Page 43 of Filthy Savage
Axe
I didn’t think far enough aheadto the whole hugging part. When Nancy came toward me, I froze. I try to recover, and end up patting her on the back as though she’s one of the boys. What else am I supposed to do? I’m standing in front of my estranged sister, with no buffer, and a mutual grudge the size of a tanker truck. Touching is not part of the reunion I envisioned. Holding her makes my mind spin and gives me no time to tamp down the hard fact that facing her is almost like facing this nightmare. No, exactly like it.
“You look good,” Nancy says, giving me a once-over, but the lie is still a lie.
“Thanks. You look the same.”
I dig my hands into my pants pocket, gaze flicking around the front yard. God, coming here was a fucking mistake. Possibly the worst one I’ve made in a while. My niece and nephew don’t even recognize me. They laugh and shriek, playing some weird cross between tag and dodgeball. How could I show up here and threaten these kids’ wellbeing just from my presence, or destroy the perfection Nancy has built for them? After everything we went through as children, she deserves her delusions. My very presence fucks that all up. She needs her idea of control in the same way I need my adopted family, the Saints. Both are a form of safety, a coping mechanism. I rushed headlong into her little bubble without even thinking about the repercussions.
As usual, I’ve been a selfish prick.
Forgetting to take them into account could cost them a lot in this suburban hell that Nancy idolizes. She gravitated toward the lifestyle of our foster parents, wanting nothing to do with our past. I ran to the Satan’s Saints. Neither of us chose the path of our parents. Sadly, that’s probably the only thing we have in common.
In Nancy’s mind, choosing the life she did probably means she can have a reasonably sound assurance that nothing bad will ever happen to her—until today, when her asshole of a brother showed up asking for a favor and dragging dirt right up to her pristine front door.
Except, she’s been the one trying to keep our connection alive all these years.
“I, uh, like what you’ve done with the place,” I tell her.
“It hasn’t changed much. Not since the last time.”
I kick a loose stone in the driveway. It probably drives Nancy nuts, but it’s easier to do that than make small talk. We both knew why she agreed to let me come here in the first place—weird ass circumstances. Once the crazy shit is over and Angel is out of danger, everything will go back to normal and in all likelihood, Nancy won’t see or hear from me again for a very, very long time.
That’s our normal.
She waves at the kids. “Annalee, Asher, come and say hi to your Uncle Alexander.”
They run over, each of them taking a side to hug me.
“Hi, Uncle,” Asher says, staring adoringly up at me.
“You don’t remember me, do you Uncle Alex?” Annalee asks, slightly more reserved.
“Are you kidding me? Of course, I do. How have you been doing with your dance classes?”
Her eyes light up, and she prattles on, filling me in on all the recitals she performed in, the competitions she wants to win, and more details on ballet and dance techniques than I need to know.
Nancy sends the kids inside to neaten up their toys. “Do you think your friend will ever get out of the truck?” she asks after we hop up the porch. “She knows I don’t bite, right?”
“No, she’s pretty clear that I’m the one who bites.” Saying that to Nancy sounds so creepy that even I wince.
“I’m beginning to see that. This is what Vincent meant when he said the MC went legit?”
“Don’t start. Wearelegit. We set up a company, and we do real private security work. Look, I’ll introduce the two of you.”
She cocks her head, studying Angel through the windshield. “That’s your job, huh? Do I need to ask if it comes with benefits?”
“None of your business,” I snort, turning to open the passenger door, and give Angel a helpless look. “Come over here and meet Nancy, my sister.”
For a beat, Angel goes pasty white. Is she nervous?
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m great,” Angel insists, taking my hand to get out.
I realize where some of her hesitation comes from. No shoes, no bra, no panties, wind-blown hair. To me, she’s sexy as fuck, but stepping into the burbs like this, especially for a person like Angel, who’s normally perfectly put together, must be her own personal waking nightmare. Still, she holds her head high and takes the few barefoot steps through the grass until she’s face to face with Nancy. Nancy arches a knowing brow in my direction and gazes down at the spot where my hand is still touching Angel’s upper arm.
Nancy takes a step forward and offers her hand. “Hello. I’m Nancy. So you’re Axe’s current pet project?”
