Page 16 of American Hellhound
~*~
After a day of worrying and battling nausea, she wasravenous, but nothing sounded appetizing. Ahead of her, Ghost turned in at Waffle House, and she smiled. When you didn’t know, where better than somewhere that hadeverything?
They got a booth in the window, in the corner, away from everyone else, and a waitress was heading back for their coffee and orange juice within seconds of sitting down.
“You remembered,” Maggie said, smiling as she unzipped her jacket. It was warm in here, the air fragrant with the scents of all sorts of food frying, the windows steamed, the lights of the parking lot and street beyond blurry.
“Of course I did,” Ghost protested. “I got to-go orders from here sometimes twice a day for months.”
“You were a saint.”
“A lady wants some waffles and a ribeye, you get it for her.”
The both grinned at each other over the memory, both a little shy and displaced, feeling years younger. Lately, Maggie had felt so far removed from the teenager she’d been during her first pregnancy, but this new baby was proving you never really outgrew those early stages.
The waitress brought their drinks and went to put their dinner order in. When she was gone, Ghost said, without preamble, “Roman’s back.”
Maggie choked on her juice. “What?” she spluttered, clapping a napkin over her mouth. “Did I hear that right?”
The worry and strain pressed into the lines of his face told her that, yes, she’d heard right.
“ThatRoman?” she asked, just to be sure.
“In the flesh.”
“Shit, Ghost.” She took a deep breath, nauseous again suddenly. “What doeshewant?” Another thought dawned. “That asshole killed adog. Astraydog. Did you punch him? Because you should have.”
“I refrained,” he said, grimly, eyes flicking toward the steam-smeared window. “But I wanted to.”
In her mind, Roman was twenty-seven, long-haired, pretty enough to get noticed, manipulative, and shameless. He was probably still all of those things, but that was no comfort. “What’d he say?”
“That he didn’t kill the dog.”
A squeak of shoe tread announced their waitress and the plates thumped down in front of them.
“Thank you,” Maggie told her, and waited until she was far enough away before she said, “Then who did?”
“He says there’s a new club setting up shop in Spring City.”
“Jesus, notthatagain.”
“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ve got Ratchet digging into them. Even if they’re real, they’re small, and they’d be damn stupid to do something as bold as leave a message for me like that.”
In her experience, the outlaws of the world weren’t exactly known for their IQs. And boldness came with the territory. “I don’t want another war,” she said. “God, I really, really don’t.”
“None of us do, baby, but–”
“Someone’s threatening the club. Oryou, more specifically.” A hard chill moved through her and she forced herself not to react to it. She picked up her fork and speared a bite of hash browns. “I know how it works.” She offered a thin smile. “Not my first rodeo.”
“No.” His gaze was brimming with affection, the kind that went beyond romantic love, the kind that meant they were partners, family; grown together like tree roots in the deep, fertile soil. The sort of look that was an apology, because he had to do what was best for the club, knowing she was strong enough to handle whatever came their way.You’re tougher than my boys, it said. “I know it’s not.”
Six
Then
Ghost was going to kill whoever was making that noise. It sounded like someone was hammering something. Like maybe they were beating out sheet metal with a claw hammer. Ringing some sort of Liberty Bell or something. It was like a gong, each blow echoing inside his head, catching in the tight coils of his gray matter. He entertained a vivid fantasy of wrapping his hands around the throat of whoever was making the noise, and squeezing until the guy’s eyes popped out like a cartoon character’s.
The problem was, he’d have to get up first. And that would require moving. Also opening his eyes. Neither of which sounded fun or plausible at the moment.
