Page 33 of Monster Mania

“Then make me understand,” Hammer said.

Tears filled her eyes. “If they got that close last night, they could've killed all three of us.”

“But they didn't,” he said.

“This time,” she corrected. Jackhammer's jaw clenched because he knew that there wasn't going to be a next time. He looked at Ghost. His best friend had the same expression. They were going to war. He knew exactly what Ghost was thinking because he was thinking it too.

Ghost pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Monster.”

Jackhammer nodded, and Angel grabbed his wrist. “You need to walk away from me while you still can.”

“No,” Hammer breathed.

“Hammer, please.” There it was again—his name on her lips, but this time it wasn't teasing. She was begging him for something that he couldn’t give her.

Jackhammer leaned down until his forehead touched hers. “I spent half my fucking life watching people leave.” Every woman he'd ever allowed himself to imagine a future with had disappeared from it. He'd told himself he'd stop caring and stop hoping, but then Angel walked into the Madhouse. “I told myself I wasn't meant for this shit anymore,” he whispered.

“For what?” she asked.

“You,” he whispered. A tear slipped down her cheek, and Jackhammer wiped it away with his thumb. “So, no. I'm not walking away.”

“You barely know me,” she reminded.

“I know enough,” he countered.

“You don't,” she insisted.

“I know you're scared.” She looked away from him, and he framed her face with his big hand, making her look at him again. “I know you'd rather run than let anybody stand beside you. I know you laugh when you're trying not to feel something. I know you drink whiskey straight. I know you drive a death trap and don't know when to replace a fucking tire.” That earned the tiniest smile. “And I know somebody wants you dead.” Her smile vanished, and Jackhammer lowered his voice. “They're going to have to get through me first.”

“And me,” Ghost said. Angel looked between them. Jackhammer took her hand, and Ghost took the other. The three of them stood together in the middle of the parking lot while orange leaves blew around their boots. Across the street, a plastic witch hanging from someone's porch twisted in the October wind. Halloween was three and a half weeks away, and Jackhammer had spent the last year dreading it. Now, he intended to make damn sure Angel was alive to see it, and if the Nomad Knights wanted to turn the weeks leading up to Halloween into a nightmare, that was fine with him.

Jackhammer knew monsters—he rode with them. Hell, he was one of them, and the Nomad Knights were about to learn exactly what happened when somebody came after something a Toxic Monster had decided was his.

GHOST

Ghost didn't like being scared. Angry, he could handle. Violent was practically his default setting, but scared—yeah, fuck that. He rode behind Angel's SUV on the way back to Monster's Madhouse, his eyes constantly sweeping the road, mirrors, intersections, and every vehicle that stayed behind them for more than a few turns.

Jackhammer drove Angel's SUV with her in the passenger seat, and Ghost followed on his bike. Nobody followed them. That should've made him feel better, but it didn't. The photograph was tucked inside his cut. Every time he thought about it, his stomach twisted. Someone had been watching them last night. Someone had been watching Angel, and they got close enough to take a fucking photograph of the three of them while they slept.

Ghost prided himself on knowing when someone was around him. Growing up the way he had taught him to sleep lightly. The club had sharpened those instincts. Yet somebody had gotten close enough to photograph Angel without him knowing. That wasn't going to happen again. He'd fucking die before he let it.

Ghost tightened his grip on the handlebars. The irony wasn't lost on him. Two days ago, he would've laughed if someone told him he'd be willing to die for a woman. Now, the thought came naturally. That should've terrified him, but instead, it made everything feel strangely simple. He would protect Angel, figure out who killed Viper, figure out who killed Shadow, find out why Razor wanted Angel dead, and then he’d eliminate the threat. It was that simple. Sure, it would be messy as fuck, but still simple.

By the time Monster's Madhouse came into view, Ghost had already made a mental list of everything they needed to do. The gate was open, and two prospects stood outside. Monster had obviously been expecting them. Hammer pulled the SUV into the lot, and Ghost parked beside him and killed the engine. The clubhouse looked ridiculous, since more Halloween decorations had appeared since they'd left. Fake cobwebs stretched across the porch. Three plastic tombstones lined the walkway. Someone had hung a witch from a tree, and Larry was sitting outside in a lawn chair wearing a black cape.

Ghost stared at the skeleton. “What the fuck?” Angel climbed out of the SUV, and she followed his gaze.

Despite everything, she smiled. “Larry got an upgrade,” she said.

“Apparently,” Ghost grumbled.

Hammer walked around the front of the SUV. “I leave for a couple of hours, and the fucking skeleton gets a cape?”

The clubhouse door opened, and Monster stepped outside. “You jealous?”

“Yes,” Hammer said. “I want a cape.” Angel laughed, and Ghost looked at her. That was why Monster did stupid shit like putting capes on plastic skeletons—for moments like this. Because for half a second, Angel forgot somebody wanted her dead.

Then Monster's expression turned serious. “Inside,” he ordered. The laughter disappeared as they followed him into the clubhouse. It was mostly empty except for a handful of patched members. The bar wasn't open yet, and the women who usually hung around during the day were nowhere in sight.