Stephanie found Maggie’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re gonna share,” she said. “Or we’ll tell your mom what happens tonight.”
~*~
Ghost had spent the day making runs – a few bike part pickups, some marijuana drop-offs. The usual. He swung by the clubhouse on his way home to relieve Rita, dropping the cash he’d made for the club into the safe.
“Good haul?” Collier asked behind him.
“Same old, same old.” Ghost shut the safe door and spun the dial back to zero. When he turned around, he noted his friend’s clean white shirt, new jeans, tidy hair. How the hell did the man stay so put-together? Ghost suspected it had a lot to do with Jackie.
Collier fell into step beside him as he started down the hall. “For what it’s worth,” he said, tone hushed, “I think your garage idea is a good one. If you want to bring it up in church again–”
Ghost sent him a tight smile. “Nah. But thanks. I’m okay for now.”
Collier made a doubtful sound, but didn’t argue.
In the common room, Roman was busy stuffing a backpack with the little candy tins they used to disguise and distribute pre-rolled joints.
“You off on a drop-off run?” Ghost asked, more out of instinct than interest.
Roman slanted him one of his more mischievous looks. “Got a load of goodies for some cute little kids.”
Ghost sighed. “Why do we gotta sell to minors, huh? And why do you gotta enjoy it so much?”
Roman shrugged and zipped up the backpack. “Their money’s good as anyone else’s. And,” he added, smiling, “these kids say they’re friends of yours.”
“Ha. Sure.”
“Nah, for real. Some chick. Midge? Margo? Marge?”
Ghost’s heart turned over. “Maggie?”
Another shrug. “Sure. Maybe.”
Ghost told himself not to jump to conclusions. Maggie wasn’t an uncommon name, and his Maggie – he wasn’t going to analyze the fact that he thought of her as his right now – wasn’t into drugs. Surely it wasn’t–
“Got a buncha high school kids meeting me at Hamilton House,” Roman said. “One of the little bitches says this Maggie chick is with you or something – wants the family discount.”
So it was his Maggie.
He wanted to kill something.
“Don’t leave without me,” Ghost said, and dragged Collier along by the sleeve as he headed out to the parking lot.
Collier was already making a face when Ghost turned to him. “It’s her, isn’t it? The one you chased across the street the other day? Jesus, Ghost, what are–”
“Yeah, I’m an idiot. No arguments here. Right now, I need to go make sure Roman minds his damn manners.” And make sure Maggie wasn’t getting herself into the kind of trouble that would get her shipped off to boarding school.
“What about Aidan?” Collier asked.
“Shit.”
Collier looked pained. “You’re going to go no matter what, aren’t you?”
“I have to.” And in that moment, it felt like a true statement.
“Fine.” Deep sigh. “I’ll call Jackie and get her to watch the kid. I’m coming with you.”
~*~
Maggie had never head of something as stupid as going to Hamilton House while the sun was still up. Everyone in the city knew that kids got up to all sorts of no-good at the old mansion, but they turned a blind eye, for the most part, because they weren’t willing to drag themselves out of bed and investigate in the dark of night. But going at four p.m. was asking to get arrested.
“You can’t be serious,” Maggie said as Stephanie put her Beamer in park. “We aren’t doing this.”
“Yes we are,” Stephanie sang. “Now come on. You’re my coupon.”
“I hate you,” Maggie said as she slid out of the car.
“Right back atcha.”
The house looked more frightening and dilapidated during the day. Its front windows could have been shuttered eyes, dripping black mold tears down the siding.
Another car waited in the drive: Stephanie’s boyfriend, Chad. His silver Mustang had a decal in the back window that read: hate me if you want. Loser.
He stood on the porch, hands in his jacket pockets, wind messing with his perfect hair. “Where are they?” he asked as the girls approached.
“They’ll be here,” Stephanie said. She didn’t sound confident.
Please don’t be here, Maggie prayed.
She heard motorcycles approaching.
