Will was never an emotional guy. It was only those who knew him well who knew how to read him, and right now Maggie was reading an entire novel’s-worth of emotion on his seemingly expressionless face. It was all in those deep brown eyes which stared at her, unblinking.
Maggie slipped out of Celeste’s grasp and maneuvered around the chairs and tables into the dining room. She gave the waitress’s shoulder a tender squeeze as she did so, and Celeste didn’t interrupt or protest. The old woman was wise enough to know what was happening.
Will moved to meet her halfway. Maggie’s nerves began to sing a warning song, unsure how he would react. She did not want to begin this new and terrifying chapter in her life by being publicly humiliated in this place.
But when he finally got in front of her, Will just smiled his gentle, lopsided smile. “Maggie,” he said, quiet as always. “I can’t believe it’s you.” His eyes were searching her face, looking her up and down, as if he was trying to dedicate every detail of this moment to memory.
“Hi Will,” said Maggie, giving him a small and shaking smile. She licked her lips, ready to launch into the speech she had been planning and rehearsing, over and over, just for the moment she would inevitably run into one of the boys from the MC. But before she could, Will wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. At first Maggie only tensed up in surprise, but then she melted into it and hugged him back even tighter.
When they pulled away from it, Maggie realized the entire group of Black Dogs had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the reunion. She didn’t recognize any of them, and doubted they knew who she was. They were simply shocked by Will’s public display of affection. Will didn’t seem to notice or care.
“What are you doing here?” Will asked, though it was more gentle than accusatory.
Maggie blinked a few times and tried to gather her thoughts. The entire rehearsed speech had flown from her mind. “I, uh… I decided it was time to come home.” She finished with another tight smile, “Things didn’t work out in Eagleton like I had planned.”
“Henry didn’t say a word about you coming back,” said Will. “I thought you two were still on the outs.” The expression on her face must have answered his curiosity, because Will made a little “oh” noise and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Maggie lowered her voice, insecure of being overheard by these MC boys she didn’t know. “I haven’t talked to Henry yet. He doesn’t know I’m back.”
Will was thoughtful and quiet for a moment. The Black Dogs began to grow bored watching the conversation and started going back to their own. “You know, there’s still an unofficial APB from the club out on you. Dogs aren’t supposed to engage with you, just report back to him any word of your location.”
Maggie swallowed against a tight throat and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like the old man. Controlling enough to supervise, but too proud to do it himself.”
Will’s half-smile returned for just a moment. Then he grew serious and locked eyes with her. “I don’t want to make anything harder for you, Maggie. But you know I have to report this to him. I don’t know what you have planned for this homecoming… I’m going to guess it didn’t involve Henry and Beck kicking down your apartment door before you even got settled into town.”
“No, no it did not,” said Maggie with a sigh.
“You’ve always been smart. I’m sure you have a plan. If you want to get it going, you need to do it now. Henry should be at the clubhouse. You should go talk to him now, while you still have the element of surprise.” Will looked around at the members in the diner. “I outrank all these goons in here, so I can keep them quiet. But I can only give you until sundown to make your move. Then I have to tell Henry myself.” He blinked a few times and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” said Maggie immediately, stiffening her back and taking a deep breath. “I came here half-hoping he was here to get it over with, anyway.”
Will smiled again. “Henry would never blow his top in Dot’s. Smart girl.”
“Not smart enough, apparently,” said Maggie more to herself than to Will.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be fine. You’re his daughter. No matter what he says to you, he’s glad to see you.”
Maggie returned the smile. “Thanks Will. I’m glad I found you first.”
“I’m glad to have you back,” he said.
Maggie gave him one last small hug and turned to head out of the dining room. Before she could, Will grabbed her arm and turned her back.
“One last thing,” he said, and now his eyebrow was raised, his brown eyes filled with genuine worry. “Jase will probably be there.”
Hearing his name again made a shiver run through Maggie’s bones. Her heart skipped. She felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn’t find the words to reply to Will, so she simply nodded and squeezed his hand one last time before she walked off to face her fate.
2
The clubhouse of the Black Dogs MC relocated twice since Maggie’s grandfather began the club after he returned from the European theater of World War 2. The first clubhouse had been nothing more than a dingy shed in a field outside of the community that would eventually grow to become LeBeau. Once more vets started heading home and the town become more settled, the club began to grow in membership. It was the late 60s when they were finally able to purchase an old storefront off Main Street to hold their meetings and drink in peace.
Not long after Maggie was born, her grandfather and a few other members were killed in a shootout with corrupt members of the state police. The shootout went down at the storefront clubhouse. Understandably, the members didn’t exactly want to hang around a place with such terrible memories, and the townspeople were threatening to run the MC out of town, blaming them for the violence. Maggie’s father, abruptly shoved into the role of MC president, had put his nose to the grindstone, gathered investments and support, and built the place that would become the permanent den of the Black Dogs. It was an unassuming, two-story building set back from the road, well away from the high-traffic civilian areas of LeBeau.
Maggie had been born not long after it was built, and it became as much a second home to her as it was to any man who wore the cut.
