Jupiter's MC Book 1: Ghost
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A. J. Green
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How does one hide their feelings? Ghost, the vice president of the Jupiter MC, is bound by duty and family, while Clarissa, the sister of a member, is forced to live in the life her brother chose. When these two very different people meet, hidden feelings are forced to reveal themselves, and challenges have to be overcome.
Will Ghost and Clarissa be able to beat their differences and make things work? This is a story of love and conflict, exploring whether two hearts from contrasting worlds can find common ground and be together.
Chapter 1
Book 1: Jupiter’s MC Ghost
CLARISSA
Have you ever wondered what if? What if you lived a different life and made different choices? Who would you be if you lived a completely different life?
I think about this every day as I let my mind wander as my feet pound the pavement. The rich green and brown landscape steadily passes me by. The only thing keeping me grounded is the burning in my lungs and the steady beat reverberating through my earphones.
Many choices I made in the past have led me to question who I am as a person, but one stands out more than the others.
I have been in love with the same guy since I was fifteen, and I may as well be invisible to him. He has only ever seen me as a child, and even though I am far from a child anymore, I can’t help but wonder if he still views me as such.
What if we didn’t meet when I was so young? What if we met later, when I was an adult? Would he give me the time of day then? Would I even like him?
It kills me each time I see a woman flirt with him at the bar, knowing that I want to be the one he smiles at like that. I want to be the one to run my hand down his arm, to link my fingers with his, to tilt my head up for a kiss and know his lips will meet mine every time.
If we met when I was a little older, a little more mature, would he give me the time of day? Would I still know, deep in my heart, that no man could ever compete with him?
The questions swirl in my head, and before I know it, my run is coming to an end as the large, gated compound comes into view at the end of the trail.
I reach the open gates and make my way toward the front door of the clubhouse, sighing in relief at the promise of a nice hot shower and a good breakfast.
Greetings are shouted out to me as I walk through the main room toward the stairs. The chorus of hellos from the brothers as I pass by fills me with a warmth that, even after all these years, still hasn’t gotten old.
For a long time, the only person I could rely on was my older brother. Axel practically raised me after our parents passed away when I was young. He joined Jupiter’s MC when I was in my early teens, and I was allowed to tag along as I was a family member.
However, I’m not technically a member of the MC, and I’m not allowed to do certain things that the brothers do. Not that I care. But it does suck that I’m not allowed to train with the guys.
For years I asked to join them, but every time I was told it was too dangerous and to ask the one person I wish to avoid for all eternity.
Ghost is the object of my every dream, nightmare, and thought. When Axel first joined the club, I was frightened of Ghost. He was terrifying with his dark hair and permanent scowl. But that fear soon turned into curiosity, and it eventually led to something much deeper.
I try not to stare at him, but it’s like he’s a magnet for my eyes. And when I think of having a partner, someone I want to spend my life with, he’s the only person who comes to mind.
At night, I see us together in my dreams, riding his bike, my arms wrapped tight around his waist. I see lazy Sunday mornings spent lying in bed, entwined together before we start our day. I even see us arguing about bills and where we should go on vacation.
But he’s older than me and is one of my brother’s closest friends. So talking to him is out of the question.
Besides, he’s never given me the time of day, and it’s pointless to think that he would start now.
Back in my room, I absentmindedly turn on the shower and let the steaming water droplets hit my sore muscles. A sense of relief flows through me as the warmth spreads through my veins, soothing my aching body.
As much as I want to soak, I need to head to the kitchen to help Holly prepare breakfast, the same as I do every morning after my run.
Holly is amazing. She runs the clubhouse, making sure everyone is fed, laundry gets done, and the house doesn’t get too dirty.
She’s the embodiment of the perfect mom, and she is probably my favorite person in the entire club because even though she is the sweetest person on earth, she can kick ass and keeps all the brothers in line.
Breakfast passes swiftly, the brothers in and out of the dining hall on their way to or from training. I try to help Holly clean up, but she shoos me out the door so I can head to work at the local gym.
As I make my way to my truck, the local delivery man, Tim, stops his van beside me. “Good morning, Clarissa. I have a package for you.”
Tim quickly passes me a package before turning the van around and driving off the compound.
I wave as his van disappears around the corner with screeching tires. I swear that man never slows down for anyone.
My attention falls back to the package in my hands. I haven’t ordered anything recently, and my friends never send me anything without warning me first.
But my name is written clearly on the package along with the address of the clubhouse, so it must be mine.
I hop in my truck and reach for the pocket knife I keep in my glove box. I open the box, but I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
It’s full of pictures. Pictures of me.
Pictures of me running the trail behind the clubhouse. Walking in town. Driving my truck. Working the front desk at the gym.
I’ve seen some of these before. Every few months I’ll get a text message with a new picture of me. The messages always come from an unknown number, and I just blow them off. I always thought it was one of my friends pranking me.
But there has to be close to a hundred pictures here, and I know it’s more than a prank.
And then my blood runs cold. Under the pictures is a scrap of cloth. I instantly remember the pattern. It’s a pair of my underwear that I thought I lost at school.
Tremors invade my body as the edges of my vision blur. My stomach contracts with the need to throw up my breakfast.
I don’t know how long I’m sitting in my truck when there’s a gentle tap on the window. I jump at the sound, releasing a small squeal at the sudden intrusion. I turn to meet the concerned but familiar gaze of my brother.
I glance down at the package still on my lap. I know there is no way to hide this from him any longer.
