jake the panty ripper book 1 the phantoms mc series

"Out of the blue, you came to me" –Prides, Out of the Blue

********************************

Sebastian was waiting in the parking lot outside when I got off work, which was strange in itself, until I noticed the black eye and busted lip he was sporting.

"What the hell happened to you?" I demanded, cupping his chin once I got into his Audi. I gauged the damage to his usually flawless face. It was bad.

"Your friend happened to me," Seb said, his voice monotonous. He put the car into gear and peeled out of the lot. "Happy belated. I got you a present. It's in the back."

I simply stared at him. He gave me a sideways glance.

"Which friend?"

"The biker guy. He cornered me after work today and... You can see for yourself." One hand left the steering wheel as he ran a finger along his swollen bottom lip.

I took a deep breath. "Did he say why he hit you?"

This time, Seb gave me a wounded look. "I'm a bad boyfriend, Maya?"

"Oh, God. He said that?"

"His actual adjective was shitty, but I was paraphrasing on your behalf."

I covered my mouth with one hand, stifling the laugh that wanted to escape. Sebastian glared at me.

"Sorry," I said, schooling my features into a serious frown. "It isn't funny."

"No, it isn't. I thought we were good, and then I find out that you feel otherwise and –"

"Seb, stop." I gently patted his arm. "We are good. Stop worrying. I'll, um, talk to Jake. This was uncalled for."

"Should I be worried?"

"About what?

The tips of his ears flamed red. "About you and him. I never knew you two were friends to begin with."

"Me and Jake?" I let out an unladylike snort. "He's doing this out of obligation, not because he wants to sleep with me. You remember Sharon, right? His mother?"

"Sharon Ford? Yes. My mother knew her."

"Well, when she died, she kind of asked Jake to look out for me. Sort of like a big brother thing."

"Look out for you?" His brow creased when he glanced at me. "And what exactly does that entail?"

Paying my rent, paying my electricity, cleaning my house, sending my car for repairs, socking my clueless boyfriend for forgetting my birthday...

I froze just thinking about the many other personal things he'd done for me since he'd gotten out of prison. Seb did not need to know about those things. No one did.

"Making sure my lovably stupid and forgetful boyfriend doesn't ever forget my birthday again?"

Despite the pain he must've been in, Sebastian smiled. "Trust me – I'm never forgetting April Fool's Day again."

***

Being carless in a small town wasn't a hardship, by any means, but I missed Old Betsy. Despite how stubborn old age had made her, she'd been with me since high school. I'd made memories in there. Granted, they weren't memories of the sexual kind – like Luke had in the back of his old truck – but still, they were good ones. I wasn't going to let Betsy go without a fight.

Sebastian wanted to take me out for dinner to make up for yesterday but I declined. I was tired. Two nights of socializing in a row? No, thanks. Instead, I asked him not to report his assault to the police if I promised him that I was going to have a talk with Jake – which I wasn't going to do. A huge part of me was a little pissed off about Sebastian forgetting this year. That part of me was thinking of how many beers would be suitable to give Jake as a thank-you gift for rearranging my boyfriend's face.

I came home expecting to shower, dress up and go out to do a little grocery shopping – and found that my cupboards and refrigerator were already stocked. It didn't take a genius to figure out that someone had come in – no, broken in – to do this and it didn't take a genius to figure out who.

Jake answered on the fifth ring.

"Babe," he grunted, "not exactly a good time."

"So sorry to disturb you," I began, "but what do you think gives you the right to break into my house and restock my fridge like some psycho domesticated fairy godmother?"

He let out a soft groan, and I kind of got the feeling it had nothing to do with my words. "I thought we'd resolved this," he said gruffly. "I thought we were friends now."

"We are friends, but that doesn't change how I feel about..." My voice trailed off when he released yet another suspicious groan. "Jacob – what are you doing?"

"Like I said, sweetheart – bad timing."

A woman's whiny voice wafted into my ear from somewhere in the background. My stomach turned.

"Are you having sex while we're on the phone?" I hissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I'm getting a blowjob while we're on the phone."

"Seriously?"

I hung up before he could say anything else and took a deep breath, surveying the open kitchen cupboards. My stomach rumbled and decided that I could talk about reimbursing Jake later. When he was less...preoccupied.

