Page 221 of American Hellhound
Maggie’s stomach clenched. “What does Ghost say about what?”
“Prison break?” Ava said.
~*~
The TV was on when they walked into the clubhouse. Maggie carried Ash in her arms, his warm, solid weight a comfort against her chest. He fussed quietly, picking up on her stress maybe.
Walsh was sitting on a table, holding the remote, and bumped the volume up as they entered.
“…associated with outlaw motorcycle gang the Dark Saints…”
Club, Maggie corrected in her head. Though maybe the Saints didn’t deserve that distinction.
The stern-faced news commentator said, “Authorities are also searching for prison employees” – two photos flashed up on the screen – “believed to be involved with the prisoners’ escape.”
Ghost turned toward them, arms folded, muscle in his cheek twitching, face a harsh mask. He was angry, furious – and he wasscared.
Maggie’s heartrate increased every time she saw him spooked like that.
“It was Badger,” he said, voice tight. “Him and his VP. From what they can tell” – gesture to the TV – “they had guards on the take and the rest of the crew started up a big fight as a distraction. Badger and his boy got out in a goddamnlaundry cart.” He sounded disgusted. “Cops found their jumpsuits and sneakers about a hundred yards into the woods, and an empty garbage bag.”
“Someone left them clothes,” Maggie said.
“Yeah. Best they can tell, they’ve been in the wind for five hours.”
“Plenty of time to get here,” Aidan said, voice grim.
Roman spoke up from over the bar; Maggie hadn’t noticed him before. He was drinking Jack out of the bottle. “He won’t make a move on his own. That’s not how he works.”
“The rest of his boys are still in lockup,” Ghost said, frowning at him.
“The ones he broughthere, yeah,” Roman said like Ghost was an idiot. He didn’t look steady on his stool; clearly, the drinking had been going on for a while. “But he’s got other chapters. He’ll pull in out of town boys for this. Then he’s gonna hit youhard.”
Ghost went to him in two long strides and snatched the bottle out of his hand, spattering Roman’s shirt and jeans with whiskey droplets.
“Hey!”
“Get some coffee in you. You’re the reason these assholes are knocking on my door. You’re by God gonna help me fix it.”
~*~
“Baby,” Maggie said, and Ghost realized he was mindlessly massaging his chest, the hard line of his sternum and the meat beside it, like he was trying to soothe his jumping heart with his fingers. He dropped his hand to his lap and let out a deep breath that made his lungs ache. He wanted a cigarette so badly his skin vibrated with the need, but he wouldn’t do that with Mags and the baby in the room with him.
She sat across the desk from him in the office, Ash quietly alert in her arms, his eyes tracing the dark-paneled walls.
Walls that seemed to be closing in on him, laughing at him. A laugh that sounded disturbingly like Duane.
“I fucked up,” he said.
She sighed, rolled her eyes, that move she always did when she thought he was being overly dramatic. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did,” he insisted. He wondered if she knew how close he was to panicking; of course she did, she knew everything about him. She could read him like a psychic. “I wanted it to be over and done with, and I took the easy way out.”
“You took the safe way,” she said. “The bloodless way.”
He frowned down at his desk, his open day planner on the blotter, full of his cramped handwriting.
“You were looking out for all of us. The whole city. Anybody else would have turned Main Street into the OK Corral,” she continued. “But you didn’t. You tried to do it the right way.”
