GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5)

by Nicole James

  GHOST

  An Evil Dead MC Story

  Nicole James

  GHOST

  An Evil Dead MC Story

  By

  Nicole James

  Published by Nicole James

  Copyright 2015 Nicole James

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art by Viola Estrella

  Author’s Note

  For those of you that have read the previous Evil Dead MC Stories, there are events that occur in the beginning of GHOST that overlap with events that occurred toward the end of WOLF. (But told from these new character’s perspectives.)

  This book picks up in Sturgis, SD where chapters of the Evil Dead MC from all across the country attend for the club’s national meet.

  For those of you that have not read any of the others in the series, this is a stand-alone story. It is not necessary to have read the other stories to enjoy this one, although it may make it a richer experience to know some of the other characters’ backstory.

  PROLOGUE

  Two Months Ago…

  Evil Dead Clubhouse

  Birmingham, AL

  June 3rd

  Just after midnight

  Ghost’s cell phone went off just as he and the brothers were heading out of the clubhouse. He pulled it out of the hip pocket of his faded jeans and glanced down at the screen, frowning.

  It wasn’t a number he recognized.

  “You need to take that?” Shades asked looking back at him as they walked out the door.

  Ghost’s eyes connected with his VP. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

  “Make it fast,” Shades replied, as he and the rest of the boys headed to their bikes.

  Ghost frowned as he hit the button and put the phone to his ear, wondering who the hell this could be. He wouldn’t even bother taking a call from an unknown number except for the fact that this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten a call from this particular number. He’d had one yesterday, but hadn’t picked it up. And whoever it had been, had never left a message.

  “Yeah?” he growled into the phone, a little pissed off that someone he might not know had his number.

  “Billie?” a soft female voice asked. There was only one person that called him by his given name. Holy shit.

  “Jessie?” he replied back in a stunned whisper. He heard her soft laugh through the phone. Only it kind of sounded sad, like she was overcome with emotion or choked up.

  “Yes, it’s me. Surprised to hear from me?”

  “Hell yeah. But a good surprise.” Ghost eyed his VP, who sat on his bike, not twenty feet away, watching him and trying not to look as impatient as he knew the man was. They had business to take care of tonight. The kind of business you conducted in the dark of night, and Ghost was keeping the whole club waiting, their bikes idling behind the big clapboard house that was their Birmingham Clubhouse. “Honey, why you callin’ me so late?”

  “Is it late there? I’m sorry.” Ghost frowned at her response. Where the hell was she?

  “It’s after midnight.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize. Its just past ten here.” Her voice sounded kind of shaky. Or was that just his imagination?

  “Ten? What time zone are you in?”

  “Pacific.”

  “Pacific?” Ghost was thrown for a loop with that one.

  “Ghost!” Shades snapped, motioning with a circular motion of his finger to wrap it up.

  Ghost gave him a chin lift. “Babe, I really can’t talk right now.”

  “Oh. Okay.” That time he was sure he heard a sniffle through the phone.

  “Honey, why you cryin’? Is everything okay?”

  He heard her swallow and then put on a fake bright voice.

  “Yeah. It’s fine. I just…wanted to hear your voice I guess.”

  “It’s really good to hear your voice, too. It’s funny that you’re callin’ me tonight. I was thinking about you the other day.”

  “You were?” He could hear the smile in her voice as she perked up.

  “Yeah. Drove by that snow-cone place you used to love.”

  He heard her huff out a soft laugh. “Chilly Willy the Penguin?”

  “That’s the place. What was your favorite flavor again?”

  “Maui Mango.”

  “Right. Maui Mango,” he repeated softly. She was quiet for a few moments. Ghost wasn’t sure how much more small talk he could make. He knew there had to be a point to this call, so he decided to cut to the chase, his voice dropping low. “You still with him?”

  It took her a moment before she whispered back, “Yes.”

  “Does he know you’re talkin’ to me? This gonna start a fight?”

  As if on cue, Ghost heard a male voice growl in the background, “Who the fuck are you talking to?”

  A moment later, he heard a clattering sound, and the line went dead.

  Cursing, he immediately tried calling back, but the phone went straight to a computerized voice mail.

  “Let’s go,” Shades hollered.

  Ghost jammed the phone in his pocket, promising himself he’d try her back later.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Yesterday

  Wyoming/South Dakota State line

  Interstate 90

  The trucker looked over at the girl he’d picked up at a truck stop on I-90 just outside of Seattle. She’d said she needed a ride to Sturgis. Against his better judgment and his trucking company rules, he’d grudgingly agreed to take her. Maybe it was the air of desperation about her. Or maybe it was the long legs revealed by the black leather shorts she wore. His eyes skated down the length of them now, stopping at the funky black high-heeled ankle boots before glancing back up at her face. She sure was a looker. Pretty face. Long dark hair hanging in tangled curls to the middle of her back. Luminous, pearly skin, big brown eyes that were only partially ruined by the heavy liner and mascara she wore. Maybe the excessive makeup was the style, but he couldn’t help but think it looked trashy. She was too skinny for his taste, too.

