Chapter 2
1164 Words
Chapter Two
No Safe Place
The house had never felt so small.
Emma stood in the middle of her grandmother’s living room, arms folded tightly across her chest, while Ryder Callahan—Ghost now, apparently—watched every window like a soldier expecting an attack.
The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked loudly.
Outside, another motorcycle rumbled down the road before fading into the night.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither trusted the silence.
Grandma Ruth appeared in the hallway wearing her robe, her gray hair braided over one shoulder.
“Well,” she said with a yawn, “I was wondering how long it’d take before you two started arguing on my porch.”
Emma spun toward her.
“Grandma, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I could ask the same thing.”
Ghost rubbed the back of his neck.
“Sorry, Ruth.”
“You better be.” She eyed him for a long moment before looking back at Emma. “He’s staying.”
Emma blinked.
“What?”
“Tonight.”
“No.”
Grandma raised one eyebrow.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Emma stared in disbelief.
“You can’t seriously expect me to spend the night in the same house as him.”
“I expect you to stay alive.”
Ghost’s jaw tightened.
Emma noticed.
He hadn’t exaggerated.
He genuinely believed she was in danger.
That realization settled uncomfortably in her chest.
“I’ve called two brothers,” Ghost said quietly. “They’ll be outside until sunrise.”
“And if I don’t want armed bikers in Grandma’s yard?”
“You’ll have them anyway.”
Emma laughed bitterly.
“Still making decisions for everyone else.”
Ghost met her eyes.
“If it keeps you breathing.”
The words landed harder than she wanted them to.
⸻
Twenty minutes later, headlights swept across the front windows.
Emma instinctively looked outside.
Two Harleys rolled into the driveway.
The first rider was broad shouldered with a shaved head and a thick beard.
The second looked younger, maybe late twenties, his blond hair tied back beneath a backward ball cap instead of a helmet.
Both wore the same black leather cuts.
Iron Saints.
Ghost opened the front door before either man knocked.
“You made good time.”
The bearded biker nodded.
“We came straight from the clubhouse.”
His eyes landed on Emma.
“So that’s her.”
Ghost’s expression hardened.
“Easy.”
“I’m just looking.”
Emma didn’t miss the warning in Ghost’s voice.
The blond biker smiled politely.
“Ma’am.”
She gave a cautious nod.
Ghost motioned toward them.
“This is Mason.”
The blond biker lifted two fingers.
“They call me Ace.”
Ghost pointed toward the larger man.
“And that’s Jax.”
Jax’s deep voice filled the room.
“Pleasure.”
Emma wasn’t convinced.
Jax looked like he could bench-press a truck.
Ace looked friendly enough, but she recognized the alertness in both men.
Neither had relaxed since arriving.
Both constantly scanned the room.
Every window.
Every doorway.
Every sound.
This wasn’t an act.
Something had them genuinely on edge.
⸻
Ghost stepped onto the porch with the two men.
Emma lingered near the screen door.
She shouldn’t listen.
She knew that.
But old habits died hard.
“…sure it’s Creed?” Jax asked.
Ghost nodded once.
“They’re fishing.”
“They know about Emma?”
“They know enough.”
Ace whistled softly.
“Damn.”
Jax folded his arms.
“If they’re making a move this early, they’ve got somebody local feeding them information.”
Ghost’s face darkened.
“I know.”
“So we’ve got a rat.”
Ghost didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
Emma’s pulse quickened.
Someone inside the Iron Saints?
After all these years?
Ghost caught sight of her through the screen.
Their eyes met.
He immediately lowered his voice.
Whatever else he said, she couldn’t hear.
⸻
Later, after Grandma finally returned to bed, Emma found Ghost sitting alone on the porch steps.
Moonlight silvered the tattoos covering his forearms.
A half-empty mug of black coffee rested beside his boot.
“You don’t sleep much anymore?”
He looked over his shoulder.
“I sleep.”
“Liar.”
One corner of his mouth twitched.
“There she is.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned against the porch railing.
“You used to sleep twelve hours after poker runs.”
“I was twenty-four.”
“You drooled.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
He laughed.
It wasn’t loud.
Barely more than a breath.
But it was real.
Emma hadn’t expected the sound to hit her like a punch.
For just a heartbeat…
…he looked like Ryder again.
Not Ghost.
Not the feared president of the Iron Saints.
Just the boy who used to steal kisses behind the grocery store.
The silence that followed felt different.
Softer.
Until Ghost quietly asked,
“Did you ever get married?”
Emma looked out across the yard.
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged.
“Never found anyone.”
His voice stayed calm.
“You dated.”
“A few.”
“Serious?”
“No.”
He stared into his coffee.
“I tried.”
Emma looked at him.
“What?”
“I tried dating.”
“And?”
A sad smile crossed his face.
“They weren’t you.”
Her heart squeezed before anger rushed in to replace it.
“You don’t get to say things like that.”
“I’m not asking for anything.”
“It sounds like you are.”
Ghost stood, closing the distance between them.
“I’m asking for one thing.”
“What?”
“A chance to tell you what really happened.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed.
“You had ten years.”
“I know.”
“So why now?”
His gaze drifted toward the motorcycles parked in the driveway.
“Because whoever’s coming after you already dug up the past.”
He looked back at her.
“And once that happens…”
His voice turned almost haunted.
“…there won’t be any more secrets left to hide.”
Before Emma could respond, Ace burst through the front gate.
“Ghost!”
Ghost spun instantly.
“What?”
Ace’s expression had lost every trace of humor.
“We’ve got headlights.”
“How many?”
“Three trucks.”
“Where?”
“County road.”
Ghost was already moving.
Jax reached for the shotgun mounted inside his saddlebag while Ace spoke rapidly into a radio.
Emma’s pulse thundered.
“What’s happening?”
Ghost looked at her with deadly calm.
“I was hoping we’d have until morning.”
The sound of engines echoed through the trees.
Growing louder.
Much louder.
Ghost stepped in front of Emma, shielding her with his body.
“Get inside,” he ordered.
This time…
…she didn’t argue.
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