Inferno MC: Saving Axe Part 2

Stan peered off into the distance, somewhere behind me. He looked older, sadder, not the way I'd remembered him when I was a kid. Back then, he always looked like he stepped off the set of an old western. Tall, well-built from manual labor, with a chiseled face weathered by the elements. Now, the sadness gave him this air of vulnerability, made him look less like a cowboy and more like just another old man.

"He did. Went off to California a few years ago. Hasn't kept in touch."

I wanted to ask about the rest of the story, but I forced myself to say something casual. "That's hard."

Stan was silent for a while, then cleared his throat. "Now, you best not be a stranger, June. I used to help Mrs. Crawford out with the repairs on that old place after Mr. Crawford died. We kept it up pretty good, but there's some stuff that needs fixing, I know it. I don't want to hear about you hiring anyone to do it. Not when I'm here. It keeps me busy. I'm not pushing too many cattle anymore. Got too much time on my hands as it is."

"That's kind of you, Stan." I took that as my cue to leave. Then, just as I stood, I heard the sound of motorcycles coming down the road. Looking up, I saw dust being kicked up on the horizon. "What is that?"

Stan rose, shielding his face and squinting. "Probably bikers pa.s.sing through," he said.

"I wouldn't think you'd get much of that, back here on this road. It's not really a main highway or anything."

He grunted. "No, we don't get much of that." He didn't take his eyes off the road, just stood there motionless as they drove into view, two bikes and a minivan. He set his coffee down. "Huh."

The caravan pulled into Mr. Austin's driveway.

"Were you expecting company?" I asked.

"Not at all," he said. A dark look crossed his face, and I suddenly felt like I'd stepped into some business that was not my concern.

I should leave, I thought.

"I should probably be going-" I started to say, but stopped, watching the two bikers dismount. Both wore helmets and leather jackets, and as one bent to pull off his helmet, I could see the words on the back - Inferno Motorcycle Club. My heart raced.

Connie had said he had joined a biker gang out in California.

Then the other guy pulled off his helmet. His hair was longer now, falling ragged in pieces around his face and down past his chin. A few days of stubble dotted his cheeks, giving him a rough look.

As if he needed to look any wilder; he looked plenty rugged in the dusty bike gear he wore, eyes bloodshot and dark circles underneath. Yeah, he definitely looked rough.

He looked up, making eye contact, and my heart stopped. I felt an immediate jolt of electricity pa.s.s through my body as his eyes met mine. He might be older now, but I'd know that face - those eyes - anywhere.

Cade.

Axe I pulled off my helmet and walked up the gravel driveway toward the porch, steeling myself for the conversation I didn't want to have with my father. It was funny how going through town might have calmed me, but as soon as we pulled into the drive of my childhood home, my heart was thump - thump - thumping in my chest like crazy.

The sprawling white ranch house looked the same as it always had when I was growing up, but the pastures by the house were overgrown. It wasn't like my dad to let that go, and I wondered if he was okay. Guilt ripped through me at the thought that I'd left my dad here alone, minding the ranch by himself, while I'd been in California running with the Inferno Motorcycle Club.

I felt guilty, but I was also afraid of my dad's reaction, of the disappointment that would inevitably color our relationship.

Five deployments with the Marines, three years of being the club's enforcer, and the thought of seeing my dad again was what struck fear into me.

That was irony for you.

I didn't notice her until she stepped out from behind the beam on the front porch.

June.

Holy s.h.i.t.

All grown up, but I'd know her anywhere. She was prettier now than she'd been in high school, and I suddenly felt like I was right back there, seventeen again, nervous and fumbling.

What the f.u.c.k is she doing here?

I had never expected to see her again, not after all this time. Sure, early on I kept tabs on her, thought I might run into her on a base somewhere, but I gave up on that fantasy a long time ago. The thought of her seeing who I was now, who I had become, left my cheeks burning with shame. It was humiliating.

It took all the strength I had to pry my eyes away from her and look at my father. "Dad," I said.

His face was scarlet as he walked up to me, drew his hand back, and slapped me hard across the face.

s.h.i.t.

So he was still p.i.s.sed off at me. I'd been expecting that. h.e.l.l, if June hadn't been standing right there, he'd have probably slugged me. And I'd have deserved it, after everything I'd put him through.

"I told you, you don't come back here. You don't bring this s.h.i.t here."

I could feel June's eyes burning into me, without even looking at her. "Dad, I -"

My voice broke.

There was so much I needed to say, but my pride wouldn't allow it.

Then the door to the minivan opened and MacKenzie, April and Crunch's little girl, came running out, wrapping herself around my leg. "Uncle Axe! Uncle Axe! Are you okay? Why did he hit you?" She started bawling, and I picked her up, patting her back.

"It's okay, Mac," I said. "He was just joking. You know Uncle Axe is too tough for anything to hurt him."

"No?" she asked.

"Not at all," I said, brushing my thumb against her cheek, wet with tears. "Do you know who this guy right here is? This is your Uncle Axe's old man."

My father glared at me, then turned to MacKenzie, his voice now soft. "I didn't know you were watching, little lady. I certainly didn't mean to scare you."

MacKenzie's mother, April, scooped her up in her arms, hushing her as she went to stand near Crunch. My father turned toward me, his voice low. "Why the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me there was a kid with you?"

"You didn't give me a chance, Pop."

"What the h.e.l.l is going on? What kind of trouble are you in?"

"I need a chance to explain, but this isn't the time. It's not what you think."

Well, it was probably almost exactly what he thought. I knew he thought I was in some kind of trouble connected to the MC, and he would be right.