After grilling myself a juicy steak and baking a few potatoes, I actually felt more alert, as opposed to how lethargic I'd felt after my shower. I loved to cook. I didn't often have the time to do it, but when I did, I made magic. That was all thanks to Aunt Stacy, who'd ensured that I was comfortable alone in the kitchen before I'd even started menstruating.

I sat on my bed to eat, booting up my laptop to watch an episode of The Blacklist. I was so engrossed in it that I didn't notice the figure in my doorway until it spoke.

"I came to apologize."

I jumped, nearly sending the plate on my knees flying. "What the hell, Jake!"

"Guess I should've knocked."

"Ya think?" I furiously wiped at the gravy splatter on the white T-shirt I was wearing. At least I'd finished everything else. "And how'd you get in? I locked the front door." Right? I remember locking it.

"Yeah. You locked it."

"So you've made yourself a key now?" I sputtered, unable to comprehend his nerve. Seb was the one person who owned a key to my house. After Kira had misplaced the spare I'd given her, I'd deemed her unfit to own her own set.

"Nope," Jake replied. "No key."

I got off my bed, because it was a little weird to be talking to him from there. "What are you doing here again?"

He looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower, all damp-haired and clean-looking. The black T-shirt he wore – I was beginning to think he only owned shirts in black or white – was loose and yet, it did little to hide his muscles. Instead of his usual jeans and motorcycle boots, he wore black sweatpants and boat-sized tennis shoes.

"I was feeling a little – I dunno – guilty about our earlier conversation," he said, scratching his head. "I understand why you were offended and I sure as hell don't wanna offend you."

"I think you should be apologizing to the...administrator of the oral," I found myself saying. "She must've been offended."

Jake let out a pained groan. "How do you manage to make head sound unsexy?"

"Trust me. It's a talent," I replied in a dry voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He stepped out of my way but followed me into the kitchen, where I speedily washed and dried my plate. I turned to find Jake staring at the place where my ass had been a few seconds ago. Which was now my crotch area.

His eyes snapped up to mine and he gave me an unapologetic smile. "I was reading what was written on your shorts," he explained, leaning against the doorjamb.

"It doesn't take that long to read B-O-O-T-Y."

"It does for me." He cleared his throat, standing straight. "Anyway, if you were offended earlier, I'm sorry. But I won't apologize for buying you a couple groceries, so don't bother asking."

"What about for punching my boyfriend?" Adding a thank-you would have been poor taste. I was conflicted, for Pete's sake.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, in my opinion," he replied with a shrug. "To be fair, he didn't squeal like a bįtch or anything. Was he here tonight, make-up sex and all?"

I flushed. "He wanted to be here. I had to kick him out, what with work tomorrow and all." Jake was approaching me. Why was he approaching me? Why was he looking at me like that? Like I was Jerry and he was...well, Tom.

I found my ass flush against the edge of the kitchen sink, my thighs brushing the cupboards beneath it.

"I wouldn't have left. I would've groveled until you forgave me," Jake was saying, a strange look in his eyes.

"There's nothing to forgive. He bought me a present to make up for it, just by the way."

"Huh. I bet it was a book. I've seen your bookshelf."

It was a book, a first edition, at that. I appreciated it. Seb knew my love of classic literature and after our last fight over it, he wasn't going to be forgetting that anytime soon.

"And so what if it was a book?" For some reason, he wasn't letting this whole Sebastian thing go and I was fast becoming annoyed. Seb wasn't perfect, but neither was I, and neither was Jake. He had no right to judge.

"If it was me who fuċked up, Maya, I wouldn't apologize with a fuċking book," he scoffed, caging me with one arm on either side of me. Jake was really the only person I knew who dwarfed me. I felt small around him, something I wasn't used to. I didn't like it.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" I asked, my voice annoyingly breathless.

He leaned in, a lazy look in his eyes. "I'd turn you around," he said, completely ignoring my question and surprising me by actually spinning me around so that my stomach was pressed against the edge of the sink.

My hands gripped the edge of their own volition, so hard that my fingernails scraped against the cold stainless steel. There was an immense wave of heat radiating from Jake and it made me heat up from the crown of my head to the tips of my bare toes.

