Page 36 of Axe-ing for Trouble
“I texted him,” Finn said, studying the menu like he’d never seen it before.
“We need to strategize,” Gus said, signaling for Cole to slide over to make room for him.
The four of us must have looked ridiculous, crammed into the red vinyl booth, hunched over our coffee mugs.
“Tell me what you’ve heard,” I said, bringing my mug of black coffee to my lips. The coffee I made at home was better, but Mila was there, and it was getting harder and harder to look at her sleepy smile and brush her hair and not give in to my impulses and kiss the life out of her.
So this morning I’d programmed the coffee pot, left her a note, and escaped the house before she woke up. I was desperate to pull myself together. My protective instincts were growing exponentially by the day. The longer she stayed, the more I wanted to pick her up, carry her to my bed, and fix all of her problems.
She didn’t want a hero. She’d made that clear. What use could I be, anyway? The issues she was dealing with were pretty damn monumental, and they were only getting worse.
“Folks have been sniffing around,” Cole reported. “One guy, Maurice Murphy, apparently went to the technical school in Heartsborough with Erica’s son. According to what she told me at knitting club, he’s a bit of a shithead.”
I winced. That was quite a name.
“He’s a biker. Thirties. Shaved head,” he explained.
“I’ve seen him,” Finn said. “At the gym here and there with some of the other biker guys. Some of them are decent dudes. They spot me from time to time. But there are several who are pretty shady and twitchy.”
“Names?”
Finn shook his head. “They all have biker names. One of them is Viper, but I don’t know about the others.”
“Anyone asking about Amy?”
Cole nodded. “According to my source, there’s been a lot of talk about her at the Ape Hanger. They’re saying she stole something.”
I shook my head. “As far as I know, she didn’t steal anything. But then again, getting information out of her has been a challenge, to say the least.”
Cole shrugged, sipping his coffee.
“We’ve had two visits from the FBI,” Gus said. “One at the office and one at our house.”
“Chloe must have loved that,” Finn quipped.
Gus grimaced. “She did not appreciate it, especially because we’d just gotten Simone down for a nap.” He shook his head. His infant daughter was a notoriously difficult sleeper.
“What did they want?”
Gus ran his hands through his chin-length dark hair. “Asking more questions. Same old bullshit. The guy they arrested for the arson at the machine shop still isn’t talking, so I’m not sure they’ve got much at the moment.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“Two visits in a week?” Cole asked, raising an eyebrow.
Gus grunted. “I know. They go months without responding to emails. We think they know more than they’re saying and are trying to sniff out what we know.”
Fear gripped me. “Did you tell them about Mila?”
He shook his head. “Fuck no.”
I let out the breath I was holding. “Good.”
“Chloe and I both agreed it felt off, so we decided to play dumb.”
I closed my eyes, filled with gratitude.
“What did Parker say?” Finn asked, his voice low. Parker was his sister-in-law—married to Finn’s wife’s brother—and even he was a bit scared of her.
