The desert wind screamed past Cole “Ghost” Maverick like a living thing, tugging at his beard and whipping the edges of his leather vest
The desert wind screamed past Cole “Ghost” Maverick like a living thing, tugging at his beard and whipping the edges of his leather vest. At thirty-six, Ghost was a man carved from war, loss, and the open road. Six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, with a thick black beard threaded with silver at the chin and temples, he looked … Read more