Henrietta Abate, the headmistress of the Academy, came in first, her lovely slate and floral print suit still looking as fresh as it had that morning. Every day, her thick hair was rolled in the same perfect curled upsweep, mostly dark with shocking accents of natural gray that she had very smartly incorporated into her style, instead of trying to alter. She had a surprised, almost worried look in her naturally large brown eyes. She held the door open for Muriel, who came in with her brand new Michael Kors bag draped over her tiny shoulder.
“Ladies,” said Bridget with a grateful sigh. She had been worried, just a little bit inside, that they wouldn’t come. The notes she had left each of them were Bridget’s last ditch effort, and usually when plans got to last ditch, their odds of success weren’t remarkable.
“Is this our new secret cabal?” said Muriel with a little smirk. She tossed her bag in one of the big rolling chairs and sat down in the one next to it.
“You could say that. Henrietta, would you mind closing the door?”
The headmistress did as asked. “Bridget, what’s going on? Your note was very upsetting.”
Bridget folded her arms and did a quick check over their shoulders, toward the frosted glass window of the door to the teacher’s lounge. She heard nothing, and saw no signs of movement. “There is something very upsetting going on, and I need your help to fix it. One of my students is being abused at home.”
They both gasped. “Who?” asked Muriel.
“Toby Cary.”
“Oh Madonna,” said Henrietta and put a palm to her heart. “Of all the families. You’re sure of this?”
“I know, I know. And yes, I’m sure. I got a call a few weeks ago from a number I didn’t recognize. Whoever was on the line wouldn’t talk to me, but I know it was Toby. I could hear someone beating a woman in the background. He’s been withdrawn and anxious for a long time—Henrietta, this is not the first time you and I have discussed his behavior in the last six months,” said Bridget with an outstretched hand.
Henrietta shook her head. She looked sick. “No, it isn’t.”
“And this week, I had a note left in my bag from Miranda Cary, Toby’s mom. It’s asking for help.”
Muriel frowned. “Why would she ask you for help? Does she know you know?”
Bridget bit her lip. “I’ve been looking into this on my own for a little bit. I… may have gone a little far and confronted one of the Cary housekeepers in a less than classy way. And if Toby overheard the description of me and my partner and told his mother it was me who did it, Miranda might think she found a way out. Toby already tried to call me, and I’ve tried talking to him about it with no success, but he clearly knows I’m an ally—he just doesn’t know what to do about it. He may have told his mom I could help.”
“If she thinks you’ll believe her, it makes sense she would contact you,” said Henrietta.
“Exactly. And anyway, who would leave this as a hoax? Who even knows?” She shook the note in her fist. “No, I think Miranda Cary sees a light at the end of the tunnel and she’s throwing herself at it the best she can. She may have even been the one to tell Toby to call me—or someone—in the first place that night. We have to help her.”
“We should take the note to the police,” said Muriel, shaking her head with that wide-eyed owl look she got when she disapproved of something.
“No,” said Bridget immediately. “The police won’t help. They’re useless when it comes to domestic violence cases, and that’s with perps who can’t bribe them into oblivion. Calling the police will just make things worse. We’ll lose access to Toby and any chance to help him.”
“She’s right,” said Henrietta. “Bringing in police intervention could escalate his father’s violence. We have to find another way.”
“I think I have a way,” said Bridget. “But I can’t do it without both of you on board.”
Muriel turned and looked at Henrietta, and then back at Bridget. “What do you need us to do?”
“We’re going to have to set a trap,” said Bridget. “We need to clear a path for Miranda and Toby to get away from Stephen safely. That’s going to require a safe house or two, transport and escort, and we may potentially need a pool of cash for them. I don’t know how much access she could possibly have to his money. I’ve gathered a couple grand myself.”
“I have some savings,” said Henrietta immediately. “And I’ll call my sister at the Assault Recovery Center to see if she has access to any emergency victim funds.”
“I can add to that. And we can put them up,” said Muriel. “The new house is certainly big enough, and we’d have everything they would need to be comfortable. Plus, it’s in a gated community with full-time security.”
Bridget smiled. Relief flooded her veins and she took a deep breath, grateful for the incredible women in her life. “Ladies, thank you. This is perfect. If you can take care of those things for certain, I can handle the rest of the logistical details.”
She bit her lip before she continued—this was going to be the hardest part of the sell. That was why she planned her special guest speaker, whose wit and charm she knew first hand could break down even the highest walls.
Bridget pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent a text to Ghost. Then she said, “I have a plan to get them away from Stephen. It’s unorthodox.” She turned to Henrietta. “It’s going to require you to lie, and possibly take some verbal abuse. When Cary realizes what’s happening, he might not put up with it quietly.”
Muriel’s mouth opened. “Are we in danger?”
If she were honest, Bridget wasn’t sure. She knew damn well anything could happen in a situation like this. She also knew a good leader did not pass on that kind of doubt to her troops. “No,” she said. “Because we’re going to be more dangerous than Cary.”
