Page 32 of Hard as Stone
He laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “Let’s just say I got tired of the lies. The deals made behind closed doors that screwed over regular people.” His eyes meet mine. “Watching my father shake hands with people in public while destroying their livelihoods in private.”
“Is that why you left?”
“Partly.” He takes a slow sip of wine. “I was always the black sheep asking too many questions.” His jaw tightens.
“So you just walked away from it all? Traded in suits for leather?”
“Walked is putting it mildly,” Axel says with a wry smile. “More like flying through the air with a fire under my ass.”
“What happened?”
“Got into trouble one too many times, said some things I couldn’t take back. Next thing I knew, I was disowned and cut off.”
I reach across the table, taking Axel’s hand in mine. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
He shrugs, but I see the tension in his shoulders. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Found the club not long after. They took me in, gave me purpose. A real family.”
“Still,” I say softly, “walking away from everything you’ve ever known couldn’t have been easy.”
His fingers tangle with mine, his thumb running over my knuckles. “Wasn’t all bad. Taught me to appreciate the simple things. Good food, good people. The MC... they don’t care about your last name or your connections. Just your loyalty. Your heart.”
“Sounds nice,” I say softly, thinking of my own family’s dysfunction.
“Could be your home too,” he says, his voice equally quiet.
The intensity in his eyes makes my heart skip. “Axel...”
“Just something to think about, trouble.” He squeezes my hand before releasing it as the waiter approaches with our food. “For now, let’s see if that steak lives up to its reputation.”
The steaks do indeed live up to their reputation. The meat is perfectly cooked, melting in my mouth with each bite. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, savoring the food and the view of the twinkling lights in the valley below.
“So,” Axel says after a while, setting down his fork. “Your turn. Tell me something about Poppy Bennett that doesn’t involve construction sites or sassy comebacks.”
I take a sip of wine, considering. “I will. But first I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“What’s your real name?”
He reaches for his wineglass as he swallows the steak in his mouth. “You know my name.”
“I know your road name. And I just learned your surname when we came in here. Thorn. But I’m guessing a state senator’s son wouldn’t have a name like Axel.”
He’s quiet for a moment, swirling the wine in his glass. “Alistair,” he says finally. “Alistair James Thorn III, to be exact. Named after my grandfather and great grandfather.”
“Alistair,” I repeat, testing the name on my tongue. It suits him somehow—regal and strong. “How did you end up with Axel as your road name?”
Axel’s lips quirk up. “First night with the club, we were at a bar. Some asshole tried to start shit, so I grabbed the closest thing I could find—happened to be an axe hanging on the wall as decoration. Didn’t even swing it, just held it up, and the guy backed off real quick.” He chuckles at the memory. “Stone—our president—said I looked more like an Axel than an Alistair, and the name stuck.”
I can’t help but laugh at the image. “Well, it suits you better than Alistair, that’s for sure.”
“Glad you approve.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Now, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about Poppy Bennett.”
I take another sip of wine, considering. “Well... I used to be in a band.”
Axel’s eyebrows shoot up. “A band?”
“Back in the city. Not much else for a kid to do in our neighborhood except join a gang or start a band.” I spear another piece of steak. “I was the singer.”
