Page 50 of Mad Max

“It’s not about what was said but who said it,” Kooper tells me, coming from behind me as he grabs his own Kool-Aid. He catches my eye, the ones that are glaring at him as he drinks the good stuff. He winks as he smirks before chugging half of it. “Figured I owed you for eating my cereal.”

“And I think I need to grab a pen and start writing my name on these.”

He snorts when I search the bar top for a marker, then shakes his head as he pulls a marker out of his pocket and starts writing on the drinks. I glare, half thinking he’s writing his own name as I cross my arms and drink what could be my very last Kool-Aid for a while. I know it’s just a name, but I believe in rules. Sort of. Okay, I believe in that rule. I catch liars for a living, so I make a point to not lie. Lying, stealing, and cheating all mean the same thing in my book.

“Mad Max might be with the club, but he doesn’t trust all of us.”

This takes my attention away from the drinks. Kooper continues to move his way through labeling the squeeze pouches, never looking up at me, just going on as if he’s having a normal conversation. But nothing he’s saying is normal.

“What? Of course he does. You’re club.”

“Fuck, the fact that you get that just makes what he said all the more clear. You understand that trust and the club go hand in hand. Only works if there’s a single driver who we all fall in line behind. For Mad Max, it’s Law and then the club. Since Law makes the Hounds operate the way it does, he does, in a way, trust us all. But one-on-one, outside the club? Not sure if he’d stand behind every brother’s back solo if you catch my drift.”

I guess I can see that. People on their own do shady shit. Who knows what a person is really like when they don’t have to answer to a boss man of sorts? We all answer to one, in one way or another. Even me, but my boss is an uncle who I just don’t want to let down. That’s what keeps me out of jail, since I know he’d kill me if I ever got locked away like him. He even told me so, explained how he would get a knife to a person on the inside and slit my throat. He was very detailed about it, and that keeps me in line. Well, that and I don’t think I’m cut out for jail life. I’m more of a winter than a spring. Orange isn’t my color.

“We all know this, and we all get it. But since he only trusts Law completely, and now you—” He pauses to make eye contact. “—it means something. Something more than if the rest of us say it.”

I swallow as I try to process it all. “And the fact that he has a name for me other than my real name?”

“Yeah, that means something too. But I ain’t the one to answer what that is.” He gives me a chin lift and saunters away.

I follow his movements, more processing his words than looking at him. He joins Mad Max and a few others across the room.

My beast has been watching me since I came in. I didn’t know where he stood before then, but I felt his eyes on me. And it wasn’t uncomfortable—the opposite, really. Knowing a person was watching, not to see if I did something that would make them laugh but just to keep tabs on me, is nice.

I wave, ’cause it’s what I do, and notice his lips rise a bit in a smile. It’s his own wave of sorts before he turns back to talk to the others. I give him my back as I sit on the bar stool and pull my phone out. Out of habit, I reach for a new drink and pause as I see the name written in blue permanent marker down the side.

Fairy.

I check the rest, and they all say the same thing. Guess the name means something to Mad Max and the club.

I bite my lip as I look around at the people inside the club as they gear up for tonight.

Does that mean I mean something to all of them too?

“Are you ready for this?” Mad Max asks.

Of course not. “Yeah, I got this.”

“Liar.”

I don’t like lying, and I don’t think this is. More like me wanting to be something I’m not. And feeling okay about this is definitely not something that comes naturally to me.

I still smile at his words because it’s true, and I know he can’t see me. He can only hear me, but it makes me feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before. Not sure when we decided to play this lie-no-lie game, but it seems to fit for us. I know he knows what I do now is no secret—not that it ever was. He accepts me for who I am, truth-saying and all.

The plan is actually simple, all things considered. I’m supposed to go in alone, and they’re to hang back. Half the club is here, the other half just waiting to be called in. We don’t really know what to expect other than there will be multiple girls here and we plan to get as many out safely as possible. The club hasn’t let me know whether or not that means taking out Duke.

As I make my way up the drive of the address Duke sent, I realize I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. For one, I really thought the stockade was going to be, you know, the ones where they used to throw fruit at people. I know it’s not common practice now, but I just assumed there would be one out here in middle-of-nowhere Kansas. Maybe I’m not as smart as I think I am.

Instead, I come face-to-face with a run-down barnlike building with horse troughs on the outside. Not sure this is what he was referring to or if everyone just calls these buildings stockades. It looks just like a horse barn to me. Then again, I never studied farming and architecture, so what do I know?

“You’ll be fine. Just try not to touch your ear.”

“Why my ears?” Seems like an odd thing for Law to say at a time like this.

I hear the boys chuckle, but it’s my beast’s voice that rings clear among them. “Because it’s a dead giveaway that you have an earpiece. If no one brings attention to your ears, then you’re free and clear and he has no idea we’re here.”

“Oh.” Well, that makes sense. Why didn’t Law just say that?

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