WRAITH (Iron Kings MC, #1)

take his words in.
That was why he’d been wearing that oversized baseball cap. He was hiding. From the whole world, it seemed.
Oh God. I felt sick. He’d killed those guys, because of me! “I’m responsible for their deaths,” I gasped, slapping my hand to my chest. I could barely breathe with the knowledge.
“No,” he growled adamantly. “I put them down. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. It’s not on you.”
“It was because of me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why didn’t my dad warn me you were coming, that you were a ghost now? I had no idea.”
“He tried.” He winced. “You didn’t answer his calls.”
Guilt slashed through me. “Oh my God.”
Looking back and forth between me and the road, he tapped my shoulder. Our gazes clashed and I saw him actually react as he saw the tears in my eyes. He looked… pained. “Hear my words, all right? You aren’t responsible for any of this. I killed them. Your father incurred their wrath.”
“I… I guess,” I eked out.
“The Rogue Riders caused this, Ashley. And, believe me, they’ll answer for it.”
I shuddered at his words. They were far from comforting. I knew exactly what it meant.
Something awful.
Something that would spill blood, take lives, and twist everybody beyond repair.
War.

3
~Wraith~
 
“YEAH, I’VE GOT HER,” I confirmed down the line to Scott, as I paced my living room, knocking back gulps of bourbon straight from the bottle.
“She all right?”
I cringed, knowing I had to tell him about the hit she’d taken.
“Finn?” he pressed, the anxiety in his voice palpable.
“The Rogues moved faster than we’d anticipated. Two of their enforcers made contact with her at her workplace.”
“WHAT?”
“She’s fine. I arrived in time to intervene before anything worse happened.”
A growl reverberated through the receiver. “Anything worse? They touched her then? Tell me!”
“She took a hit to her face. It’s gonna be fine, though. No stitches were needed. You can take comfort in the fact that they’ve been dealt with. Permanently.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, Finn. Know I swore you wouldn’t be doing that shit.”
“Forget it. It is what it is.”
“Still, I’m—”
“Scott,” I growled. “Drop it.”
There was a pause down the line, resistance, but then he grunted, “All right. I’ll let you go for now, yeah? Keep me posted and stay real close to my baby girl. Get her to call me as soon as you can.”
“Will do.”
We hung up and I tossed my phone onto the coffee table. I breathed a heavy sigh and slumped down onto my leather couch. Fuck. Him telling me to stay close to his daughter was a nightmare on so many fronts.
Being with her in the truck in such close proximity had been bad enough. Her sweet coconut scent driving me to distraction, that smoking body of hers, and that intoxicating innocence that just bled from her.
I needed to lock it up and get a grip.
The mission was all that mattered, all I could allow to matter.
Just focus on the task.
Sensing a sudden presence, my eyes snapped to the door, just as Ashley passed beneath the brick arch, returning from her trip to the bathroom. Those pouty lips of hers smiled a beaming smile at me, her gray eyes, such a rare shade, lighting up as she approached me. It had been an age since someone had been happy to see me. It was mind-boggling to me that such a soft little thing would feel that way about a bent bastard like me.
She shook out her damp, pink hair that flowed down several inches past her shoulders.
“Do you feel a bit better now?” I asked, as she made her way over to me, fiddling with the belt of the terrycloth robe I’d left for her.
She lowered herself hesitantly onto the spot beside me on the couch, hastily crossing her legs. “Yeah. It was nice and refreshing. Thanks for all the brand-new toiletries.” She grinned. “The toothbrush really came in handy.”
Yeah, the poor thing had chucked up all over the road. “Scott never mentioned anything about you suffering from motion sickness. Sorry.”
“It wasn’t that. I’m the daughter of a MC president, remember? I have my own Harley up at the clubhouse and I’ve been riding my entire life. Someone with motion sickness wouldn’t be able to stomach that.” She shifted her weight on the couch. “This… situation… it just hit me all of a sudden, I guess. It’s—”
“Overwhelming?”
Her eyes lit up at me getting it. “Yeah. Knowing that psychotic club is back in operation is a lot to process. I mean, the Rogues killed my mom when I was a teenager. They destroyed our family. Even twelve years later, they’re still the source of my nightmares.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands and she fiddled with her robe, pulling it tighter across her chest, blocking out every inch of skin, including the gorgeous tattoo that sat just above her breasts, spread eagle wings designed in black and a vibrant pink that matched her hair.
My gut twisted. A fierce protective instinct surged within me. It was more than just about the job. Seeing her so broken and vulnerable as she confessed such a twisted, tragic time in her life, called to something in me, something I didn’t understand. All I knew was that I wanted to take away the hurt, put that soft smile of hers back on her face, and destroy anything and anyone who fucked with that.
A long somber silence fell between us for some time.
I was the one to finally break through it, telling her, “Your dad wants you to call him.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Ashley.”
“No!” she snapped. “Once again, he’s screwed up my life. Do you get that?”
“Yes. I do.”
She started, seemingly surprised by my response.
Fiddling with her hands, she murmured quietly, “I will talk to him. About all of this. But not… yet.”
What could I possibly say to that? She had every right to be pissed. She’d just been torn from the life I knew she’d spent a long time building. She could never