by Eden Butler
He stands, pulls her up with him. He doesn’t hang on to her hand for too long, and they retreat outside, into the lobby and out of the building to sit on the front steps.
Vaughn has to admit that Cavanagh is beautiful. The summer breeze is cool and the scent of honeysuckle hangs in the air like a floating feather. He likes this place, likes how the mountains are so much more visible here than in Maryville. He likes how the town is small, intimate; how kids ride their bikes up and down the sidewalk, how the residents stop in the middle of the park to talk to each other. No one seems to be a stranger.
Mollie flops onto the last step, hugging her legs. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on.”
He reclines next to her, but manages to put at least two feet of space between them. “I can’t tell you.” He glances at her once, but is surprised that she doesn’t seem angry. The next thought, he feels terrible that she seems indifferent, as though she could guess he would tell her that.
“I figured.” Mollie moves the hair from the back of her neck and plays with the ends. “He’s working a deal with your sister, I guess.” A glance to him and he nods, which she mimics. “It must be bad.”
“What?”
Finally, the distracted stare she’s had, vanishes and she looks at him. “Daddy hates a rat. Always has. There have been a few guys over the years who have tried infiltrating the Compound, but my dad is very careful.” A small dent in her cheek, a slight pull of the corner of her lips and Vaughn guesses Mollie is recalling something that she either finds funny or pathetic. “If he’s working a deal, it’s not against the club. Has to be the cartel.”
“Mollie, you need to be careful. I don’t know anything.” He inches toward her. “I can’t know. Viv, my sister, told me as little as she could because that’s the way these things have to work. No one can know the details.” Vaughn clears his throat, pulling Mollie’s distracted attention back to him. “No. One.”
With the stare she gives him, Vaughn knows that she’s working out his meaning. She blinks twice before her eyes widen. “I can’t tell my friends.” He shakes his head. “I can’t tell them anything?”
“Nothing. From what Viv told me, this is a huge case. That’s really all I know, except that the details have been kept very tight. Not even her assistants know. Your dad and Viv and Viv’s boss are the only ones who know what they’re working on.” Vaughn swallows, not eager to disclose all the stipulations of his job to her. He knows she won’t take it well. “Layla, Autumn, all your friends, even Declan, they can’t know I’m protecting you. I could be easily traced back to Viv.”
“If you’re here, then they’ll want to know why. Especially Declan.”
“Why? What’s this got to do with him?”
Mollie smiles, a distracted, amused gesture. “Because he doesn’t trust you.” A kid on a red bicycle weaves around a light pole, then a street sign and Mollie watches him. “Guess his instincts are better than I thought.”
“Declan is nosy. He’s got some weird hero complex and thinks it’s his responsibility to take care of you girls.” When Mollie laughs, a hearty, loud sound of amusement, Vaughn frowns, getting the distinct feeling that she’s mocking him. “What?”
“You’re not so different from him, you know. He’s not a Marine, but yeah, he thinks it’s his place to take care of us. You, on the other hand, I thought had a really solid hero complex. It’s not surprising given your history.”
“Just because I was in the Corps doesn’t mean I have a hero complex.” She doesn’t correct him, but rolls her eyes and he knows she doesn’t believe him. “I—I don’t like how Declan looks at you.”
At this, Mollie’s humor amplifies and she leans back against the step laughing hard. “Oh God, you’re dumb.”
“What?”
Composing herself, Mollie sits up, holding her stomach. “Declan and Autumn are stupid for each other. Like, ridiculously stupid for each other. My God, he proposed to her after four months.” When Vaughn’s mouth opens, surprised, Mollie’s smile only widens. He hates how much he likes it. “Declan doesn’t want anyone but Autumn. To him, she is family. To her, we are, and Declan protects his family. All of his family. It’s very important to him.” She stretches out her legs, not looking at him. She still wears an amused grin and Vaughn doesn’t know why he’s offended that she thinks he’s some sort of idiot.
“Well, he won’t have to worry about you, not while I’m here.”
