Page 45 of Saint's Sinner

Nodding, Saint steepled his hands on the bar in front of him, maintaining his composure so Axel wouldn’t catch a clue of how thrown he was to hear him reciting a Joker’s law.

“What was that you said?”

Swiveling on his stool brought Axel face to face with Pope. Saint wondered what the hell he was thinking now that he was effectively blocked in. Pope, despite hovering on the line between his 50’s and 60’s, was an imposing figure, all classic, long salt and pepper hair, old school bandana and trenchcoat that had been known to conceal both a sawed off and panel notes. Talk about a guy who’d taken legit to a whole other level, capitalizing on the mainstream’s fascination with the outlaw lifestyle to pen several fictional MC stories that had rocketed up the bestseller list.

Of course, he’d shared his good fortune with the club, as was right, after all, those adventures were a shared experience, belonging to not one, but all of them. That Pope had been the one to try his hand at turning their misadventures into something profitable was typical, really. The man was a genius whose more legendary schemes had rescued them from hard times on more than one occasion. Hell, he’d been the brain behind the first rent party and the infamous Howling Hog Barbeque contest. People had lined up for over a block to pay for sample plates and take part in the voting for best main dish, best sandwich, best side and best dessert.

“I said patches have to be earned,” Axel repeated. “They ain’t worth shit if they’re stolen.”

“Well, one things for certain,” Saint muttered, chuckling a little as he gestured towards Axel’s jacket. “You won’t ever have to worry about someone stealing one of those.”

“You wanna tell me where you heard that?” Pope asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Too bad.”

The order was in the tone, not the words Pope deliberately left off. It wasn’ttoo badin the way of acceptance that he wasn’t going to hear the story. It wastoo bad you don’t want to tell it, but you’re damn well gonna tell it anyway or I’ll shake it outta you.

“This guy said it to me when he caught me stealing.”

“And what were you trying to steal?”

“Just this patch I saw. It had a cool saying on it.”

“How long ago was that?”

Axel shrugged. “I dunno, maybe 10 years.”

“Do you still remember what the patch said?”

Axel snorted. “Fuck man, I don’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Captain Crunch and Sprite, I think, or that might have been yesterday. I gotta remember to pick up milk on the way home or the old man is gonna go ballistic again.”

“Saint, what’s the bottom patch on the left side of your rocker say?” Pope asked, his tone never changing, his gaze never softening. He was boring a hole through Axel like he was digging for the kid’s heart. Maybe he was. Could be he was looking for the same thing they’d looked for in others over the years.

A future prospect.

Someone who would both give and earn their loyalty.

“Hell was full so I came back.”

“Now turn around.”

Saint knew why Pope said that, he wanted Axel to see that Saint was right. Saint complied, not having to look to know that Pope was pointing that very thing out to him.

“When you put in the work to earn something, when you live through it, you don’t forget,” Pope said. “Glad to see those words stuck with you.”

When Saint turned back around it was to see Axel staring at Pope, his mouth half hanging open as Pope lowered his shades,revealing his mismatched green eyes, one a brilliant emerald, the other darker and almost jade.

“It was you,” Axel declared.

“Yup. Always wondered if you went back and took it when no one was around.”

“No.”

“I’m impressed. Most of the punks I’ve had dealings with would have run back the moment my back was turned.”

“I didn’t know they were important. I just thought they were cool. Like the ones from my favorite bands.”

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