Axle Page 9

  And then came my worst fucking nightmare, walking right through that door.

  Her high heels, completely unnecessary given her height, along with her button-down cowgirl look, immediately screamed “sex” in all caps, at the top of one’s lungs, with multiple exclamation marks. Given how easily she had come down to my place a couple of weeks earlier, it was no surprise that she had shown up this way. The look might have gotten the dicks up of some of the newer members, but knowing just how much bullshit was behind that exterior made it much easier for me to dismiss the look.

  Unfortunately, Thea did not have the same reaction to me that I did to her.

  “Hi, handsome,” she said.

  She was far enough away from me that she could have been speaking to a few different people, but none of us could even pretend—much as we all wanted to, for very different reasons—that she was speaking to anyone other than me. Would be much nicer if it was Rose here.

  You fucking kidding yourself? You’ve done so well avoiding her for two weeks. And now, suddenly, you want her here? You out of your goddamn mind?

  “You know, you’ve been on my mind a lot the last two weeks,” Thea said as she closed the distance.

  “How unfortunate,” I muttered, taking a sip of my beer.

  “Unfortunate?” she said, pressing up on me. “Only unfortunate in that you’ve been on my mind and not on my body. How do you think I’ve been feeling without you, Axle? Do you know how—”

  “Don’t care,” I said.

  But unfortunately, pushing her away only seemed to make her more eager for me. Why the fuck does it always work that way?

  “I like a good chase, you know,” she said, but the same desperation in her voice that had been there when she last came over had returned. “It makes me horny.”

  I don’t think I had ever pawned a girl off on a prospect. Usually, it was the other way around. But tonight, just because of how clingy Thea was being, I went to the nearest prospect, made up some excuse about how we had been really proud of his work and wanted to reward him, and introduced him to Thea.

  I didn’t think that that would get me completely off the hook. She’d come back around. But it did give me the space to breathe.

  I looked over at the rest of the club. Butch, Red Raven, and Father Marcellus all had their women they were speaking to. It always was a little bizarre to me to see Red Raven with a woman, as his wife of a couple decades had passed away within the last few years. But who was I to judge for how much of a whore I was? I saw Patriot and Lane sharing a Yuengling and talking amongst themselves by the bar. Some of the girls looked at them wistfully from a distance, but most had heard enough by now to know the two young studs were off-limits.

  I pulled out my phone. Once again, Rose texted me.

  I didn’t know how I felt about this. I’d gone two weeks without her communicating, and now suddenly today, it was like all of the texts that she had saved up were getting sent at once. If I didn’t know any better, I almost would have thought that her phone carrier had bundled up the messages for a single day. I wanted to act like this annoyed me, but truth be told, it...

  I couldn’t say it felt nice to have her be submissive to me, because Thea was more than submissive to me, and she drove me batshit crazy. It was something beyond that. Something, I dared say, more personal.

  In any case, I read the text message in full.

  My eyes went wide. I couldn’t stay here.

  I found Lane and Patriot standing by themselves still and hurried over.

  “Axle,” Lane said, holding his beer forward as if offering a cheers.

  “We’ve got to get to Brewskis. Right now.”

  Patriot arched an eyebrow.

  “Everything all good, man?”

  “No,” I said. “Friend of mine is going to drink there alone. She’s going to get swallowed alive by the Saints.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I was, unfortunately.

  Rose might not have known the reputation Brewskis had, but everyone who had been in town for longer than three weeks sure did. It was well understood that Brewskis was where the bikers went to drink. If you went there on, say, a Tuesday night at eight in the evening, you might avoid trouble, but showing up on a Friday night was just begging for crime.

  “Fuck, and she’s a friend of yours?”

  “Friend enough.”

  “Alright, let’s not waste any more time,” Lane said. “Patriot, you good to drive?”

  “Good enough.”

  I was already out the door as soon as I heard that. I didn’t like Rose’s constant badgering, and I was sure as hell going to give her a fucking earful when I got her out of there. But I wouldn’t have wished any of my exes a night in Brewskis—I wouldn’t have wished it on Thea, annoying as she was—and aside from anyone in the Fallen Saints, I wouldn’t have wished any of my personal enemies a night at that bar. There was just too much that could go wrong.

  I just hoped that too much had not yet gone wrong.

  As soon as Lane, Patriot, and I pulled up to the bar, I noticed that Rose’s car was indeed parked outside. Unfortunately, this didn’t guarantee anything to me. If the Saints had taken her back to their headquarters, her car would still be here.

  None of us said a word as I dismounted my bike and Patriot pulled up in a van. We knew violence was unlikely, but it was unlikely in a weird way. Both sides desperately wanted to keep the bar intact, but some nights, it felt like both sides were just itching for an excuse to burn the place down and take down the enemy with them. We’d hear it from them, and we’d give it right back.

  But boy, was it going to be tense.

  I got to the door and swung it open and nearly delivered the first blow at what I saw.

  Rose was about five feet away from me. Two of the Saints hovered near her, with one forcefully grabbing her arm. Two were near the back, their hands going straight to their hip pockets at the sight of the three of us. Jess, the bartender of the night, was as far away from everything as possible, the only thing she really could do without getting herself killed.

