Page 24

Ghost

I never thought I’d be the kind of man renting a limo.

But here I am, standing in the lot in front of the Savage Legion clubhouse, wearing a damn tux jacket.

I’m watching a sleek black limousine settle into place.

Tusk and Tex stand beside me, both tugging at their collars and trying not to look as uncomfortable as I feel.

My cut is still in my hand. I was in two minds about wearing it over the tuxedo ‘cause I feel naked without it.

Tex mutters, “Y’all ever wear one of these monkey suits before?”

Tusk snorts. “Yeah, to my cousin’s funeral. Had to borrow a tie.”

I smirk, adjusting mine. “We’re Savage Legion. Las Salinas is our home turf. There ain’t no place in this town where we can’t fit in if we want to.”

Tex shoots Tusk an annoyed look. “This whole thing was your old lady’s idea. Be sure to fuckin’ thank her for me.”

Tusk snorts a laugh. “Yeah, Brittany got wind the women’s shelter was having a charity gala and talked the club officers into throwing their weight behind it.

Why the hell shouldn’t we rub elbows with this town’s elite?

Storm’s a lawyer, Patch is a fuckin’ doctor, several of us are local business owners. ”

I chime in sarcastically, “Real society types. That’s what we are.”

Tex frowns. “The only damn smart thing we did was chip in for the limo, because we damn sure weren’t putting women in floor-length gowns on the backs of our bikes.”

I gasp, “Not tonight, when we want ‘em to feel like queens. Heather’s been through enough fuckin’ trauma to last a lifetime with Carnage. She deserves a night away from it all.”

“I second that statement,” Tusk says firmly.

The limo door swings open, and a prospect hops out to hold it open for us.

“Shit,” Tusk mutters, tilting his head. “We look like fancy fuckin’ movie stars.”

Tex grins. “Then you’re gonna need to turn that fuckin’ frown upside down and pretend to be one for the night. Ain’t no one wants to hang around with a fuckin’ complainer.”

I would’ve thought Tusk would get riled up over being talked to like that, but he doesn’t, ‘cause him and Tex are closer than kin.

Just then, a window slides open upstairs, and laughter comes pouring out.

Hearing it makes something tighten in my chest. The woman I love is up there, getting ready with Brittany and Tex’s old lady.

They took over one of the upstairs suites to do hair and makeup together. Said it’d be more fun that way.

I don’t know what it is about her, but lately, every time I see her, I get the obsessive urge to stick close. Ever since our talk the other night—when she agreed to be mine, stay with me, and see if we can settle with each other—my need to protect and take care of her has been overwhelming.

As we walk back inside, I realize Tex and Tusk have been trading jibes with each other. I scarcely noticed, straining to hear what was going on upstairs.

A few of the club girls hang around in the common room, eyeing us like we’re ripe fruit or something. Shayla eyes me with a tight smile. “I didn’t know the brothers were goin’ all GQ for this thing.”

Tex doesn’t even glance at her but responds tightly. “Not for the thing. For our women.”

Tusk slaps his shoulder. “Damn right.”

When the club girls get too curious, we head upstairs to check on our womenfolk. The room is piled high with garment bags and shoeboxes. It’s buzzing with perfume and curling irons, where the women have set up camp.

Brittany’s standing in front of a full-length mirror, working on Clara’s curls. Heather’s perched on a vanity stool, legs crossed in nothing but a silky robe and a towel around her head.

She turns when I walk in and smiles. Jesus, seeing her so deeply entrenched in my world makes my fuckin’ heart skip a beat. I’d walk hot coals to keep getting those smiles.

“Delivery service,” I announce, pulling out a bottle of sparkling water.

“You’re spoiling me,” she tells me, reaching out her arms to give me a hug.

“Damn right I am.”

I pour her a glass of sparkling water with fruit. She looks up at me like I hung the moon, all sweet and grateful.

Brittany glances at Tusk and winks. “You better thank your brother for this limo idea.”

“Did that fucker say it was his idea?” Tusk fires back.

Tex holds up a hand. “Hell no. It was my idea.”

I settle into one of the nearby chairs, watching Heather laugh with the other women, her towel slipping down to reveal those long waves of coppery hair. It hits me how relaxed she seems here—how well she fits in.

Tusk stretches out on the bed behind me, jerking his chin towards Heather. “You know, you might wanna lock that down before she gets away.”

