Page 107 of American Hellhound
“Do you hear me denying it?”
For Maggie, knowing these women had been around for a while – and lived to tell the tale – was heartening.
“How long have you two been married?” she asked.
“Oh, God.” Nell frowned in thought. “Since we were seventeen. Just babies – no offense, hon.” She patted Maggie’s knee. “I had a crush on him forever, rolled my hair and hiked my skirt up, doing anything to catch his eye. I thought he didn’t even know I existed. But then he walked up to me at lunch one day – we were still in school – and he said, ‘Nelly Banks, I want you to come home and meet my mama.’ And that was that.” Her smile was fond, dreamy with remembrance.
“Was he a Lean Dog then?” Maggie asked. She didn’t mean to pry, but she was wildly curious about the ways women had become attached to the club in an official, old lady capacity.
“No, that came later. He always liked the bikes. He was out of work and did some repairs for Duane. They got to talking, and…” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”
But Maggiedidn’t. How did one go from regular, law-abiding Joe to outlaw, willingly?
“Collier and Ghost went to school together,” Jackie offered. “Collier was already a prospect when we met. My parents didn’t like it much.” She paused, shot a look to Maggie, and winced. “Sorry.”
Maggie shook her head.Don’t be. “Did they come around?”
“Yeah. Dad walked me down the aisle and everything.”
She knew her smile was wistful. “That’s nice.”
“I’m sorry,” Jackie said again. “I didn’t mean to bring up parents.”
“My mom’s been angry with me my whole life. Ghost was just the icing on the cake.”
The women gave her sympathetic looks. But there was something else beneath, traces of doubt. Like they thoughtpoorgirl. Like they didn’t think she’d stick around.
Or maybe she was projecting her own doubts and fears onto them.
Her two whiskeys made themselves known. She stubbed out her cigarette. “Is there a restroom?”
Jackie walked her there, a small half-bath at the end of a long hall lined with closed doors. Muffled voices and thumps issues from behind some of them.
“Dorms,” Jackie explained, nose scrunching up. “This place is a frat boy’s dream.”
Maggie forced a hollow chuckle. “Thanks,” she said when they reached the bathroom.
“You won’t thank me when you get in there.”
And no, she didn’t. It was a combination of truck stop, dive bar, and yes, even frat house in there. She held her breath, tried not to look directly at anything, and cursed the lack of hand soap.
By the time she emerged – under a minute, she was sure – she was starting to regret walking all the way back here. Back where Ghost didn’t know to look for her, away from the relative safety of the crowded main room.
“Okay,” she said, stepping back out into the hall. “You were right, I–” Jackie was gone. There was a man leaning up against the wall. Tall and trim, handsome, lock of straight, sandy hair falling across his forehead. Striking nose.
It was the guy who’d been with Ghost that day at Hamilton House, when Stephanie had dragged her up there. Not Collier, but the other one.
Her throat closed up. “You.”
“Yeah, me.” He grinned. “I remember you. Maggie, right? I’m Roman.”
She gave him a stiff nod. “Hello.” And made to step around him.
He pushed off the wall and blocked her path. “Now hold on a sec. Why’re you in such a hurry?”
Oh God, oh God. This was exactly what happened when people got raped in alleys, wasn’t it? Closed-in space, poor lighting, no witnesses. Her heart thundered against her ribs as she looked up at his face.
He seemed pleased with himself. Rapist or not, she figured he wanted to get a rise out of her. She wasn’t in the business of giving anyone that kind of satisfaction.