"And then I'd bend you down," Jake continued, his hands on my hips so he could pull me towards him, forcing my front away from the sink. My butt connected with his groin, and his voice was soft and thick when he said, "I'd spread your legs and sink right into you; and for every thrust into your wet little pussy, I'd tell you how sorry I was for being such an asshole."

He didn't exactly thrust himself against me, but I could feel his hardness against my lower back, his thick length so easy to make out through the fabric of his sweats. I didn't move, didn't breathe. Couldn't.

How was this even happening?

I held myself still, taking the first in a series of deep breaths. "Are. You. High?" The words came out through my clenched teeth and immediately, Jake's hands left me.

"A little, yeah."

Slowly, I turned around to look at him. Just one look into his heavy-lidded eyes was enough to tell me what I should've realized earlier on: He was high. I could even smell the faint scent of the green bud, something I definitely hadn't noticed before.

"So why'd you really come here?" I asked him, placing my hands against his chest so that I could shove him away from me. But he put his hands over mine, as if that was what I'd wanted to begin with. For him to touch me back.

"I dunno," he said, lacing his fingers with mine.

 "Jake –"

He let me go. "I'm gonna go now."

"Yes. That would be great."

He leaned forward suddenly, his lips barely brushing my forehead. "You're too sweet."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I whispered.

He pulled back. His brow furrowed as if he really had to think about it. "No for me. Yes for you."

"What does that mean?"

"That I should leave. Right this second."

I didn't argue with that. I was seriously starting to rethink this friendship thing.

*~*~*

By an unspoken agreement, Jake and I didn't mention our last encounter the next time we met.

I had pretty much convinced myself that it had been a gruesomely realistic dream, so that when I bumped into Jake outside The Coffee Maker on the first morning after my last day at work, there wasn't any residual awkwardness.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said.

And that was that.

I slipped into the coffee shop and he walked past it, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. Zeke was at the counter and, as usual, had my order ready. I skipped the queue and collected, handing him my money.

"I was waiting to see your face," he said with a big grin on his face.

Just what was I expected to say to that? 'Me, too'? 'Thanks'? Or maybe, 'I wonder why'.

I simply nodded and pasted a smile on my face, Luke's silly words about Zeke having a crush on me reverberating in my head. I hated to admit it, but maybe he was right. It was probably time to befriend another barista.

Since my seat by the window was taken, I settled for one at the back, amid sleepy-eyed college students on laptops and a lone suit-and-tie barking instructions into his cell phone to a poor soul on the other end.

Bliss.

Or it would have been, if I didn't spot a familiar figure striding towards me. Heads turned and eyes ogled, and honestly? I couldn't blame them. I was pretty sure Ghost was used to the intimidated glances from men and do-me-do-me-now eyeballing from women by now. In this town, motorcycle gangs were both revered and hated. It was a weird combination, but it was the truth. People were drawn to them, as if by an unseen force, but when it came down to it, no one really wanted to be involved in the ruthlessness that went on behind closed doors and under the very ground we walked on.

Everyone knew who Ghost was. You couldn't be in Sallow County for five minutes without knowing who The Phantoms were, more especially who their leader was. Today, he was in all-black – as if he were in mourning – from the black T-shirt that stretched taut across an impressive chest to the black jeans and black boots. His hair, short and black, was disheveled, as usual. If I had a brush with me, I definitely would've offered it to him.

"Mornin'," he said, all nice and chipper. He slid into the seat opposite mine and our knees instantly knocked against each other's. Tall people problems.

"Hi there," I offered, putting my coffee down. "Is there a problem?"

He quirked a brow. "Problem? Does there need to be a problem for me to come see you?"

I lifted a shoulder. "You tell me."

"I saw Ripper a few minutes ago. He told me where to find you."

That snitching little vermin. He had to have known that dealing with biker business so early in the morning wasn't going to make me a happy camper – and yet, he'd told Ghost I was here. This must have showed on my face, because Ghost frowned.

"I haven't seen you since...well, since the night you came to the clubhouse," he said quietly. "I just wanted to make sure you were good."

