8. Nora #2
“That’s Stryker. And Viper.”
Paxton immediately waves enthusiastically at both of them.
Viper looks genuinely delighted by the interaction.
“Okay,” he says softly to Blade, without looking away from Paxton. “You’re translating for me immediately.”
Blade snorts quietly.
Styker crouches slightly so he’s closer to Paxton’s eye level before speaking slower than usual. “Hi, Paxton. I’m Stryker. It’s really awesome to meet you.”
Paxton watches his mouth carefully before glancing at Blade for translation anyway.
I got that, Paxton signs back with the patient tone of a child correcting an adult.
Viper laughs loudly enough that Paxton grins.
Then all three men start talking at once, trying to communicate through Blade, while directing every smile and question toward my son like this is somehow normal.
I stand there gripping Paxton’s hand while something dangerously close to overwhelm starts climbing up my throat. Because this should feel wrong. It should feel unsafe.
Instead, Paxton already looks comfortable enough that my body can’t maintain full panic anymore.
Another truck pulls onto the shoulder before I can process that thought further. It’s a big Ford with a tow hook mounted behind it. A huge man climbs out, wearing jeans and a grease-stained black T-shirt stretched across shoulders broad enough to make the others look almost average.
Dark hair falls messily across his forehead, while tattoos disappear beneath motor oil streaked along his forearms. He shuts the truck door and squints toward us.
“That’s Axel?” I ask automatically.
Stryker nods once. “Yeah. He uh…works for me in shipping full-time, mostly. Mechanic stuff’s more side work.”
There’s a weird pause after that.
Viper cuts in smoothly, “I’m his customer liaison. All the texts and calls go through me”
I stare at him. “That’s why you guys showed up?” All three nod happily, as if that’s totally normal, expected thing to happen right now.
The giant mechanic finally reaches us then, wiping his hands against a rag tucked into his back pocket.
“You’re the one with the dead piece of shit that apparently I have to come out and look at, even though it’s literally against my policy?” he finishes that part with a pointed look at Viper.
I blink once. Then unexpectedly laugh. Actually laugh.
Axel’s eyes flick toward me briefly before landing on the SUV. “I’m taking that as a yes. Can you tell me what happened with it?”
Blade immediately starts signing Axel’s words toward Paxton automatically.
Axel notices halfway through his next sentence and stops. “What’re you doing?”
“This is Paxton, he’s deaf,” Blade explains calmly, “so I’m translating.”
Axel glances at Paxton immediately, without pity, simply assessing the situation before nodding once.
“Need me to slow down?”
Blade looks mildly relieved. “Little bit, I’m a bit rusty.”
“Got it.”
Then Axel actually adjusts his speaking pace without making a big deal out of it. I stare at all of them in stunned silence for about three full seconds. Because this is not how people usually react.
Usually there’s awkwardness first. Confusion. Overcompensation. Questions about hearing aids or implants or whether Paxton can read lips.
Instead Axel just crouches near the hood and says slower, “Pop it for me.”
I jolt slightly before hurrying to comply. The hood creaks open. Smoke immediately pours upward.
Axel stares into the engine compartment for a long moment before looking at me flatly. “Ma’am. Respectfully. What the fuck.”
Heat climbs into my face instantly. “It was only two thousand dollars, and I could get it on 24 hours’ notice. My options were limited leaving New York okay.”
“That explains everything.”
Viper circles toward the front of the SUV while peering inside. “You drove this across the country?”
“It survived this long.”
“It survived out of spite,” Axel mutters.
Stryker folds his arms across his chest while looking into the smoking engine. “Marketplace?”
I glare at him. “You all sound judgmental.”
“Because this thing is a death trap,” Blade says still signing everything.
Paxton tugs my sleeve while signing, What’s a death trap?
I crouch slightly beside him and sign back, They’re being dramatic. Ignore them. He grins immediately.
Axel disappears briefly toward the back of the SUV before popping the trunk open. One of the duffel bags tips sideways revealing folded winter clothes and a stuffed dinosaur shoved between them.
Then more smoke coughs violently out from beneath the hood.
Axel straightens slowly. “Yeah. Engine’s cooked.”
My stomach sinks anyway, despite expecting that answer.
“You can fix it though, right?”
Axel makes a face, like I just insulted him personally. “Sure. If you wanna spend more replacing the engine than the car’s worth.”
Fantastic. I rub one hand across my forehead while mentally recalculating money I absolutely do not have.
Stryker studies me quietly before asking, “Where’re you headed?”
I hesitate automatically. He notices immediately.
“So we can get you and the kid somewhere warm before it gets dark,” he says. “Temperature drops fast out here.”
As if on cue, Paxton sneezes. I sigh internally, because no matter how complicated this situation feels, my son still comes first. Always.
I rattle off the address and all four men go still.
Axel actually looks startled. “Sharleen Grady?”
“You know her?”
“Everybody knew her.”
Not fondly judging by his tone.
“She died recently you know?” Stryker says carefully. “Already cremated far as I know.”
“I know.” I shove my hands into my coat pockets. “I was her foster kid, apparently, long enough to end up in the will.”
Long silence follows that.
Then Axel says flatly, “Not to speak ill of the dead, but I didn’t think Mrs. Grady liked anybody enough to leave them property.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“Trust me,” I mutter. “Neither did I.”
Something shifts subtly after that. Less guarded maybe. Before I can process fully, Stryker steps toward the SUV and opens the passenger door.
“Alright,” he says. “We’ll take you there.”
“That’s really not necessary?—”
“It’s getting cold,” Blade interrupts gently. “And you’ve got a five-year-old.”
Viper’s already grabbing duffel bags from the trunk, which he popped with the keys he apparently pulled out of the front seat, and I didn’t notice. Axel moves toward his tow truck without another word.
Things start happening too fast for me to effectively protest.
“Wait—”
“We’ve got it,” Stryker says.
Paxton watches all of them with open fascination, while Viper hoists our bags into the SUV behind them.
Axel hooks chains beneath my dying vehicle efficiently, while muttering under his breath about “cross-country suicide missions in Facebook Marketplace garbage cans.”
Blade opens the back passenger door of the SUV they arrived in and gestures us forward. “Come on. Warm car.”
I hesitate beside the open door while looking between all three men.
Six years ago I vanished from them completely.
Now, somehow I’m standing on the side of a Nevada interstate watching them load my life into their vehicles while my son signs excitedly at a man I once slept beside in a stranger’s mansion.
Nothing about this feels remotely real.
Still, Paxton’s cheeks are pink from the cold and the desert temperature is already dropping with the sun. So I climb inside.
Paxton scrambles in beside me immediately, while Viper slides in after us. Blade takes the driver’s seat while Stryker settles into the passenger side beside him.
The doors shut and warm air fills the SUV. And as we pull back onto the interstate toward Black Rock, I stare at the three men surrounding me and think that six years ago, I could never have imagined ending up in a car with them like this.
God, I hope I don’t regret it.