Axl (Sons of Chaos MC #1) (6 page)

“Sit down,” my father said sternly.

My mother nodded, the thinnest of veiled expressions covering the disappointment on her face.

I sighed again, pulled out a chair, and sat.

“Honey,” my mom said, “We give you a lot of freedom. We want you to succeed. We really do. But we worry when you come home on the back of a motorcycle without your car. You should have come to us if you had a breakdown.”

“I would’ve called you,” I said. “I was down at the Coppertail junkyard filming for my capstone project. It wouldn’t start, but Axl and a couple of his friends happened to come by and gave me a lift. It was fine.”

My dad’s eyebrow rose and he eyed me suspiciously. “So that’s what you’ve been doing for the last two days? Hanging out with that lowlife and skipping class?” He drew quotation marks in the air with his fingers when he said “hanging out.”

“It’s not like that,” I said. I felt a guilty pang in my stomach, but there was no way in hell I could tell my parents the truth, that I’d ignited a gang war, nearly got shot, and then hooked up with a criminal. That was so far away from their dream of me meeting a Jewish doctor that I might as well slap them both in the face.

“They just gave me a lift and took me to Brooke’s place. I’ve been working nonstop with her on the documentary,” I lied. “But last night I realized I forgot my keys at Axl’s place. He brought them to me and then took me home. That’s it,” I said. “He looks rough but he’s not a bad guy.”

“Hol,” my dad said. “We thought you were on the right track. Well, as much as you could be.” I knew he was talking about my dream of becoming a filmmaker. It wasn’t good enough for them, not as reliable as becoming a housewife or getting some kind of desk job where I’d have a constant stick up my ass like them.

“Dad,” I said, frustrated, “I am on the right track.”

What had happened at the junkyard was a complete accident, and as hot as Axl was, I was putting him out of my mind. But my parents, of course, were so worried that their prize daughter was going to shack up with a leather-clad stranger and compromise their vicarious dreams.

And honestly, the more they bitched to me, the more appealing that sounded.

“Dad,” I repeated. “Axl’s a nice guy who helped me out. I’ll pay for the car to be towed back from the junkyard and that’ll be the end of it. You won’t see him again. I won’t see him. I swear.”

My dad looked at me, and the expression on his face betrayed his doubt. I ignored it, scooting my chair away from the table. I gave my dad and my mom each a kiss on the cheek. The talk had diminished my appetite again, so I only got an apple before heading back upstairs to my room.

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and pulled up my school email. Behind me, draped over the back of the chair, I felt Axl’s sweatshirt. I grabbed it and chucked it in the trashcan. Fuck him, and fuck whatever he did or didn’t think about me. It didn’t affect me at all.

It was time to get back to work, to catch up with what I’d missed over the last two days. And it was time to completely forget about Axl Archer.

I woke up the next morning in a cold puddle of sweat. My head pounded with an agonizing hangover, and it felt like a thousand screws were twisting into my skull. In other words, a usual morning.

After the Reaper visit last night, I’d hit the bar and downed half a bottle of Jack. Ryker sat next to me at the bar, sipping a whiskey and water, eying me with concern as I put away shot after shot. I was fucking pissed off, and hammered out of my mind when I’d decided it was time to leap on my hog to get Holly. But Ryker stopped me. “We figure this out tomorrow,” he’d said, “Reapers ain’t gonna find her at her parents’ place tonight. Can’t risk a rumble in town. And never fucking ride wasted.”

The idea of her out there, alone and exposed fuckin’ enraged me. But he was right. Holly was safer where she was. I hated that I felt so damn protective of her. It was dangerous.

I’d stumbled back upstairs to my room, glass in hand. There was no sign of the slut I’d bedded earlier, but I didn’t give a fuck. I passed out cold.

And now I was paying for it. But thank fuck I hadn’t spilled the drink, ‘cause I needed it now. I reached over to the dresser, grabbed the glass of now-warm whiskey, and put it down the hatch.

Hair of the dog. That was a bad damn habit to get into, but I had to function today.