Despite the place being almost thirty years old, Henry made sure it always got the maintenance and upkeep it needed to look its best. As Maggie pulled through the open chain link gate and into the long parking lot, memories began flooding through her mind, stronger than any déjà vu she had ever experienced. On this midday during the week, most of the members were likely out at their day jobs or other such errands. The parking lot was nearly empty, but a handful of bikes cooled in front like a shiny vanguard. She spotted the bikes of her father and his vice president, Beck Dillon, but the rest of the bikes were unfamiliar to her.
After she parked, Maggie sat in the driver’s seat and tried to gather herself and her courage. She went to reach for the door and saw her hand shaking, so she killed the engine, cracked a window, and lit up the last of the joints she had brought in her purse. The weed took the edges off her anxiety, but even the highest-grade chronic wasn’t going to fix this. She smoked half of it before she stamped it out in the ashtray and immediately pushed out of the SUV, not giving herself a chance to hesitate any longer.
Maggie had learned from years of watching the most alpha of alpha dogs how to hold herself to gain respect. She squared her shoulders and held her head high, eyes straight ahead, as she walked calmly through the parking lot and to the front door of the clubhouse. She didn’t let herself get spooked at the door. She didn’t knock. She wrapped her hand around the knob and pushed her way in as if she had always belonged.
She did her best not to become flooded with nostalgia at the sight of the long wooden hallway, the framed photos on the walls, the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey. She didn’t even take off her sunglasses as she marched down the hallway towards the den, from which floated the faint sou
nd of talking and the soft click of billiard balls. She stood in the wide doorway and surveyed the room for a few moments before anyone noticed her. Someone she didn’t recognize was shooting a lazy game of pool with himself. Beck sat at the bar with a beer in his hand, talking with another member. It took her a few moments to recognize him as Tommy Castillo. Tommy had been just a kid barely old enough to drive the last time she saw him. He was still a dark and gawky looking man, but he had grown at least a foot and was not the skinny whelp she remembered. Faint sounds of sex floated from one of the bedrooms down the hallway.
“I’m looking for Henry Oliver,” said Maggie. She was endlessly pleased to hear her voice come out strong, not shaking as she had expected.
All the men stopped what they were doing and looked over to the doorway. The one at the pool table frowned as if he smelled something rotten, burning cigarette dangling from his thin lips. Tommy was staring at her, trying to place her face. But Beck’s face immediately lit up and he jumped up from the barstool.
“Christ almighty. Maggie? Is that you?” he said, moving across the den with his arms open wide. He looked like a big, gray-haired Santa Claus—or Santa’s brother, maybe, who took a darker path than the toymaker. He was always a large man, but post-middle age had made him even bigger. Her father used to joke about how unbelievable it was that the Viet Cong hadn’t spotted such a “redwood of a dude” in the midst of their jungles. “I can’t believe it!” Beck wrapped her in a rocking hug that would have suffocated anyone smaller. Maggie couldn’t help but laugh and accept his affection.
“Hi, Beck,” she said, though it came out muffled, stuffed as she was against the fabric of his shirt and cut. “It’s good to see you.”
“Let me get a look at you!” He pulled back from the hug, his face shining and bright, and looked her over. Behind him, the one at the pool table was exchanging not-so-secretive questioning looks with Tommy behind the counter. “What a beautiful woman you’ve grown up to be. You look just like your ma.”
Maggie knew very little about Sara, the woman who had somehow charmed the infamous Henry Oliver and gave birth to her. She died when Maggie was a baby. She had no memory of her. But she knew the MC had loved Sara, and so accepted the compliment with a smile. “Thanks, Beck. Listen, is Henry here?”
“Maggie?”
The sound of Henry Oliver’s voice was still enough to conquer a room. Everyone turned to look at him, halfway down the stairs that led to the MC’s more private and official meeting rooms. Beck moved away from her slowly as Maggie locked eyes with her father. His hair had begun to gray at the temples, and his belly was a bit bigger than it had been when she left, but aside from those minuscule details, he was still the dark, powerful man she remembered. And unlike Beck or even Will, his face gave no indication that he was happy to see her.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she and her father stared each other down. She could feel the tension in the room rising. Maggie had the passing thought that it was perfectly appropriate to begin this reunion in this position—with her father standing over her, staring down in judgment. It was exactly the way their entire relationship had always been.
“Henry,” said Maggie. Her voice cracked, despite her best attempts otherwise. She removed her sunglasses and cleared her throat. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Henry stared down at her a few moments more, expressionless, quiet. Then he seemed to blink out of his own mental trance. “Not at the moment.”
Maggie licked her lips. “Can we talk in private?”
Again, Henry hesitated, making her wait and squirm. Then he finally nodded once and headed back up the stairs without another word. Maggie looked over at Beck and saw an expression of sympathy, but he also said nothing to her. She headed towards the stairs.
As she passed Tommy at the bar, he couldn’t help but let out a whisper to her. “Maggie—hey!” He even waved a little, as if she hadn’t noticed him there before. Usually Tommy’s obliviousness was a bothersome joke, but at that moment she couldn’t help but crack a tiny laugh at him. How a man could be in her father’s MC and still be so pleasantly naive was a mystery, but he relieved her tension and she was grateful. She raised a hand at him as she passed by, and then headed up the stairs.
