Page 168 of American Hellhound
“You came without me, though.”
“You’ve been an ass. Don’t try to turn this back on me,” she said, scowling back. He might look scary, sure, but he didn’t scareher; she wasn’t going to let him think it.
“Guys,” Collier said, appearing in front of them. “We should get a move on. We’ve only got–”
There was a crash back toward the kitchen. A sound like a door being kicked in.
Ghost’s arm dropped to her waist and he grabbed her, spun her around behind him so fast and so forcefully her feet left the ground for a moment. He put her at his back – she grabbed onto the back of his cut with both hands to steady herself, breath caught in her throat – and drew a big, shiny handgun from his shoulder holster. Collier drew too, she noticed, both their weapons trained on the mouth of the rear hallway.
More crashing, a few grunts, curses, scuff of boots over floorboards. And then Three men emerged: two rough-cut boys in coveralls holding guns on Roman, who they held by the arms. His right eye was swollen shut, angry red and already starting to bruise.
“Shit,” Ghost breathed.
A fourth man, gray and grizzled, stepped around the tableau, grinning. “Ha!” he shouted. “Look what we found out back. Two hours, my ass.” He hawked and spat a tobacco-colored glob on the floor.
“Guess he didn’t run as far as I thought,” Ghost said.
The man laughed. “Guess not. Fuck you, Ghost. Be glad I don’t shoot you.”
And then they were gone, dragging Roman with them, shuffling and cursing their way back down the hall.
“Ghost!” Roman called – Maggie recognized his voice.
Ghost shuddered, the movement rippling through her hands, up her arms. But he didn’t go after them.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit,shit.”
“We can’t,” Collier said. “There’s just the two of us.”
“Iknowthat. Shit.Fuck.”
In the silence that followed, Maggie could hear her heartbeat inside her ears, the rough scrape of both boys breathing.
“We have to go after him,” Ghost said.
“Yeah,” Collier said.
“That crew still have that big old house off Chancellor Street?”
“Yeah. Think so.”
“That’s where they’ll take him, then.”
“Yeah. Jesus.”
“Ghost,” Maggie said, finally finding her voice.
“Come on.” He took her hand in his – the one not holding the gun – and headed for the front door, towing her along. Collier fell in behind them and they hurried out, almost jogging, out the door, across the porch, down the steps.
Maggie glanced back over her shoulder once, toward the glowing, decorated, terrifying face of the house. Its generator hummed. Someone would come back and shut it all off. Probably. Maybe. Who cared.
They hustled up the dark street to the driveway where she’d left the Monte Carlo. Three bikes were lined up beside her car.
“Ghost,” Collier said, “we can’t take her.”
“I know.”
He turned, then, hand releasing hers so he could cup her face. The moon was almost full and it caught his eyes, a cool, animal shine in the dark. She could smell sweat and fear on him. He breathed hard, chest heaving.
