Ride or Die

#3

Maya.

I woke up to sunlight stabbing through the half-open curtains like it had a personal grudge.

It was afternoon already.

My head throbbed just enough to remind me of the whiskey, I rolled over my pillow groaning.

I sat up, shoved the covers off, and dragged myself into the bathroom. A long shower helped.

I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, washed the race-night grime out of my hair, and stood under the hot water just to delay the inevitable.

When I finally stepped out, I pulled on the shortest denim shorts I owned and a thin black tank top that didn’t even pretend to cover much.

Boots, a leather jacket left unzipped, and my hair left wet and messy down my back.

Classic Maya.

If the world was going to force a shadow on me, the least I could do was make the view interesting.

I opened my bedroom door and almost walked straight into him.

Ghost stood in the hallway like he had been standing there overnight.

Black clothes that hugged his biceps perfectly.

I froze for half a second.

Then I remembered I was supposed to hate him...not drool.

“Jesus,” I muttered, brushing past him without making eye contact. “Do you sleep standing up or what?”

No answer...Of course not.

I headed down the stairs. He followed at a measured distance, silent as the name he went by.

Every step I took, I could feel him there, the hair on my skin stood in attention.

The front door was already open.

Amy’s bright yellow Jeep sat in the driveway next to my Harley, and she was leaning against the hood scrolling on her phone.

The second she heard my boots,she looked up, grinned, and opened her mouth to say something, then her eyes slid past me.

And stayed there.

“Holy s**t,” she whispered.

I kept walking like nothing was happening. “Afternoon to you too.”

Amy didn’t even glance at me. She was staring at Ghost like he was a Versace bike she wanted badly.

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“Amy,” I said, stopping in front of her. “Earth to Amy.”

She blinked, finally dragged her gaze back to my face, then immediately looked over my shoulder again. “Who the f**k is that?”

“No one.”

“That is not no one. That is… Maya. That is a whole f*****g problem in black.”

I sighed, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her a few steps away toward the side of the house, out of direct earshot.

Ghost didn’t follow. He just stopped near my bike, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular.

Amy leaned in, her voice as low as a whisper. “Start talking right now. Is he single? Is he dangerous? Please tell me he’s dangerous in the fun way.”

“He’s my new bodyguard,” I said flatly. “Dad’s idea of a sick joke. Name’s Ghost. Apparently he kills people for a living and now he’s stuck watching me drink and swear. He’s not allowed to talk unless necessary. And he has the personality of a brick wall.”

Amy’s mouth fell open. “Your dad hired a professional killer to follow you around?”

“Yep.”

“And he looks like that?”

“Unfortunately.”

She peeked around me again, biting her lip. “Fawkkk....I would let him kill me slowly.”

I made a face at her. “You’re disgusting.”

“I’m honest. Does he ever smile? He looks like he doesn't know the meaning of the word”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Amy pressed a hand to her chest like she was having a religious experience. “I’m in love.”

I rolled my eyes so hard this time I almost saw the back of my skull. “You’ve known he exists for forty seconds.”

“And they’ve been the best forty seconds of my year.” She leaned closer. “Please tell me you’re going to sleep with him.”

“I’m going to ignore him until he quits or dies of boredom.”

Amy looked personally offended. “You cannot ignore that. Look at him. He’s standing there like a wet dream that pays taxes.”

“He’s standing there like a statue that got lost on the way to a funeral.” I glanced back.

Ghost still hadn’t moved.

He Still hadn’t looked at me. The complete lack of reaction sat under my skin like a splinter. Everyone else stared. Everyone else wanted me.

This one acted like I was furniture.

It pissed me off more than it should have.

Amy was still staring. “Can I talk to him?”

“No.”

“Can I breathe near him?”

“Amy.”

She held up both hands, laughing. “Fine. But if you don’t want him, I’m calling dibs the second the contract ends.”

“He’s all yours,” I said, already walking toward my bike. “I’m going to the racecourse. You coming?”

“Hell yes. I need to watch him watch you. This is better than reality TV.”

I swung a leg over the Harley and started the engine. Ghost was already moving.

He walked to a matte-black bike I hadn’t noticed earlier, sleek, expensive, clearly built for speed and threw a leg over it like he’d been riding his whole life.

I twisted in the seat and raised my voice over the engines. “You don’t need to come. It’s just the track. My people.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he started his bike and waited.

I stared at him for a long second,my jaw tight. The complete lack of reaction made something hot and ugly twist in my stomach.

I wanted him to argue. To tell me no. To at least acknowledge I had spoken.

Fine.

I revved my bike harder than necessary, shot him a middle finger over my shoulder, and peeled out of the driveway.

Amy’s Jeep fell in behind us, and I could already picture her in the rearview, probably filming or screaming about how hot he looked on a motorcycle.

The wind hit my bare stomach and thighs as I accelerated. I rode faster than I should have, weaving through afternoon traffic, testing whether he would stay with me.

He did...effortlessly.

He matched me like he’d been born on two wheels and trained to never let a target out of sight.

Soon, the racecourse cane to view.

I parked, killed the engine, and swung off the bike.

Ghost pulled up a few feet away and did the same.

Amy jumped out of her Jeep almost before it stopped rolling.

“Okay, I’m obsessed,” she announced, jogging over. “He rides like that and still doesn’t talk? Maya. Maya. He's so skilled that he could be a racer.”

I ignored her and started walking toward the small group of Iron Reapers already hanging around the track. A

Tessa raised a beer in greeting to which I nodded at.

Ghost followed.

I could feel every pair of eyes shift from me to him and then back again.

Curiosity or Wariness? I don't care.

A few of the guys stood a little straighter. One of the older members muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “holy shit.”

Amy looped her arm through mine and whispered, “Everyone’s staring at your murder babysitter. This is amazing.”

I didn’t answer.

Because the only person who still wasn’t staring was him.

He acted strong. I was more excited to see how long he could keep up the facade.