Henry waited for her in his seat at the head of the conference room table. It was his throne, his seat of power, from which he made all the pertinent decisions of the MC. This choice of meeting spot was not lost on his daughter. Maggie put her purse in an empty chair and took up the spot usually reserved for Beck, at Henry’s right hand.
A few moments of silence passed. Maggie waited to see if he wanted to begin. She knew immediately launching into her story would make her look and feel powerless. She realized then how much of their interaction was exactly that—one of them trying to hold power over the other; strategy; tactics in place of connection.
Finally, Henry cleared his throat and leaned back just a bit in his chair. “What brings you here, Maggie?”
She hadn’t expected anything less from him than straight to business, but the question stung regardless. Maggie took a breath and said, “I need your help.”
Henry let out a little scoff. Her father was a predator and Maggie had learned from him, and from the club, how to read other people. He didn’t have to say that he was disappointed. She could see it all over his face, all over every little mannerism in that moment. “Isn’t that typical? It’s been what—four years? Five?”
“Five and a half.” She didn’t bother to accuse him of knowing exactly how long it had been since she ran away from LeBeau. “Five and a half years next month.”
He scoffed again, leaning forward on the giant conference table. “What kind of help is it you’re looking for? Must be a big favor if it got you back to this town.”
Maggie nodded. It was too difficult to look at him in that moment, and so she stared at his big hands, at the wedding ring he still wore after all these years. “I’m in danger. I need to get protection from you… from the MC.”
She thought she saw his shoulders soften a bit. Henry took a pause and then asked, “From who?” There was an edge to his voice she recognized all too well. She took it as a good sign that he was listening and taking her seriously.
“I…” Maggie had to pause, because she could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she was not about to cry in front of her father. No, not now. She took a breath before she continued. “I was working at a pharmacy in Eagleton. I got targeted by some low-level thugs looking for a connection to get access to prescription drugs. I didn’t want to help them, but there’s just …. it wasn’t safe. I had to get out or they were going to kill me. And I didn’t know where else to go.”
She looked up and saw her father’s calm face watching her, listening. Some of his anger had melted away, and for that she was grateful. She said nothing else, waiting for him to respond.
When he did, Henry’s voice was almost as quiet as Will’s. “You did the right thing,” he said. “No one is going to bother you here. Do you have a place to stay yet?”
“No. I took the long way down and around from Eagleton. I just got into town this morning,” she said.
Henry nodded. “Talk to Drake downstairs. He has connections to a realtor here in town. He can probably arrange a house for you to stay in until we can get you settled somewhere permanent.” He looked at her with a questioning eyebrow. “Assuming, that is, that you aren’t planning on running off again as soon as I solve your little problem?”
Maggie immediately opened her mouth to spew out the knee-jerk, anti-authoritative bile that often passed as conversation between her and her father, but she stopped herself. She knew she was in no position to give attitude, no matter how badly she wanted to do it. And the truth was, she hadn’t planned her future at all, because she still wasn’t sure she was going to have one.
She swallowed her words and simply nodded at her father. “That sounds fine. Thank you.”
Henry nodded. “
We’ll get this taken care of. If these people are as dangerous as you say, and if I’m going to protect you properly, I need your promise that you’ll leave that rebellious bullshit at the front door. I’m in charge here, and you’ll do as I say, when I say it. You’re my daughter, and I won’t leave you with the wolves, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to abandon your family, come crawling back for help, and put them in danger because you’re too proud to shut up and listen once in a while. I call the shots, or you can hit the road and take your chances on your own again. Is that clear?”
Even as part of her was screaming that she had made a huge mistake, Maggie nodded again. Her pride wasn’t worth her life. “Yes. Understood.”
“Good,” said Henry. He stood up from the chair, and on instinct Maggie stood up with him. “Go downstairs and talk to Drake. We’ll get this taken care of.”
Maggie waited for a moment, feeling hesitant. Should she hug him? Shake his hand? There was no protocol for this awkward moment. Henry cleared his throat and walked over to open the conference room door for her, more or less showing her out. Maggie flushed with a bit of embarrassment as she grabbed her purse and sunglasses and left the room. Henry didn’t follow, but closed the door behind her, staying in the conference room alone.
Someone had started up the jukebox in the den, and a few more unfamiliar members joined Tommy and Beck at the bar. When she came down the stairs, Tommy shouted her name happily and grabbed a beer, cracking it open on the side of the counter. “I can’t believe you’re back!” he said as he handed it to her.
His kindness immediately took some of the edge off her nerves. She took a seat at the bar and for a split second, she felt welcome. “Can’t believe it myself,” said Maggie as she clinked her bottle against his in a friendly cheers. She took a few grateful, deep swigs and tried to gather her senses. When she realized her hands were shaking again, she put the bottle down on the counter and shoved them into her pockets nonchalantly. “Henry said I need to talk to Drake…”
PRIDE: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch#1) Page 20