Henrietta raised her eyebrows. “We are?”
“Yes.” Before she could continue, there was a soft knock at the door. The women all turned at the sound.
“Come in,” said Bridget loudly. The door swung open and Ghost walked in, smiling and handsome as ever in his leather cut. Already Bridget could tell he was a lighter, happier man now that the mess with Lucero had been decided in his favor. He had called to tell her all about it after it happened, drunkenly shouting like a kid at Christmas.
He bent his head and asked for Henrietta’s hand, and kissed it when offered. “Pretend I said something really beautiful in French right here,” he said to her. She let out huff of a surprised laugh.
“Hi,” said Ghost to Muriel in the chair. She was staring up at him like she had never seen a man before, and Bridget wasn’t too proud to admit it excited her to watch. She offered her hand to Ghost and he kissed it. “Muriel, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“O-Oh,” she stuttered. “Okay, that’s nice.” Her smile was wide and sloppy, like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Ghost came up to Bridget and wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her in for a sweet, modest kiss on the lips, and then pulled back and smiled at her. They shared a heavy gaze and said nothing, until Ghost finally pulled away to stand at her side. It wouldn’t be till later in the night that Bridget would realize she hadn’t flinched at all when showing romantic emotion in front of her colleagues, because that’s just what Ghost did to her.
“Ladies, this is Ghost McBride,” said Bridget. “Ghost, this is Muriel Green, and Henrietta Abate.”
“Ladies,” said Ghost, dipping dramatically. “It’s truly an honor to be helping you out.”
“He’s helping us?” said Henrietta with a finger toward Ghost.
Before Bridget could jump in to defend him, Ghost said, “Now, I know. I’m not your usual customer around here, and I might be a little rougher than you’re used to. But the truth is that you flawless, class-soaked heroes of education have a monster under your bed, and that monster is counting on all of you around him being too nice and delicate to kick him the fuck out.” He paused when he saw their faces. “Uh, pardon me�
� to ask him to retire… politely… to his private island… never to return again.”
Both of the women stayed silent, watching him, digesting his words.
“I do bad things,” admitted Ghost with a shrug. “Obviously, that’s the elephant in the room. We all know that’s what the cut says.” He pulled on his leather vest. “But I also do good things. I visit sick kids in the hospital, and I give money away all the time, and I make sure our country’s veterans aren’t going without their rum and porn. Ask Bridget, she knows all about it.”
“What?” said Henrietta. Muriel giggled.
Bridget cleared her throat with a suppressed grin and made a motion with her hand for Ghost to get a move on.
“Point is, I don’t do bad things to good people, and I help out good people when I can. I want very much to help Toby, and Bridget and I have figured out a way we think we can do that, as long as you’re both willing to work with a devilishly handsome, but morally compromised, bad boy such as myself.”
Bridget stared at the ceiling so she wouldn’t lose her composure laughing. Nope, it’s never going to go away. I’m going to want to both slap and kiss him simultaneously for the rest of my life.
Henrietta and Muriel exchanged glances, and then looked back at Ghost and Bridget curiously.
“I’m in,” said Henrietta. “Moral compromises and all. The kids come first; all other morals fall second.”
Muriel made an impressed face. “Well, when you put it that way, I don’t know why we’re even talking about this at all. Let’s get to work.”
“Yes!” said Ghost, throwing his fist in the air. “I’ve never worked with such a gorgeous crew before. Ladies, bring it in, let’s have a group cheer. Shout moral compromises on three.” He tried to gather the cheer circle, but the women only looked at him in amused silence.
He coughed with a self-conscious face and stood up straight. “Save the cheer for later? Cool, let’s do that.”
~ NINETEEN ~
Ghost
He didn’t think it was a good thing for a hospital to be bustling, but that’s exactly what it felt like when Ghost stopped in to visit Tommy two days before Bridget’s plan was set to go down. Ghost had actually been stopping in every single day since they returned to LeBeau, but every single day, the stern nurses at the front desk of his ward shooed Ghost away.
Visiting MC brothers in the hospital was always tricky. They weren’t technically family, and even in a place this small, the doctors and nurses didn’t always understand or sympathize with what was going on. So Ghost and the others had been mostly barred from visiting while Tommy got out of the worst of it and started to become more conscious every day. In the meantime, Tommy’s beautiful and strong sisters had kept the men updated, delivered notes and presents, and promised to let them know the minute they could visit. Ghost had gotten their text while he was lying in Bridget’s bed eating cereal and watching TV, after she had already left for the Academy. He threw his clothes on rushed over.
Ghost made his way around the busy hallway and swerved right by the front desk without stopping. One of the nurses, probably out of habit, called out after him, but she was quickly corrected by another. Ghost didn’t even slow down.
