Not hard enough to show on my face, because I’ve spent years learning not to show much of anything unless I mean to scare somebody, but hard enough that something behind my ribs gives a slow, warning knock.
Legendary Mike.
Dead president. Old wrestler. Father of the man currently running the Kings of Anarchy MC. A ghost that still walks through Hell wearing everybody else’s memories.
I study her more closely now. The shape of her eyes. The set of her jaw. That stubborn pride trying to stand upright in the middle of a wrecked night.
Well, hell.
“You know Mike?” I ask.
Her pretty mouth trembles once before she beats it into submission. “I think he’s my father.”
The frogs keep screaming down in the ditch. Widowmaker ticks behind me. Somewhere far off, thunder rolls over the hills like God moving furniture. And inside, I realize I’ve been fantasizing about a beautiful woman’s features, ones that look like a female version of my Prez. My stomach churns as I take in the similarities.
I look at the broken truck. The boxes. The kid. The woman who just dropped a dead man’s name on a lonely road like it might open a door.
Then I look toward Hell, where Legend is probably sitting in the old jail, thinking the night can’t get any more complicated.
Poor bastard.
I almost smile.
Almost.
“Pack what matters,” I tell her.
She blinks. “What?”
“I’m taking you home.”
Her face closes so fast I feel it like a slammed door. “No.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“I’m not getting on a motorcycle with my son.”
I glance at August. He’s watching us with wide eyes and the kind of trust no stranger deserves.
“Not what I said.”
“You said you’re taking me home.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have a home.”
That shuts me up.
Not because I don’t have an answer. I’ve got plenty. Most of them stupid. Some of them cruel by accident. But the way she says it, flat and tired, like the word home is a box she alreadypacked and lost on the side of the road, makes something in me go still.
A gust of wind moves through the trees. The panties in her hand flutter like a pale flag. Behind us, Hell Road curves back into darkness.
“You do tonight,” I say.
Her eyes shine, and she looks furious about it.
“I don’t know you.”