Rider Ghost Rider Novels & Stories

Instead, they were smirking and said, "Hey young lady, you like it rough ya!" Stella's scalp was tingling when she heard the drunkards' devilish laughter. She shouted, "Do you know who I am? I'm Stella George, a superstar. It's best if you don't lay a finger on me, or else you won't be able to see the daylight."

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

“You have just woken up. You should not strain yourself thinking too much. Please rest. I will inform Mr. Oliver right away.” Adrian stopped trying to think. He closed his eyes and sank back into a deep sleep. In his haze, whispers flooded his mind. “I am all alone now. No one loves me anymore. Please, do not leave me.” “Can I give you my lifespan?” “I want to see you.” “Ms. Ghost, please save me…” “Can you take me with you to heaven? Living hurts so much… sob…” Who was she? Why did my heart ache so badly when I saw her cry? And who was Ms. Ghost to her?

Riders coasting to a halt in the dark, in a forest that was now completely black to them because their light amplification was also gone. Xander watched it from thirty feet up in a tree, his heartbeat slow and his skin entirely human. He’d forbidden the shift; he wanted them cold and quiet, ghosts in the machine. He waited until the third engine stalled. Then he dropped. They'd grown up in it, trained in it, run it in the dark for years. The ghost unit riders had expensive equipment that had stopped working and eyes that hadn't adjusted to darkness because they'd been relying on the HUDs to handle that. It wasn't a fight. It was a disassembly.

So I ride, to breathe, think and forget. The road stretches ahead of me, the engine beneath me purring with a quiet satisfaction as I twist the throttle and let the wind drown out my thoughts. But the silence doesn’t last. It never does. The image of that paper burns in my mind, Ghost’s real name written in neat typeface like it wasn’t meant to be hidden. Like it belonged to someone with nothing to hide. Dave Linville. The name tastes wrong on my tongue, I knew it already but I'm so used to seeing and hearing him being called Ghost.

Then the rider lifted both hands. Not in surrender. With caution. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. Their voice came out distorted through a modulator. “Ghost,” they said softly. Everything inside me stilled. Only three people ever called me that. One was dead—Saint. One should’ve been dead—Shade. And the third… The third was an ally long buried in the dark. A ghost from my old life. The rider reached up and slowly—very slowly—removed their helmet. My breath caught.

I am going to torture and kill this piece of shit. Once we arrive at the abandoned factory, Ghost gets off his bike to open the back of the van to be kicked on the head. I can’t help but laugh as Rover jumps out of the van and starts running naked. I watch with my arms crossed as Ghost curses, removing his helmet and running after Rover. If he weren’t going to die today, he would’ve just signed his mortuary needs. Kicking Ghost is something no one has ever stayed alive to tell the tale. “You could stop fucking laughing and help me carry this piece of shit inside,” he says as he walks past me with Rover over his shoulder with his ass exposed to the world to see.

The time was now 1:14pm and she could make out some movement at the glass door which opened as two huge Japanese men in black suits walked out, followed by another of average height behind them. She moved her sniper slowly to the right as the men made their way across the parking lot to their black sedan. Looking through the scope of the magnified glass attached to her weapon, she held her breath as the chest of one of her target’s bodyguards appeared on the crisscross mark, which was immediately followed by the bald head of the yakuza boss.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.