Page 45 of Prodigal Son

She knew that she shouldn’t press – shouldn’t admit any sort of ill will toward the club when it was quite possibly the only safe haven for the moment – but she couldn’t help herself. It was her daddy’s disease: the impulsiveness. The urge to press the pedal harder, punch the clutch faster. In Daddy, it had been the urge to snort another line. She wasn’t like him.

She wasn’t.

(Most days, she worried she wasexactlylike him.)

The point was, she never knew when to lay off, so she said, “How in the world could involving all your little brothers in some big crime syndicate ever be a good way to take care of them?”

She thought Raven might bow up her back. Instead, she slid a slow smirk across the console at her. “How old are you?”

“What does that matter?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Thirty,” she admitted, reluctantly.

Raven nodded. “Old enough to know the wisdom of this, then. Look, in a perfect world, everything would be above board, and everyone would be genuine, and honest men could earn honest livings and go home to their wives and babies behind their American white picket fences.

“But this is the real world, darling. It’s neither pretty nor clean.” They’d come to a red light and she turned to give Axelle a straight look. “This club is full of broken boys with nowhere else to turn. They’ve decided that sin is inevitable, and that they might as well control it, and make a little money while they’re at it. If that’s something you can’t accept, then maybe it’s best I turn around and take you back to wait.”

She was dead serious, Axelle realized.

The red light stretched on. She had only moments to make her decision.

“Can I tell you what I think?” Raven asked.

Axelle nodded, feeling helpless to do anything else.

“I think you hate these boys on principle – which you are clearly able to do. That’s your right. I won’t pretend they’regood. But. There’s at least a part of you that thinks they can accomplish what regular people cannot. And that’s why you’re here, in this vehicle, going to help me, when you don’t have to.”

Axelle looked out through the windshield. The light changed and the Land Rover rolled forward. She sighed. “Alright. I’ll grant you that one.”

Raven chuckled, but it was hollow. “Trust me. If I didn’t have to lean on them and their ways, I wouldn’t. But sometimes I do. And also.” And here she grew serious again. “They’re my family, and I will help them in any way I can.” Her glance was a warning.

One that Axelle took seriously.

Careful to keep her tone neutral, she said, “Albie said he didn’t want me involved in all this. I thought maybe it was a woman thing. But now I guessing it’s a family thing.”

“Oh, they didn’t want me involved either, trust me. But I’ve got an in that they don’t.” She plucked the little jar of Pseudonym-made face cream up from the cup holder and brandished it like a jewel. “And Phillip’s smart enough to know that in some cases intimidation – at least his brand of it – isn’t the best way to get answers. Sometimes.” She gave her head a proud little toss. “There’s things those silly boys simply can’t do.”

She sent Axelle another look. “Game face on, Dale Junior. You’ll have to do what I say, follow my lead, and be on the lookout foranything. Can you do that?”

Axelle realized it felt really good to be useful. “Yes, ma’am,” she said with a little salute, and Raven laughed.

Thirteen

Raven had wiped away all traces of laughter by the time they reached their destination. Game face, she’d said, and Axelle watched her pull her own on like a perfectly-fitted mask. Acting had never been her strong suit, but Axelle smoothed her expression as best she could and followed.

In an underground parking garage, a valet in a waistcoat took the Land Rover from them, and a doorman welcomed Raven inside by name, bowing the two of them through a glass door and into a vast marble lobby.

And byvast, she meant…unreal. Big as a basketball court, soaring ceilings studded with can lights. A massive fountain made to look like a rock waterfall dominated one wall, above which hung an etched metal sign: Ryan Anders.

A receptionist called a disinterested good morning to Raven, and they headed for a bank of elevators.

The interior of the elevator was mirror-plated on all sides. When the door slid shut, Axelle found herself face-to-face with a reflection so unfamiliar it startled her. Raven had dressed her in a white oxford, slim black slacks, simple sling-backs, and a black velvet blazer with leather lapels. Her hair was in a bun – Raven had slicked the sides back with a palmful of some kind of goo.

She looked – severe. Was her face really that thin? Her chin that pointed? And the bags under her eyes had bags of their own.

She leaned in closer, squinting, wishing she hadn’t skipped moisturizing that morning. “God, I look awful.”

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