After, she ignored Fielding’s condolences and trooped from the room without acknowledging him. Maggie followed in more boisterous fashion, telling Fielding they would be fighting the school’s decision, that she expected the PD to reinforce Ava’s story that she hadn’t been the one to start the fight. She roped an arm around Ava’s waist and steered her from the squad room to the lobby, where Ghost waited, hands on his hips, looking pissed-off in his usual, composed fashion.
Ava ducked her head, not wanting to meet his gaze.
“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin with a knuckle. His tan, lined face was fiercely attentive. “Did you hit the bitch hard?”
Ava took a shaky breath. “I broke her nose.”
“Did she hurt you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
A scant, fast smile graced his mouth. “Good girl.” He kissed her forehead. “Go wait out front and your mom and I’ll be out in a sec.”
Maggie kissed the side of her head. “Love you, sweetie.”
She was glad to get away from them, and step outside in the cool, covering dark of night. She folded her arms against the chill and moved to stand at the top of the precinct steps, staring across the lamppost-studded street toward the benighted city.
She should have known she wasn’t alone. But in her current rattled state, it took a full four seconds before she detected the presence of a tall shadow propped against one of the pillars of the low stone wall, watching her.
She knew it was Mercy before he said, “TKO in round one. I’m impressed.” And stepped into the light.
He’d put a black hooded sweatshirt on over his sleeveless tee, under his cut, and it made him look taller, bigger, darker and more sinister. Ava’s heart fluttered, shaking off its funk and making itself known.I want him, her heart said.I want whatever he’s willing to give. Pathetic. But the truth was, after the night she’d had, there was no one she would rather see. She craved the comfort of his big arm and the familiar smell of his sweatshirt, like when she’d been a little girl and cuddled up beside him.
“I got ten days OSS,” she said, glumly, “don’t be impressed with that.” She sat down on the top step and hugged herself, the breeze playing with her hair.
Mercy moved to sit beside her, his knees jacked up by his long legs, his shadow enveloping her. He sat too close – closer than a single man should have sat beside a single girl and still tried to pretend things were just friendly. He’d been that close to her for years, but suddenly, it wasn’t appropriate anymore, not when she wanted him even closer.
He didn’t seem to notice. “What’s OSS?”
“Out of school suspension.”
“Huh. Shame I dropped out in the eighth grade. I mighta enjoyed that.” He bumped her shoulder with his elbow, grinning.
Ava didn’t smile back. “I have to ask you something. But I don’t know if you’ll tell me the truth.”
He hid it well, but by the lights of the precinct shining through the glass front doors, she watched something akin to panic flare in his eyes. She knew, with a grab in her stomach, what he thought she was about to ask. And it saddened her to see his anxiety. He knew how she felt, and he was dreading the day she told him. He wouldn’t distance himself, wouldn’t leave her alone and set up any kind of boundary – no, how could he torture her that way? But he was afraid of her love; afraid of the day she turned it loose and let it slide off her tongue.
“Mason had some kind of colored tablet,” she pressed on, forcing herself not to think about the way he was manipulating her. “It looked like candy, and it sent him into a full-blown seizure. He said he bought it from Dad. From the club.” She swallowed her devastation as his panic was replaced with visible relief and a new interest. “Did he?”
He shook his head. “The Dogs don’t sell drugs,” he repeated the old mantra, the assertion she’d thrown at Mason earlier.
“I know, I know,” she said, waving away the old tired words. “But I’m askingyou, Merc. Did the club sell that crap to him?” She glanced up at him with her head tilted back, feeling vulnerable and small. You,Merc, because you’re you and I’m me, and what’s happening to us?
He grew serious, studying her face a moment; she felt the touch of his eyes against her brow, her eyes, her nose…her mouth. If she just stretched upward…but no. She couldn’t. He’d never allow it.
“No,” he said. “We didn’t sell him that shit.”
“But you know something about it,” she pressed. “You’re not a good liar.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed…and then he glanced away and he smiled a false smile. “Ah,fillette, you know I can’t talk to you about that shit.”
She put her hand over the back of his, where it rested along the inside of his thigh. “The Stephens are a powerful, dangerous family in this town. They could make big trouble for the club.”
“How ‘bout you let us worry about that, alright?” His gaze moved down, to her hand. On his thigh.
Oh, shit, what was she doing?
Before she could pull away, he turned his hand over, capturing her slender fingers within his, trapping them gently in his closing palm. He had so many calluses, all the pads and planes rough from years of hard work and riding.