He looked, for all intents and purposes, like he really meant that. I didn't know what to say to that. All I did was stare, which was just as much as anyone else in the café could do. Oh, they pretended that they weren't doing it, but I could see them, even when they thought they were being sly. Then there were other caffeine junkies who were brazen enough to openly gape at the two of us, as if we were a pair of animals in a zoo. I shifted in my seat.

"I got a kid sister," I heard Ghost say, and I blinked repeatedly, focusing on our conversation. Or lack thereof. "She's my half-sister and she's twelve. Our old man got to thinkin' that God meant he should go forth and multiply like a fucķin' cockroach. So far, Daisy's the only sister I've tracked down, but I estimate there are more. I got nine brothers and the last one's young enough to be my son."

"Interesting," I said, wondering what he was getting at.

"My point, Maya," he began, "is that I'm not real good with all this shit. This emotional shιt. Shιt about feelings and whatnot. Sometimes, I forget how to be...human."

"Oh, yeah? Well, maybe you should understand that me dealing with why my cousin died is not emotional shįt," I hissed out, hating that I was shaking all over, an inferno of anger raging in my veins.

Ghost simply let out a heavy sigh. "See what I mean? I'm a fucķin' idiot."

"I won't argue with you there."

He gave me a wry smile, reaching for one of my chocolate muffins. I slapped his hand and someone let out a loud gasp from beside our table. Ghost and I both turned to look at the wide-eyed teenage boy who probably thought Ghost was going to end my life there and then for hitting him.

"The fuck you lookin' at?" Ghost demanded, faking a lunge at the kid, who shot up in his seat and gathered his books.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Neither was you not sharing," he muttered, nodding at my muffins.

"I don't want to see you yet." I said this as candidly as I possibly could. He had to know that I was beings serious.

He rose to his full height, looking down at me. "Yet. I can live with that yet."

"Yeah, you do that."

"And word of advice, Maya?" He placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. "That boyfriend of yours? You're too good for him. Way too good. He's not as clean-cut as he wants you to believe."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll know when you know," he replied, before strutting his cryptic ass out the coffee shop. I noted that he snatched up a muffin from one of the caffeine junkies.

I was beginning to rethink this 'being civil' thing.

"Out of the blue, you came to me" –Prides, Out of the Blue

********************************

Sebastian was waiting in the parking lot outside when I got off work, which was strange in itself, until I noticed the black eye and busted lip he was sporting.

"What the hell happened to you?" I demanded, cupping his chin once I got into his Audi. I gauged the damage to his usually flawless face. It was bad.

"Your friend happened to me," Seb said, his voice monotonous. He put the car into gear and peeled out of the lot. "Happy belated. I got you a present. It's in the back."

I simply stared at him. He gave me a sideways glance.

"Which friend?"

"The biker guy. He cornered me after work today and... You can see for yourself." One hand left the steering wheel as he ran a finger along his swollen bottom lip.

I took a deep breath. "Did he say why he hit you?"

This time, Seb gave me a wounded look. "I'm a bad boyfriend, Maya?"

"Oh, God. He said that?"

"His actual adjective was shitty, but I was paraphrasing on your behalf."

I covered my mouth with one hand, stifling the laugh that wanted to escape. Sebastian glared at me.

"Sorry," I said, schooling my features into a serious frown. "It isn't funny."

"No, it isn't. I thought we were good, and then I find out that you feel otherwise and –"

"Seb, stop." I gently patted his arm. "We are good. Stop worrying. I'll, um, talk to Jake. This was uncalled for."

"Should I be worried?"

"About what?

The tips of his ears flamed red. "About you and him. I never knew you two were friends to begin with."

"Me and Jake?" I let out an unladylike snort. "He's doing this out of obligation, not because he wants to sleep with me. You remember Sharon, right? His mother?"

"Sharon Ford? Yes. My mother knew her."

"Well, when she died, she kind of asked Jake to look out for me. Sort of like a big brother thing."

"Look out for you?" His brow creased when he glanced at me. "And what exactly does that entail?"

Paying my rent, paying my electricity, cleaning my house, sending my car for repairs, socking my clueless boyfriend for forgetting my birthday...

I froze just thinking about the many other personal things he'd done for me since he'd gotten out of prison. Seb did not need to know about those things. No one did.

