Ride or Die

#4

I dropped into one of the old folding chairs near the edge of the track, boots kicked out in front of me with a fresh cigarette already between my lips.

A few of my guys were already arguing over lap times.

Tessa had already started a betting pool.

Amy was hovering nearby, surprisingly quiet and not complaining of how dangerous my lifestyle was.

Ghost stood three feet behind my chair. He hadn’t spoken since we left the house and of course, didn't look at me.

It was starting to get under my skin in a way I didn’t like.

I took a long drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl upward.

Suddenly, the crowd near the entrance parted.

Chloe f*****g Riley.

She stormed across the cracked pavement like she owned the place, her pink jumpsuit zipped so low her t**s were practically waving at the entire track.

Two massive guys trailed her, both built like brick shithouses. Everyone knew who she was.

Girlfriend to Tyler Kane, the current king of this particular stretch of asphalt...Or at least she had been until about forty-eight hours ago.

She stopped right in front of my chair, hands on her hips, face twisted with pure rage.

“You f*****g b***h!!”

I raised an eyebrow and took another slow drag. “Afternoon, Chloe. Pink jumpsuit...Did you get dressed in the dark or is the slutty look intentional today?”

Chloe’s face went instantly red.

“Don’t play cute with me,” she snapped. “Tyler broke up with me. Everyone knows you’ve been sniffing around him for weeks. You seduced him. Think I do not know you f****d him in the dressing room three days ago??”

Everyone stared at me, expecting an answer.

Was it wrong to laugh at a time like that? Because I certainly found that s**t funny.

I stood up slowly, brushing imaginary dust off my shorts, and stepped right into her space until we were almost chest to chest.

She was taller in those ridiculous heels, but I didn’t care.

“Yeah,” I said. “I did. And for the record, Tyler enjoyed every second of it. Begged for another round the second we were done. Got on his knees and everything. You should’ve heard the way he said my name.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide.

“You w***e—”

Her hand came up fast, open palm aimed straight for my face.

I didn’t even flinch.

I was already shifting my weight, ready to catch it myself or duck and put her on her ass in front of half the track.

I never got the chance.

A strong hand shot out from behind me and locked around her wrist like a steel cuff.

Chloe froze mid-swing. The two goons behind her tensed but didn't make a move, I could see the fear in their eyes.

Ghost stood there, fingers wrapped around her arm, expression completely blank. He just held her like she weighed nothing and looked straight through her.

“Get your hands off her.”

His voice was deeper than I expected. Low and husky.

I felt chills down my spine.

Chloe’s mouth opened in shock

The pure rage on her face disappeared, replaced by a hungry look as she finally looked at him properly.

She actually f*****g drooled.

I could already guess what was going on in that empty brain of hers.

Ghost released her wrist, took two measured steps back, hands falling to his sides again, and returned to staring at some invisible point in the distance like the entire confrontation had been a minor inconvenience.

Chloe recovered faster than I expected. She pushed her chest forward, batting her lashes, voice suddenly sweet and breathy.

“I was just… dusting something off her hair. That’s all. No need to get all protective.”

Ghost said nothing...He didn’t acknowledge the t**s she was practically offering him on a platter.

He simply stood there, like a wall of ice and silence, while half the track stared at him like he’d just stepped out of a different world.

Chloe’s smile faltered.

She glanced at me, then back at him, then at her two useless bodyguards who suddenly looked a lot less impressive.

After a few awkward seconds she muttered something under her breath, spun on her heel, and stormed off with her muscle trailing behind her like confused dogs.

The second she was out of earshot, the whispers started. People were looking at Ghost like he was a new species. Amy appeared at my elbow, eyes huge.

“Holy s**t,” she breathed. “He is so f*****g impressive.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I was too busy being pissed.

I turned and glared up at him. He still wasn’t looking at me. Same blank face. Same complete lack of reaction. Like catching a slap aimed at my face was just another line item in his contract and not worth a single emotion.

“I had it,” I said, voice tight. “I didn’t need you to play hero.”

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

“I can handle Chloe. I’ve been handling worse than her since before you decided to start following me around like a bad smell.”

Still nothing.

The lack of response made something hot and ugly twist behind my ribs. Everyone else on this track wanted a piece of me—wanted to f**k me, fight me, impress me, or take me down. Chloe had just proven it. Tyler had proven it. Half the men watching us right now were probably already inventing reasons to come over and start s**t just to get my attention.

And this one?

This one stood there like I was a job and nothing more.

I hated it.

I hated how calm he looked. How completely unaffected. How he could wrap his hand around another woman’s wrist to protect me and still not spare me a single glance afterward.

I stepped closer, close enough that I had to tip my chin up to keep glaring at him.

“You don’t get to decide when I need saving,” I said, low enough that only he could hear. “I’m not weak. And I don’t need a babysitter who only moves when someone tries to put hands on me.”

His eyes finally shifted.

They locked on mine, ice-cold and unreadable. He looked away again, scanning the crowd like the conversation had never happened.

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

Amy tugged on my arm. “Maybe cool it before you actually pick a fight with the murder statue.”

I ignored her and kept staring at the side of his face, waiting for any crack in that perfect control.

Nothing.

I let out a short laugh and turned away.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Keep standing there looking pretty. Next time someone swings at me, I’m letting them land it just so I can watch you pretend you don’t care.”

I dropped back into the chair, lit another cigarette with hands that weren’t quite steady, and forced myself to watch the next race like my pulse wasn’t hammering in my throat.

Behind me, Ghost remained exactly where he was.