  She glanced over at him, catching him studying her, and he jerked his eyes back to the road.

  He needed to focus on his driving, damn it.

  A road sign appeared on the right, drawing his attention with its artistic rendering of the faces on Mount Rushmore. The sign read, SOUTH DAKOTA, GREAT FACES, GREAT PLACES. It marked the state line as they rolled across from Wyoming.

  He looked over at his passenger again as they passed another sign that proclaimed the mileage to the next three towns.

  Spearfish 10

  Sturgis 30

  Rapid City 59

  He cleared his throat. “Hey, look. I’m sorry I can’t take you all the way to Sturgis, but I gotta take the turn off in Spearfish heading north to Belle Fourche. Sturgis is another twenty miles out of my way, and I’m behind schedule as it is.”

  “I understand,” she replied quietly, turning those big brown eyes on him.

  “You gonna be able to find another ride in Spearfish?”

  She forced a smile. “I’ll be fine, Joe. Thanks for taking me this far.”

  Before he could respond, his attention was drawn by a roaring sound, and he glanced at his large side-view mirror.

  Shit.

  It was a large group of motorcycles coming up fast, easing over into the left lane to pass him. Pass him being an understatement. They blew by in an angry horde, barely giving him time enough to count them, but if he had to guess, he’d put the number somewhere between fifteen and twenty. He did manage to catch the three-piece patches on their backs. The top rocker that indicated the name of the motorcycle clu
b they all belonged to, read Death Heads. The bottom rockers all read Montana. It was August, so he knew they had to be headed to Sturgis for the annual rally.

  He glanced over at his passenger again. Apparently, if she was headed to Sturgis, she was headed to the rally as well. His eyes skated down her again. Maybe the outfit and makeup made sense after all.

  He noticed her eyes follow the bikers as they sped off ahead of them. She actually perked up in her seat for a moment. Then she slumped back.

  A mile later, they passed a sign indicating they were coming up on a rest area, and she glanced over at him to ask, “You mind stopping for a minute, Joe? I need to pee.”

  He grinned. “Sure.”

  He took the exit, his eyes sweeping over the area with its main information building. Set back a dozen yards was an unusual statue made out of tall concrete pillars set to look like some abstract teepee. He was sure it was meant to be artistic, but to him it just came off looking like some weird monument to the KOA logo.

  Pulling his eyes from it, he was halfway down the exit ramp before he noticed the line of bikes parked in front of the information building that contained the restrooms. Even from a distance he could see the black leather vests. Shit. It was the bunch that had passed them a couple miles back.

  Taking the left split, he parked behind a tractor-trailer hauling logs. It was the only other rig in the lot. Bringing his own to a stop, he looked over at the girl.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. We could probably find another exit further down. Find you a gas station or something.”

  He glanced around, taking in the landscape, which consisted of flat grasslands, rolling hills and a steep flat-topped butte of red rock in the distance. They were in the middle of nowhere. He knew there might not be another exit until they neared Spearfish. He watched her eyes take in the men that were dismounted and standing next to their bikes, then she turned back to look at him.

  “This is fine.”

  “You sure?” He frowned, his eyes moving past her to the men.

  She smiled. “Who knows, Joe, maybe I’ll find a ride into Sturgis right here.” Then before he could protest, she grabbed up her purse and yanked open her door, jumping to the ground.

  “Hey,” he called out as he leaned across the seat to look down at her.

  She looked back up.

  “I’ll wait around, just to be sure.”

  She grinned and nodded. “If I don’t come back, thanks for the ride, Joe.”

  He watched her walk away. No, not walk, strut. And it didn’t take more than a second before the eyes of every one of those bikers were turned in her direction.

  As his truck idled, he watched her breeze right past them with her chin held high and head inside. A few minutes later, she re-immerged from the building. With her hips swaying, she bee-lined straight for the curb where the bikes were parked in a line. Even from a distance, Joe could see her smiling up at one of the men, flirting with him. Damn, but that girl had moxie.

  A couple of minutes later, the bikers were all climbing on their Harleys. As they fired them up, Joe could hear the engines roaring to life.

  He watched as the girl climbed on the back of one of the bikes, and then she raised her arm, waving to him as they rode off, and he noticed every one of the bikers eyeing him as they all pulled out in a line.

  As he put his truck in gear, Joe worried that maybe he should have driven the extra twenty miles out of his way to take her all the way to Sturgis himself. But it was too late. All he could do now was hope the little gal knew what she was doing throwing in with that bunch.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Present Day

  Sturgis, South Dakota

  August

  Five bikes slowed on the rain soaked pavement, and then backed into spots in front of the tattoo shop, their back tires to the curb.

  Three bottom rockers read Alabama. Two of them read California.

  Ghost dropped his kickstand and threw his leg over the bike, turning to look up at the place. He pulled his daylight KDs off and wiped the water from his face.

  Brothers Ink

  Word was it was the best place in town. Just a temporary store, like so many others that popped up in Sturgis seemingly overnight this time every August.