"Making sure my lovably stupid and forgetful boyfriend doesn't ever forget my birthday again?"

Despite the pain he must've been in, Sebastian smiled. "Trust me – I'm never forgetting April Fool's Day again."

***

Being carless in a small town wasn't a hardship, by any means, but I missed Old Betsy. Despite how stubborn old age had made her, she'd been with me since high school. I'd made memories in there. Granted, they weren't memories of the sexual kind – like Luke had in the back of his old truck – but still, they were good ones. I wasn't going to let Betsy go without a fight.

Sebastian wanted to take me out for dinner to make up for yesterday but I declined. I was tired. Two nights of socializing in a row? No, thanks. Instead, I asked him not to report his assault to the police if I promised him that I was going to have a talk with Jake – which I wasn't going to do. A huge part of me was a little pissed off about Sebastian forgetting this year. That part of me was thinking of how many beers would be suitable to give Jake as a thank-you gift for rearranging my boyfriend's face.

I came home expecting to shower, dress up and go out to do a little grocery shopping – and found that my cupboards and refrigerator were already stocked. It didn't take a genius to figure out that someone had come in – no, broken in – to do this and it didn't take a genius to figure out who.

Jake answered on the fifth ring.

"Babe," he grunted, "not exactly a good time."

"So sorry to disturb you," I began, "but what do you think gives you the right to break into my house and restock my fridge like some psycho domesticated fairy godmother?"

He let out a soft groan, and I kind of got the feeling it had nothing to do with my words. "I thought we'd resolved this," he said gruffly. "I thought we were friends now."

"We are friends, but that doesn't change how I feel about..." My voice trailed off when he released yet another suspicious groan. "Jacob – what are you doing?"

"Like I said, sweetheart – bad timing."

A woman's whiny voice wafted into my ear from somewhere in the background. My stomach turned.

"Are you having sex while we're on the phone?" I hissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I'm getting a blowjob while we're on the phone."

"Seriously?"

I hung up before he could say anything else and took a deep breath, surveying the open kitchen cupboards. My stomach rumbled and decided that I could talk about reimbursing Jake later. When he was less...preoccupied.

After grilling myself a juicy steak and baking a few potatoes, I actually felt more alert, as opposed to how lethargic I'd felt after my shower. I loved to cook. I didn't often have the time to do it, but when I did, I made magic. That was all thanks to Aunt Stacy, who'd ensured that I was comfortable alone in the kitchen before I'd even started menstruating.

I sat on my bed to eat, booting up my laptop to watch an episode of The Blacklist. I was so engrossed in it that I didn't notice the figure in my doorway until it spoke.

"I came to apologize."

I jumped, nearly sending the plate on my knees flying. "What the hell, Jake!"

"Guess I should've knocked."

"Ya think?" I furiously wiped at the gravy splatter on the white T-shirt I was wearing. At least I'd finished everything else. "And how'd you get in? I locked the front door." Right? I remember locking it.

"Yeah. You locked it."

"So you've made yourself a key now?" I sputtered, unable to comprehend his nerve. Seb was the one person who owned a key to my house. After Kira had misplaced the spare I'd given her, I'd deemed her unfit to own her own set.

"Nope," Jake replied. "No key."

I got off my bed, because it was a little weird to be talking to him from there. "What are you doing here again?"

He looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower, all damp-haired and clean-looking. The black T-shirt he wore – I was beginning to think he only owned shirts in black or white – was loose and yet, it did little to hide his muscles. Instead of his usual jeans and motorcycle boots, he wore black sweatpants and boat-sized tennis shoes.

"I was feeling a little – I dunno – guilty about our earlier conversation," he said, scratching his head. "I understand why you were offended and I sure as hell don't wanna offend you."

"I think you should be apologizing to the...administrator of the oral," I found myself saying. "She must've been offended."

Jake let out a pained groan. "How do you manage to make head sound unsexy?"

"Trust me. It's a talent," I replied in a dry voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He stepped out of my way but followed me into the kitchen, where I speedily washed and dried my plate. I turned to find Jake staring at the place where my ass had been a few seconds ago. Which was now my crotch area.

