Page 232 of American Hellhound
She breathed a sigh of relief when they passed through the airlock and into the hospital. Safe for the moment.
~*~
Kris wasn’t sure why she’d offered to come. She wanted to be useful, sure, do anything to prove that she was worth keeping around. And she’d seen Ava’s face, knew the girl had wanted to come with her mother, watch out for her, keep her safe. So she could say she felt compelled to step in, serve as a disposable sort of comfort.
But it wasn’t logical. She didn’t fully understand her urge to leave the clubhouse, only that it had been overwhelming.
She suspected it had something to do with Roman, wanting to be close to him. That wasn’t logical either – she didn’t think – but it was instinctual. The moment he cut her loose from the bedpost in Badger’s dorm room was the moment some mindless part of her brain decided he wassafe,good,protective.
As they walked down the long white halls, following the signs to the cardiac ward, Roman fell into step beside Kris, leaning in until their shoulders bumped, his breath hot in her ear. “Why the fuck are you here?” he hissed, angrier than she would have thought.
“Why are you?” she whispered back.
The true answer was that Maggie had asked him to come – Kris figured Maggie was banking on Roman serving as mediator if they ran into the Saints. Or sacrifice. But what Roman said was, “I owe them this. You don’t.”
“They took me in, same as you.”
“Fuck you,” he said, voice raw. “You don’t owe anyone shit.”
When she glanced his way, she found his gaze trained straight ahead, jaw clenched. Furious. Or desperate.
“Roman–”
They rounded the corner into a family waiting room and a woman turned toward them, ash-blonde, stick-thin, magazine-elegant.
“Margaret,” she gasped, tears tracking down her face, and rushed to Maggie.
Kris looked toward Roman again…but he wouldn’t look at her.
~*~
Aidan slowed the truck and looked across the cab, past Mercy and out through the passenger window toward Ghost and Maggie’s house. “Shit.” There was a black pickup in the drive, and a man in a hoodie in the shade of the porch, peering through the front windows.
“They’re looking for us,” Tango said from the back seat. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have detected the note of fear in his voice, but Aidan heard it.
“I spot four of them,” Mercy said.
Aidan did too: driver in the truck, guy on the porch, and two more creeping in the shrubs along the side of the house. He didn’t see any crowbars or hammers – no obvious tools for breaking in. This crew wasn’t out to inflict property damage.
“Ghost said not to engage,” Carter reminded.
“I know that,” Aidan said, tense with nerves. Hehatedadrenaline with no outlet, the way it turned his hands jittery.
He cruised past the house and turned around in a driveway a few mailboxes down. He hung back, loitering under the heavy green cover of a birch tree.
“It would be so easy,” Mercy said, almost dreamily.
Four-on-four were even, if not good odds. But throw in Mercy, and the Dogs would have the upper hand, no contest. But.
“Easy to get arrested,” Aidan said. “We stick to the plan.”
When the four Saints were back in the truck and pulling away, Aidan followed.
~*~
Four dark-clad Saints went into the warehouse and spent thirty minutes, coming back out grim-faced. Ghost knew what they’d found inside: the ratty twin mattress, case of bottled water, and pile of empty tuna cans.
“They tracked him here,” he said. “Somehow. Or else he called and told them he was here.”