At this, Mollie’s head snaps toward him. “You’re staying with me?” Vaughn nods. “Like, twenty-four-seven?” Another nod and he smiles with the dip of her mouth, amused that the temper is starting to resurface.
“Your dad thinks we should stay with your mother. We should go and see her.”
The frown that started wrinkling her face has now worsened and if Vaughn didn’t know better, he’d think there was real fear marring Mollie’s pretty features. “What?”
“I know that’s what Daddy wants, but Vaughn, it’s such a bad idea.”
“She has to know what’s going on. She has to be aware that she and your sister could be in danger.”
“How did you…” he knows she’s going to ask for details, but when he looks away from her and her shoulders lower, Mollie seems to understand. “You read a file on me, I’m guessing.”
“It’s part of the job.” Mollie moves her legs and leans her folded arms on them before she moves away from Vaughn. “As far as your mother goes…”
She shakes her head. “She’s not a nice woman and the fact that all of this will lead back to my dad will only piss her off.”
“You’re her daughter.”
Mollie doesn’t look at him when she shakes her head. Instead, she watches the kid on the bike return up the sidewalk, but he doesn’t believe she sees him. There is something running through her mind, some distant memory that he’s sure she’d never share with him.
“Don’t say that to her.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she says, moving her gaze back up to him, “my mother really wishes I wasn’t.”
SEVEN
Mollie hates her mother’s home. She isn’t stupid, she isn’t bitter. She knows that the home is grand, that her mother’s many failed marriages have been financially beneficial for her. There was the second husband, an eighty-year-old heart surgeon with no children and a large bank account who died just five years after they married. Numbers three and four both had a lot of cash as well—a judge and a psychologist—each of whom left her for younger versions of herself.
The home is the last on the left along a two mile lane in the gated community of Whispering Meadows. There is a security guard who always looks down his nose at Mollie when she gives him her name; something she always has to do despite the fact that she’d lived there since she was thirteen.
It is red brick, nearly five thousand square feet, and is surrounded by a cast iron gate with ivy neatly weaving between each bar. Aesthetically, Mollie knows it is beautiful. There are lush evergreens hugging around the ground-level front porch and flanking the paver walkway. Large Bradford Pear trees, full with delicate white flowers, sit at the front corners of the lot and wide, cedar columns secure the slate roof near the front door.
Mollie should love it here. She should feel safe, secure, but as they enter—while Lisa, the maid that her mother doesn’t seem able to do without, holds the door open for her and Vaughn—Mollie gets the same feeling she’s had since she was thirteen and her mother pulled her through the massive oak door nearly kicking and screaming: she was a stranger, a nuisance that her mother had to deal with. That feeling hasn’t changed in the three years that Mollie has been living on her own.
“Nice place.” Vaughn’s low voice whispers in her ear and Mollie represses a shiver. He isn’t speaking softly because he doesn’t want to be heard. She knows it’s the house, the elegant, stuffy decorations that make each room feel like a museum. Her mother has built a shrine to the opulent; a ridiculous mimic of an English es
tate with rich Persian rugs covering the marble floors and ostentatious, antique wood carved Victorian sofas that look too expensive to sit on.
“If you say so.” Mollie leads Vaughn through the front room, the “sitting room” as her mother calls it, and into the den where Lisa waves a hand toward Mollie’s mother.
Today, her mother’s hair is settled into a tight bun at the back of her head. The strands are blonde, professionally colored and styled, but Mollie notices that the texture has grown brittle again, that it is no longer shiny or soft. She is reading a newspaper, looking through a pair of black, oval-shaped glasses that rest precariously close to the end of her nose.
When Mollie and Vaughn enter the room, only her mother’s eyes move up, to stare over the frames at them.
They stand next to her sitting in her plush, red chair, and she waits a full minute, presumably to finish her article, before she exhales and neatly folds the newspaper on her lap.
“Mollie.” The tone is forced as though uttering her daughter’s name is thick, filthy on her tongue.
“Mother, this is Vaughn Winchester.” She nods to Vaughn who instantly extends his hand.
