Page 287 of Fearless

Tango produced the folder and spread it open on the coffee table in front of the reporter, fanning out the bank statements and records of transaction. Malory leaned over it, squinting at first, then going goggle-eyed behind his lenses.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Yes,” Ghost said. “Will you run it?”

“Try and stop me!”

They talked through the article, and then sent Malory on his way, clutching the stuffed folder to his skinny chest as if his life depended on it. His career did, anyway.

Ghost glanced over his shoulder at the security monitors. Malory’s VW was backing away from the front of the clubhouse. He turned to Aidan and Tango. “Where’s Greg?”

All their good humor faded.

Aidan swallowed and said, “He’s in back, pulling housekeeping duty in the dorms.”

Ghost nodded. “Take care of him tonight. He’s our last loose end.”

Aidan’s face was pale. “Yes, sir.”

To his immense surprise, it smelled like food when Ghost walked into the back door of the house. The kitchen was warm, the window panes steamed against the cool afternoon outside, and the air was redolent with the scents of herbs. Not just food, but good, edible food.

Ava stood at the stove, stirring something in a skillet, sleeves of her sweater folded back, socked feet lined up together on the tile, one hand tucked behind her back as she studied whatever she stirred. She looked very thin and young to him, in that moment, more like her little girl self than the grown woman she’d become.

She glanced up, distractedly, as he closed the door. “Hi.”

“You’re cooking?” He went to look over her shoulder. The skillet was full of a bubbling red sauce flecked with chopped herbs.

“Tomato sauce,” she explained. “I used fresh tomatoes and everything.”

“It looks…good, actually.”

She made a face. “How encouraging.”

Ghost stepped back, went to the fridge for a beer. “Where’d you learn how to make that?”

“Mercy taught me. While we were in New Orleans.”

He twisted the cap off the Budweiser and flicked it onto the table, took a sip. “That’s some exciting honeymoon. Culinary school.”

She turned to give him a smirking glance over her shoulder. “I don’t figure you want to know about the other things we did.”

“Nope. Where is the beast anyway?”

He saw the shadow move through her eyes, the way her throat contracted. Her voice was light as she said, “In the bedroom.” But she couldn’t hide the hurt.

“Hm.”

“Where’s Mom?” she asked, returning to her sauce.

“Working still. She wanted to get caught up on paperwork. I’m heading back there in a few to follow her home.”

“Crap,” she said, “I started cooking too soon, didn’t I?”

“It doesn’t matter. You and Merc eat. Mom and I’ll heat some up later.” He took another sip and set the bottle on the table. “I’m gonna go say hello before I leave.”

Ava turned back to him, frowning. “Dad, you never just say hello. You say words, but they aren’t anything like hello.”

He challenged her with his usual dad-look. “The man’s still in my club, isn’t he? I can say whatever I want to him.”

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