I don’t answer. I know that wasn’t an insult. His old lady ran from him once, and now he gives the same advice to every brother. He just doesn’t want us to hurt like he did.

I glance at Heather again, trying to imagine her leaving me. The truth is, I can’t see her doing something like that. We’ve got a bond—a special one.

When her robe slips off, revealing one bare shoulder, I want to kiss it. When she laughs, so soft and easy on the ears, I want to hear it for the rest of my life. When she touches my hand while brushing past me to grab her earrings, I know all the way down to my bones that she’s not goin’ anywhere.

We decided to leave the women to get ready in peace and came back an hour later. Brittany is expertly sweeping blush across Heather’s cheekbones. I saw Frankie stop by earlier to do their nails and drop off a few last-minute accessories.

Clara’s lounging by the window, already done up, scrolling on her phone with one of those looks that says she’s ignoring all the drama on purpose.

Tusk immediately lays across the foot of the bed like it’s his natural habitat. Tex leans in the doorway, watching his woman with a look on his face that says mine .

And me? I’m standing in the middle of it all like a bouncer in a ballroom, half-dazed by perfume and hairspray and the sight of Heather laughing while Brittany pins her hair.

This is not what I pictured when I thought about MC life.

It’s far better than anything my weak mind could imagine.

I thought club life was all about brotherhood, brawling with rival clubs, and living by the code.

Never once did I stop to consider the softer side of MC life—how the old ladies bring beauty, grace, and dignity into our lives.

Out in the hallway, I hear the shift of high-heeled boots and the sound of voices whispering. It’s those curious club girls again, clearly come to be catty because they don’t realize brothers are about.

They’re upset because none of them were invited to the gala. They are not part of the public face of the Legion. Most of them understand that. A few don’t. Some understand but don’t like it.

Shayla peeks through the crack in the door. Her voice carries.

“That one thinks this is gonna make him keep her.”

Another voice, snide and low, speaks. “Outsiders are just the flavor of the moment. The brothers always come crawling back to us in the end.”

Having heard enough, I step into the hall. All the club girls freeze.

I ask coldly, “Did you have something to say, Shayla?”

Shayla blinks. The other girl shifts uncomfortably.

She stammers, “We didn’t know you were upstairs.”

“Clearly. I have to assume that if you knew, you wouldn’t be here making this half-assed attempt to harass the old ladies and my guest.”

She opens her mouth and then thinks better of it. I just stare at her long enough for all of them to fidget and glance at each other like they’ve suddenly remembered why they shouldn’t be bothering the old ladies.

I growl, “Leave before I give you a weekend ban.” Without so much as a word, they scatter.

When I walk back inside, everyone acts like nothing happened. But I see the way Brittany’s lips twitch, like she knows all too well what went on out in the hallway.

Tusk gives me a raised brow from the bed. “What the fuck was that about?”

Tex just mutters, “Damn club girls, no doubt.”

I can’t pay attention to their conversation because Heather has changed into the dress I bought her from Frankie’s. It’s dark green, beaded at the bodice, with a slit up one thigh and a delicate wrap draped over her shoulders. She looks like something from a painting.

I’m standing there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot when Tusk whistles, loud and shrill. It hurts my ears, tearing me away from a beautiful moment with my woman. “All right, kids. Let’s take this fashion parade downstairs before Ghost loses what’s left of his self-control.”

I’m annoyed by him, but don’t say anything that might spoil our evening.

We make our way to the front of the clubhouse, where the limo waits.

We step outside, and one of the prospects snaps a group photo of us brothers in tuxes, and our women in gowns that sparkle in the moonlight.

I know for a fact that we’ll be gettin’ ribbed about the sight of us in fucking monkey suits for days.

The limo engine is running, and the interior lights are glowing a soft white. For once, I’m not thinkin’ about the club, Carnage, or what might happen when we leave the confines of the clubhouse. I’m just thinking about Heather and how I plan to keep her.

***

The limo glides to a stop outside our historic courthouse-turned-event hall. It’s all white stone and big glass windows, lit up from within for the gala.

I help Heather out first, careful not to let her stumble in those high heels she picked out. Her hand is warm in mine, and for a second, she just stands there, looking up at the building like she’s trying to decide if she belongs.

Newsflash—she does. Maybe more than anyone here.

The entrance is surrounded with twinkling string lights, potted palms, and a red carpet rolled down wide stone steps. This is really upscale—more so than I originally thought. There’s even a valet crew in matching black suits, opening doors and handing out receipts.