She takes it, her fingers limp in his massive palm, before she quickly withdraws. “Elizabeth Chamberlain,” she says, as though Vaughn should recognize the importance behind the name. Mollie wants to tell Vaughn she’s only been ‘Elizabeth’ since she left her father and she knows that Mojo would roll his eyes at her mother’s insistence that no one refer to her as ‘Lizzie’ anymore. Pompous bitch. “And your visit today pertains to what, may I ask?” This she says to Mollie, as though a greeting to Vaughn is beneath her.
“Can we sit?” Mollie points to the small, uncomfortable sofa next to the glass table that separates the furniture. Her mother frowns and Mollie amends. “May we sit?” At her mother’s nod, the pair settles down and Mollie can’t help but straighten her back and fold her hands in her lap. It’s training that immediately returns any time she’s in her mother’s presence.
“May I offer you some tea?” she asks Vaughn, but again, the tone is clipped and her frown challenges him to agree.
“Thank you, no.”
“Very well.” Her mother adjusts her skirt, smoothing down the fine, blue fabric over her knees before she looks back at the couple. Then, quite suddenly, with little fanfare or warning, she asks Mollie, “Have you gotten yourself pregnant?”
“What?” Next to her, Vaughn chokes back a cough. “No, Mother, I’m not pregnant. Vaughn and I aren’t even—”
“What should I expect, Mollie? I don’t see you for six months and you come to my home unannounced with this… this man whom I have never seen before in my life. Why else would you be here if not to give me devastating news or to ask a favor?”
There is a pause; a few seconds where Mollie and Elizabeth stare at each other, where the room grows frigid and the challenge between the two women is tangible, thick. Then, Mollie remembers who she is, remembers how she broke free from her mother’s demands, from the ridiculous etiquette and rules that stifled her as a child. Screw her, she thinks and uncrosses her legs, lets her body slouch against the arm of the sofa.
“For starters,” she says, enjoying how her mother cringes at her words and the unsophisticated slump her body has taken on, “coming here was not my idea. I don’t want to be here and I know damn well you don’t want me here.”
“Mind your language.”
She ignores her mother, waving her hand and next to her, Mollie can feel the straight set of Vaughn’s shoulders and the small jerk of his foot as he bounces it against her mother’s Persian rug. “Anyway, something has come up.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrow arcs, but she doesn’t look intrigued or even mildly curious. Instead, she exhales and takes to examining the large diamonds on her fingers as though she is bored already of the brief conversation. “I have found things often do where you are concerned.”
Another quick stare between the two of them and then Mollie smiles, knowing her next words will have her mother uncomfortable, hopefully angry. “Daddy is involved in something.” Her mother clicks her tongue and Mollie cannot help the twitch of her lips and the smile that breaks across her face. “He thinks I may be in danger.”
“And?”
“That doesn’t bother you? Me being in danger? It doesn’t bother you in the least that my apartment was broken into or that someone set a fire at Layla’s office? Or that Autumn was hurt when she caught someone trying to pick my lock?”
Elizabeth sighs, sits up straighter. “I am unsurprised. You do live in a rather shifty area of town.”
“Mother, you don’t have to be a snob.”
Seeming to sense the impending explosion of words, Vaughn clears his throat, interrupting whatever Elizabeth’s response would be. “Mrs. Chamberlain, our worry isn’t just for Mollie’s protection. Mr. Malone is also concerned for you and your daughter’s safety as well.”
“I can assure you that we cannot be attacked in our neighborhood. I pay quite a lot of money to ensure that there are no threats made to my home.”
Vaughn tries again, this time sitting a bit further off the sofa. “Exactly why we are here. Mr. Malone would like for Mollie and me to stay with you until this situation is resolved.”
“Disgusting man,” Elizabeth mutters as though hearing her father’s name is worse than Mollie’s mild cursing. “What has he done now? And why should I be inconvenienced because of his criminal activity?”
