Page 18 of Snake

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “Was that so hard?”

“YO, COX!” came a gruff shout before Cox could do more than make a face at her.

He turned to find the source. “YEAH?”

Autumn looked the same direction and found a large, barrel-chested guy coming toward them. Long, messy, dark hair and a mountain-man beard—a description that matched several of the Horde and probably a large portion of bikers everywhere, but this one was David ‘Thumper’ Allen.

“Help us out, brother. The genny’s givin’ us fits.”

“Yeah, okay.” Cox turned back to Autumn. “You can follow me, or I can put you with the women. Your choice.”

“Or I can go wherever I want, as I am not your prisoner,” she rejoined.

He nodded. “You can go wherever you want, but Thumper here will be right behind you.”

Thumper frowned lightly at Cox, got it, then nodded at Autumn. “Yep.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “This is extremely annoying,” she said, looking to Cox. “You understand that, right?”

“Don’t much care,” he answered. “You’re not on your own while you’re here.”

“What is it you think I’m going to do, steal your children?”

“I don’t think you’re gonna do anything in particular, and I don’t care what you do. The word is, you’re not on your own while you’re here.”

Reminding herself that she needed to mend fences with the Horde, or at a minimum get their guard down a bit, Autumn relented. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

Thumper grinned. “Looks like you got an admirer, Cox.”

“Fuck off,” Cox growled and grabbed Autumn’s elbow, leading her into the park.

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~oOo~

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The Horde tent was near the pavilion, in the center of the park. It looked like most of the members were on the job, setting up the tables and gear inside the tent, or the two huge smokers beside the tent, or in a cluster behind the tent, staring down at what was apparently a malfunctioning generator. As Cox approached, still leading Autumn by the arm, the Horde stepped out of his way, like their savior had arrived.

Without a word, Cox released her and crouched before the large machine. First, he pushed a button, but that did nothing. He set a hand lightly on the generator, as if checking for heat, then grabbed a handle, stood, and gave it a yank. Oh—a pull cord like a lawn mower. This was an old generator. Nothing happened then, either.

“Tools?” he asked, and one of the Horde—Kellen Frey, Autumn reminded herself—dragged a large black toolbox over.

With Cox focused on the malfunctioning generator, Autumn looked around. Most of the Horde were working or watching Cox, but she caught several stray glances, and every one of them was hostile.

She didn’t know what to do. What she wanted to do was walk away, but she’d only find herself followed by a different jerk in a kutte. Or worse, grabbed by one. Anyway, she’d kind of gotten used to Cox. Beneath that sullen glower, maybe he wasn’t a terrible person.

Standing idly amongst the Horde was extremely uncomfortable. She was where she needed to be, actually—she wanted to change the Horde’s attitude toward her, and she was surrounded by Horde—but she wasn’t sure how to go about it. She couldn’t ask to help, because she had no skills for building, or fixing, or hammering, whatever they were doing. She was an ideas person; she hired the actual work out.

So she took a few steps backward, out of the way, and stood there, watching Cox work.

It was impressive. His hands moved deftly, almost surgically, as he checked parts and connections, seeking the source of the problem, and he juggled a collection of tools like a gunslinger, swinging them into use or out of his way with a speedy grace like sleight of hand.

“Badge, hon?” called a feminine voice, and Autumn looked over as Adrienne, Badger’s wife, came around the tent to find her husband. She was pulling a collapsible wagon behind her, full of picnic wear—stacks of paper plates, towers of Solo cups, rolls of paper towels, and more.

“Hey, babe,” Badger said, turning from his study of Cox’s work. “Thanks.”

“I’m just gonna drop these here. I need to get back to the girls.”

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