The fog in my brain began to lift. I forced myself out of bed and forced myself to endure a cold shower until I’d regained full control of my senses. Then I got dressed and thundered downstairs, beelining for Ryker’s office, pounding my fist on the door.

“Yeah?” Ryker barked from behind the door. I swung the door open and entered, the adrenaline of last night flooding back into my body. Ryker sat in his leather chair behind his desk, and Dash and Lynch sat in guest chairs opposite to him.

Dash hanging around Lynch? What the fuck? I didn’t like that.

I stormed into the room, shutting the door hard behind me.

“Nice of you to join, VP,” said Ryker coolly. “How’s the head treating you?”

I ignored his jab and cut to the chase.

“We can’t let an innocent die,” I said. “It ain’t the Sons way. We protect the girl.”

Ryker spoke calmly, but his words infuriated me. “VP. Been talkin’ about this, and I need you to understand me now. We did what we could for this girl. We did her right, the way Sons do. But she ain’t our problem now. We gotta pull in tight right now, keep brothers close and keep outsiders out. Reapers are testing us, provoking us. We can’t overextend. Our cash flow’s runnin’ out, and shit’s heating up, son. Reapers even got away with most of our guns back at the junkyard. We’ve gotta be pragmatic.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” I growled. “Sons code has always said no innocents die. No ifs or buts.”

Lynch glared at me, his beady eyes focused on me like lasers. He didn’t break eye contact. “You got a hard-on for this bitch, and you’re waving your cock in our faces. You wanna put your neck on the line for her? Then patch outta the club.”

Inside, my blood boiled, my body a steamworks. I was fucking sick of Lynch challenging me and jockeying for my position. “Fuck you, Lynch,” I growled.

He stood up hard, knocking his chair down behind him. He puffed out his chest, stepping toward me aggressively. I looked down at his ugly fucking mug, having at least 6 inches on him. This was the last fucking straw.

With my left hand, I reached out and grabbed his cut. My right hand drew back like a catapult, then bored straight into his face. He fell backwards on his ass, crashing onto the chair beneath him. Blood poured from his mouth. I lunged forward, raising my fist again, but Ryker and Dash had already leapt into action. Dash grabbed my fist from behind, and Ryker hopped over his desk in his catlike manner, creating a barrier between me and Lynch. If I wanted to finish off Lynch, I’d have to go through Ryker, and I wasn’t prepared to do that.

The way that Ryker and Dash reacted told me that the power dynamics of the club were subtly shifting, and this troubled me. I was overplaying my hand. I’d been Ryker’s favorite ever since he patched me in eight years ago, but he fuckin’ owed Lynch now ‘cause Lynch had taken a bullet for him a year back. Ryker never would’ve stepped between us before then... And now Dash was hanging around Lynch too? Something was afoot. I had to be fucking careful.

“Axl, my boy,” said Ryker, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders, “get a hold of yourself.” He steadied my arms.

On the ground, Lynch snarled and wiped blood on his sleeve. Dash released my fists from his grip, and stepped around me to extend a hand to Lynch, helping him up. I glared at Dash, and it pissed me the fuck off that my best buddy in the club was helping that piece of shit Lynch off the floor.

Was I on the outside now?

Ryker guided me across the room, pushing me down firmly into the chair that Dash had been in. He then leaned back against his desk. Next to us, Lynch had stood up. Dash was standing next to him.

Ryker looked at me hard. “Clear your head,” he said sharply. “You’ve been my right hand ever since I took you off the streets, and this ain’t like you. This girl, she ain’t your old lady.”

Next to me Dash spoke softly and deliberately. “You know he’s right, buddy,” he said. “She isn’t our problem anymore.”

“The club VP,” said Ryker, “must always think clearly. And right now, you ain’t.”

“You’re goddamn right about that,” said Lynch, rubbing his jaw.

I glared at him.

