But Ellisonwouldup his game. His mind filled with images of Maggie, humming to herself at the stove; of Mina, laughing quietly at something Rottie had whispered to her; of his sister, saving a plate for Mercy’s dinner; of Sam…
“I ran into Samantha Walton today,” Greg said, and Aidan’s entire body went numb. Like he’d walked into a blast freezer. “She was always cute in school, but she’s really something now.”
Greg knew about Sam. And he wasn’t evenwithher, really. Holy shit, he’d been followed, spied on, and he hadn’t even known it.
His nervous system fired, and he squeezed Greg’s throat until the guy gagged. “You staythe fuckaway from her. We clear?”
Greg wheezed, gasped. “She’s already a part of the equation. Everyone is.”
“Yo,” Tango said, and was much closer now.
“Meet…me,” Greg choked out. “Tomorrow.”
He didn’t have a choice, did he?
He released his captive and threw himself backward into the leaves, sitting down hard on his ass, breathless.
The moment he was free, Greg scrambled clumsily to his feet and fled, crashing through the brush like a startled deer.
Aidan speared his fingers through his hair, tried to regulate his breathing. He was panting, suddenly, and it had nothing to do with the exertion of pinning a man to the ground.
Tango appeared, his pale face and hair glimmering in the moonlight, jarring with his black clothes. Like a ghost in a dark shroud.
He studied Aidan a long moment, head turning as he scanned the flattened vegetation. “You let him go,” he said, and it was neither a question nor an accusation, merely a statement.
“Yeah.”
Twelve
They were earlier than she expected. Aidan’s text came through at five minutes ‘til ten, and fifteen minutes after that, headlights flashed across the front of the house and bounced up over the curb into the driveway.
Sam’s stomach unclenched, the hard knot in its center loosening as she exhaled shakily. She’d been feigning calm for her mother’s benefit, and was thankful the charade was over.
“Is that them? Thank god,” Mom breathed, hands noticeably trembling as she got to her feet.
Ordinarily, Sam would have led the charge to the back door, but tonight, her mother had finally managed to reach deep and find her fury, and a furious Helen Walton was a frightening spectacle. Tonight, for once, Sam wouldn’t have to play the bad cop.
When Mom opened the door, Erin charged inside, head downcast, arms folded tight across her middle. Sam had a glimpse of a tight top, teased hair, and her own thigh-high boots, worn with a supershort skirt that was decidedly not hers.
“You wait just a minute, young lady,” Helen said in her rarely used imperious tone. “Where in theworlddo you think you’re going?”
Erin froze in place out of sheer shock, head lifting, eyes widening. It broke Sam's heart a little to see the copious amounts of inexpertly applied makeup on her little sister’s face.
With total composure, Helen turned to the still-open door. There stood Aidan, in black hoodie, black bandana around his throat, looking ten kinds of hoodlum. “Thank you, Aidan, for bringing her home,” she said solemnly, and Aidan ducked his head an appropriate amount.
“Yes, ma’am, you’re welcome.”
Then Helen turned to Erin and pointed toward the living room. “We’re having a discussion. Now.”
Erin, wisely, didn’t groan, drag her feet, or make so much as a protesting face.
When they had trooped into the next room, and Sam was sure they’d both forgotten she existed, she stepped out onto the back patio with Aidan and pulled the door to. When she met his gaze, his eyes slid over to the closed door, then back to her, and he lifted his brows. Asking why she’d shut them out here together.
Her heart gave a sharp, sudden lurch.
“I figure you’ve been on the receiving end of enough lectures; no sense listening to another,” she joked, and earned a wide, toothy grin.
Her poor, poor heart.
