GHOST: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 5) by Nicole James Page A

hurt.”
    “Do you want me to call 911?”
    “No, please. I’m fine,” Jessie begged.
    “You sure, babe?” Ghost asked her, frowning.
    “It’s just a scrape.”
    “There’s a first-aid kit in the office. It really should be cleaned up, ma’am.”
    Ghost looked up at the man. “Yeah, that’d be good. We were pulling in to get a room. You got one?”
    “Yeah, got one left, the handicapped room, first floor. Please, come in the office. Are you sure you don’t want to report this?”
    “An old man in a Caddy hit us. He took off. He’s long gone by now. Nothin’ the cops can do about it now but file a report, and that’s a waste of time for all of us.”
    The man nodded and glanced over to where Ghost’s bike still lay on its side in the middle of the parking lot. “Let’s get her inside, and I’ll help you with your bike.”
    “Thanks, man.”
    Fifteen minutes later, they were checked into a nearby ground floor room, Ghost’s bike parked outside the door. Luckily, the accident had just bent the passenger foot peg, scraped some paint and damaged his taillight. Yeah, he was pissed, but those were easy fixes. He was just thankful Jessie hadn’t been hurt more seriously. Especially when he noticed the scratches on her helmet as he removed it and set it on the dresser.
    He guided her to sit on the bed and tossed the first-aid kit that the manager had given him onto the bed next to her. The man had offered to help her, but Ghost had declined. No way in hell was he letting the man put his hands on Jess, especially given that the area that needed attention happened to be on her lower hip.
    She shrugged out of the jacket Ghost had given her, dropping it down to the bed. Ghost grabbed it and tossed it aside; thankful she’d had it on. It had saved her from a far worse injury, protecting her tender skin from the asphalt.
    He knelt down in front of her and began removing her boots, cursing silently to himself that he should have seen the Cadillac sooner. She moaned as he pulled off her left boot. His eyes flashed up to hers. “Jess, are you hurt worse than you’re lettin’ on?”
    “I’m okay, just banged up a bit. That’s all, I swear.”
    He took her small foot in his hand and rotated her ankle gently, watching for any sign in her reaction that maybe she’d broken it. “Does that hurt?”
    She shook her head. “No. I’m fine, Ghost.”
    He nodded, pulling off the other boot, and then rising to his feet awkwardly. When she saw him favoring his leg, she asked, “Ghost, you’re the one that’s hurt. Your leg—”
    “I’m okay. Just got it hung up under the bike. It’s fine.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yeah, now let’s get these chaps off you, darlin’,” he said in a low voice, his hands already moving to the zippers that ran up the outside of each leg. He gently removed them, taking care not to brush against the scraped area. “We need to get you out of those short, too. Lie back.”
    She did, giving him no lip for once. He unzipped the shorts and carefully eased them down, studying her face and watching for pain as he did so. He could tell the effects of the alcohol she’d drunk at the clubhouse were still dulling her senses, and he was glad for it. It may actually have done some good, keeping her body loose when they went down, otherwise, if she’d tensed up, she may have hurt herself worse, perhaps even broken a bone.
    Shit, he’d like to catch up with that old man and kick his motherfucking car door in. He blew out a breath, letting go of the anger. It wouldn’t do her any good for him to get riled up right now.
    She lie back against the pillows in nothing but his flannel shirt, and her bra and panties. Ghost swallowed and reached for the first aid kit as he sat on the bed next to her.
    “Roll on your side, Jessie. Let me have a look,” he instructed softly. She complied, rolling to face him. He examined the scrape. It was bleeding a bit, but not too bad. “How much does it