“Who’s criminal activity?” The group turns toward the den entrance when Mollie’s sister, Katie walks in, her eyes instantly falling on Vaughn. She moves her thick blonde curls off her shoulder and her hips work with a saunter as she approaches the sofa, not bothering once to look at Mollie. “Hello.” Her greeting to Vaughn comes out like a purr.
“Katelyn, don’t be obvious.” Elizabeth’s reprimand is ignored as Katie sits next to Vaughn.
“What’s going on? Why is she here?” Katie nods towards Mollie, but speaks to her mother.
“It appears that your sister is in some bit of trouble.”
“Are you pregnant?” She leans over Vaughn to finally look at her sister.
Mollie rubs her forehead, patience thinning as her sister’s bright blue eyes darken at her. This is always the way they work: her mother being a bitch, Katie expecting nothing but the worst from Mollie. There was no way this would work. Her father should have known that.
“I am not pregnant. Jesus.” Mollie glares at her sister when she whispers “not yet” under her breath. “I told you, this is a bad idea.” But Vaughn doesn’t seem convinced. Poor guy, Mollie thinks. He has no clue. She knows he hasn’t seen the worst of them yet, but that was quickly mounting. When Mollie spots her sister’s hand inching toward Vaughn’s knee, she slaps her delicate fingers away from him. “You’re acting like a slut. Stop it.” Her sister is about to argue, she opens her mouth, but Mollie silences her with one word. “Dad.” Instantly, her sister retreats, leaves the sofa to stand next to their mother.
“Is he dead?”
Mollie doesn’t know why it bothers her how flippant Katie is. She shouldn’t be surprised. Katie has always acted as though their father died a decade before. “No, he’s not dead. He’s involved in something that might put us all in danger.”
“What do you mean by danger, exactly?”
Mollie exchanges a quick glance with Vaughn, unsure what they should be told. He seems to pick up on her hesitance, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
“As we told your mother, Mollie’s apartment was broken into and there were some unusual incidences with her friends. Mr. Malone is concerned that his business may be impacting your security here.”
“And what’s this got to do with you?” Katie’s quick infatuation with Vaughn seems to have diminished. No matter how attractive her sister finds the Marine, if she thinks he’s somehow involved with their father, his attractiveness would immediately vanish from her mind.
“I am watching over
Mollie.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“Katelyn, that’s enough.” Elizabeth’s voice is stern.
“It’s an honest question.” Katie moves away from Elizabeth’s chair to stand in front of Vaughn with her arms crossed. “If we’re all in danger and you’re sleeping with Mollie, then maybe you won’t care what happens to us. It makes the situation worse. I don’t want to be threatened and not have anyone here to protect me.” As if in an afterthought, Katie glances at her mother. “Or my mom.”
“I am here to protect Mollie, but that would extend to everyone if we stay.”
“And what makes you qualified?” Mollie knows her mother’s question has little to do with any impending threat. She’s fishing, trying to ferret out information about Vaughn.
“I was an uncommissioned officer in the Marines.”
“Was?”
Back straight, shoulders firm like a sword, Mollie notices that the Marine has returned, foot no longer bouncing and his face inexpressive, professional. “My last tour ended a year ago and I was honorably discharged.”
“Did you kill someone you weren’t supposed to?”
Her sister’s boldness should not shock Mollie, but she can’t quell the small gasp she releases at Katie’s questions. “That’s none of your business.”
“If he got kicked out or had some accident, I’d like to know.” Katie again flips her hair and sets her chin up. “I don’t want some mentally unstable soldier having a flashback here in the middle of the night.”
At this, Vaughn stands and Mollie watches her sister’s smug expression falter. “I’m not now, nor have I ever been a soldier. I’m a Marine.” He takes a step toward Katie and the blonde retreats. “I returned after my father was killed in the line of duty,” he stares at Elizabeth, answering the question before she can ask it. “He was a Sergeant with the Tennessee State Troopers and I asked for a discharge. I have six years of active duty and was unit commander for two. I own a business in Maryville and my sister is an attorney. “He looks back at Katie. “I do not have any conflict related issues, certainly no psychological issues and I am more than capable of watching over Mollie and the pair of you.”