Page 38 of Filthy Savage
Axe
I gripmy burner phone in one hand. I stare at the thing with my arms outstretched as if I expect it to go off like a bomb and blow me all to hell. And I have good reason to. The person I have to call next is sure to give me hell. I hate the idea of speaking with her, but I have no choice. We’re out of options. I can’t involve the club anymore without potentially getting the Satan’s Saints and the Los Diablos back into an all-out war, and I can’t use a Saints MC approved safe house because the Los Diablos will see right through the plan.
There’s only one other option, and to take that route means I have to make the call now, before Angel wakes up inside the pickup truck and starts looking for me. Apprehension comes over me. Christ, how am I even going to spin this so it doesn’t look bad? There’s no goddamn way I can pull it off. I run both hands through my hair and exhale, which does nothing to get rid of a nagging headache drilling a hole through my skull.
I unfold the sheet of paper, staring down at Nancy’s name. Time to nut up or shut up. Keying in her number, I only hesitate for one more moment with my finger hovering over the little green phone symbol. So what if we haven’t seen each other in years? Who cares that the last time we talked was a few Christmases ago? That’s better than nothing. Never mind that I only ended up speaking to her because I got obliterated on Jaeger and impulsively answered her annual holiday phone call, which I usually just let go straight to voicemail. The fact that I’m calling her now is probably progress in her eyes, even if my motivations are a little fucked up. Okay, very fucked up.
With a grimace, I press the little green button and shove the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” Nancy answers.
Jesus Christ, does she have to pick up so damn fast? My sister is so prompt for everything—everything except for acknowledging what we went through as children. It shouldn’t be a surprise to me that she can’t even let the phone ring twice. I start to choke up from a sudden stab of pain. Maybe I can just hang up now and forget all about it. Even if she has caller ID, she won’t know it is me on this burner phone.
“Hello?” Nancy repeats. “Is anyone there?”
I look around nervously. I still have an out because she has no idea it’s me. Her tone is neutral, but that won’t last long. She can’t keep her emotions in check where I’m concerned. But I can’t let that stop me. I need her.
Leaning on the wall beside the restroom of the Chevron gas station, I go for it. “Nancy.” I clear my throat, rubbing my free hand along the side of my jeans. “It’s me.”
“Oh. You. Of course, it’s you, Alexander,” she declares.
Her voice is hollow and cold, not that I should’ve expected anything different. I can’t stop myself from pressing lips together. This is the last conversation I want to have while keeping my eyes peeled on the parking lot in case danger’s lurking. I try to convince myself that I’m just being careful, but deep down, I know the truth. Under normal conditions, I’d take any fucking distraction right now, even being shot at, to avoid this call and the person on the other end of this line. But I know I’m not making this call for my own ass. It’s to help Angel. I’ve got to look out for her best interest. It’s not about just me anymore.
“Alexander,” Nancy calls out my first name again, even though she knows I hate being called that. She’s always been a control freak that way. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah. I am.”
I check out the truck at the front of the building. There’s still no sign of Angel waking up. She’s probably exhausted after the last fourteen or so hours of chaos we’ve had. She’s fought off Los Diablos member, thwarted her own kidnapping, witnessed fights and being shot at, then she left everything behind and drove all night.
“What do you need?” she demands gruffly. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“How would you know?” I ask, checking “Just because it’s been a long time, doesn’t mean you should assume that I’m in trouble. I’ve barely opened my mouth.”
“Alexander Edward Voltaire, I can put two and two together. I may be your little sister, but I’m not stupid.”
“It’s Axe, Nance. It’s been Axe since I turned fifteen. Cut it out with the Alexander crap, will you?”
The silence between us is uncomfortable as always, and neither of us is making an effort, or working to change it.
She lets out an impatient breath. “Look, after our falling out, there can only be two reasons you would call. One, to apologize and make amends. Two, you’re shit out of luck, and I’m the only help you can find. I don’t hear any contrition in your voice, so it has to be option two. Am I right? What’s the deal? Did the club turn on you, or did you make a mistake there’s no coming back from this time?”
“Yes and no,” I bite out, barely able to hold my temper, hating it when she’s right. “It’s complicated. The easiest way to put it is I’m on an unplanned security job, and I can’t help feeling it’s connected to us… to what happened to Mom and Dad back then. I know it doesn’t make any sense at all, but I can’t use a Saints’ safe house right now. No one but Vincent knows where you live. Coming to you seems like a no-brainer.”
“What security job? And how could anything happening now be connected to back then?”
Nancy is nothing if predictable, even after all these years. I figured those few high points would be the details she’d pick up from our conversation. For a second, I lean my head on the wall, trying to get a grip on my patience because I need her to let me and Angel stay at her house. Just then, the truck door pops open and Angel jumps out the passenger door. She looks both ways—twice—then she starts sprinting across the gas station parking area as though someone’s after her. Or maybe she thinks I’ve left her here. Either way, I can’t keep my grin in check. Subtle, Angel. So subtle.
“Didn’t Vincent tell you? The MC has gone legit. I’ll fill you in, but the point is I have someone I need to keep under wraps. I need her to stay with you. These fuckers are closing in on all sides, so it would be great if we could speed up this phone chat, skip over the part where you get all judgy or walk down memory lane. We can do all that when I see you in person. Deal?”
“You haven’t changed one bit, Alexander.”
“I haven’t, but I hope you have, Nance,” I say, calling her by her pet name. “I’m not holding out any hope, though. We’re a stubborn bunch. Anyhow, can I come by, or are you going to leave me out in the cold this one time that I’m coming to you for help?”
I can almost feel my baby sister seethe over the phone. My fingers idly tap on the wall as I wait, watching Angel run around in a frenzy, dressed in just my t-shirt and shorts. The idea that she’s not wearing panties or a bra underneath has me hard as a rock. My sister then grumbles about something, which instantly kills my boner.
“Yes or no is pretty damn simple,” I say, waiting for an answer.
There’s a whole lot of nothing on the other end of my cell. I take it away from my ear to make sure the seconds and minutes are still counting up, and that the call hasn’t dropped, or that she hasn’t hung up.
