Page 44 of Saint's Sinner

“Could be,” Mark said. “Especially if he spends his time out there.”

“Yeah, he was headed for the train trestle when I saw him last,” Saint admitted.

“I bet he lives in the trailer park south of the tracks,” Rabbit said as he plopped down on the seat beside Saint. “I grew up in one of those trailers. There’s a path leading from the west side of the trailer park into factory row we’d ride our bikes on. We used to play hide and seek in those old buildings. Slept in ‘em a time or two when my mom brought a new boyfriend home.”

“I’ve said for years now that they needed to board those buildings up properly,” Mark muttered.

“They tried that,” Rabbit replied. “Plywood isn’t going to stop anyone who’s truly determined. They’ll just bust out a window and get all cut up crawling through.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“’cause I do.”

“Hey, anyone wanna vouch for this kid?”

From across the room, Saint saw the hulking mass of one of his club brothers and a much smaller figure at his side. Size wise there was no one else it could have been beside Kong, but who he had with him must not have been a club member’s son. They hadn’t added any members with kids while Kong had been gone, so there was no other explanation why he was calling for a vouch.

When no one moved, the lazy bastards, Saint shoved away from his stool and the whiskey and sore ribs he’d been nursing. With sunlight streaming in behind them it was impossible to see the smaller person’s face until he was right up on them.

Was no mistaking those vivid blue eyes or the long golden hair that tumbled in wind tousled waves around a tanned face.

The kid from factory row.

He wore a grimy jean jacket covered with the oddest collection of patches Saint had ever seen. Saint wanted to thank whoever had taught him to fight because he’d clearly had more than his fair share of scraps. The outcome might have gone an entirely different way without his help.

“He’s good.”

Two words, that was all he needed to say to gain the kid passage past the doors. Kong retreated to his post outside, leaving Saint to walk the kid to the bar.

“Most strangers don’t wander through the gates unannounced,” Saint informed him as he plopped a can of pop on the bar for the kid, certain he wasn’t old enough for the hard stuff. “It’s been known to get someone hurt. What’s your name, kid?”

“S-sorry,” the kid stammered, brushing a hank of hair from out of his face.

His eyes grew wider the longer he looked around, and it took Saint all of two seconds to figure out that he was in awe of the sights and individuals assembled in the room. It dawned on himthen that those patches and the ratty jean jacket were an attempt to mimic them.

“My ummm, name’s Axel.”

He didn’t try to conceal his curiosity either. He actively stared from one face to another, so much so that Saint nudged his arm and pointed to the can he’d sat in front of him.

“Well Axel, you keep looking at people like that and they’re gonna make you for a rookie cop or a poorly trained Fed and you’re gonna have issues I won’t be able to fix.”

“Don’t need nobody to fix nuthin’ for me,” the kid muttered beneath his breath before he took a drink.

If that had really been true, he’d have met Saint’s eyes when he said it, but for now, Saint was willing to let it go, if only to figure out why Axel had followed him back to the clubhouse in the first place.

“Then how about you tell me what you do need?”

“Nuthin’” Axel replied, reaching for the upper pocket of his vest a little too fast for a room full of jumpy bikers.

Saint half expected him to pull a badge out, considering that chest pocket was too small for a gun or a worthwhile knife. At least, not the kind that would get him anything but laughed at. What he didn’t expect to see was his VP patch.

“I found it on the ground after you left,” Axel explained as Saint reclaimed it and stuck it in the inner pocket of his kutte, right beside his gun.

“Thanks. I’m surprised you didn’t keep it to add to your collection.”

Saint gestured to Axel’s jacket as he said it, surprised when the kid suddenly met his gaze.

“Patches have to be earned. They ain’t worth shit if they’re stolen.”

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