Page 43 of Prodigal Son

Twelve

Axelle was no stranger to being left behind. When she was little, Daddy was always leaving; short little trips. And then Mama left and never came back. The slap of the screen door shutting that last time, Mama’s silhouette straight-shouldered on the other side, sun hat hiding her face, still haunted her dreams. There were some things you never got over, and your mother throwing all her earthly possessions in the trunk of the Buick and driving off when you were seven was one of them.

Daddy tried to do better after that. She didn’t begrudge him his efforts. He stopped driving, which always made him miserable, but he filled the free hours between diner jobs and construction gigs with long hours in their garage, poring over the guts of a Fastback, or a Charger, or an Impala with her until she could diagnose a knock in the engine as well as him – maybe better, since her ears were sharper. He taught her how to drive; taped Styrofoam blocks to her feet so she could reach the pedals. Taught her how to clutch, and shift, and be the first one off the line.

She thought they were happy; looking back, she recalled the constant sadness in his eyes.

Friends left, and boyfriends left, but nothing cut quite as deeply as parents leaving. After Daddy died, she’d assumed she’d developed a tolerance for abandonment.

Eden leaving her here with these assholes stung more than it should have.

The pub on the ground floor of the MC headquarters – Baskerville Hall the hanging sign out front proclaimed it, which she had to admit was charming – was full of what looked like a civilian lunch crowd. A few suits, some day laborers, college age kids. A mix of regular folks filling up the place with murmuring voices and orders of deep-fried pub food. It surprised her, to be honest, seeing an illegal organization running a legal business like this with such a deft hand.

Then again, the Dogs were good at what they did. They handled themselves…unlike her dad.

“What can I getcha, lovey?” the bartender asked the second she slid onto a stool.

He wasn’t wearing his cut, but she recognized him as a Dog. One of the young prospects. She said, “A bartender who doesn’t call me ‘lovey.’”

“Ooh,” he chuckled. “Careful with that tongue, pet. There’s plenty of guys around here who might like you to use it on them.”

Before she could respond – and oh was she ever going to respond – someone climbed onto the stool next to her and said, “Fuck off, Luke. Go get the lady a sandwich.”

Albie.

The prospect did indeed fuck off, and Axelle turned a frown on her would-be rescuer. “Gee, thanks.”

He had the decency to look chagrined. At least a little. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“I didn’t ask you to step in.”

“Yeah, well…” He stared at the back of the bar, the bottles lined up in orderly rows. His expression didn’t change – mouth still pressed into that neutral line that managed to look mildly displeased about everything – but she thought she caught a faint flush along his cheekbone. His hand fidgeted, thumb and forefinger rubbing together.

The problem was – and sitting beside him, noting that he smelled faintly of varnish, and that his fingertips held the dark slashes of deeply buried splinters, it truly was aproblem– he didn’t much resemble any of the other Lean Dogs she’d met. Clean-shaven and tidy, yes. But he didn’t carry himself like a man overcompensating for anything. Didn’t flash sly grins, or winks, or generally suck up all the oxygen in the room like some of these jackasses.

And he had very blue eyes. And, well. She was only human.

Not that she would ever tell him that.

Luke returned with a fish sandwich, and a Coke, and a little grimace of apology.

Axelle nodded back. She could be forgiving.

She took a too-big bite of sandwich – the cod was fried to perfection – and said, “So what’s the plan now?”

“Pardon?”

She swallowed. “There is a plan, right? Eden and your brother aren’t just gonna, you know,handleit. So, what’s happening on this end?”

A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “No faith in your boss?”

“Oh, I have faith. Faith that they’ll get involved in some kinda stupid romantic subplot and fuck up the case.”

He laughed and it did…interesting…things to his face. “They’re pretty obnoxious,” he admitted.

“Dude. Understatement.”

He waited until she’d taken her next bite to say, tone softer, “I know this doesn’t make it any better to hear, but Eden left you behind to protect you.”

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