  This one was different. Four brothers owned it, and one of them, a man named Jameson O’Rourke was gaining recognition in the tattoo world. He’d been on the cover of Inked Up Magazine, and rumor had it they were in talks about a TV show.

  The MC came through the door, ignoring the clearly posted sign that read, NO MC COLORS, their broad, leather-covered shoulders filling the small shop. They were dripping wet, rivulets of water running off them to puddle on the floor.

  Ghost saw his two California Chapter brothers, Crash and Wolf smile at a girl standing by the window.

  Wolf even winked at her.

  “Got a customer for you, Superstar,” Shades announced, pushing JJ forward. They were here to get JJ his club tattoo. Club bylaws stated you had to be a member for two years and be accompanied by two patched members that already had their ink.

  Jameson looked from Shades to the girl, who obviously worked for him. And it was almost as if he was questioning whether she wanted him to get rid of these men. Not that that would be an easy task, but apparently the man thought he was up for it. Ghost huffed out a breath. If he was going to take on five members of the Evil Dead MC, he was either fucking stupid, or he had balls the size of the Hulk.

  Shades was starting to narrow his eyes at the man, not liking his hesitation one bit.

  “There a problem?” he asked with a growl.

  The girl cut in, breaking the tension. “No, not at all. I’ll get the paperwork.” She moved toward the counter. “Please, gentlemen, this way.”

  Shades eyed Jameson, and then turned toward the counter, shoving the younger member ahead of him.

  As the girl shuffled through the papers at her station, searching for a consent form, it was apparent that their VP was making her nervous as hell. That is, until Crash leaned his elbows on the counter and grinned down at her.

  “How’s it going, Crystal?”

  Shades looked over at him. “You know her?”

  “Crystal used to run the bar at our clubhouse.”

  “That so?”

  “Crystal, this is Shades, VP of the Birmingham Chapter.” Then he indicated the others. “This is JJ and Ghost.”

  Shades and Ghost both smiled.

  “Ma’am. Pleased to meet you.” Ghost tried to put her at ease.

  “You, too,” she replied, giving them a nervous smile.

  “Think you can relax now, darlin’?” Shades asked as he turned up the charm.

  “Of course.” She handed the paperwork to JJ. “Sign here and here, please.”

  Ten minutes later, Jameson was at work on a full back tattoo, working from the design on the club’s cut. The man was a fast worker, Ghost had to admit, but even so, it would take several hours to complete a tattoo of this size.

  They had a couple more customers that the other owners took care of, but in comparison to a normal day, they were pretty dead. The rain was keeping most people away. It varied off and on from a downpour to a drizzle and back again. Classic Sturgis, Ghost mused.

  As the afternoon wore on, Jameson was getting close to finishing JJ’s club tattoo. Ghost had to admit the man had talent. His lining was perfect, and his shading was flawless. Ghost rose and moved toward the front door, deciding to wait outside. He stepped out onto the boardwalk with its overhanging roof and slid his daylight KDs on with their yellow lenses, his eyes on the distant mountains visible at the end of the street. A group of brave riders rode past, a fine mist of rain spraying up from the tires of their big bikes.

  Ghost glanced over to the end of the porch where Wolf, one of his brothers from the Cali Chapter, talked to that chick, Crystal. Seemed they had some history. Ghost smiled. He’d heard stories about Wolf. The man had a line of women a mile long. But some
thing about this one told him she meant something to the man.

  The wooden boardwalk shook as three more pairs of booted feet stomped out the door. JJ’s tattoo was finished, and they were ready to roll. Ghost saw Wolf twist to look behind him as they all glanced in his direction.

  “You comin’?” Crash asked.

  Wolf lifted his chin. “You go on. I’ll be a while.”

  Crash nodded, and then they were all headed toward their bikes.

  The rain had slacked off to a light drizzle as Ghost and his brothers climbed on their bikes. A moment later, four Harleys roared to life and pulled out, heading back to the Evil Dead’s Sturgis campground.

  The Evil Dead MC was in Sturgis for Bike Week. It was their club’s national meet. Mandatory. Members from every chapter across the country were required to attend.

  Ghost eyed the sky as his fellow Birmingham Chapter brothers rode ahead of him, and he suddenly felt a shimmying vibration in his bike and knew right away that he was getting a flat.

  Motherfucker.

  He eased up on the throttle and pulled to the gravel shoulder.

  JJ glanced back over his shoulder, immediately noticing when the rumbling sound of Ghost’s pipes were no longer at his side. He then gunned his engine to pull alongside Shades and Crash passing the word.

  As Ghost climbed off his bike, he noticed all three of his brothers slowing down and making a U-turn. He squatted down next to his rear tire to examine it. It was losing air fast. Dipping his head and following the hissing noise, it only took him a moment to locate the nail he’d picked up.

  At least he had a repair kit with him, and as bike problems went, this was an easy fix.

  He stood back up as the three bikes rolled back up to him. “Picked up a nail.”

  “You got a kit?” Shades asked.

  “Yeah. I got this. You boys don’t need to hang here with me.”

  “You sure?”