Shit.
She climbed up the porch steps, ducked past Chad and stepped behind an ivy-covered column. Maybe she could stay out of sight for now.
Or, maybe, she could catch a ride back to town with Ghost. If he was here. Hopefully, he wasn’t the one who’d agreed to Stephanie’s stupid-ass plan.
Again, she wondered if he made a habit of leading underage girls on, and winced to herself. It didn’t seem likely, not given the way he’d reacted to learning her age – but then again, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been proven stupid and easily-led.
The rumble of the bike engines died, and in their absence, the quiet seemed to vibrate.
A voice she didn’t recognize said, “Now what’s this whole business about a discount you were telling Justin about over the phone?”
Curiosity got the best of her. Maggie inched forward, hand braced on the grimy plaster of the column, and peeked through the ivy leaves. She saw three men sitting astride Harleys. One of them was Ghost; her stomach gave a little flip.
“Maggie’s seeing one of your guys,” Stephanie said, hands on her hips, playing the princess for the biker boys. “And she’s…” She glanced over her shoulder. “Seriously? Maggie, where are you?”
Maggie didn’t move. From her hiding place, she watched Ghost scan the front of the house, frowning to himself, looking for her.
“Seriously?” Stephanie repeated.
A hand clamped over Maggie’s wrist. “Hey!” It was Chad, and he was strong enough to drag her, resisting, out into the open. “Let go of me, asshole!” She snatched away as soon as she could, but it was too late: all eyes were trained on her now.
“Get it together,” Stephanie hissed at her.
“Bite me, bitch.”
“Ooh-hoo,” one of the bikers exclaimed. It was the one who’d spoken before, the one with the sharp nose and lion’s mane of surfer hair. “This is Maggie? I like her.” He shot a grin Ghost’s way. “Whaddya think, Ghost? You gonna give her the family discount?”
Ghost swung off his bike and started toward the house.
“I don’t want the discount – I don’t want the drugs either,” she protested. “Just charge them whatever you want. I’m leaving.”
The guy with the hair laughed.
Ghost reached the porch stairs and scaled them in two strides, catching her upper arm in his big hand and squeezing tight. “No, you’re not,” he told her, and marched her through the half-open front door and into Hamilton House.
“What? No – stop!” she protested, but it was no use. He was a lot stronger than Chad. She wasn’t going to stop until he wanted her to.
He finally released her when they reached the ballroom. Maggie spun away, pulling her arm loose and putting some distance between them. It didn’t occur to her, as they stood amidst the cobwebs and wreckage of parties past, alone with a criminal, to be afraid of him. She was furious.
“You – you,” she sputtered, “can’t just manhandle me.”
He folded his arms and stared her down as if to say can and did. “What are you doing here?”
“First off.” She held up a single, quivering finger. “It’s none of your business. And second off.” She let out a deep breath. She was shaking she was so unhappy. “I didn’t want to be here. I got tricked into it.”
A single brow lifted. She was learning that little tic – if she wasn’t so put out, she would have admitted she thought it was super sexy. “You got tricked?”
“Don’t act like I�
��m an idiot.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“It was supposed to be manis and pedis, and my mom said I had to go – she would just love for me to be friends with those bitches. And since I’m grounded, because of the car, I had to go along with it, and…” She deflated, shoulders slumping, arms flapping down to her sides. “I’m an idiot,” she groaned.
A smile softened Ghost’s mouth. “Well, you do tend to think the best of me, so…”
“Watch it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Something fluttering and light unfurled behind her breastbone. But she shouldn’t have enjoyed the feeling. No. She had to stop. Couldn’t let it distract her.
“Did you tell her I could get them stuff for cheap?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“No, that would be Roman.” He frowned. “I didn’t know any of this was happening ‘til ten minutes ago.”
“Not a nice feeling, is it?”
“No,” he said, emphatically. And then some barrier seemed to crumble. He ducked his head, and rubbed the back of his neck, and swore softly to himself. “Fucking Roman.”