  “Reaper scum,” one of the Saints closest to Rose said. “Don’t you have some party of yours to attend to?”

  Shit. Rat told them that too?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lane said. “She’s a friend of ours. She’s coming home with us.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” the man grabbing Rose said. “We’re going to show her a good time, and she’s already looking forward to coming home with us. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

  “My name is not sweetie,” Rose said, yanking her arm away.

  But the other man put his arm around Rose’s waist. I stepped forward. Lane had to prevent me from moving forward. And let’s just say it was a damn good thing that he did.

  Because at that moment, out of the bathroom, none other than Lucius Sartor, the founder of the Fallen Saints, emerged. He had on the same wicked smile that seemed permanently etched on his face, but as soon as he saw the three of us, a scowl replaced it. Everyone at the bar, from Jess to the other Fallen Saints to even Rose, picked up on this shift in temperament and stepped back. Patriot and Lane flanked me.

  If ever there was a night that Brewskis would burn to the ground, this was it.

  “How unexpected,” Lucius said, walking very slowly. Though some tunes played in the background, the noise was always soft, and it was so much so now that it was as if Lucius was speaking in silence. “I take my friends here on a night when I know no Reapers will show up, and the black Prince Charming has arrived.”

  “Watch your tongue, Lucius,” I warned.

  All it took was one racial crack for me to lose my cool. Truth be told, I was itching for an excuse to shoot him dead. I’d be dead in a matter of seconds as well, but at least the Fallen Saints would be gone too.

  You know they wouldn’t. Ideologies don’t die.

  “No? My n… ear and dear friend?” he said, taunting me with the idea th
at he might drop the worst word “accidentally.” “I don’t think so. I have never watched my tongue in my life, and it has not cost me anything. Perhaps you are aware of what might happen if you try and play hero here.”

  “We’re here for Rose,” I said.

  “Ah, that’s her name,” Lucius said, that fucking annoying smirk returning. “Yes, such a fine and gentlemanly move by a man who considers himself a Reaper. That’s so generous. Tell me, Rose, does this… this man value you? Does he love you? Or are you one of his girls that he has said he would call back but never does? Are you one of the girls that thinks you mean something to him, only to realize that his actions suggest he sees you as nothing more than a piece of meat?”

  God, I really hoped Rose had the same level of awareness about Lucius as we did. I could see fear etched on her face, but from a certain point of view, Lucius wasn’t wrong.

  “I know this man better than anyone in this room,” Rose said. “He and I go back years. He might act tough and gruff, but I know he cares for me. I know he loves me.”

  I really fucking hated that what Rose was saying felt as much like a harsh unearthing of the truth as it did a way to get out of a violent, dangerous situation. I really hated that I couldn’t call her out for it right now, either, not without putting our lives in peril.

  “Ah, so a lover’s quarrel has brought you here. Perhaps you thought you would meet real men who treated you right.”

  Lucius gave a throaty, evil laugh. It was in control, too much in control. His laugh haunted us and taunted us whenever a strike came.

  “Truth be told, we do have you outnumbered, and there would be nothing more rewarding than to kill all of you here right now,” Lucius said. “But I suppose that you have some of your, ahem, homies from Comptom coming to help out these days, and I would like at some point to not have to worry if I will be the victim of an interracial hate crime.”

  God, how I wanted to rip Lucius’ guts out and kill him. How fucking evil and crass he was.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will allow her to leave. Consider it a gift of my kindness.”

  It’s a gift of nothing.

  “But be warned,” Lucius said, this time looking at Rose. “Do not come here again with the intent of toying with my men. If you do so again, I will not be so generous.”

  I didn’t wait to hear anything else. I went over, took Rose by the arm—a little more forcefully than I normally might have, but the situation dictated I seize her—and led her outside. Patriot and Lane were right behind me.

  “We gotta get back to the club and warn everybody,” Lane said, urgency in his voice.

  Rose was silent, trying to keep up with me. I was taking her to my bike, taking her home, and then heading back to the club. And I was going to make sure that Rose did not do anything that would ever put her within a mile of this shithole.

  “The only reason he let us go was so he could order a strike on our base,” he said. “We gotta go.”

  “They’ll get there before we do, man,” Patriot said. “We gotta tell someone.”

  “But who? We tell the wrong person, and no one’s going to know—”

  We had to do it counter-intuitively. We couldn’t inform one of the officers, pick wrong, and watch a bunch of people die. We had to pick a club member that we knew would be loyal. And just as Lane was loyal because of his father’s stature in the club, I knew who would be.

  “Tell Pink Raven,” I said.

  “Pink Raven?” both of them said in surprise.

  “Pink Raven is fiercely loyal because of his father,” I said. “He’ll accidentally inform the rat as he spreads word around. But if he tells enough people, it won’t matter.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Just fucking call him!”

  Lane got the hint. He may have been President, but I knew a hell of a lot more as a VP who had military experience.

  “I’m taking her home, and then I’ll join you two,” I said. “In the meantime, call Pink Raven and do whatever the hell you have to to ensure club safety.”

