Chapter 8
Axle
Fuck, I hated that we’d had our reunion cut short because of a fucking delivery that wasn’t adding up.
I wait until Giggles has left with Angel before I walk to my bike and get on, starting her up. The tension eases from me almost instantly as the rumble of my bike flows through me, and the wind brushes my face as I ride to the club’s gate that opens as I ride up.
Stopping, I wait for the prospect on duty to come out of the guard hut to see what I need.
“Axle,” he nods at me. “Do you need me for something?” I like our two prospects. They’re solid men. Young … so fucking young. Around twenty-four. They’d arrived together and seemed solid. Foster brothers from the age of ten, they’d had each other’s backs for a long time. They’d make good brothers.
“Muppet, my woman will be back this evening sometime. Giggles is dropping her off now. Can you make sure whoever is on the gate knows?”
“No problem, Axle. It’s me or Giggles on the gate today. We’ll look out.”
“Thanks man,” I tilt my chin and strap my helmet on before pulling away from the clubhouse, taking the road to the garage. It’s chaos when I arrive. I sigh when I see Beard, Stout, and Carnage arguing, arms waving, papers scattered about.
My mechanics are watching with wide eyes, and I see money being exchanged. None of our mechanics are part of the MC. We’re stretched pretty thin with brothers as it is, and most of us have management positions so I’d decided to hire locally if I could, or from neighbouring towns.
“Fuck my life,” I mutter under my breath. “How the fuck did they have a problem with a delivery?”
Switching my bike off, I remove my helmet and dismount, whistling to get their attention. Walking up to them, I hold my hand out for the clipboard and run my eye down the list. I see the problem immediately. This isn’t our order. It’s got our name on it, but it’s not our parts.
“We tried, Axle,” Carnage mutters. “Fuck brother, you need help here. How you manage to make this look easy is fucking beyond me.”
Chuckling, I hold up the clipboard, “It’s the wrong order, this isn’t ours. I’ll call the supplier. I appreciate you all helping these last few days.”
“No problem, man,” Stout pats my shoulder. “Glad you finally found her.”
“We all are brother,” Beard agrees. “She seems like a real classy lady. Not sure what she sees in a meat head like you.” He smirks at me.
Laughing at their teasing, I shrug. “Fuck off, the lot of you. Let me sort this and check on my boys. I’ll see you all tonight.”
Walking away, I take my phone from my pocket to see a message from Giggles that Angel has been dropped off.
With Angel sorted and back home, it was time to check on my mechanics before I called the supplier.
Looking for North, my head mechanic, I catch his eye and point to my office.
He nods and downs his tools, following behind me.
I stop at the kitchen to make a coffee that I carry to the office with me.
Going to my desk, I shake my head when I see the mess on the top. Booting up my computer, I wait for North.
He stomps up the stairs and appears at my door. “All good out there, boss?”
“Yeah,” I wave my hand. “It’s not our order. I’ll sort it out.”
“Didn’t think it was ours,” he grins at me, taking a sip of coffee.
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“I would have if I’d known they’d go crying to you, but it was fun to watch the brothers try to figure out what was wrong,” North sniggers, amusement lighting his eyes.
Entertained, I shake my head at him.
He’s a good mechanic, one of the best. He should be. I trained him myself.
I found North sleeping rough behind the shop nearly thirteen years ago. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Skinny as hell, with shadowed, angry eyes and beaten to shit. He’d been so bloody angry at the world and wary of everything I offered.
Not that I could blame him. To this day, I didn’t know how he ended up there. That was his story, and I’d never pry.
I got him cleaned up and set up a cot in the back of the shop that we sometimes used when we were working on big projects and to a deadline. At the time, I thought little of it. To me it was mere decency, what any good person would do.
He was distrustful at first, only speaking to question things, and he watched the few possessions he had as if they might disappear if he blinked. But he worked hard, so bloody hard. Told me he was determined to pay me back, that he wasn’t a charity case.
I’d show him how to do something once, maybe twice, and he’d have it down.
I had him get his GED, and then his certificates.
To my surprise, he’d stayed. He’d risen in the ranks over the years until he ran all the mechanics, leaving me free to run the business side.
Although I still got my hands dirty if we were short-staffed.