His eyes snapped up to mine and he gave me an unapologetic smile. "I was reading what was written on your shorts," he explained, leaning against the doorjamb.

"It doesn't take that long to read B-O-O-T-Y."

"It does for me." He cleared his throat, standing straight. "Anyway, if you were offended earlier, I'm sorry. But I won't apologize for buying you a couple groceries, so don't bother asking."

"What about for punching my boyfriend?" Adding a thank-you would have been poor taste. I was conflicted, for Pete's sake.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, in my opinion," he replied with a shrug. "To be fair, he didn't squeal like a bįtch or anything. Was he here tonight, make-up sex and all?"

I flushed. "He wanted to be here. I had to kick him out, what with work tomorrow and all." Jake was approaching me. Why was he approaching me? Why was he looking at me like that? Like I was Jerry and he was...well, Tom.

I found my ass flush against the edge of the kitchen sink, my thighs brushing the cupboards beneath it.

"I wouldn't have left. I would've groveled until you forgave me," Jake was saying, a strange look in his eyes.

"There's nothing to forgive. He bought me a present to make up for it, just by the way."

"Huh. I bet it was a book. I've seen your bookshelf."

It was a book, a first edition, at that. I appreciated it. Seb knew my love of classic literature and after our last fight over it, he wasn't going to be forgetting that anytime soon.

"And so what if it was a book?" For some reason, he wasn't letting this whole Sebastian thing go and I was fast becoming annoyed. Seb wasn't perfect, but neither was I, and neither was Jake. He had no right to judge.

"If it was me who fuċked up, Maya, I wouldn't apologize with a fuċking book," he scoffed, caging me with one arm on either side of me. Jake was really the only person I knew who dwarfed me. I felt small around him, something I wasn't used to. I didn't like it.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" I asked, my voice annoyingly breathless.

He leaned in, a lazy look in his eyes. "I'd turn you around," he said, completely ignoring my question and surprising me by actually spinning me around so that my stomach was pressed against the edge of the sink.

My hands gripped the edge of their own volition, so hard that my fingernails scraped against the cold stainless steel. There was an immense wave of heat radiating from Jake and it made me heat up from the crown of my head to the tips of my bare toes.

"And then I'd bend you down," Jake continued, his hands on my hips so he could pull me towards him, forcing my front away from the sink. My butt connected with his groin, and his voice was soft and thick when he said, "I'd spread your legs and sink right into you; and for every thrust into your wet little pussy, I'd tell you how sorry I was for being such an asshole."

He didn't exactly thrust himself against me, but I could feel his hardness against my lower back, his thick length so easy to make out through the fabric of his sweats. I didn't move, didn't breathe. Couldn't.

How was this even happening?

I held myself still, taking the first in a series of deep breaths. "Are. You. High?" The words came out through my clenched teeth and immediately, Jake's hands left me.

"A little, yeah."

Slowly, I turned around to look at him. Just one look into his heavy-lidded eyes was enough to tell me what I should've realized earlier on: He was high. I could even smell the faint scent of the green bud, something I definitely hadn't noticed before.

"So why'd you really come here?" I asked him, placing my hands against his chest so that I could shove him away from me. But he put his hands over mine, as if that was what I'd wanted to begin with. For him to touch me back.

"I dunno," he said, lacing his fingers with mine.

 "Jake –"

He let me go. "I'm gonna go now."

"Yes. That would be great."

He leaned forward suddenly, his lips barely brushing my forehead. "You're too sweet."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I whispered.

He pulled back. His brow furrowed as if he really had to think about it. "No for me. Yes for you."

"What does that mean?"

"That I should leave. Right this second."

I didn't argue with that. I was seriously starting to rethink this friendship thing.

*~*~*

By an unspoken agreement, Jake and I didn't mention our last encounter the next time we met.

I had pretty much convinced myself that it had been a gruesomely realistic dream, so that when I bumped into Jake outside The Coffee Maker on the first morning after my last day at work, there wasn't any residual awkwardness.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said.

And that was that.

I slipped into the coffee shop and he walked past it, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. Zeke was at the counter and, as usual, had my order ready. I skipped the queue and collected, handing him my money.

"I was waiting to see your face," he said with a big grin on his face.