  I left the rest up to Patriot and Lane. They weren’t as experienced as I was, but they weren’t kids. They knew how to handle themselves and club business.

  I, however, nevertheless felt like I was dealing with a petulant teenager right now.

  “Get on the back of the bike,” I said to Rose.

  “But my car—”

  “Stays here,” I growled. “If you’re lucky, it’ll still be intact in the morning.”

  “But I need—”

  “Shut up!”

  I had never seen Rose look at me with such fear in her eyes as now. It was honestly a little scary to realize what sort of power and control I could have over her, but that was a reflection for another day.

  “You are so damn lucky you texted me. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if the Saints had taken you away from here, and if I don’t want to think about it, you don’t want to think about it. I’m taking you home. Your car does not matter right now. Understood?”

  Rose nodded meekly. I got on my bike and waited for her to wrap her arms around me. She was shaking, trembling even, nervous at how I might react, but now that she was with me, she was safe. I would give her an earful when we got back to her place, but for now, I didn’t much care.

  “Squeeze my left side if you want me to go left, right if you want right. Otherwise, I’ll keep going straight.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to confirm. If we wound up in the wrong place, I was taking her home to my house. That wasn’t indicative of some secret plan to have her for myself. It was simply a sign of my impatience that I wasn’t going to drive all around Springsville, trying to find her mysterious address.

  I watched Lane and Patriot drive off, and then I did the same, turning back only to see Lucius smoking outside, a smug look on his face. He probably figured with the three of us away, he had an easy potshot at the club headquarters. And maybe he did, but that didn’t mean that we wouldn’t fight back.

  Thankfully, Rose had actually listened to my instructions. Even though she held on for dear life and squeezed so hard normally I could barely breathe, I could pick up on which direction she wanted to go well enough. The drive down to her apartment was safe and smooth, although seeing the place she lived in was kind of stunning from what she had come from.

  I parked and let her get off.

  “Don’t you ever fucking go to Brewskis without one of us,” I said. “And don’t you dare ever contact me again.”

  “LeCharles—”

  “I have to go.”

  “Please!”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “LeCharles, please…”

  I’d heard her beg. I’d heard her plead. I’d heard her supplicate herself to me.

  But I had never heard such a terrifying mix of sorrow and begging as now. It was... tragic, really. I felt awful hearing her sound like this.

  “Please, just walk me back upstairs.”

  I grimaced. I wanted to, but—

  My phone buzzed. It was Lane.

  “Saints tried to attack. Held ‘em off. No casualties, just couple bullet holes in the building. They didn’t think we’d be ready. Guess Pink Raven is not it.”

  That made me breathe a little bit easier. The worst had passed, making it unlikely the Saints would attack again tonight. It also gave me the space to help Rose upstairs if I wanted to.

  And, well, damnit...

  “I’m walking you upstairs,” I said. “And that. Is. Fucking. It.”

  I killed the bike, shaking my head at myself. This wasn’t going to be “just it.” I knew myself well enough to know that wouldn’t be just it. I didn’t think this meant I was suddenly going to sleep with her, but going up to a girl’s apartment like this was rarely a “just it” deal.

  Nevertheless, I walked right behind her, protecting her from any lingering bad element. Although there were no Fallen Saints around that I could see, I could still
tell the place was not the nicest part of town. I could hear people arguing in one of the apartments, a couple of homeless people were outside, and some TV sets were playing far too loudly. To see that Rose had fallen from where we once were, two young adults living in the prime of our lives, to this...

  Well, honestly, again, it was just tragic.

  I was beginning to realize that perhaps Rose was suffering far more than I had ever figured. Maybe I just didn’t understand Rose as much as I would have liked to. Maybe she had changed as a person, I could see that, but if I couldn’t given her credit for changing while in the worst part of her life...

  Credit wasn’t the right word. But seeing this place and seeing how a girl I had once loved had fallen to this level made it difficult to find the right vocabulary.

  We got to her door and paused. I waited for her to grab her key and then heard quick footsteps inside.

  “Hold up,” I said, reaching for my gun.

  “Relax,” she said, putting a hand on my arm and lowering my hand. “It’s just Shiloh.”

  What? Who the hell is Shiloh?

  “You can meet him if you want. He’s a great guy.”

  “Shiloh?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  But as soon as Rose entered the door and crouched down, I realized how ridiculous I must have looked reaching for my pistol. Shiloh wasn’t some strange booty call waiting at home. He wasn’t a son that Rose had neglected to tell me about.

  He was just an incredibly goofy-looking, friendly German Shepherd.

  “Oh,” I said.

  There was about only one thing that could get me to act mushy and sweet and over the top. And that thing was staring right in front of me.

  A good boy.

  “Hello, little Shiloh!” I said, crouching down and petting his ears as he sniffed me very carefully. “Hi there, buddy! How are you?”

  Rose watched with stunned disbelief. In fact, for several seconds, she couldn’t muster any words, only struggling to get half-words out. I heard her, but I was so obsessed with the dog in front of me, I didn’t say anything to her.