“Axle!”
I had never been so happy in my life to have Lane break my concentration.
“Come meet me in church?”
I nodded immediately. Lane disappeared into the clubhouse. I stared back at my phone. Rose hadn’t responded yet. She didn’t even have the three-dot bubble appear to show that she was typing.
I knew I’d only sent the message barely a minute ago. I knew it wasn’t like Rose didn’t have a job—at least, I assumed as much. Why else would she be returning to the small town of Springsville?
But... well, fuck. I was so used to just snapping my fingers and getting her to do whatever the hell I wanted that to suddenly lose that was jarring.
In any case, I put my phone in airplane mode, the better to not be tempted by it, and headed to church. Inside the meeting room, Lane was already propped up in his president’s chair. He smelled of vehicle oil and gasoline, as good a sign as any that he had put in needed work this morning.
“So,” he said, getting right down to business like I always preferred. “Good news is, instead of an accusation, I have an opportunity.”
“Not always good news,” I said with a snort.
Lane knew me well enough to know that was sarcasm, even if I didn’t smile or laugh right after.
“Jerome reached out to me this morning and told me that he wants to launch a strike against the Fallen Saints. He feels like it’ll release the energy of the group onto the actual guilty party, and he feels like it’ll send a message to the Saints that they know they are the real enemy. For obvious reasons, I am all for it.”
I nodded. Anything that was done to hurt the Saints was something that worked in my book. Some people believed in gray areas, but I believed in evil when I saw it. I saw it in Afghanistan, and now I saw it here with the Fallen Saints.
“Here’s the opportunity part of it for you,” Lane said. “Jerome wants your expertise. He wants you to go undercover with them and help them lead a strike. For obvious reasons, you are the only one in the Black Reapers who can go undercover with them. Is this something you’re willing to do?”
I didn’t often laugh at club business, and I didn’t often smile either, but this put a very small grin and produced a one-breath chuckle from me.
“Yes.”
I think Lane had some understanding of the fact the Hovas and I went back a bit. I didn’t think he knew to what extent we did, though. If he did, he might have recognized what I suspected the Hovas were trying to do—but at this point, that didn’t much matter to me.
“Great, I’ll let Jerome know to contact you,” Lane said. “However, that’s not why I pulled you in here. I could have comfortably made this request out in public without the details. I brought you in here, Axle, because I want to know if you want me to let anyone in on the plans. It’ll be a way for me to test loyalties.”
“No.”
The response was immediate and unquestioned in my mind. I understood that Lane felt he had an opportunity to make things better by exposing the rat, but such a strategy was going to put the Hovas in the line of danger.
Better, I figured, that the Hovas and the Black Reapers have a better relationship after this strike than to find the rat and risk hurting the Hovas.
“You’re sure,” Lane said, less of a question and more of a resigned statement.
“If we lose our relationship with the Hovas because of a strike gone bad, we lose our guns. We lose our guns, and we lose the battle against the Fallen Saints.”
Lane didn’t say a word more. He understood.
“Anything else?” I said.
Lane started to speak, caught himself, looked like he wasn’t going to say anything else, and then sighed.
“You doing okay?”
Shit, is that obvious that Rose is affecting me?
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
Lane looked like he regretted asking the question. But just the very fact he had asked it in the first place was pretty damn telling to me.
“You... well, shit, you just seemed a little off this meeting. Just want to make sure—”