“I take it that’s Malibu Beach House Ken doll out there?”
He barked a startled laugh. “Yeah, that’s him.” When he lifted his head, his expression was serious. “Mags, the rest of the guys in this club are dangerous. Do you understand me?” He took a step closer. “They’re not bad boys, or whatever. They’re bad. I know today wasn’t your fault, but I want you to promise me you’ll stay away from them.”
He stepped into a beam of sunlight that fell through the poorly-boarded windows, and his eyes sparkled, electric and frightened. He wasn’t kidding.
Maggie found her mouth suddenly dry. “What about you? Should I stay away from you?”
The muscles in his throat rippled as he swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice took on a rough edge. “You should. But we keep running into each other, don’t we?”
Too late, she realized she was leaning toward him. Into the smoke-and-leather smell of him, the warmth that radiated through his clothes. She was magnetized. The pull had snuck up on her, and now she was caught.
Just stress, she told herself. She was pissed, and a little scared, and trying to lean on the one safe shoulder in the immediate vicinity.
But it was more than that. It was the kind of attraction she’d only ever read about in novels.
“Ghost?” She had to wet her lips. “Will you take me home?”
His hand twitched, and she wondered what he’d almost done – what he’d wanted to do. “Yeah, sweetheart. Sure.”
~*~
She had him take her to Stephanie’s house so she could pick up her car. She spent the ride over – clinging to him, watching the road come at her over his steady shoulder – debating with herself. By the time they’d pulled up at the curb in front of the Monte Carlo, she’d decided to keep her mouth shut. Those girls might hate her, but they’d make a narc’s life miserable.
“You want me to follow you to your place?” Ghost asked when she handed back his extra helmet. She might have imagined it, but she thought there was a spark of…of hope in his eyes. Like he wanted that.
She wanted it too, if she was honest. She wanted more than that. An image of him tumbled back onto the white sheets of her bed popped into her mind and she knew that she blushed. But she shook her head. “No. Thanks for the ride.” On impulse, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you,” she said again, quiet, pulse hammering in her ears.
Ghost stared at her in wide-eyed shock. “Uh…” he started.
“You don’t have to follow me.” She turned around before she could find too much meaning in his gaze.
~*~
“Margaret?” Denise called as she slipped in through the kitchen door. “Is that you?’
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Denise appeared in the doorway, brows plucked together in their perpetual look of concerned disapproval. “I wasn’t expecting you until after dinner.”
“Maureen got sick,” she lied, slipping off her shoes and setting them on the rack. “I decided to just come back and do my homework.”
“Oh…”
Maggie slipped past her.
“Well, that’s too bad.
It was too bad, Maggie thought, that she was seen as the delinquent.
Seventeen
Then
She knew something was badly wrong the next day when she passed Stephanie in the hall between classes and the girl grinned at her. Smug. Laughing under her breath.
She didn’t understand what was wrong until she got home.
She’d planned to change, do her homework, and head to her Wednesday meeting. She stumbled to a halt as she passed through the kitchen.
Denise sat at the table, stiff as a mannequin, hands pressed flat to the table, eyes glazed-over, jaw clenched.
“Mom?” Maggie inched closer, body tensed for flight. “Mom, are you having a stroke?”
Denise didn’t move.
Maggie moved even closer, though every instinct screamed for her to run. “Mom?”
“What were you thinking?” Denise slapped her palms down against the wooden tabletop with a sound like a gunshot.
Maggie jumped.
“Are you trying to ruin your life?” her mother shouted. “Is that it? You respect me so little – you hate me so much – you want to throw away everything I’ve ever given you just to make a point?”
Maggie held out her hand in a placating gesture. “What are you talking about?”
“It was for my benefit, wasn’t it? You hoped to get caught. Because how could you be so stupid as to think I wouldn’t find out what you did?” She was shrieking now, high, panicked sounds building in her throat. “I will always find out!”
