Page 104 of Price of Angels

His stubbly cheek brushed hers. His mouth was against her ear, and he said, “You’re here with me.With me, Hol. Nothing’s going to happen.”

She lifted her head as he pulled back, meeting his gaze, the bright security of his eyes, promising her a dozen unsaid things. He tilted his head, gesturing toward the Dog in the easy chair – the girl’s rhinestone-studded bra was around her waist now; her mouth was stretched wide with laughter as she used both hands to urge the man’s face down between her breasts – and frowned. “Just ignore it. It can’t touch you.” His hand closed gently on her waist, a fast reassurance.

Holly nodded, forcing her mouth into a shaky semblance of a smile. “I’ll be okay.”

He watched her a moment, looking unconvinced, but finally gave a sharp nod of assent. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“Where’s Jackie?” Mina asked, leaning low over the table so she could be heard. Rottie’s wife had taken extra care with her hair and wardrobe tonight; they were using the excuse of a club party to have a date night, a babysitter at home with their boys. Mina was in a stiff blue cotton dress with a leather jacket over it, her hair curled and sprayed and held back at the crown with silver clips. She was drinking vodka rocks out of a short, wide glass, fishing out a piece of ice between manicured fingers to crunch it between her teeth.

Maggie sighed. “I don’t know. I left her a few messages, and then gave up.”

“She came to your house for Christmas, right?” Nell asked. Her throaty, smoke-ravaged voice carried, despite the din around them.

Maggie shook her head. “She called last minute and said she was going to see her folks. Haven’t heard from her since then.”

Mina’s china doll face plucked with worry. “She has to know we still want to include her, even with Collier…” She gestured helplessly.

“That’s what I’ve told her,” Maggie said. “But if I’m being honest, I think I might be doing exactly what she’s doing. Withdrawing.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Ava said, drawing all their eyes. She still didn’t have the hang of this old lady thing, participating as the pathetically youngest member of the circle.

“You have Aidan,” Ava said. “And Tango, and Carter now…you have other attachments.”

Maggie gave her a consenting glance. “Yeah. Jackie doesn’t have any, though.”

Their small, out of the way table fell silent a moment, as they grieved the loss of one of their own, and the party raged on around them.

If she was honest with herself, Ava didn’t like these parties. The raucous, out of control ones; the debauched ones. She always felt safe, because the club was her home, her upbringing, the life she knew best. But there was no appeal in watching her brother fondle a stripper, or having her eardrums blasted out, or worrying – like tonight – that she looked pregnant and ungainly in the midst of such a sex-charged throng, in which she wanted to look beautiful and desirous to her mate.

She’d left off the baggy sweaters for the night, opting instead for jeans and a clinging black top beneath her favorite leather jacket. She sipped water and wondered how damaging all this secondhand smoke was for the baby.

“Ava Rose!” Mercy boomed behind her, his accent extra Cajun. Either he was drunk, or she was in trouble, or he was super excited.

She twisted around as he came up to their table, resting his hip against the edge beside her drink. Super excited, she decided, judging by his bright, glowing face, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s my name,” she said, dryly, biting back a wider, truer grin.

“Do you know who’s here tonight?” he asked.

“I’m gonna guess everyone.”

He opened his mouth to correct her, and before he could speak, a shout came from the other side of the table. A loud, irreverent, jubilant call, also accented, but in a very different way.

“Swamp Thing!” the call came, and bodies parted to reveal Mercy’s Texan bookend: Candyman.

“You son of a bitch,” Mercy shouted back, laughing.

Maggie waved her hands, strong shooing motions. “How ‘bout you both go hug it out and quit screaming over the table, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mercy moved around them.

Candy gave Maggie an exaggerated bow, grinning broadly at her as he straightened. “Queen Mags. Beautiful as ever.”

Maggie smiled. “Hi, Candy.”

Then the big Texan’s eyes came to Ava, a light pearly blue that gleamed bright in the dim clubhouse. “I understand you got married, Miss Ava. Congrats, darlin’.”

“Thanks.”

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