“I just told you; you look scary.”
He pushed his shades up into his hair and she bit back a laugh. His eyes were more intimidating than the glasses had been.
“Hi, boys,” she greeted the rest of the crew.
The responding hellos were tired and half-hearted.
Maggie lowered her voice, the laughter bleeding out of her. “Have you heard from Aidan today?”
He nodded. They’d talk about the particulars later.
Ghost turned his attention to the tent. “Sold anything yet?”
“A little, not a lot.” She nodded toward the surrounding tents, and the looks the people in them were shooting the knot of Dogs. “More stares than anything.”
He made a disgruntled sound. “Yeah, well…we’re gonna stroll. See if we can’t be seen being…”
“Less threatening than you are right now?” she supplied helpfully.
“Something like that.”
She kissed him again, before they walked off. “Watch out for Olivia. She’s circling through like a shark in cashmere.”
He gave a dramatic shudder. As they moved off, Maggie surveyed their tent full of unsold items, poor bored Leah and Carter, playing catch with a rolled up ball of masking tape, Harry napping in a sunny patch. Jackie had gone to the concession stand for coffee, but wasn’t back yet.
“I’m gonna stretch my legs. I’ll be right back in a few minutes,” she told Leah. “Then you guys can go walk around if you want. It’s gonna be a long day; we might as well not all be stuck here the whole time.”
Leah nodded. “That’ll be good.”
“Back in a few.” She tapped Harry on the knee as she passed. “Watch the kids, honey.”
“Yes’m,” he murmured sleepily.
“Don’t I just love the sight of a man in uniform.” That’s what Mercy would have said. The words popped into Ghost’s mind as he approached Vince Fielding, and he almost smiled. Mercy was his ice breaker, his Jolly Cajun Giant, who could get away with saying whatever he damned wanted because no one wanted to climb up on a stepladder and stop him.
Damn it, he did love the monster, as one of his most-valued brothers. Maggie was right. Wasn’t she always? He was going to have to get right with the idea of Mercy and Ava together. Both were necessary fixtures in his life. And, because Maggie was right yet again, it eliminated a whole slew of uncomfortable moments between himself and some yuppie son-in-law he despised. There would be nothing but Dogs at his table come Thanksgiving, and that was a good thing.
He refocused.
“I feel so safe, knowing the good sergeant’s here to keep a lid on things,” he said, as his brothers spread out, ranging beside him in the aisle between the tents, forming a loose half-circle around the sergeant. “Don’t you boys agree?”
“Completely,” Walsh said in a bored voice.
“I feel safe as shit,” Dublin said.
Fielding turned to face them with an expression that reminded Ghost of his long-dead grandmother: sour enough to curdle milk. “What are you guys doing here? Trying to incite a riot?”
“We’ve got a booth,” Ghost said, mildly, hands settling on his hips. “You’re not suggesting I be denied my right to contribute to the city’s charitable functions, are you?”
“I’m suggesting someone might take a pop at you, given what’s been happening.”
They were drawing curious glances from passersby and the sellers manning tents. Most of those looks were tinged with open hostility. Even hatred, in the flat features of a few soccer moms.
Ghost lifted his brows. “Worried about us?”
“Hardly.”
“Since you brought up ‘what’s been happening,’ have you talked to the drive-by shooter yet?”