Maggie was aware of her father listening, a quiet shadow leaning in the doorway.
“Mom,” she tried again. “What in the world are you yelling about?”
Denise slapped the table again and stood, chair squealing back across the floor. “The drugs, Margaret! The drugs!”
“Oh.” All the air left Maggie’s lungs. She felt like she’d been punched.
“You dragged those poor, sweet girls,” Denise continued, “out to Hamilton House so you could buy drugs from Lean Dogs!”
Stephanie. That bitch.
“Mom, please. It’s not what you think. Stephanie–”
“Darlene Cleveland called me in tears this morning,” Denise ranted.
“You should have told her Stephanie wanted to buy drugs. Not me. I wasn’t even driving – how could I drag them anywhere?”
“I knew we shouldn’t have let you keep that car, I just knew it. It’s probably stolen.” She buried her face in her hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I had no idea you’d turn out like this. After everything we’ve done for you, all the advantages you’ve had. And you’re nothing but a common slut.”
~*~
“Maggie,” her father said, quietly, from the doorway. “Don’t do this, honey.”
That was Arthur Lowe for you – always lingering in doorways, always trying to make up for his silences with a kind, whispered word when it no longer mattered.
Maggie shoved a fistful of clothes into her suitcase. Decent blouses, t-shirts, sweaters, jeans. “No,” she snapped. “You don’t. It’s too late.”
“Maggie.” He took a tentative step across the threshold. “Please. Your mother will cool off. Don’t do anything rash.”
“Rash?” She tossed her hairbrush and deodorant on top of the clothes. “Rash was Mom refusing to let me tell her my side. Rash was believing I was the one trying to buy pot when it was those other bitches instead. Mom’s always thought the worst of me. She’s never even given me a chance.”
She ducked past him and went to fetch her toothbrush and makeup from the bathroom.
He followed. “That’s not true,” he said in his patented, gentle tone. The everything’s-fine, no-need-to-get-upset vo
ice he’d used to placate her since birth. He’d always begged for her patience, her forgiveness, her grace; but he’d never begged those things of her mother.
“I won’t be falsely accused,” Maggie swore. “I won’t.”
When she turned, arms full of her toiletries, he was blocking her path, gaze impossibly sad.
“Please,” he said again. “You’ll lose driving privileges for a few days. But it’ll blow over. It always does.”
“No.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’ll be a stalemate. But it won’t ever lead to peace talks. And I won’t be punished for something I didn’t do.”
“She’s your mother.”
“She wishes she wasn’t,” Maggie said, and motioned him aside with a tilt of her head.
The worse part was that he didn’t resist. Didn’t touch her, pull her into the hug she needed so badly. He just moved. And she left.
~*~
When Ghost pulled up to his building, he spotted Rita. She’d dropped the tailgate of his truck and sat with her legs swinging, jeans riding up to show off pink-and-green striped socks and a hideous pair of clogs. She held a smoldering cigarette between her fingers and watched him dismount his bike with a critical eye.
Then he spotted the Monte Carlo.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Rita said. “She looks younger than me.”
Ghost sighed. “She is.”
“Be careful, Ghost,” she admonished, hopped down, and walked to her car.
“Thanks,” he muttered to himself as he closed the tailgate.
A dozen possibilities as to why Maggie was upstairs waiting formed in his mind, and none of them were good. He was already tensed for action when he entered the apartment – if someone had hurt her in any way, someone was getting hurt in return.
The scene that greeted him brought him to a halt. Maggie and Aidan sat cross-legged on the living room floor, Aidan’s homework spread out around them. Aidan was leaning in close, listening in earnest to what she was explaining, his shoulder pressed to her arm. In that moment, Aidan didn’t look depressed or disappointed, like a boy whose mother had abandoned him; he was rapt. Soaking the girl in. Maggie was smiling. “That’s right!” Laughing softly. Encouraging, being sweet to the kid.
American Hellhound Page 17
