Page 99 of The Wild Charge

“Phones on,” Ghost reminded as they headed for the dorms. “Someone’ll send you the all-clear when it’s time, and I want you available if you’re needed.”

“Yes, sir,” Reese answered for all of them.

Ghost continued: “It’s Saturday, which means, technically, we’re open for business.”

“What?” Aidan asked. “You want customers seeing this shit?”

“The nursery does the most business on Saturdays,” Ghost reasoned. “It’s all the way down at the far end – no one will see what goes on here. The other shops are appointment only – everybody call and cancel all of them, but I want doors open, tools out, phones manned.” He scanned the room. “Got it?”

“I can watch the kids,” Whitney offered.

Ava said, “I’ll help, since Mom needs to be at the office.”

Maggie looked less than pleased about not getting to play Mama Bear for all in this situation, but she sighed and said, “Yeah, that works.”

“We’ll play it like this is Lean Dog Daycare, then,” Ghost said.

Ava made a face.

“I want the prospects on usual cleaning duty. You can all eat breakfast; anyone who doesn’t work in one of the shops is welcome to hang around, drink coffee, keep an eye on shit.”

Looks were cast about. Agreement.

Ghost clapped again. “Get to it.”

With a chorus ofyes, sir, the chaos resumed.

He snagged Boomer as he passed, and said, “Go wake up Maddox – how the fuck he’s slept through all this I don’t know – and tell him to wait for me in my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

From the window, Vince announced, “We’ve got black cars.” As Ghost moved toward him to look for himself: “And…one’s a Jag? And is that an old GTO?”

~*~

“Walsh and Shane stayed behind because Emmie and Becca had to take care of the horses,” Eden offered as she climbed from the GTO. “They should be along shortly. Fox is off doing” – she waved a hand dismissively – “Fox things.”

“Yeah,” Ghost said, distracted, because his attention had gone straight to Ian’s trim, stylish figure emerging from the back of the Jag, tugging his suit coat sleeves into alignment. “Ian,” he greeted. “Now’s not the best time.”

Ian strode toward him, early breeze ruffling his smooth hair, sunglasses that probably cost more than Ghost’s truck perched on his blade nose, though the sun wasn’t close to bright yet. “It’s all over the radio, the bloody shooting. Not your handiwork, I take it?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. Too sloppy for my favorite mongrels. No worries, though, darling, I’m not here for you.”

Before Ghost could ask what that meant, an unfamiliar, feminine voice spoke up behind him. An unfamiliar feminine voice with a familiar accent. “He’s here for us.”

He’d never met Walsh and Fox’s sister Raven, but there could be no mistaking that was who climbed elegantly from the GTO and smoothed her slim skirt. She was a model-turned-model-manager, he remembered, and, yeah, wow, no shit. He preferred blondes in general, and Maggie specifically, but still. Ian was the only other person who’d ever come close to looking this glamorous in his parking lot.

Belatedly, he realized she’d saidus, and then saw the lanky teenager with the pink backpack who scrambled from the car, without her sister’s poise, but with the unmistakable, cold blue eyes of this entire, cobbled-together family. The little one, then: Cassandra.

“Well,” Raven said, offering a manicured hand, “you havebosswritten all over you, so I’m assuming you’re Ghost.”

He didn’t know why he’d expected her to be precious and simpering, but was pleased to see that she was more like her brothers: grounded and self-assured. The twist of her mouth reminded him of Fox, and her handshake, when he took it, was direct like Phillip’s.

“Yeah,” he said. “Raven and Cassandra?”

“At your service.”

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