When he got to Tommy’s room, Will and Jase were already there, hovering around his bed. Tommy was looking infinitely better than he had the day Ghost saw him last. The color had returned to his skin, even though half his face was buried under mountains of white gauze, and the rest was glittered with superficial cuts that were still red and healing. Like Will, one of his arms was in a sling, and the casts on both his legs made the blankets bulge in funny ways. He was surrounded by machinery and had two separate IV lines running into his veins.
Despite all that, Tommy’s whole face lit up when he saw Ghost come into the room. Warmth spread though Ghost’s chest in a way that was so unfamiliar, it almost stopped him in his tracks.
“Ghost!” said Tommy. “Dude, I’m so happy to see you!”
“Thomas the Tank Engine!” said Ghost, throwing his arms wide. The door shut softly behind him as he entered the small hospital room. Jase moved aside to let Ghost get close to Tommy, and Ghost leaned down to give his brother a gentle squeeze. “You look positively radiant. What have you been doing to yourself?”
“I think that’s the painkillers,” Tommy laughed.
“Lucky dog,” said Ghost. “How are you feeling?”
Tommy shrugged, and there was pain on his face when he did it. “Good, I guess. I’m glad to be awake. For a while there, I thought I was just going to be in and out of sleep forever.”
That actually sounded horrifying. He put a soft arm on Tommy’s shoulder. “You don’t know how good it is to see you awake and talking, kid. I thought I was going to find a pile of beef jerky on the side of that highway.”
Tommy laughed, but a couple of tears popped out anyway, and Ghost instantly felt bad about the gallows humor. He found a tissue and handed to him. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m trying to work on that… feelings… thing… that you guys do, you know, without the jokes and stuff.”
“I like your jokes,” said Tommy as he wiped the tears off his face. “I’m just not feeling like myself right now, been crying over everything. Abuela brought me homemade carne asada and I started crying over that!”
From across the bed, Will piped up, “Counterpoint—your abuela’s cooking is actually worth crying over on a good day.”
“Here, here,” said Jase.
“I’m trying to be serious here, you guys, Jesus! Some professionalism!” said Ghost with mock indignity. Jase and Will snorted and tried to shut up. “What I’m trying to say, Tommy, is that you scared the fucking hell out of me lying there on the side of the road, and goddamn it, I love you bro, and I’m really glad you’re okay.”
The room was silent, but heavy after he finished. His three MC brothers exchanged glances with each other in speechless surprise.
Finally, Ghost couldn’t take it. “What?” he said, looking to each of them. “What, how badly did I just fuck that up? Super badly? Like, the worst ever?”
“No, man,” said Jase with a sideways nod. “That… actually wasn’t fucked up at all.”
“Really?”
“That was downright adorable,” agreed Will with an amused but genuine smile. “I think our Ghost is growing up, guys.”
“Oh, goddammit, I knew I should have just stuck with the jokes,” said Ghost as they laughed.
“No, it was nice!” said Tommy. “I love you too, bro. Thanks for sticking up for me and making sure everything turned out how it should have. I know nothing will ever go wrong with you around.”
“Jesus, no pressure!” Ghost said, raising his hands. “Just perfection. Got it, guys!”
They broke into laughter. The moment was interrupted when the door to the room swung open, and a few familiar figures darkened the doorway. It was the Dogs from Eagleton who had been on the run, and leading them was Lucero. His eyes looked dim and distant, and his posture was far more defeated than the last time Ghost saw him, but he still had that angry look permanently etched on his face. Ghost wondered internally if he had begun treatment yet.
The mood in the room got tense. Will stood up from the chair he sat in on the far end of the room. Ghost locked eyes with Lucero, ready for a challenge.
But Shaun stepped forward. “Hi, guys. I hope we’re not bothering you. We heard Tommy was awake, and we thought we’d stop by and visit, since we’re heading straight back to Eagleton after the operation.”
Ghost exchanged looks with Will, who looked to Jase. None of them felt particularly alarmed. The tribunal had sealed Eagleton’s fate, and they’d only be hurting themselves if they tried to take it out on LeBeau now.
“That’s Tommy’s call,” said Ghost. “What do you think, bro?”
“Sure,” said Tommy. “Come on in, guys.” He waved to the Eagleton men.
From outside the hallway, one of Tommy’s shift nurses was trying to peek over t
he shoulders of the tall bikers in the doorway. She pushed through them with a huff. “I’m sorry, Mr. Castillo, but you can’t have this many visitors at once. Some of you are going to have to leave.”
“Really?” said Tommy, disappointed.
“It’s cool, we’ll have plenty of time to come back and visit,” said Ghost. “Let Eagleton have their time. We can head out.” He nodded to Will, and Jase joined them heading for the door.
The bikers exchanged slightly tense pleasantries as they moved past each other. When Ghost passed Lucero, both men paused and looked at each other, and the rest of the room stopped to look at them, ready for a fight.
Vindication: A Motorcycle Club Romance Page 17