Just what was I expected to say to that? 'Me, too'? 'Thanks'? Or maybe, 'I wonder why'.

I simply nodded and pasted a smile on my face, Luke's silly words about Zeke having a crush on me reverberating in my head. I hated to admit it, but maybe he was right. It was probably time to befriend another barista.

Since my seat by the window was taken, I settled for one at the back, amid sleepy-eyed college students on laptops and a lone suit-and-tie barking instructions into his cell phone to a poor soul on the other end.

Bliss.

Or it would have been, if I didn't spot a familiar figure striding towards me. Heads turned and eyes ogled, and honestly? I couldn't blame them. I was pretty sure Ghost was used to the intimidated glances from men and do-me-do-me-now eyeballing from women by now. In this town, motorcycle gangs were both revered and hated. It was a weird combination, but it was the truth. People were drawn to them, as if by an unseen force, but when it came down to it, no one really wanted to be involved in the ruthlessness that went on behind closed doors and under the very ground we walked on.

Everyone knew who Ghost was. You couldn't be in Sallow County for five minutes without knowing who The Phantoms were, more especially who their leader was. Today, he was in all-black – as if he were in mourning – from the black T-shirt that stretched taut across an impressive chest to the black jeans and black boots. His hair, short and black, was disheveled, as usual. If I had a brush with me, I definitely would've offered it to him.

"Mornin'," he said, all nice and chipper. He slid into the seat opposite mine and our knees instantly knocked against each other's. Tall people problems.

"Hi there," I offered, putting my coffee down. "Is there a problem?"

He quirked a brow. "Problem? Does there need to be a problem for me to come see you?"

I lifted a shoulder. "You tell me."

"I saw Ripper a few minutes ago. He told me where to find you."

That snitching little vermin. He had to have known that dealing with biker business so early in the morning wasn't going to make me a happy camper – and yet, he'd told Ghost I was here. This must have showed on my face, because Ghost frowned.

"I haven't seen you since...well, since the night you came to the clubhouse," he said quietly. "I just wanted to make sure you were good."

He looked, for all intents and purposes, like he really meant that. I didn't know what to say to that. All I did was stare, which was just as much as anyone else in the café could do. Oh, they pretended that they weren't doing it, but I could see them, even when they thought they were being sly. Then there were other caffeine junkies who were brazen enough to openly gape at the two of us, as if we were a pair of animals in a zoo. I shifted in my seat.

"I got a kid sister," I heard Ghost say, and I blinked repeatedly, focusing on our conversation. Or lack thereof. "She's my half-sister and she's twelve. Our old man got to thinkin' that God meant he should go forth and multiply like a fucķin' cockroach. So far, Daisy's the only sister I've tracked down, but I estimate there are more. I got nine brothers and the last one's young enough to be my son."

"Interesting," I said, wondering what he was getting at.

"My point, Maya," he began, "is that I'm not real good with all this shit. This emotional shιt. Shιt about feelings and whatnot. Sometimes, I forget how to be...human."

"Oh, yeah? Well, maybe you should understand that me dealing with why my cousin died is not emotional shįt," I hissed out, hating that I was shaking all over, an inferno of anger raging in my veins.

Ghost simply let out a heavy sigh. "See what I mean? I'm a fucķin' idiot."

"I won't argue with you there."

He gave me a wry smile, reaching for one of my chocolate muffins. I slapped his hand and someone let out a loud gasp from beside our table. Ghost and I both turned to look at the wide-eyed teenage boy who probably thought Ghost was going to end my life there and then for hitting him.

"The fuck you lookin' at?" Ghost demanded, faking a lunge at the kid, who shot up in his seat and gathered his books.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Neither was you not sharing," he muttered, nodding at my muffins.

"I don't want to see you yet." I said this as candidly as I possibly could. He had to know that I was beings serious.

He rose to his full height, looking down at me. "Yet. I can live with that yet."

"Yeah, you do that."

"And word of advice, Maya?" He placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. "That boyfriend of yours? You're too good for him. Way too good. He's not as clean-cut as he wants you to believe."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll know when you know," he replied, before strutting his cryptic ass out the coffee shop. I noted that he snatched up a muffin from one of the caffeine junkies.

I was beginning to rethink this 'being civil' thing.