shirt.

Then she crawls towards me, like she’s drawn to my strength in her moment of need. When she curls into my lap, I hold her without saying a word. Because right now, my silent strength is what my woman needs.

Chapter 15

Heather

It’s been almost two weeks, and there’s been no sign of my ex. I knew him as Jerry Masters, but I now know he goes by another name—Carnage. What made him hang onto the name he was given by the Savage Legion MC after they branded him a traitor and threw him out of the club? I think about that question a lot. Whatever name he’s going by now, he has vanished again. Every trace of him in my old hometown is gone. Siege says it’s like he’s underground because he knows they’re hunting him once more.

I hate that we’re stuck waiting for him to show himself. It makes me feel small and helpless, like a sitting duck. Especially because I’m pregnant with his baby. I know Ghost doesn’t want me to go anywhere alone for now, and I can’t blame him.

The atmosphere is tense—it’s like we’re all just holding our breath waiting for something to happen.

Ghost steps outside. The screen door clicks shut behind him, and I look up as he walks across the porch, calm and casual like we don’t have a stalker on the loose.

His voice is low and easy. “You wanna go somewhere with me Saturday night?”

I blink up at him. Saturday is six days away. “You mean like… on a date?”

His mouth curves into the tiniest smirk. “Hell, yeah. A real, honest-to-goodness date. With a fancy dress and all.”

My heart throbs in my chest. Ghost is really asking me out. This handsome, protective, sweet, complicated man wants to take me on a date somewhere that requires dressing up. I’m falling so hard for him it’s not even funny. This hot biker wanting to take me on a date is just the icing on the cake.

He leans against the porch railing, arms crossed over his chest, tattoos catching the late afternoon sunlight, showing to their best effect. His cut hangs over the tight black tee underneath. I can’t take my eyes off him because his gaze is fixed on me with that quiet intensity that he sometimes has.

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