Page 77 of Lone Star

“Things are different over there. Maybe because Dad was the president – probably – but I grew up with the club, and I always had my nose in something, and Charlie and Albie were always offering to teach me something they shouldn’t. When I started helping – when Dad would let Tommy and me do a little bit of recon – it felt like a natural progression. Why wouldn’t I help the club that raised me? Why not send me in when I was the best fit for the job?

“I didn’t have a cut, wasn’t patched in, didn’t ride…but I was doing the things the Dogs were doing, every day, and I liked it. Ilovedit.”

“Why’d you stop?”

Michelle hadn’t thought it would sting so much, remembering. When she looked back, her life seemed like it had belonged to two people; like maybe she was living with someone else’s memories: the past, London, still sharp and well-preserved as photographs, but untouchable. It was a story she’d read; a movie she’d seen. So different from the here and now.

“There was this one job,” she said. Tasted the black smoke; smelled the stink of charred…everything. Stumbling through a day made night with burning; Tommy’s face above her, his voice far away. She couldn’t breathe; was choking…

She put a hand to her throat; it felt tight now with remembrance. A thrill shivered down her back. “Things got really dangerous, and there were these terrorists, they were looking for me. Dad got spooked. He sent me to Tennessee, to be with Uncle King, but Fox said they could use me out here.” She touched her temple. “Good with numbers. I fixed their books. And I stayed.”

Axelle regarded her skeptically. “Because you got married.”

“I chose to get married.”

“Did you?”

Michelle couldn’t help a laugh. “Yes! It’s a love match. What are you thinking?”

She shrugged and her gaze shifted away, back toward the building. “I dunno.” She sounded uncomfortable now; her shoulders hadn’t dropped back down, yet. “You hear stories. People being dragged off by bikers. Being forced to marry them so they can’t testify against them. That kinda stuff.”

“That kinda stuffhappens in movies.” Except Emmie had been more or less forced to marry King. It wasn’t as if she would have beenkilled…Michelle didn’t think. And Emmie did love him, now, so…Michelle wasn’t going to tell Axellethatlittle detail. “I love Candy.”

Axelle’s gaze darted back, assessing.

Let her look: Michelle was a lot of things lately, but she’d never been uncertain of this.

“I do. But. Sometimes.” This was the part that kept getting stuck in her throat; the thing she’d been reluctant even to admit to herself, but that Fox and Eden had seen straight off and tried to draw out of her.

She sighed. “I miss my old life, sometimes. I miss being in the thick of it.”

Axelle regarded her a long time, one hand idly tapping at the steering wheel. “I get that,” she said, hand closing, tightening, knuckles white. This car – driving – wasthe thick of itfor her.

“Who got you interested in cars?” Michelle asked, softly.

Axelle’s answer was soft, too, mouth curving the barest fraction, a sad smile. “My dad.”

Michelle could tell, just from her expression, that Axelle’s father was no longer living.

“He OD’d,” Axelle offered, though Michelle hadn’t asked. “Used to buy his shit from the Dogs. I’ve blamed them for a long time.”

Michelle tensed.

Got a strained smile in return. “We all make our own beds, though, right?”

“Generally.” She asked, “Does Albie know?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s known all along. A lot of days…” She hesitated, hand dropping to the knob of the gearshift, thumbnail tapping against it. “A lot of days I ask myself if I’m shitting all over Dad’s memory. Thinking a biker’s hot.”

“It’s probably a little more than thinking he’s hot,” Michelle said, hoping she was right. Of all her uncles, Albie was the most vulnerable after Shane; the one most in need of something good and happy and honest in his life.

Axelle let out a deep breath that sounded relieved. “Yeah,” she agreed.

The phone on the console, heretofore offering up nothing but the rustling of cloth, emitted a series of beeps. An incoming call, Michelle realized, as both of them perked up in their seats.

But one from Eden’s end. There was more rustling, then Eden said, “Shit,” and the line went silent.

~*~

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