“Listen, boy,” said Ryker. “I know you. You were a kid on the streets when I found you. Not even 18. With nothing, no one. Just another kid in that meat grinder they call the foster system. You were alone, and that affected you. You’ve always stood up for those who can’t protect themselves, and I admire that. But the club comes first. Always. Don’t forget that.”

I fumed silently. Internally, I tried to resolve to let her go, fighting a mental battle as I stood there. But my conscience fought me at every step. I couldn’t fucking accept leaving Holly unprotected, ripe for the Reapers’ picking.

Ryker crossed his arms and straightened his head. “Clear your head,” he said again. “Take a couple days off. Go for a long ride. I don’t give a shit, as long as your head is screwed on straight when you get back here. Shit’s volatile right now between us and the Reapers, and we need everybody on point.”

I gritted my teeth, suppressing the urge to go crazy.

“Understand?” he said.

I paused, for what seemed like forever, unable to speak. Finally, I summoned all my strength.

“Right.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of here,” he said.

Lynch was staring right at me, his expression signaling his seething disdain for me. Now I had enemies inside and outside the club. Lynch wanted VP, and he was unpredictable. With all the shit going down, there was no way to know what he might pull. I had to watch my back.

I about-faced and exited the room without a word, but as I stepped out into the main clubhouse, I heard Dash’s voice behind me.

“Axl,” he said, pulling me aside. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Dash had been with me through thick and thin since the beginning. He was always the guy I could go to, the guy I could trust. But we were coming down on opposite sides of this issue.

“Not a goddamn thing,” I grunted.

Just that I’m supposed to sit here and twiddle my fucking thumbs while the Reapers do God-knows-what to the only chick that’s ever made me feel something.

I turned and walked away without saying another word.

I stared into my laptop screen, squinting. I’d been working in my room since the talk with my parents, and my eyes were all red and puffy. I was trying to catch up on all the classwork I’d missed in the last two days. I hated getting behind and tried to avoid it at all costs. Playing catch-up always made things a thousand times harder.

There was barely a month and a half left until graduation, and it was going to be a pain in the ass to finish my documentary without my camera. I was going to have to borrow equipment from the school. And their cameras were all old crap that were guaranteed to slow me way down. Not to mention I had to rethink the entire project without the junkyard angle. No way was I going back there a second time.

I sighed. I minimized the web browser and opened Skype. My best friend Brooke was online.

“hey,” I wrote to her, “you ever feel like your life is just a constant parade of the most ridiculous shit happening?”

“haha,” she wrote back, “everyday. our lives are ridiculous. keep your head up, girl... you gonna go out with nathan this week?”

Nathan was a kid I met in my chemistry lab. He’d asked me out last week and I’d given him a tentative “yes,” but I wasn’t excited about it. Nice kid, I guess, but going out with him after meeting Axl was like going from a diet of French chocolate truffles to Fruit Roll-Ups. A kiddie downgrade. From man to boy. I was actually kind of afraid that Axl had spoiled my appetite for guys completely. I didn’t think I was going to find another man like him at my college. Or anywhere else.

“idk,” I wrote. “He’s kinda lame. whatever. I’m wiped out, going to sleep. ttyl.”

I sighed and shut the laptop. Bleary-eyed, I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It was already eleven-‘o-clock, and I only had Sunday left to finish my work before going back to class on Monday. Yep, I was going to be working all weekend. It seemed strange to be going back to everyday, mundane life after the craziness that had happened this week. But I had made myself a promise that I intended to keep. No more Axl Archer. Not even any thinking about Axl Archer. It couldn’t lead anywhere good.

I got up and stumbled out of my bedroom, my feet padding quietly on the soft plush carpet of the upstairs. I crossed the hall and flicked on the light switch in the bathroom. I studied my face in the mirror. God. I was looking rough. I guessed that was what 48 hours of near-constant adrenaline and sleep deprivation did to a girl.

Sighing, I turned on the faucet and started brushing my teeth. I was still brushing when I swore I heard a sound coming from down the hall. I took the toothbrush out of my mouth, toothpaste bubbles foaming at my lips.