Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [84]
His jaw slid to one side, and he nodded, but the pain in his eyes, the denial, was all too visible. Maggie thought she might get sick.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” Her heart was a drum, her palms itchy with sweat, denial screaming through her brain. “What’s wrong?” She was dripping, her hair wet, her face scrubbed free of all makeup. Scared beyond anything she’d ever felt before, she started across the living room.
“I think you’d better go to your room,” Frank flung over his shoulder. In polished wing tips, he’d rocked to the balls of his feet. His arms were rigid but flexed, his fingers curled into fists. When Thane shifted, Frank was his shadow, blocking his way. “And you, Walker, take a hint and leave before things get ugly.”
“This’ll only take a minute.”
“I don’t have a minute to give you.”
“I do.” Maggie swallowed back her fear.
“Good. Meet me in the truck.” Thane’s gaze held hers. His fists were clenched until his knuckles showed white, his face etched in determination, though she sensed there was an underlying edge of defeat in his expression, something she didn’t understand, something that scared the hell out of her.
“You’ll do no such thing, Margaret,” her father interjected, though he was still staring at Thane, sizing him up, squaring off for battle. Maggie had seen that intense expression before whenever he and Mitch had gotten into it.
“It’s important.” Thane’s jaw tightened to the point that the skin was stretched over his cheeks, hollows pronounced. Bloodless lips barely moved. “I want to talk to you alone.”
“Leave her alone, Walker,” Frank ordered. “Take whatever it is you’re peddling tonight and leave. Stop sniffing around my daughter. Maggie—go to your room.”
“No!”
Her father’s head snapped around. His face was beet red, his eyes malicious slits. “Don’t argue with me.”
But Maggie intended to stand her ground. “I’m going to talk to Thane, Dad, and you can threaten me up and down, say you’re going to throw me out, ground me for the rest of my life, but I want to hear what he has to say.” She inched her chin up a notch and looked at Thane. The desperation in his eyes warned her that whatever it was he wanted to discuss had caused a piece of his soul to chip away.
“This man’s a criminal, Maggie. I had him checked out.”
“I don’t believe you.” She was suddenly cold to the marrow of her bones and barely noticed the beams of headlights that flashed through the window of the living room, didn’t really hear the clank and hum of the garage-door opener as it engaged.
“He put his father in the hospital a few years back, nearly killed him, isn’t that right, Walker?”
Thane didn’t say a word.
“So you stay away from my daughter, or I’ll sic the police on you so fast your head’ll swim.”
“Frank?” Bernice was walking into the house from the garage. In one arm she carried a sack of groceries, in the other her purse. “There’s a truck outside. Mary Theresa says it belongs to—oh.” She stopped short. “I see.”
Two steps behind their mother, Mary Theresa appeared. Her face was pale as death, but there was a little spark of triumph in her eyes. Her gaze skated over Maggie to land full force on Thane.
In that second, Maggie understood.
Her heart plummeted.
Blood thundered in her head. No, no, no! she silently screamed as she caught the intimate, aching glance between Thane and M.T., the type of look exchanged only by lovers. Her stomach turned inside out, and her legs felt like rubber.
“What’s going on?” Bernice asked.
“For the love of Christ.” Frank’s face had turned the color of ashes.
A dull roar, like the sound of the surf through a cavern, rushed through Maggie’s head. She was hot and cold all at once, and she started denying the confession before it passed Thane’s lips. “No—”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“I…I don’t want to hear it.” She started from the room, but Thane, quick as a snake striking, sprang past her father and reached forward. Strong, angry fingers captured her arm,