Page 195 of Lone Star

“If what Maddox said about different gangs and crime families starting to collaborate is true, then it’s only a matter of time before they challenge the Dogs. Things could get really ugly. I think we’ve all seen that before.”

Jenny had been attached to the Dogs the longest, and she nodded sagely.

Axelle looked a bit nervous, and took a sip of her Coke.

Eden looked eager in a restrained way. “Maddox handed us a boon with that bit of intel.”

“One the enemy won’t expect us to have,” Michelle agreed. “So I say we don’t waste it.”

They all regarded one another a moment, gazes shifting and flicking, assessing.

Jenny shrugged. “I’m in. Be kinda nice to do something besides babysit and wash dishes.”

Michelle nudged her, but offered a supportive grin.

“I have a few contacts here in the States,” Eden said. “I can make phone calls today, before we even get on the road.”

They all looked toward Axelle, then.

She set her Coke can down with a sigh, but her mouth hitched up at the corners in a smile. “I mean, I guess if I’m in then I’m in, huh? Sure. What the hell. Let’s all be biker Robin Hoods.”

Michelle grinned, a little thrill of excitement sparkling in her chest. “Robin HoodsandMarians.”

She had work to do, and oh, that was scary, but it was wonderful, too.

Knoxville

Fifty-Eight

“This whole line of storefronts is empty right now,” Ghost said, gesturing with the end of his cigarette toward Bell Bar – the favorite public watering hole of the Knoxville Dogs for years now, Albie knew – which was boarded over with plywood, along with the three next shops along the sidewalk to its right. The club had just bought Bell Bar – it would be club-owned, now, and Ghost had been looking smug about it the last couple weeks; construction had just started on the remodel – and the struggling, neighboring businesses. “The old café is gonna be Mags’ – but don’t tell her yet, it’s gonna be a surprise.” He smiled to himself, proud as punch. “But the one next to it I don’t have slotted for anything yet. It’s yours if you want it.”

Albie turned to him, startled. “Mine? Why?”

Ghost glanced toward him, brows lifted as he took another drag off his cigarette. “You still need a place to make furniture, right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Truth told, he hadn’t so much as opened his sketchbook since arriving back in town. Between spending time with Axelle, and settling back in with the Tennessee chapter’s day-to-day business – gun shipments to coordinate, and runs to execute – he hadn’t thought much about table legs and chair upholstery.

He felt a twinge of guilt, now. He’d shipped over his remaining stock from London when he first moved, including a dozen or so half-finished projects. They were all in a storage unit in the Dartmoor property’s self-store business now, waiting for him. Neglected.

He’d zoned out a bit, he realized, and snapped back to the present moment to be greeted by Ghost’s lone raised brow of question; it was an expression that always managed to look mocking, even when Albie didn’t think the man was trying to be so.

“You interested?”

It would be good to get back to work. To open a Maude’s here in the States. A place where he could channel all his restless, irrational genetic predisposition to violence and knavery into something productive, creative, and beautiful. (He should also stop being such a lovelorn fool who turned up on his girlfriend’s doorstep every evening. It could start to look pathetic.)

“Yeah. Very much so.” He even felt the quick skip of something like real excitement in his chest. “How much is rent?”

Ghost shrugged and glanced away again. “Reasonable. We’ll work it out.” He studied the line of closed shops, the evidence of the club taking an active role right in the heart of the city, on a main thoroughfare, where all the civilian public could see it. His smile was small, private, infinitely pleased. “We’re moving up in the world.”

“Yeah,” Albie agreed. But he’d learned a long time ago that with great standing came great challenges. Luis hadn’t been the first, and wouldn’t be the last. And was still out there, somewhere…

He suppressed a shudder, and walked to his bike, leaving Ghost to his dreams of grandeur.

~*~

“Here, I packed some up for you to take home.” Kristin turned away from her new kitchen counter and held out a small, square glass container with a red rubber lid. “Or, well, back to the clubhouse. Which is your home, I guess. So.”

It was obvious she wanted him to take the offering, so he did, the heat of the pasta they’d just eaten for dinner leaching through the glass and into his hands. This was something that made her smile, he learned, feeding him, and even if smiling was still a strange and new practice for him, he liked when his sister did it. Knew it meant that she was happy, and Kris deserved to be happy more than anyone.

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