"You better hope it's not what I think. Because if it is -"

"It's not." I clenched my jaw. He'd help me. Even if my father disagreed with everything I had done, even if he hated the person I had become, he was still my father and he would help me.

"Well, come on in, then." My father gestured to Crunch and his family, his voice falsely bright. I knew he would make nice with Crunch's family here, especially with MacKenzie being with us. It had always killed him and my mom, the fact that they didn't have any grandkids. "I was just having a cup of coffee on the porch here with my new neighbor, June. Are you all hungry?"

"Yes!" the little girl shouted, running up the stairs. "And I have to pee!" April and Crunch closely trailed her, and my father followed behind.

"Hi, lady!" Mac waved as she pa.s.sed June. "Is there a potty in here?"

"Hush, Mac," April whispered as she walked through the door.

June smiled at MacKenzie, and then looked up at me. "Cade."

Cade.

I hadn't been called Cade in years.

"Hi, Junebug." I couldn't take my eyes off her. Sure, it was something like twenty years later, but it was just like being a teenager again.

"No one's called me Junebug in forever," she said. When she stepped forward, kissing me on the cheek, her lips smooth against my skin, I felt an immediate jolt. It was that familiar electricity between us that had always existed.

She pulled back and I grabbed her arms, the instinct to hold her taking over me. I didn't want to let her go. Gazing into her eyes was like taking a twenty-year journey back in time. For a split second, I saw it in her eyes - that look.

It was the same look she used to give me when we were teenagers.

That same way she had looked at me before her sister died.

I had the nearly irresistible urge to pull her into me and cover her mouth with mine. But then I felt her pull back, and the moment pa.s.sed.

I let her go.

"You look different," she said.

Different.

You look like s.h.i.t would probably have been more accurate. Could she see the darkness that surrounded me now? Sometimes I felt like it oozed from my pores, seeped out, stinking up everything I got near.

"You haven't changed a bit," I said. No, that wasn't true at all. Her face no longer held the same innocence it did back then, and I knew there was pain behind her eyes. But she wore that pain beautifully, etched into the lines on her face.

June laughed, the sound light, and I instantly ached to hear it more. "I hope that's not true." She was silent for a minute. Then, "You're a biker now."

"Yeah." Why did I feel ashamed admitting that to her?

"Axe, huh?" She pointed at the name on my leather cut. "One percent."

I could feel my face get warm. I didn't want to explain why I was called Axe. Or what one percent meant. Not to her. She was too good for that s.h.i.t.

I changed the subject. "I heard you're in the Navy."

"I was," she said, leaning back on the porch railing. "But I'm here now. I got out."

"You're back in town?" I asked. "For good?"

I was suddenly interested in her answer. Why the h.e.l.l did I care? This wasn't a f.u.c.king social visit, and neither of us were the same people we were when we were kids.

"Yeah," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting on her lip. I couldn't stop looking at her mouth, at the nervous gesture, the thing she would do when she wanted me, back when we were sixteen and couldn't keep our hands off each other. I don't even think she ever knew she was doing it.

I wondered if she knew what she was doing to me now, if she knew I wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right here in the driveway.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm back. I bought Mrs. Crawford's old place."

Oh, h.e.l.l.

"Next door?" I asked. Of course she was moving in next door to my father. I told myself it didn't matter. I wouldn't be here long enough to matter.

"Cade," my father said, his voice firm. He stood at the door, as if he were consciously trying to interrupt us. "Get inside."

I had a flash of irritation at him, at being spoken to like I was a child, at the way he'd just broken the moment between June and I. But part of me was relieved. I didn't need to be talking to her like that. I didn't need her to be looking at me like that, as if not a day had pa.s.sed since I'd last seen her.

"It was good to see you, June," I said, as I turned to walk inside. I could feel my father's gaze, steady on me as I pa.s.sed him, my boots heavy on the wooden porch.

"Be careful there, June," I heard him say. "Cade's been gone a long time. Things are different now."

I couldn't hear what she said.

Sitting in the guest bedroom in my father's house, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. It was late, but I rarely slept much anymore anyway, not since the Marine Corps, and tonight would be no exception. There was too much to occupy my brain, trying to process all the s.h.i.t that was going on with the club. I knew when I was being set up, and this s.h.i.t with the club stank to high heaven. I no longer trusted the Club President. Or many other people, for that matter.

Which is why I was here now.

It was almost midnight, and I could hear my dad out in the living room watching television, some late night talk show. I knew he wasn't actually watching television. Knowing him, he was trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l to do with me here. I had put him in a tough position. He hated the idea of me in the club, and worse, bringing that mess here with me. But at the same time, he wouldn't turn away Crunch's family. Not when there was a kid involved.

I had no idea when the club would realize we weren't dead, but I knew what would happen when they figured it out. And I didn't want to bring that s.h.i.t down on my dad.

Or on June.

This is only temporary, I reminded myself. I twisted the cap off the bottle of cheap whiskey I'd picked up at one of the gas stations when we stopped for a p.i.s.s break on the way, and swallowed it down, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down my throat.

Standing in the convenience store, I'd tried to hide it, but Crunch had seen the bottle in my hand and shook his head. "Do you really need that, man? I mean, out here, with all the s.h.i.t going down?"

Did I really need it?

Did I really want to give him an honest answer to that question?

"I don't want to hear it, Crunch," I said. "Lay the f.u.c.k off."

"Suit yourself," he said. "Just don't f.u.c.king drink and get on the back of that bike. I've had enough death to last me a while. And don't let MacKenzie see you drunk."

I'd heard all of it over the past year from a couple of the guys in the club.

Clean yourself up.