The longer he stayed, the more he filled out. North’s come a long way from the skinny, malnourished teenager I’d taken in. Now he stood a solid six-foot-two, topping me by a few inches. Broad-shouldered, olive-skinned, with dark hair usually shoved back from his face under one of the shop caps.
Now there was confidence in the way he carried himself, and I was as proud of him as if he were my own.
The lost, shadowed look that had once haunted his eyes was gone. Before he started earning his own money, I made sure he had three meals a day. I would’ve moved him in with me, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
North stayed in the back room for years. In fact, he was still there, though we’d turned it into a small apartment over time, making it a lot more liveable.
His tenacity and drive to learn are what made him the man he is today. One of my favourite people.
The anger he carried didn’t vanish, not completely—but it settled the longer he was with me.
We’ve developed a good relationship over the years. He came to trust me and he’s loyal but only to me, and I’d say if push came to shove maybe to Roman, too. But that was because he was my best friend.
He worked hard and played hard, keeping himself fit at the gym in town. He needed to, because he loved to fight. I guess the anger had to come out somehow.
Underground, off the book fights. No rules or safety equipment.
It was a bloody and dirty sport, my only stipulation to them was that he tell me when he had one so that I could send someone with him.
Usually, Carnage volunteered. I guess as our Sergeant at Arms he enjoyed it, and I know he’d taken part a few times.
I’m not sure why North fought the way he did. It wasn’t like he needed the money—I made sure of that. I paid him well to manage the five mechanics we had under him. Better than well. He could live comfortably without ever stepping into a ring.
But there’s something in him that still needs the outlet, I suppose. Something that helped to calm the anger filling him, even if he hid it most days.
For years, I tried to bring him into the brotherhood. He wasn’t interested; he just told me he was happy where he was.
So, I let him be.
Still, when I look at him now I can’t help the small, private swell of pride in my chest. He wasn’t just my head mechanic. Not to me, anyway. He did like to fuck with the brothers though, and they know it. He may not be in the brotherhood, but they treat him as if he is most of the time.
“Any problems here other than the fucked-up order?”
“Nah, boss. It’s all good. The sweet ride was picked up by a pretty, feisty brunette. But as the grapevine says, you found your lady and she’s her niece. I made sure the boys were nothing but respectful.”
Amusement shoots through me. If only the boys knew. Janis would have put them on their ass if they’d disrespected her.
My amusement comes through when I tell him, “Appreciate it. You probably saved the boys a beating.”
“No shit,” he grins. “I like a woman that’s not scared to stand up for herself. Feisty,” he wiggles his brows at me.
“No,” I point at him. “Absolutely not.”
He lets out a roar of laughter, holding up his hands. “She’s not my type boss, you don’t have to worry. I liked her though. Are we going to get to meet your lady any time soon?”
Settling back in my seat, I think about it. I need to speak to Maverick to get a vote on bringing Angel on board as an Ol’ Lady.
Once I have I can ask her, and then I was moving her in.
No messing around, we’ve wasted twenty-eight years.
I wasn’t wasting a minute more. Was I stunned at her news of having our daughter?
Yes. Was I a little angry? Also yes, but not at her.
I was angry at the circumstances, and the pain she’d suffered.
Hell … the pain she still suffered if the way she’d fallen apart was any indication.
Maybe it would be a good idea to see if Honor was open to communication.
It could be just what Angel needed to forgive herself.
“Boss?” North asks, leaning forward and tilting his head to look at me, concern on his face.
Turning my attention to him, I nod. “Yeah, you’ll meet her. I’m going to speak to Maverick about a vote. If it goes through, you’ll come to the welcome party? I want her to meet one of the most important people in my life.”
Surprise flares in his eyes, and he looks away for a beat before turning back to me.
“Of course I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.
” He assures me, standing up. “There’s nothing to report from downstairs, we're up to date and I’ll be calling owners for collections.
But, boss, the brothers were right. You need a receptionist that can do this shit. ”
He’s right. Hell, they all are. I’ve been putting it off ever since Mary left when her daughter needed her. It had been unexpected, and I hadn’t had time to fill the position. If I were honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it, or having to train someone.
With a groan, I rub my hands over my face in frustration. “I know,” I agree. “I’ll have Mamba do an advert and get it out there, unless you know of anyone?”