Riding Him (Ghost Riders MC #5)(2)

“What about him?” I follow Cas’s line of sight and see a big motherf*cker leaning against the far wall and watching two girls play pool. He looks deadly. Probably is with his hands, but takes a lot for a man that size to move, and I’ve got lots of time before he could get to me.

“He’s not carrying. He’d come later.”



She must like what I say, because she just leans back in her chair once again, going back to her phone.

I go back to watching. Pres, Lucias Houston, doesn’t let sweet butts into the club, so this is where everyone hangs when not at the clubhouse. A lot of locals know that, and this place is always crawling with women looking for a bad boy.

It’s a thrill I don’t understand. Or maybe I’ve just been around my father and brother too much. They treat their wives like gold. Like nothing else in the whole world is more important to them, and I don’t think that’s something I’m going to find around here. Even less so with someone like Scribe. Not that I’m looking, I remind myself. I’m not his type either, and he barely gave me the time of day when I first saw him. In fact, he looked like he didn’t like me at all. Worse, I’d overheard him tell Pres I shouldn’t be here. Just my f*cking luck. The first interest I show in a man in forever and he doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me.

The reminder has me tightening my grip around my beer bottle. How the f*ck does he know if I belong here or not? He doesn’t even know me. Has no idea of what I’m capable of. The things I’ve done. No, not many know. That was sealed up tight. So tight I don’t even think Scribe could find it.

I glance over at him once again and see the blonde bartender throw back her head and laugh at whatever he just said to her. I have to fight an eye roll. I’m not sure if I want to roll my eyes at them or myself for even caring. Fuck him. I’ll show him how much I belong.

The bartender nods towards the door that leads to the back of the bar into the kitchen, and Scribe nods back, following her and making my stomach do a little nervous flip. God, I have to shake this. Whatever it is I’m feeling for him has to go, because it’s not going to work. At least not with him.

“Can’t go hating Scribe already,” I hear Cas say next to me. I turn to see her staring at me, busting me spying on him following the bartender into the back. “He can drive you nuts, but he’ll always be your eyes on the ground when you’re high in the hills.”

I study her for a second. I know her and Scribe are close, which makes sense with what she’s saying. When you’re the sniper, you’re always away from the pack, and someone has to feed you intel. And that someone would of course be Scribe.

For me, it had only ever been Cas when she was helping me train. Trying to teach me everything she knows for me to be as good a shot as her. I’m not, but I’m getting close, and the training is paying off. But there have been sessions where s me sit in the hills alone for hours with only her in my ear and my gun trained on one spot. Until my body started to throb with aches and pains. I never knew being stealth could hurt so much. But having someone with you in your ear helped. Pulled you through the hours. And I’m guessing that’s what they had when they were serving together or when she did jobs for the Ghost Riders. I’m trying to fill that role now, because Cas is going to be MIA for a little while. Can’t lie on your stomach for hours with a baby bump. Not to mention, my brother Vincent would lose his mind if she was on jobs now.

I just smile like I don’t have a problem with him, but her eyes study me, and I have a feeling she can see through me. She always seems to be able to do that, and she’s been trying to get me to do it, too. Always be seconds ahead of people. If you can read them, you will be able to anticipate their movements. And seconds matter when you’re behind the scope of a gun. I don’t think my eyes are as good as hers, not yet anyway, but I’ll keep trying. Any little knowledge she’s given me, I’ve soaked it up. It’s what I’ve always done. With my father, my brother, school, and now her. I’m hungry for it.

I hear her phone vibrate, and she pulls her eyes from mine and looks down at it. “Let’s go.” She jumps up from her chair, seeming just as eager as I am.

I abandon my beer and follow her out of the bar, hopping into my truck. Like Cas, it’s hard to ride a chopper with some of the gear we carry around, and we’ve been training all day and my cab is full of all kinds of shit.

I follow her down the road for about a mile until we reach club property. It’s nothing like you’d normally think, with unkempt land and chain-link fences. They handle this place with care. You can see it. This is their home, and they take pride in it.

The front of the property has a brick privacy fence, and it makes you wonder what’s behind it. Cas pulls up to the gate, enters her code, and waves me to go around her as the double iron gate swings open. I pass through, making sure it doesn’t close on me.

I drive through a tree-lined driveway that’s about a half a mile long to the clubhouse, an old farm that’s been converted for the Ghost Riders.

I know the property used to belong to the Pres’s father before he passed, then Pres took it over. I’ve spent hours out here on the land with Cas training me. The whole property is littered with buildings. Some of them are used for businesses, one of which Cas owns herself. A gun range a little off to the east of the property that has a public entrance.