Page 9 of Heart of Stone
I turn back to the party, watching as women dance in the garage and on my lawn, trying to entice my brothers, whose hands linger on their bodies appreciatively. Here and there, people are fucking—and I have no doubt all of the rooms inside are taken up by at least one, if not more, couples.
“Great party.” Duck hands me a fresh beer.
I set my empty aside and accept the cool bottle with a muttered thanks. The old-timer leans against the rail beside me, settling in. Duck’s been with the Stoneheart Motorcycle Club for over forty years—patched in as a punk-ass twenty-year-old. The only time he hasn’t worn the colors was during his service in the army.
He looks a little like Santa with his beer gut, white hair, and gray-white beard. And while he might be the one who dresses up to delight the club kids at Christmas, I’ve been in more than one tangle where he’s saved my ass.
A good brother to have at your back. A better one to train you on how to become the new sergeant-at-arms.
He eyes the patch on my chest, the one that declares my position in the club. “How’s that feel?”
“Fucking good,” I admit. “How’sthatfeel?” I tilt my bottle toward the space where my patch used to sit on his cut.
“Fucking good,” he echoes with a chuckle. “I’m old, Hawk.” He claps a hand on my shoulder.. “Club chose you, and I’ve taught you all I know. You’ll do well by it.” He chuckles again, leaningback against the rail. “Besides, I don’t have the patience to deal with the prospects.”
“Speaking of, how’s the new kid working out?” I ask, referring to his latest apprentice. Duck owns the only garage in town—a profitable venture thanks to his stellar reputation and side hustle restoring classic vehicles. Last I heard, there’s a waitlist of rich pricks from out of state wanting Duck to give their cars a once-over.
Duck grimaces, shaking his head. “He’s not. Doesn’t want to listen to the girl. Shame. She’s a good teacher and knows her shit. Best employee I’ve ever had.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You keep saying that, but every time I come in, this mythical woman seems to be missing in action. I’m starting to believe she’s a fabrication of your imagination, old man.”
Duck nods toward the house across the road where Ms. Parent-of-the-Year nominee sleeps soundly on her porch. “Hard to say that when you’re living across from her.”
I blink, my brain slow to process. “Her?”
Duck nods. “Yep.” He lifts his beer, taking a long drag.
I glance back across, taking in the house with new eyes.
The neighborhood isn’t exactly up and coming. Filled with abandoned houses and questionable characters, it doesn’t scream “place to raise a family.” In fact, if I hadn’t seen her walking into the house carrying a baby and wrangling two toddlers, I’d have assumed the place was abandoned. A wreck of a car sits up on bricks, rusting gently in the front yard, fitting right in with the trash that pockmarks the dirt-and-weed lawn.The house itself has seen better days—with its sloping roof, broken gutters, and peeling paintwork.
“Your best employee has three kids and lets her house look like that?” I ask, wondering if she’s blowing the old guy. I’ve never once seen Duck stray from his old lady, Maggie, but stranger things have happened.
Duck snorts. “Hell no. The girl is neat as a pin. You know why the garage looks so good? All her.” He elbows me. “Nearly as anal as you are about that shit.”
I point my beer at her yard. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”
“That’s her sister’s place. Or is it her cousin’s?” Duck pauses, then shakes his head. “Anyway, she’s the one with three kids—all under three, mind you. Twin girls and a boy. Scatty as a bag of dropped marbles. Dumps the kids regularly to take off with different jackasses.”
“And your girl picks up the pieces?” I ask, putting it together.
“Yep.” He makes a frustrated sound. “She’s going for custody this time. The mother disappeared two days ago. Far as I know, she hasn’t heard a peep from her since.” Duck squints into the dark. “She still out there sleeping?”
I glance across the road, taking in the sleeping woman with new eyes. “Yeah.”
The word feels heavy, sticking in my throat as a touch of guilt twists in my chest. I can’t see her face from here, but the memory of it lingers—the weariness in her eyes, the quiet strength beneath it. I’d been so quick to judge, so certain I had her figured out. But now the edges of that certainty blur, leaving me unsettled. She’s not the person I assumed she was.
Fuck. Maybe Axel’s right and I am getting jaded.
Duck shakes his head. “Shit for her. Gonna be shit for me if we can’t make this work.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna fire her?”
He shrugs. “Might not have any choice if she can’t make the hours work. Three kids on one wage as a single parent? And they ain’t school-aged yet. Childcare is expensive. I like her—she’s a hard worker, good at her job, committed. But I got a shop to run and other employees I have to pay too.”
It’s all bluster. I know Duck, the man is a fucking pushover. If he likes her, he’ll do whatever he can to keep her on.
I lift my beer, taking a long pull as I consider her. “What’s her name?”
